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dwellordream · 4 years ago

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“...Today, most – though by no means all – free countries (along with a number of rather unfree ones) have shifted from mass conscription based militaries to professional, all-volunteer militaries. The United States, of course, made that shift in 1973 (along lines proposed by the 1969 Gates Commission). The shift to a professional military has always been understood to have involved risks – the classic(al) example of those risks being the Roman one: the creation of a semi-professional Roman army misaligned the interests of the volunteer soldiers with the voting citizens, resulting in the end (though a complicated process) in the collapse of the Republic and the formation of the Empire in what might well be termed a shift to ‘military rule’ as the chief commander of the republic (first Julius Caesar, then Octavian) seized power from the apparatus of civilian government (the senate and citizen assemblies).

It is in that context that ‘warrior’ – despite its recent, frustrating use by the United States Army – is an unfortunate way for soldiers (regardless of branch or country) to think of themselves. Encouraging soldiers to see themselves as ‘warriors’ means encouraging them to see their role as combatants as the foundational core of their identity. A Mongol warrior was a warrior because as an adult male Mongol, being a warrior was central to his gender-identity and place in society (the Mongols being a society, as common with Steppe nomads, where all adult males were warriors); such a Mongol remained a warrior for his whole adult life.

Likewise, a medieval knight – who I’d class as a warrior (remember, the distinction is on identity more than unit fighting) – had warrior as a core part of their identity. It is striking that, apart from taking religious orders to become a monk (and thus shift to an equally totalizing vocation), knights – especially as we progress through the High Middle Ages as the knighthood becomes a more rigid and recognized institution – do not generally seem to retire. They do not lay down their arms and become civilians (and just one look at the attitude of knightly writers towards civilians quickly answers the question as to why). Being a warrior was the foundation of their identity and so could not be disposed of. We could do the same exercise with any number of ‘warrior classes’ within various societies. Those individuals were, in effect born warriors and they would die warriors. In societies with meaningful degrees of labor specialization, to be a warrior was to be, permanently, a class apart.

Creating such a class apart (especially one with lots of weapons) presents a tremendous danger to civilian government and consequently to a free society (though it is also a danger to civilian government in an unfree society). As the interests of this ‘warrior class’ diverge from the interests of the rest of society, even with the best of intentions the tendency is going to be for the warriors to seek to preserve their interests and status with the tools they have, which is to say all of the weapons (what in technical terms we’d call a ‘failure of civil-military relations,’ civ-mil being the term for the relationship between civil society and its military).

The end result of that process is generally the replacement of civilian self-government with ‘warrior rule.’ In pre-modern societies, such ‘warrior rule’ took the form of governments composed of military aristocrats (often with the chiefest military aristocrat, the king, at the pinnacle of the system); the modern variant, rule by officer corps (often with a general as the king-in-all-but-name) is of course quite common. Because of that concern, it is generally well understood that keeping the cultural gap between the civilian and military worlds as small as possible is important to a free society.

Instead, what a modern free society wants are effectively civilians, who put on the soldier’s uniform for a few years, acquire the soldier’s skills and arts, and then when their time is done take that uniform off and rejoin civil society as seamlessly as possible (the phrase ‘citizen-soldier’ is often used represent this ideal). It is clear that, at least for the United States, the current realization of this is less than ideal. The endless pressure to ‘re-up‘ (or for folks to be stop-lossed) hardly help.

But encouraging soldiers (or people in everyday civilian life; we’ll come back to that in the last post in this series) to identify as warriors – individual, self-motivated combatants whose entire identity is bound up in the practice of war – does real harm to the actual goal of keeping the cultural divide between soldiers and civilians as small as possible. Observers both within the military and without have been shouting the alarm on this point for some time now, but the heroic allure of the warrior remains strong.

...But as I noted above, we’ve discussed on this blog already a lot of different military social structures (mounted aristocrats in France and Arabia, the theme and fyrd systems, the Spartans themselves, and so on). And they are very different and produce armies – because societies cannot help but replicate their own peacetime social order on the battlefield – that are organized differently, value different things and as a consequence fight differently. But focusing on (fictitious) ‘universal warriors’ also obscures another complex set of relationships to war and warfare: all of the civilians.

When we talk about the impact of war on civilians, the mind quite naturally turns to the civilian victims of war – sacked cities, enslaved captives, murdered non-combatants – and of course their experience is part of war too. But even in a war somehow fought entirely in an empty field between two communities (which, to be clear, no actual war even slightly resembles this ‘Platonic’ ideal war; there is a tendency to romanticize certain periods of military history, particularly European military history, this way, but it wasn’t so), it would still shape the lives of all of the non-combatants in that society (this is the key insight of the ‘war and society’ school of military history).

To take just my own specialty, warfare in the Middle Roman Republic wasn’t simply a matter for the soldiery, even when the wars were fought outside of Italy (which they weren’t always kept outside!). The demand for conscripts to fill the legions bent and molded Roman family patterns, influencing marriage and child-bearing patterns for both men and women. With so many of the males of society processed through the military, the values of the army became the values of society not only for the men but also for women as well. Women in these societies did not consider themselves uninterested bystanders in these conflicts: by and large they had a side and were on that side, supporting the war effort by whatever means.

And even in late-third and early-second century (BC) Rome, with its absolutely vast military deployments, the majority of men (and all of the women) were still on the ‘homefront’ at any given time, farming the food, paying the taxes, making the armor and weapons and generally doing the tasks that allowed the war machine to function, often in situations of considerable hardship. And in the end – though the exact mechanisms remain the subject of debate – it is clear that the results of Rome’s victory induced significant economic instability, which was also a part of the experience of war.

In short, warriors were not the only people who mattered in war. The wartime social role of a warrior was not only different from that of a soldier, it was different than that of the working peasant forced to pay heavy taxes, or to provide Corvée labor to the army. It was different from the woman whose husband went off to war, or whose son did, or who had to keep up her farm and pay the taxes while they did so. It was different for the aristocrat than for the peasant, for the artisan than for the farmer. Different for the child than for the adult.

And yet for a complex society (one with significant specialization of labor) to wage war efficiently, all of these roles were necessary. To focus on only the warrior (or the soldier) as the sole interesting relationship in warfare is to erase the indispensable contributions made by all of these folks, without which the combatant could not combat.

It would be worse yet, of course, to suggest that the role of the warrior is somehow morally superior to these other roles (something Pressfield does explicitly, I might add, comparing ‘decadent’ modern society to supposedly superior ‘warrior societies’ in his opening videos). To do so with reference to our modern professional militaries is to invite disastrous civil-military failure. To suggest, more deeply, that everyone ought to be in some sense a ‘warrior’ in their own occupation sounds better, but – as we’ll see in the last essay of this series – leads to equally dark places.

A modern, free society has no need for warriors; the warrior is almost wholly inimical to a free society if that society has a significant degree of labor specialization (and thus full-time civilian specialists). It needs citizens, some of whom must be, at any time, soldiers but who must never stop being citizens both when in uniform and afterwards.”

- Bret Devereaux, “The Universal Warrior, Part I: Soldiers, Warriors, and…”

#writing #warfare #bret devereaux #ancient #roman #medieval #history #the universal warrior

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

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hey so for the emporer luke thing would luke eventually get to see biggs/meet him cuz they're cool

As if I could leave my second fave Tatooine kid out of any OT story! Read on AO3

Biggs Darklighter was fifteen years old and he still dreamed of going to the stars someday. He was a good son, helped in the household, and took care of his younger siblings, and would his parents ask him to stay, then Biggs would. If they’d let him go though, Biggs would seek the unknown parts of the galaxy, chase after the adventures he had dreamed of ever since he was a little boy, running around in the courtyard of his family’s home or jumping up and down on Luke’s bed, pretending to be a ship in the sky.

It was strange how easily he had accepted Luke’s disappearance when he was younger. Tatooine was a harsh planet, cruel to the bone, and the death of a loved one happened far too often to be unfamiliar with how tightly life and death were woven together. He hadn’t forgotten about Luke, had mourned his friend and joined his mother on her trips to the Lars homestead, but he hadn’t let Luke’s fate dominate his every waking thought. There had been other things to worry about, such as the suddenly escalating conflicts due to Jabba’s death.

Now it seemed like the exact opposite was happening to Biggs. He couldn’t keep his friend out of his mind. The weekly trips to the Lars homestead, checking in on its state and the refugees hiding there for the next transport that would them smuggle off-world, were now spent trying to see whether Biggs could find any sign of His Imperial Highness in the murals and carvings they had made into Luke’s bedroom walls as children. He had been there when they had found Beru and Owen’s bodies, eleven years old and wondering whether Luke had made used of his uncanny ability to hide away so that he hadn’t been killed too. His aunt and uncle had been half-buried in the sand already, left behind to rot without a proper funeral. It had been easy to figure out what exactly had caused their deaths and what it meant for Luke. In the aftermath, when the news of Jabba’s violent end had reached even the Darklighters, they had traveled to the palace and the nearby city once, trying to see if anybody had heard of a child by the name of Luke Skywalker, but nobody had known a thing.

And then, just a year later, Luke had appeared again.

The Republic had never really cared about Tatooine and neither had the Empire, but even they had heard rather quickly about the Emperor’s death and his heir.

The Luke in the holos had looked like a doll, fake and imaginary, like a wind spirit. His face hadn’t been any different, it still matched the one Biggs remembered, but nothing else seemed to fit, not his name, not even his accent.

And yet he had been sure that the child appearing in front of the Senate was his friend.

All that had remained from Luke Skywalker were his blue eyes, the blond hair and the kindness that had made the other children scoff at him. Luke had been too good to understand, to naïve or perhaps he just hadn’t cared for their petty words. Biggs hadn’t known how he could smile so openly when the others took their teasing to far, but Luke had never lowered his head, at least not where he could see it.

Biggs missed his best friend, the one who would help him fix up old droids and fly speeders and skyhoppers more accurately than anybody else, even though he really shouldn’t be able to do so. Luke would certainly have the time of his life now, rushing across the sands at maximum speed, the wind hitting his face so harshly it almost cut into it. Luke had always enjoyed listening to the wind, from the sweet breezes in spring to the heavy sandstorms towards the end of drought season. Being stuck inside with nothing to do hadn’t been too bad with Luke around to narrate what the wind was telling him.

The distance between the Darklighter homestead and the Lars’ Rest, as they had come to call that safehouse, wasn’t too large. Biggs crossed it quickly even in his slightly beat-up ride that could use an upgrade or two. As far as he knew, no runaways should be staying there for the remainder of the week until they got the next group through. There were fewer and fewer slaves in need of transport nowadays. Tatooine was still, as it had been for the last years since Luke’s disappearance, caught in civil war between the former Hutt slaves, freedom fighters, whatever good soul they could convince to join their cause and those crime syndicates who sought to make use of cheap labor. Where the Hutts had that thought they could reclaim Tatooine quickly following Jabba’s death, Tatooine had wanted to prove them wrong. More and more slaves had escaped every day, more people stood up to fight for what they believed to be right.

Biggs wasn’t allowed to do much, not really. His older sister and her partners were heavily involved in the fights while Biggs could only do supply runs. He knew they were important, but he itched to do something more proactive.

But perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary anymore.

It had become more and more obvious that the Hutts were also a thorn in the side of the Empire and whoever was actually pulling the strings behind their Emperor was set to do something about it. There had been skirmishes so far, a few imprisonments. Nothing too large yet, but the horizon was darkening and if the last years had shown anything, then that the Empire didn’t tolerate disobedience. Biggs wasn’t sure how it would influence Tatooine at large. He didn’t know all that much about the way the Hutts operated on a galactic scale, but he figured that whatever took their attention away from Tatooine, even if just for a while, was good.

Soon Biggs was approaching Lars’ Rest and was surprised to see figures standing in the distance. Biggs frowned and slowed down his craft. He was absolutely certain that no group should be coming in today. The position of Lars’ Rest was kept quiet so that no slaver would discover this particular hideout. The only other groups that knew of it were smugglers and the sand people, though they hardly bothered coming down the underground tracks these days. They had decided to target moisture farms far deeper into their territory or, in the case of some clans who were not as isolated, target the rich of Tatooine so the poor would cease trying to expand further into the desert.

Biggs reached for his rifle. If they were slavers, he had to be ready. It was obvious that he was doing supply runs, who else would be out here, and if they took him, that could be disastrous for the whole organization.

Tatooine was a horrible planet to plan an ambush on. Sand for miles, the open desert, and skies, nothing could hide you or provide adequate cover. Once your enemy spotted you, that was it.

Biggs could of course leave, drive back home. They didn’t keep anything too incriminating at their homestead, so even if they were to follow him, there was be nothing to be found there. And yet, somehow, Biggs couldn’t bring himself to do so as anger flared up in his stomach like the midday heat.

That house had belonged to his best friend. It was supposed to be a safe haven now when before its inhabitants had found death or worse. Nobody had any right to ruin those memories.

With newfound bravery and strength, Biggs sped up again. He was a good shot, the best in his family, he’d definitely hit them before they could shoot him.

As Biggs got closer, he saw that the group was larger than he had thought at first. Ten, perhaps fifteen figures. He had been confused because their forms had not been easy to make out with the sun bearing down on their light uniforms, no, armor. The armor was mostly white, but some patterns appeared to have been drawn on it. He saw the green ones first, their color standing out the most against the yellow and blue background of Tatooine. Then there some men with blue, orange, and red patterns, those being much harder to see. Biggs’ eyes were good, but not that excellent.

Nevertheless, he readied his rifle. It was easy to get stormtrooper uniform, and to paint it in the color of the Emperor’s guard was even easier.

Biggs took aim. He wasn’t going to shoot unprovoked, but he was going to shoot first if the situation escalated.

“Hey!” He shouted once he was within hearing distance. “Get the hell out of here!”

As expected, the armed men immediately raised their weapons as well. Biggs didn’t know why they hadn’t done that the moment they had seen him. Now that he was standing in front of them, Biggs wasn’t so sure his move had been the smartest. There were way too many of them and only one him.

“Move away,” one of the troopers, a red one, said.

His armor looked pristine, the paint new. This has to be a trick, though he no idea what somebody would get from parading around in trooper armor here. There were certainly more effective ways to pretend to have more power than you actually did on this planet.

“This land doesn’t belong to you,” Biggs said, forcing his voice not to waver. “Move.”

“Listen here, kid,” one of the troopers said, then suddenly stopped talking. Another man had put his hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned forward, probably telling him something. Even though Biggs couldn’t see their faces, they didn’t look too concerned by it all

“I’m not joking!” Biggs insisted and raised his blaster just a little more, set on using it if need be. “I will-“

“Biggs?”

The voice was barely louder than a whisper, certainly not above the noise the wind and the engine were making, and yet Biggs still heard it clearly.

“Your Majesty-“ The red trooper hissed, but in between the trooper’s bodies, a smaller form pushed through.

The person was short, but not as by far not as tall as the holos made him out to be. His hair had darkened as well, wasn’t the light blond Biggs remembered, but the eyes, clear blue, were definitely the same.

“Luke?” Biggs couldn’t believe it.

His clothes were far too fine for Tatooine, at least for standing outside where sand could easily get stuck everywhere on your skin. His robes looked soft and were decorated with gold and red lines interconnecting to images reminiscent of flowers and vines.

The boy's face split into a smile and he looked like he’d jump into a sprint if not for the trooper’s hand on his shoulder.

“Biggs! It really is you!” Luke said excitedly. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. I was hoping someone would look after the farm, but I-“

He cut himself off to shake his head, a gesture so familiar that it had to be Luke standing in front of him, brilliant pilot, Emperor of the galaxy.

Biggs hurried off his speeder and fell to his knees.

#ask #tiny emperor luke au #star wars #biggs darklighter #luke skywalker #fanfic #anon

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

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Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Skyward

Ao3

Chapter 8: Uravium

“Katsuki! I can see the bottom now!”

The bottom of the long, dark mine shaft slowly yawned up to meet them, blue-black earth shining with the pink light still swirling around their bodies and emanating from Ochako’s pendant. The humming sound began to dim, and Ochako gasped as gravity regained its control of her body. She began to straighten out in the air, her feet coming down towards the floor. The two of them landed with no more than mere scuffs on the rocky bottom, and Ochako exclaimed in fright when the light from her crystal began to retract into the gem and fade.

“Don’t worry, Cheeks.” Katsuki smiled while he crouched down, flipping open the flap of his bag to look around in it. He procured a small lantern and a set of matches, swiftly plucking one out to strike it on the coarse side of the box. “Just a little more,” he grunted as the faint light petered out, but just as it did, there was a spark and then a little orange flame bloomed in the blackness. It threw orange light over the lines of his face as he leaned down to light the lamp; the oil greedily caught the fire, igniting the wick and sending a puddle of soft light splaying out around them. “There,” Katsuki smirked in satisfaction, then picked up the lantern and stood up.

“We’re a long way down,” Ochako observed when she cast her gaze upward. The sky was but a circle of blue far above their heads, partially blocked by the half-decayed scaffolding jutting out into the mine shaft.

“Yep,” Katsuki said, “we sure won’t be getting out that way—but it also means it’ll be hard as hell for those pirates or that Tomura bastard to follow us.”

Ochako released a relieved sigh, but still shuddered at the image of Tomura’s cold, piercing eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, quaking from the entire experience, and Katsuki looked at her.

“Oh, Cheeks, are you cold?” Before she could refuse, he had plopped down the lantern and was shrugging out of his vest. “It doesn't have sleeves, but—” he said while he stepped behind her so he could drape it over her shoulders, “it should keep you a little warmer.” Ochako was warmer indeed, especially her face, which was shining nearly as pink as her necklace had been. She was thankful for the orange hue of the lantern light, as it hid her blush. She slipped her arms through the sleeves of Katsuki’s vest with a shy mumble of gratitude, while he just nodded and picked up the lantern to shine it around.

“Well, we can’t stay in these mine shafts forever,” he grunted. “We have to find a way out, and hopefully that’ll put enough distance between us and them that we can finally get you somewhere safe, Cheeks.” He started walking, and Ochako followed; for a while, the only sound in the empty mines were their footsteps. She could tell something was eating at him, though. His jaw was set and his eyes burned in contemplation, but she couldn’t tell whatever in the world he was thinking. Just as he was about to ask, he looked at her and said, “Cheeks, I want you to tell me everything about that necklace of yours.”

“My necklace?” she blinked and reflexively reached up to clutch it in her hand.

“Yeah,” he affirmed with a nod. “I don’t really care much about the pirates, but we really need to know why Tomura and the military are after it. It’s clear they want the power of your necklace, but what do they have to gain from it? Clearly, it only activates for you.”

Ochako looked down, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She didn’t know why Tomura and the military wanted her pendant, but Katsuki was smart—maybe he could see the reason that she had failed to find.

“Well… It’s a family heirloom,” she began, looking down at the crystal in her hand. She ran her fingers over his curved sides as she spoke. “My family has lived in the mountains far to the north of here for generations, and so has this necklace been passed down, from mother to daughter. Honestly, I never usually saw it except for during special occasions like weddings. We kept it in a hidden compartment behind the fireplace which was covered by a wood carving of our family crest. We were just a simple farming and livestock family,” she said, looking up wistfully. “We were very happy until my mother and father both caught a very grievous illness a few months ago…” Her eyes flooded with tears then, and she reached up with her free hand to wipe them away with the back of her hand. “I’m just like you… I wasn’t allowed in the house because it was so deadly. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry, Cheeks,” Katsuki murmured, stepping a little closer to her. He allowed her to lean her head on his shoulder as they walked. It was warm, both with his body heat and the soft firelight of the lamp, and that did make her feel a little bit better. They were in this together.

“I moved back into the house after the doctors had removed all the illness from it. I wanted to be close to my parents, so I took out the necklace and started wearing it. I didn’t know that it would turn out to be such an important thing,” she sighed, looking back down at the unassuming pendant. She wondered now what her family really was, what the meaning was behind the family crest etched in gold on the pendant’s surface. “A month after my parents died, Tomura and his men came to the farm. They didn’t tell me anything. They just told me I had to come with them. They had guns… I was so scared.”

“Bastard, threatening a girl like that,” Katsuki growled under his breath. He slipped his arm around Ochako’s waist in a comforting gesture, sensing how talking about Tomura made her upset. Ochako nodded forlornly, still sweeping tears from her face.

“We were on our way to a military base, he said,” Ochako continued. “We were taking a dirigible. The pirates attacked, and while I was trying to escape, I fell from the airship… And that’s how I ended up in your mining town.”

“Hmm,” Katsuki hummed, twitching his nose as he ruminated on the strange, puzzling situation. “Sounds to me like Tomura knows more about your crystal and your family than we do. Izuku Midoriya’s gang is notorious for intercepting military transponders, so he probably learned about it that way, so now we have to deal with both of them.” Sighing, he looked back at Ochako with a small smile. “Ah, don’t look at me like that,” he said as she pouted uncertainly. “We’re gonna get through this, Cheeks. Luck has been on our side so far.”

She wanted to feel better at his reassurances. She really did. But she just couldn’t help but wonder when their luck would run out.

“Hello,” Katsuki said suddenly, raising the lantern as he looked ahead. Ochako followed his gaze to see that the mining tunnel had widened out into a large room. Wooden boxes, tables, and dusty equipment littered the cleared space—a base camp of some sort? They walked into the room to a table, where musty old papers still littered the desk. Katsuki picked one up, then gasped. “These are research papers about Uravity!”

“What?” Sure enough, hypotheses about Uravity were written out in neat script on the paper. Katsuki brought the crinkly, stained paper close to his face, struggling to read the faded text. He set the lantern down inadvertently on the edge of the table. They both gasped as the lantern slipped right off. It crashed to the floor, and though it thankfully didn’t shatter, the fire sputtered out.

Immediately, the room was bathed in a bright pink glow.

“What the hell?” Katsuki breathed, turning slowly in a circle to look around. Embedded in the walls and the ceiling were glowing pink stones. Ochako breathed out in wonder, eyes reflecting the beautiful sheen of the pink gems— and then she realized that it seemed awfully familiar. She hastily yanked her necklace back out from underneath her dress and found that it too was glowing in the darkness.

“Katsuki, look!”

“What the hell is going on here?” he whispered while he peered down at her necklace. He snatched up the document again and used the soft light from the crystals to resume reading it. After scanning the paragraphs for a minute, he exhaled in awe, “Uravium.”

“What?”

“These crystals,” he said with a gesture around the room and then pointed to her necklace. “And yours, too. They’re all uravium, and uravium is the gem they mined to make Uravity float in the sky.”

“What? My crystal is related to Uravity?” she cried in shock. Never in a million years would she have imagined that her crystal was something so important!

Katsuki looked back down at the old document with a frown. “Yeah. I can’t read most of the rest, but apparently, they discovered this old uravium mine fifty some-odd years ago. But the technology to use uravium has been lost, so the miners turned it over to researchers to see if they could find out more. Apparently, all they were able to really figure out is that the uravium becomes more active when Uravity is floating over the mine.”

“So that means Uravity is somewhere above us right now!” Ochako realized, and Katsuki nodded.

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Katsuki huffed and set the paper down on the table. “If your necklace is an uravium crystal, then it could hold the key to finally finding Uravity. Uravity was said to be a major power when it was in its prime. There’s no telling the treasure or weapons still on it. If the military got ahold of it…”

“That would be disastrous,” Ochako finished gravely. She wrapped her hands around her crystal, smothering the light as if she could hide it from Tomura that way. “But why my family? Why me?”

“I don’t know, Cheeks,” Katsuki sighed and crouched down so he could re-light the fallen lantern. “I don’t think we’ll get the answer to that anytime soon. The only thing that I do know is that we absolutely can’t let a guy like Tomura get his hands on the crystal.” When the lantern flared up, the pink lights were snuffed out, and Ochako unwrapped her hands from her crystal to find it inert once more. Feeling a little nauseous, she tucked it back underneath the collar of her chest. However, she could still feel its weight against her chest, and she could almost imagine it throbbing with that secret power.

Seeing the worry on her face, Katsuki smiled and reached up to lay his hand on her cheek. She leaned into his touch, appreciating the way his calloused, work-roughened hands felt on her skin.

“Don’tchu worry about a thing, Cheeks. There ain’t no way in hell I’m gonna let Tomura or those bastard pirates get their hands on ya.”

“I know.” Ochako smiled. There were a lot of uncertainties in her life right now, but thankfully, she had one thing that was certain—she could count on Katsuki no matter what. That was enough for her to keep pushing forward, no matter how scary things might become. Together, they would discover the secrets of her necklace, of her family, and of Uravity.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

#kacchako #bakuraka #bakugo x ochako #ochako x bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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gerec · 4 years ago

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AU-gust 2020 Prompts

AUs 1-10 on Ao3

11. Farm/Ranch AU - Cherik Xavierine, Cherigan? 12. Crime AU - Cherik 13. Rock Band AU - Cherik, Xavierine 14. Vampire AU - Cherik

15. Modern AU - Cherik

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Instead of Role Reversal I went with the option of Modern AU! Thanks to everyone who sent me ideas, and an extra big thanks to @kianspo for the prompt! I hope you don’t mind that I tweaked it a little. :D

(Erik doesn’t keep kosher in this verse. Also CRACK.)

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By the time the appetizers arrive Charles is ready to throw in the towel, and concede that this is in fact, the worst first date he’s ever been on in his entire life.

Strike 1 – His date is handsome, well-bred, fabulously wealthy, and supposedly in the line of succession for the tiny Eastern European nation of Latvia. He is also arrogant, self-important, and loves hearing himself talk, and Charles swears he’s going to murder Reed Richards, who told Charles he knew ‘the perfect person to set you up with to get over your ex’, and that was after talking him into taking over Genetics 101 class for the fall term.

Murder.

Strike 2 – They’re at his favorite restaurant, or the one that used to be his and Erik’s favorite place to go, a charming little Italian trattoria with the best panna cotta in all of Manhattan. Victor had taken one look at the homey, down-to-earth décor and snorted, and offered to get them reservations elsewhere, guaranteed to have much better food and service.

Charles had to refrain from braining the man with his menu.

Worse is the fact that not ten minutes after they’re seated, Charles spies Erik arriving with Moira for dinner, with the owner greeting them warmly and placing them at a table much too close for comfort. He manages a half smile, half grimace when Erik and Moira wave at him, though thankfully (or rather not, since it might actually improve the evening to have his ex and his best friend interrupt his blind date) they choose not to make their way over for an awkward introduction.

He thinks it’s entirely unfair that he’d much rather be over at their table, drinking wine and laughing about Erik’s minions or Moira’s cases, than being stuck here listening to Dr. Boring go on and on and on about his giant castle and his super-duper secret important research…

Strike 3 comes just after the main course, when the nervous young man at the next table pops the question to his unsuspecting companion. Between the lovely (if overly saccharine) vows of adoration, the enthusiastic applause by the other diners and some rather overt eye rolling by his own snobby date, Charles is ready to skip dessert and call it a night – preferably with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Chip Happens’ in front of the TV.

Of course his plan is completely upended when one half of the newly engaged starts choking, having inhaled a piece of steak much too quickly in his excited state. Frantic, Charles grabs Victor and tugs him out of his chair, and shoves him at the young man and his panicky fiancé and demands, “Quick, you have to help him.”

Startled, Victor looks at him and says, “What? I don’t know how to help!”

By now the dining room is in chaos, with the waiter running to the kitchen to find someone to help. “What do you mean you don’t know how?” Charles snaps, “you’re a doctor!”

“I’m not…actually a doctor?” Victor admits, looking a little sheepish for the first time this evening. “I mean, I did get an honorary—”

“Oh do shut up,” Charles growls, shoving him out of the way. In the same instant, Erik appears at his side like a guardian angel, and performs the Heimlich on the poor boy to the relief of the entire restaurant.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” the fiancé cries, as Charles and Erik help the two of them pack up their things. It’s important to get checked out by a doctor, he tells them, to ensure there are no lasting effects from choking, and they are too shocked and relieved to do much more than let themselves get gently herded out the door and into a cab.

When he steps back inside the restaurant, Erik at his heels, he finds the owner waiting for them, pulling first Charles and then Erik into a hug.

Massimo shakes his head and shudders. “Those poor boys. Thank goodness for you two. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

Charles laughs. “Much as I would love to take credit, it was all Erik’s doing. He’s the hero of the night.”

“Yes, yes,” Massimo agrees, “but he wouldn’t have been over there so fast if he hadn’t been watching your table all night, am I right?”

Charles can’t believe it, but Erik actually flushes a delightful pink at Massimo’s teasing, and pretends to scowl at the elderly man when they both start to chuckle. “I wasn’t watching the table! I was just…wondering what kind of man wears a cape to dinner.”

He can’t even be mad at Erik’s little jab, because Charles had thought the exact same thing.

“Oh hey Charles, sorry to interrupt.” It’s their favorite waiter Sean, who had been shooting dirty looks at Victor all night, much to Charles’ amusement. “Your date paid the bill and left. He said to tell you he’s sorry he had to leave but there was an emergency and blah blah blah he’ll call you. God, what an absolute prick.”

“Now Sean—” Massimo says warningly, though he can’t quite keep the grin off his face.

“No, no Sean’s right.” He can’t even be mortified that Erik is right here, getting a front row seat to the utter shit show of a date he’s had all evening; he’s that relieved it’s over. “That was a huge, terrible, catastrophic mistake I won’t be repeating again. I just want to go home and pretend this entire night never happened.”

“Or you could join us for dessert?”

Charles turns to find Erik looking at him rather intently, almost…hopeful as he waits for an answer.

“I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”

This time Erik rolls his eyes at him and snorts. “Moira and I are just catching up on work and Tony’s latest disaster.” Then his expression softens and he adds, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other and had a chance to talk. I’d like to know how you’ve been doing. Please.”

“I—”

“I’ll bring another place setting over.” Sean interrupts with a grin.

“And I’ll bring you your favorite Panna cotta for two, and a tiramisu for Ms. MacTaggert, yes?” Massimo says, entirely unashamed with his blatant meddling.

Charles laughs; he can’t say no to what is admittedly a lovely offer, and a chance to turn the disastrous evening around to something much more enjoyable – certainly not when all three faces are looking at him with such hope and expectation.

“Dessert sounds great,” he says, and lets Massimo herd them towards Erik’s table.

#gerec writes #cherik #modern au #au-gust 2020 #august writing challenge #day 15

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xfangheartx · 4 years ago

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This is my new Fairy Tail OC, Haru Dragneel and her wolf, Blue Fang!

Haru is Natsu's adopted younger sister by 2 years, and not only is she proficient in martial arts, but she is a very rare type of mage called a Beast Mage. She has the power to tame the most wild and unruly beasts by singing a soft tune. Because of this, she has a natural animal magnetism, drawing animals of different shapes and sizes to her.

Haru's life was not easy in the beginning. When she was but a mere child, she was lost and alone in the forest. She didn't even remember her own name. She eventually turned feral, literally becoming a wild animal and losing any sense of humanity. It didn't help that whenever she tried to raid farms for food, people would often chase her away. The only way she spoke was through growls, grunts, and incoherent screaming, and had even grown fangs. Things began to change when she met a young Natsu, who found her in the forest after he lost a sparring match with Gray (again). By that time, the little girl looked like a giant hairball with arms and legs and only wore a tattered cloak. Taking a liking to her, Natsu decides to take her back to the guild...with disastrous results. Things quickly got out of control. Due to being away from civilization for so long, the girl reacted to the sudden change with great hostility, biting and yowling like a wild dog. It got to be so bad, even Erza couldn't handle her! Things got worse when Laxus puts the poor girl in a cage, which even Makarov believed was going too far. At night, the girl would howl and scream to be let out, and this continued for 3 days and 3 nights. That's when Natsu approached her cage with the key, despite Lisanna warning him not to let it out because she didn't want him to get into trouble with the adult guild members. The moment Natsu opens the cage, the feral girl leaped out and bit his wrist, pinning him to the floor. Instead of struggling, Natsu simply pets her head, causing her to freeze in place as he begins to reassure that everything was going to be all right and that he understood how lonely and scared she was, and how betrayed she must feel because up until that point, no one really tried to understand her situation, then promises to her that he would never hurt her. That was enough to get the poor heartbroken child to break down crying in Natsu's arms. The following days, she was given a bath, got a haircut, and was taught to speak properly...but even then, she was still rather withdrawn, even as the others started warming up to her. After she made a complete recovery, Makarov decides to welcome the little girl into the Fairy Tail guild, but realized that nobody knew what to call her. Then a voice calls out "Her name is Haru Dragneel! My little sister!" This declaration came from Natsu, who smiles at her proudly, causing Haru to run into his arms and call him "Brother" for the first time. Since that day, Natsu and Haru have grown up together in the guild, getting into all sorts of mischief together and even bringing home a wolf puppy from one of their escapades in the forest. The puppy would later grow up be Blue Fang, who became Haru's constant companion. Haru is outgoing and social, nowadays, but she is often frustrated with Natsu's reckless behavior and gluttonous appetite, but nonetheless, she loves him dearly, just as much as she loves everyone else in Fairy Tail. Like any sister would, she even teases Natsu about his growing feelings for Lucy, though he tries to deny it. Unlike Natsu, Haru does not get motion sickness and is currently working on something that will cure him of it, permanently, without Wendy having to use her Troia spell. Haru also tries not to be reckless like Natsu, but she tends to get carried away and ends up causing collateral damage anyway. When that happens, she gets flustered very easily and goes into a frenzied apology. Like everyone in Fairy Tail, she will absolutely not forgive anyone who laughs at her guild, but she gets especially enraged when Natsu is insulted front of her. Blue Fang is not just Haru's companion: he is also her mode of transportation and even acts as her partner in combat. She refuses to see him as a pet or a tool and instead sees him as a valued partner and best friend. Blue Fang is mostly friendly, but he won't hesitate to bare his fangs if he meets someone he doesn't like. He may be big, but he's a gigantic puppy at heart and just loves it when he gets a belly rub (especially from Natsu). Long story short, Haru and Blue Fang are a pair of friends who are joined at the hip, and both are proud members of Fairy Tail.

#fairy tail #fairy tail oc #haru dragneel #blue fang

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a-woman-apart · 4 years ago

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Separating the Boys from the Men

Yes, that title is click bait, and if you keep reading, you’ve been warned. I’ve got a lot to get off my chest, and it’s going to involve defending masculinity, femininity, and our right to BEHAVE LIKE CHILDREN FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES because in many ways, we already do.

Let’s get straight to the point. As Millennials, regardless of our age, financial status, or level of “success” (air quotes 100% intentional) we have been accused of being lazy, entitled, and way too enthusiastic about avocado toast. At the same time, we have been described as having enough power to decimate the napkin industry, the diamond industry, and the concept of traditional marriage. We have been accused of a collective “Peter Pan” syndrome, because we “refuse” to cut off papa’s apron strings and get off the proverbial mama’s teats.

Wonderful to know.

Let’s unpack the “lazy” bit. Supposedly, this is tied to the fact that we have access to higher education, we [often, not always] have parents who financially support or house us well into adulthood.

So now, my question is, Gen X (the entitled ones, ironically) and Salty Boomers, YOU DIDN’T?

What do you call that “inheritance” you received? What do you call that education your parents paid for that was less than 1/3 what we have to pay? For Boomers, how do you explain the lavish weddings, cheap [and apparently nuke proof] home appliances, and “nights out on the town” that you were able to afford by working at whatever passed for a McDonald’s back in the day? Working on a farm, at a grocery store, or in retail used to ACTUALLY provide a livable wage; for us, those are a “side hustle” and we still have to get a “big boy job” that usually requires an education that can put us over $100,000 in debt by age 30.

Hate to say it, but if you hadn’t made most of your income “during the War” or in the absolute economic boom that followed it, you wouldn’t survive 24 hours in our shoes before having an emotional collapse.

Despite the disastrous living conditions of the U.S. in the 21st Century, not much has changed in how men define their level of “manliness.”

Financial gains (stocks, bonds, portfolio, bank account)

Bro “gains” (a.k.a. “gym gains”, how “Gaston” they are, including whether they want to go for the Adonis, Apollo, or Brawny boi look, or just how far they can throw something or how “boyish” they look if strength isn’t an option and they suffer from femme-levels of body dysmorphia)

Body count (since we’re in a time of peace and not literally war, this is LITERALLY a modern term describing how many people you’ve slept with, and I have never heard an adult man, regardless of sexual orientation, who isn’t a little concerned about putting those notches in the bed post, and if not that, VERY concerned about his bedroom performance: it’s quality vs. quantity)

Kill death Ratio (I know this is a video game term now, but did you know that before video games, men in England used to regularly get on horseback, get a bunch of hounds together, and chase down tiny foxes and rabbits? FOR FUN?!?!? Did you know, that before modern sports ((including Esports)), men used to just fight to the death, regularly, even if an official war wasn’t going on? It was known as “dueling”, and in less socially developed societies, men still behave like this. So the next time you complain about “male rage” and how heartless it is to make live chickens fight, note that even though we’ve quelled male anger and hostility on some level, you will NEVER be able to take away man’s urge to destroy. Boys and men will always like knocking things over, building things from the rubble, and ruling shit. It’s what they do-- and we women can and do, too, but we have a LOT more risk-aversion and self-preservation, which is a blessing and a curse for our species-- but we just need to make sure humanity as a whole stays...chill)

So what, say ye, has changed about how WOMEN define themselves now vs. in the past. I would say that very little has changed, but the level of internalized misogyny, insecurity, and good-old fashioned denial has SKYROCKETED.

Let’s look at some terms of how the majority of women value themselves.

Financial Security (few women will admit to “wanting to be rich”, because that sounds kind of “Trump”, but plenty will talk about having minimum income requirements for their partner(s), wanting to retire at a young age so they can “travel the world”, wanting to eliminate their debts, etc. It’s different language but essentially it translates to: I want to work so hard or marry into so much wealth that I never want to worry about money after age 35. #Hustle)

Looks (it doesn’t matter if you want a Kardashian butt, you’re in the body positivity movement, or you just want to “dress like a bawse” women are just as obsessed with clothes, image, and body weight/shape/size as they ever were, it is just that now that we’ve “slain the patriarchy” we have more fashion options than ever before, because “boy clothes” are just as “in” as femme ones)

Ability to attract a partner (some women, like me, “chase”, but thanks to biology, most women, regardless of sexual orientation, seem to enjoy being pursued more than being Artemis-style hunters. This is evidenced by the fact that when the feminist owner of Bumble changed the rules of the dating website to where women had to start conversations with men rather than vice versa ((a move that had ostensibly zero effect on lesbian matching)) 72% of women that she later surveyed stated that they liked it better when men were approaching them rather than the other way around. I am sure Bumble’s female CEO was shook ((as was I)), especially because she made the change to empower women, and apparently 72% of women didn’t want the power because it meant they now had the power to face rejection, and it made them uncomfortable. Big yikes. So much for #EndPatriarchy and #ChivalryisDead ?)

Playing house (this is probably going to get me some unfollows, but I’ll take my chances. Women, regardless of sexual orientation, often seem to be REALLY into having babies or just “playing house.” There’s also men like this, too, “Family men” as they’re aptly called, men in love with fatherhood ((or just being called “daddy”, and that will never not be weird)). So many women who never want to pop out a baby describe being taken by an OVERWHELMING urge to fuck during their “fertile window” ((or is that just me?)) and seeing every baby alive as the cutest human being ever once we pass the tender age of 25. The biological clock is REAL, and I learned the hard way that being bisexual and having immense fear of pregnancy and childbirth didn’t spare me from the awful truth of my biology.

I really don’t want to keep making references to modern video games, but they seem to serve the dual purpose of being deeply satisfying and helping us to quell “problematic” urges, including that one to dominate and destroy the world. For a lot of women gamers, though, our choices ((on a broad scale, every #girlgamer is different)) deviate from men’s in some interesting ways.

#1: We still love The Sims Franchise way more than guys do

Not only do we love it, but while a lot of men (again, #notallmen) tend to build elaborate neighborhoods to extensively mod and destroy them in terrifying ways, I still see women gamers taking obscene amounts of time to design homes, raise happy little families, and cause TERRIFYING blood feuds by having Sims marry Sims from rival families ((I guess we’re more Shakespeare than we thought, eh ladies?))

#2: We make up most of mobile gaming

Most male gamers think mobile games “aren’t real” and I tend to agree, but a mobile game is invaluable for when I, a woman, have time to kill between the 3 jobs I hypothetically have and I and don’t want to whip out something like a Nintendo 2DS that is both unwieldly and attracts the eyes of every impoverished, thieving human being in a .5 mile radius. #RiskAversion. These games are often low-quality, mindless, and insanely easy, but that is WHY WE LIKE THEM. Our entire life is a job. #Hustle

#3 We also love farming sims and RPGs

While we-- and most male Millennials-- beg god to not have to birth calves, milk cows, or labor in the tomato fields under the hot sun, most of us have no objection to having our virtual avatars perform the same back-breaking tasks to the tune of cheerful chiptune music. Also, even though men definitely enjoy them, too, I have never met a woman gamer who didn’t enjoy a nice RPG; why do you think we’re such avid readers of fantasy/romance YA?

We want to be transported to a different world, and if you won’t take us there, we’re happy to go there virtually ((because we probably can’t afford travel; we’re still millennials)).

Ability to murder people who threaten our young or our partner(s) (Okay this one is a bit more complicated, but I’m just going to tell you a bit about female animals. DON’T MESS WITH THEIR BABIES IF YOU WANT TO LIVE. Human females, are, in that regard, just as savage, if not more so, than our male counterparts.

I’ve never heard of any woman ((outside of prison, maybe)) who killed another woman for “looking at her weird” or saying “your mama” too many times. I’ve heard plenty of women threaten literal murder because another woman ((or man, we’re #progressive)) came too close to her romantic/sexual partner, or another human being threatened harm on our kids or our “squad.”

I don’t know where the meme truly originated from, but “Don’t talk to me or my son ever again” is SUCH a Mom thing to say. So much misandry is wrapped up in the idea that men are predators, and that is true, but not in the excessively sexually deviant ways you think ((that’s only sometimes true)). They just like hunting things, including people, but if you give them a toy to play with ((I MEAN ACTUAL TOY OMG)) they seem alright. Let them go play with their cars, Xbox, [insert whatever] or something. They’re men, okay, they’re easily distracted/impressed/occupied.

Women, on the other hand, have seemed to be having an EXTREME amount of trouble curbing that baby-making urge, or the Excessive Nurturing Urge, that one that makes you ask your grown husband if he’s remembered to pack lunch for work or if he remembered to pack money for his playdate with his bros, because he’s gonna need money at Six Flags and you aren’t going to bring it to him because he should’ve remembered, you reminded him 30093390 times.

THAT’S NOT HIS FAULT. HE HAS MANAGED BY SOME MIRACLE TO STAY ALIVE FOR 33 YEARS. THAT’S YOU, SWEETIE. STOP BEING SUCH A MOM. GO BE A NURSE, DOCTOR, OR SOCIAL WORKER OR SOMETHING OMG.

In summary...

What separates the “men from the boys” or the “women from the girls” isn’t the era that we were born in to, our economic status, or whether we’ve been able to “conquer” our biology. That’s definitely not possible yet, chiefly because transhumanism involves a lengthy, ethics-guided process, and even if we all turn into cyborgs, the goal is to become BETTER humans, not LESS humane. Societal advancements have done more in terms of making us healthier, less destructive citizens of planet earth than raw technology ever can and ever will. Rapid technological advancement, when not combined with respect for morality, ethical standards of living for humans and all other life forms, almost always leads to human slavery, widespread abuse of animals, sex trafficking, and environmental destruction, because the “rules of supply and demand”, when not governed by strong international trade laws, dictate that consumers should be supplied with whatever they demand, because the suppliers can profit, and their right to profit should be defended at any cost.

So, in summary, I believe that “adulting” involves giving up on entitlement. What separates a truly childish human being-- regardless of their actual age-- from someone who is, in essence, “adulting” is experience, and how much those experiences serve to broaden that person’s perspective. It is an extremely childish, self-centered view, to think that you “deserve” anything for being “a good person” or, in the case of many a “woman child” or “man child” in media and in real life, just being “not so bad.”

Grown-ups are able and willing to do something that is known as “delaying gratification” which is the simple ability to delay a temporary pleasure for a long-term gain. Grown-ups are also able to perform true “cost-benefit analyses” to determine if a course of action, business deal, or even relationship is worth their time and effort. Finally, grown-ups are able and willing and able to make an informed choice and stick to it; in essence, we don’t try to “have our cake and eat it too” we understand that once we’ve eaten that cake, the cake is gone, but we also realize that if we are willing to work hard and make sacrifices, we can earn the ingredients to make ourselves another cake to eat, even if we might need a lot of help from other adults in getting those ingredients (we call this teamwork and cooperation).

Children, on the other hand (in literal and metaphorical terms), are very impatient. They get angry when things don’t go their way, and instead of taking the steps needed to improve their situation, they storm off and return home. It doesn’t matter if their home is with their parents, with their 3 roommates, or with their husband or wife, these people throw tantrums, refuse to communicate/cooperate, and stew in their displeasure until someone feels sorry for them and fixes their problem for them. They lack the ability to work through daily life problems and refuse to take any responsibility for how their actions or inaction contributed to their dilemma.

There is one difference with an actual human child or teen, though, is that they have an excuse. Their brains are still developing, and they haven’t had the chance to live through these situations yet; these are new challenges to them. Even if they do have a “bad attitude”, with help from peers and patients, principled adult mentors and teachers, these cantankerous kids can grow into well-adjusted, able adults. The high levels of neuroplasticity in their brains actually make it so that it is easier for them to accept large amounts of sensory data and to learn from processing and practicing using it.

An “adult child” is someone who, more often than not, has been coddled instead of challenged. These people have often faced no significant hardships in life. There is a reason why, even after we have recognized the immense downsides of authoritarian parenting and have demonstrated psychological harms of corporal punishment for kids, we still call “bad kids” and “irresponsible adults” spoiled.

Authoritarianism produces rigid, scared people who often struggle with critical thinking and self-esteem or end up being authoritarian parents themselves, but that last one is actually one of the less likely options. Children of authoritarian parents often develop Borderline Personality Disorder or become defiant against authority (shocker). Overly permissive or overly neglectful parenting, though, are parental styles most associated with producing narcissists, who often become authoritarian parents, because when their kids challenge them, they completely lack the patience or emotional capacity to deal with it and resort to “because I said so”, stonewalling and/or physical abuse as forms of “character-building.”

The reason why overly permissive parents spoil their kids is because kids actually do need discipline and guidance, and so these kinds of parents produce kids who are outwardly capable and confident but completely lack any of the life skills to justify it, and when they ask their parents for advice they are just met with a bunch of hippie mumbo jumbo or told to just avoid the conflict rather than resolve it. These kids grow into adults who are still sad little kids inside, because they never grew up, but now they’re sad little kids who are articulate and well-spoken and now can-- and often have no choice-- but to con their way through adult life because they’ve maxed out Charisma and they have almost no points in Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom, or Dexterity.

The only parenting style worse than Authoritarian and Neglectful/Permissive is Mixed, in which a child grows up in a COMPLETELY unpredictable environment where the rules of the game change from day to day, and parents either give their children no attention at all, or they practically lock them up and throw away the key. Being raised like this is associated with the worse outcomes for the child throughout life.

So, why am I now talking about parenting styles? Because, for all that we love to trash Boomers and large swaths of Gen X on this page, we can’t forget where they came from, so we cannot allow them to forget WHO THEY MADE. It isn’t an accident that even though we live in the times of incredible economic hardship, WE are the generation (and Gen Z, to some extent) that got hooked on reality TV, video games, and social media in incredibly unhealthy ways. A lot of us 30+ millennials are growing out of it, and a lot of us have realized that it is an invaluable (and damn near unavoidable) way of marketing our products and talents. We’re often self-employed because that’s our only option in most cases.

The issue with Gen Z (who, while we called “Zoomers” now just all themselves “Doomers” and I think we should be a bit concerned about that) is that unlike us, they have no memory of “Before the Internet.” We remember dial up, we remember before that when you played outside untl the sun went down. They don’t have the privilege of being linked to that history.

Now, we have to be the Bigger Person. It’s our time to be Grown-Ups. Gen Z feels really fucking lost right now, and hearing us whine about our parents probably makes them pretty pissed off, when some of us older millennials are the parents, aunts/uncles, and older siblings to Gen Z kids. Even if we can’t be mentors, we have to lead by example, because we have a responsibility to these kids. A lot of them aren’t stupid, they see exactly what’s happening and they feel incredibly hopeless about it. Greta Thunberg is still 16 years old. She shouldn’t be out there doing that; I mean seriously, climate change is accelerating, but it isn’t even as bad as Al Gore said, it’s still reversible, but the fact that SHE FELT SHE HAD TO makes us shitty people. ALL OF US.

So you know, we all need to stop being hypocrites. We need to stop being entitled. We need to stop thinking this is about us. It isn’t. Not even close. We’re not important, even if our videos go viral or if we’re swimming in cash next to hot models by a huge swimming pool. America’s fucked up. I hate to sound Republican, but it’s because of our values. We suck at valuing what’s important, and if we don’t change that soon, it’s really going to suck to live in America.

It already does.

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isozyme · 4 years ago

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isoooooo i'm so happy you're into the untamed now :D what are your ships! anything salty and/or controversial?

yessssssss i am so into it! i’ve actually been into it for a couple months but only just now decided to annoy my tumblr followers with it.

i am a very flexible shipper! yes to:

wei wuxian/lan zhan

obviously

like, duh

all of the pairs you can make with lan xichen/jin guangyao/nie mingjue

not necessarily all at the same time, but not necessarily not overlapping

not a triad though. i mean, maybe the occasional disastrous threesome, but they don’t like, live together or go on dates as the three of them, lmao can you imagine

lxc/jgy is real though

nie huaisang/jiang cheng

but the characterization of nhs needs to be GOOD or it flops

lan sizhui/lan jingyi

it’s cuuuuuuuuuuute i know they’re like, sort of related? i guess? they have the same last name? don’t care, still cute

so i....also read that one verity fic..........jiang cheng/lan jingyi SHUT UP IT’S A GOOD FIC

nie huaisang/wei wuxian

but only as like, college drunk makeouts to see what it’s like to kiss boys

you said ships so siblings don’t count but SIBLINGS ANYWAY

more than basically any ship fic, i want the slow-burn novel-length Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng reconciliation that takes a decade

wen qing & wen ning SOB FOREVER SOB FOREVER THEY’RE SO IMPORTANT

also lan zhan & lan xichen aaaaah being an older sibling in the untamed is A BAD TIME

same to nie huaisang and nie mingjue, i have an entire essay in my head about the future they imagined for qinghe together and how that fell apart thanks to SOMEBODY DOING A MURDER AHEM. also how much of an act nhs’s fear of his brother is, nhs is absolutely zero percent afraid of his da-ge and i have the canon references to prove it. the same way jin ling knows jc is all bark no bite, nhs knows nmj will never hurt him!!!

ALSO MENTORS AND PARENTAL FIGURES

a-qing & xiao xingchen I CRY, THEY CRY, THE TEARS ARE LITERAL BLOOD

wei wuxian & wen qing & wen ning & a-yuan, the little family and the worst ever sustainable farming attempt, it’s like little house on the prairie but instead of smallpox it’s the undead

lan zhan & lan sizhui!!!!!

JIANG CHENG & JIN LING IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT THING

madame yu & her entire family, she fucked them all up so so so bad and i would read fic about it until my eyeballs fell out

back to romance: i will read most iterations of xiao xingchen/xue yang/song lan

but it’s not like, my thing

their canon story is perfectly satisfying to me tbh

jiang cheng/practicing the blade

madame yu/wen zhuliu

you cannot tell me they did not bang back in the day

jiang yanli/jin zixuan ONLY IF she is very sweetly pegging him

onwards to things i don’t like:

jiang cheng/wen qing

leaves me entirely cold, that relationship was dead out of the gate and i think it should stay that way

basically all the f/f ships

there just aren’t enough female characters who interact for more than five seconds to generate f/f ships for me. when i come across it it feels weird and forced to me

jin guangyao/xue yang

doesn’t do it for me, my read of their relationship is that it’s one of stifled distaste, grudging respect, and practical considerations

xue yang cannot be controlled with sex, no matter how good jgy is at blowjobs -- and he is EXTREMELY GOOD AT BLOWJOBS, he has narrowly avoided death-by-baxia twice using the power of “hey da-ge have you considered that instead of cutting my throat you could be fucking it?”) jgy isn’t going to bother having sex with xue yang if there’s nothing useful to get out of it

jiang cheng/lan xichen

this one i find completely and totally bewildering, what the fuck, no they would not

why

how do you even --

how do you come up with it

“our brothers both seem very happy, we’re both very not happy, lets try having what they’re having and see if it helps?”

i’ve read some individual fics with weird pairings that i’m very fond of, here’s looking at you, nie mingjue/lan zhan/wei wuxian and lan xichen/song lan. like i said, i’m not that picky

#once wwx and lz are together they're TOGETHER though #the most monogamous motherfuckers in the entire world #the familial relationships are at least as important to me as the romances #god THE SIBLINGS THOUGH #the untamed #Anonymous #tumblr fucked this formatting #wow #i tried to make the bold help sorry!

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enixamyram · 5 years ago

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Hope’s Party

Summary: When Robin discovers that Hope has invited everyone but Alice to her birthday party, she takes it upon herself to stand up for the other girl. And to right a wrong concerning a certain ‘magical pony’ along the way.

Emma Swan-Jones was by no means a bad person. She just honestly wanted her daughter to have the very best time for her sixth birthday.

She had been planning it for months in advance. They had rented the field in the best park in town, gotten there the day before to get it decorated and ready, hired the dwarves to help prepare things, gotten Elsa to have a snow cone station at the ready, Ariel giving swimming lessons in the portable pool David had brought and set up for them, had Cinderella doing everyone’s face paints and even hired Granny and Ruby to prepare all the sweets and treats that were sure to give everyone a sugar high. They had even managed to get Anton and Snow’s help to include a pair of regular horses from the Nolan farm to pull along a carriage as well as the best surprise of all. It hadn’t been easy but Emma had finally managed to get her daughter an actual unicorn (or as Hope called it, a magical pony). They were fairly rare as of late and this one was still young and perfect – a light purple hint to its white coat with bright blue eyes and a light pink mane that rolled down the back of her neck and around the crystal white and sparkling horn sticking out just above her eyes.

The unicorn was the crowning achievement on the perfect party. Snow hadn’t been very sure when Emma explained that Hope would be keeping her as a pet after the party was over, but as Emma explained, the unicorn was going to be hunted by dark magic users for her horn anyway. At least this way Emma and everyone else could keep it safe. It would live a good long life with Hope. Emma would make sure of it.

So everything was set, planned, ready and waiting.

It was all perfect…

… Except for one thing.

Alice Jones.

Alice was Emma’s niece in law (it was actually much more complicated but everyone had adjusted to thinking of Rogers and Killian as brothers so that’s what everyone went with now) and she happened to be the same age as Hope and in the same class as her in school. She also happened to be the only person in the whole of the class that Hope did not want at her birthday party.

“She’s weird, mum!” Hope had whined, stomping her pink sandal foot on the floor of their kitchen. “She does all this weird stuff! No one even likes her! She always goes and plays by herself and talks to the school hamster and says weird things about him! He can’t talk back to her but she pretends he does! I don’t want her ruining my party! It’s my party!”

Well… It was her party. As mean as it might seem, it wasn’t right to force Hope to invite someone she didn’t want to be there. The whole day was meant to be about her and what did it even matter if Alice apparently didn’t have any friends? No one would notice her not being there and she probably wouldn’t even know what she was missing. Emma had seen Alice’s ‘weird’ behavior for herself the few times Rogers had asked her and Killian to babysit (though he only asked them if Rumple and Tiana were both busy). She did have a habit of talking to things – animals, plants, pictures – as if they could understand her and as if they responded. No wonder Hope was so upset with her being there. She’d probably spend the whole time having an endless conversation with the horses or the unicorn and take up the time from everyone else.

In the end Emma gave Hope permission to not invite Alice.

“But you need to send the invites by mail so as not to hurt Alice’s feelings,” Emma began explaining.

“I will!” Hope said, not really listening and skipping out of the room, much happier now.

*O*U*A*T*

The day of Hope’s party, Robin Hood-Mills was doing her absolute best to be as slow as possible getting ready and heading down the street. And it wasn’t just because her mother was forcing her into a lime green frock that had more frills on it than a dog did fur. She insisted on wearing her brown shorts and white vest underneath – fully planning on ditching the dress the second her mother turned her back – and pulled on a pair of brown boots so late that her mother finally gave in arguing with her about them in order to finally get her out the house. Zelena desperately needed Robin to go to this party, even if they ended up being late for it. Her daughter had been spending far too much time with her brother and the Merry Men in the woods and didn’t have any real friends at school. Zelena was determined to change that, whether Robin wanted to or not.

So despite Robin’s best efforts, she soon found herself trudging down the street with a fat pouting scowl on her lips, kicking every loose object that happened to be lying down in front of her. Zelena kept telling her off, telling her to stop slouching, to smile, to stop pulling at the green ribbons she had put in Robin’s pig tailed hair, but she might as well have been talking to the pavement for all the good it did her. About halfway there she gave up trying, letting Robin sulk and instead focusing on rushing her fast enough that they didn’t make such a disastrous entrance by being too late to even sing happy birthday over the birthday candles.

Halfway there, Robin happened to glance up and caught sight of a familiar face sitting by herself on one of the local street benches with a thick red book settled in her lap. It was Alice. Robin had seen Alice a lot in school but had always been hesitant to approach her. She always seemed to be enjoying whatever game she was playing and Robin felt very self conscious about interrupting her in case she wanted to be left alone. And while she didn’t want to interrupt her reading, she also saw another perfect opportunity to once again put off going to Hope’s party.

“Be right back!” Robin declared, darting away before Zelena could stop her and rushing up to Alice.

Zelena started to call her back, then hesitated and stopped as she saw where she was going. Her daughter was willingly approaching another girl her own age without Zelena prodding her back with encouragement the whole time. There was no way Zelena was going to ruin that!

“Alice!” Robin said, coming to a stop in front of her. “Are you on your way to the party?”

Alice looked up and smiled widely right up until Robin mentioned the party. At that she dropped her eyes back to her book and shrugged. “No.”

Robin blinked. “You’re not? How come?” Had Alice found a way out of it? Could she get Robin out of it too?

“I wasn’t invited.” Alice shrugged, ducking her head further down into her book so her messy blonde hair fell down and hid her face.

“What?” Robin frowned. “Everyone was invited!”

Alice shrugged again.

“Why weren’t you invited?” Robin pushed.

Alice finally looked up again. “Hope didn’t want me. She told me. She said she asked her mum if she could not invite me and she said yes.” She looked back down. “She said I’m weird.”

Robin’s frown turned into a scowl. “Well who needs her dumb party!”

“You don’t wanna go?” Alice blinked, surprised.

“No!” Robin pulled a face and stuck out her tongue. “Hope’s annoying! And her party sounds boring!”

“Even with the magic pony?” Alice said, wide eyed.

“Roland told me it’s just a unicorn.” Robin shrugged. “And anyway. It shouldn’t be at a party. It should be free in the woods. Roland says it’s cruel to use it as a…” She paused. “I can’t remember what he said. But he said it was bad.”

Alice glanced down at her book. “I wish I was there so I could set it free to run in the woods.”

Robin glanced back at her mother, who suddenly was no longer in a great hurry to get Robin to the party now she was talking with Alice. Instead she seemed more interested in fixing her hair and clothes casually across the street. She looked back at Alice and smiled. “I gotta go to the party. Roland there already. But wait here for me, ‘kay? I’ll be real quick.”

“Why?” Alice asked.

“So we can play!” Robin said happily.

She was already turning away when Alice called after her. “You don’t think I’m weird?”

Robin looked back over her shoulder and grinned. “Yeah! That’s why I wanna play! Weird is fun!”

*O*U*A*T*

When Robin and Zelena finally arrived, they were more than late. But despite Zelena’s fears that everyone would stare and point at them, the party was such a loud and busy event that no one even noticed their arrival. They slipped onto the field and made their way towards the table where all Hope’s presents were stacked one on top of another. Zelena quickly set down the gift she had brought for her (a cheap coloring set) before she turned to push Robin’s shoulder, meaning to nudge her towards the other kids. However she didn’t get the chance as she was already rushing off towards Hope, Alexandra and all the other girls crowded around a miniature toy car that Emma had enchanted to ride around passing out pink frosted cupcakes to everyone. Zelena smiled, proud that Robin was making a real effort to make other friends, before she turned to find Regina and the other adults hanging around the tables.

Zelena had faded from view just as Robin reached the girls. She ignored all of them focused instead on Hope. It wasn’t hard to find her. She was dressed in a bright sunshine yellow frock with pink patterns swirling around the skirt and white flowers on the torso, and was the only girl who had a ridiculously large silver tiara balanced in her bright blonde hair. She also happened to have a birthday girl balloon in one hand and a plastic light up wand in the other that she was using to wave so enthusiastically, she nearly took Alexandra’s eye out twice before Robin had even reached them.

As Robin got close enough she didn’t slow her pace. In fact she sped up, reaching her hands out and charging straight into Hope’s back. Her hands hit her shoulders and threw her forward and with her hands full, she failed to catch herself and hit the ground hard, narrowly missing the toy car whizzing around. The balloon slipped from her fingers, drifting towards the sky and her tiara slipped into a crocked position on her head.

Robin then stood with her hands on her hips, frowning as Hope spluttered and gasped in shock, rolling and jumping back onto her feet. She rounded on Robin and immediately stepped up onto her toes so as to seem taller than the other girl she was normally nose to nose with.

“You pushed me!” Hope accused.

Robin responded by lifting her hands and pushing her again. Hope saw it coming, yet still was unable to stay on her feet, falling back down to the ground for a second time. “Yeah, I did!” Robin snapped, glaring down at her.

Hope stared up at Robin, sat on the ground for a moment of surprise before her blue eyes began to bubble over. A moment later she threw her head back and screamed and howled loud enough to be heard by all the parents standing by the dinner table. Within seconds they all rushed over, Emma at the lead with Snow, Regina and Zelena following closely behind.

“Honey! Are you okay?” Emma gasped, ducking and tucking her hands under Hope’s arms, helping her back onto her feet.

“What happened, sweetie?” Snow asked, leaning over Emma’s shoulder.

“SHHHHHHEEEEEEEE! PUSHED! MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Hope screamed, pointing the wand at Robin.

“What?” Regina rounded sharply on her niece.

“She did!” One of the girls said immediately. “We saw. She pushed her.”

“Robin, is that true?” Zelena demanded.

“She’s horrid!” Robin snapped, pointing back at Hope. “She’s awful and horrid and dumb!”

“Robin!” Regina shouted angrily.

“You apologies right now,” Emma said, frowning at Robin while her hand dusted the grass blades off of Hope’s dress.

“She should say sorry!” Robin snapped. “She made Alice feel bad!”

“Alice?” Snow blinked. “Alice isn’t even here, is she?” She glanced around like she might spot the messy blonde running in amongst everyone else.

“No! She’s not!” Robin snapped. “Cause Hope didn’t let her come! She said she wasn’t invited!”

There was a brief pause. “Hope.” Emma groaned. “I thought we said we wouldn’t tell Alice so not to hurt her feelings.”

“Hold up.” Regina said, turning her frown onto Emma. “I’m confused. Why wasn’t Alice invited? I thought the whole class was coming.”

“It’s a long story,” Emma said quickly.

“She said Alice is weird so she wasn’t invited!” Robin shouted, fighting to break out of the grip Zelena now had on her to keep her from propelling herself on Hope a third time.

“Emma?” Snow asked, frowning at her daughter. “I thought you said you were going to have Hope invite either all the girls or the whole class? Why did you let her not include Alice?”

“It’s her party, okay.” Emma sighed. “She doesn’t get on with Alice very well.”

“Last time I checked, all or none means all or none.” Zelena snorted.

“Let’s not change the subject now!” Emma snapped, scowling at Zelena now. “Which is that your daughter was attacking mine!”

“I was standing up for Alice! My daddy says always stand up for people!” Robin snapped.

“Your daddy’s dead!” Hope snapped through her tears.

“HOPE CHLOE SWAN-JONES!” Regina shouted.

By this point, Emma just looked embarrassed and quickly reached down, scooping Hope into her arms. “I’m gonna go get her cleaned up.” She said.

She started to walk away and Snow hurried after her. “Emma, seriously! What kind of lesson are you teaching your daughter? That it’s okay to exclude people if you call them names? You can’t let Hope invite everyone but Alice! How do you think the poor girl feels?”

“Mum, with all due respect, Hope is my daughter and I’ll raise her how I want.” Emma said sharply. “This is Hope’s party and she’s going to have what she wants and invite who she wants.”

Snow crossed her arms. “And say what she wants as well?” She challenged.

Emma turned to Hope, still crying softly in her arms and frowned. “No. She will apologies for that.”

At that, Hope began crying hard all over again. This was her party and now she was in trouble after Robin had pushed her down! It wasn’t fair!

Meanwhile Zelena and Regina were in a heated discussion of their own back in the middle of the field. The vice like grip that Zelena had on her daughters arm had loosened slightly, allowing Robin to finally slip free and now she hovered, looking up as Zelena became outraged that Regina would even suggest Robin’s violent behavior was from her parenting.

“You’re in trouble…” Someone suddenly sang into Robin’s ear.

She jumped and spun around, then grinned at the sight of her older brother. “Yup!” She said cheerfully.

“What did you do?” Roland asked.

“Pushed Hope over.”

Roland snorted and covered his mouth to smother a laugh, then reached over and ruffled Robin’s hair, causing one of her ribbons to become half undone. “Good girl. Anyway, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“You leaving?” Robin said, her smile dropping hard.

“This party’s boring.” Roland shrugged. “Gonna go into the woods and shoot some arrows.”

Robin glanced up at her mother; still so busy arguing about just how much she lets Robin get away with at home that neither she nor Regina had even noticed Roland’s arrival. She looked back at him and grinned when she caught sight of something over his shoulder. “Wait for me. I need to change and I’ll pick you up!”

Before Roland could ask what she meant by that, Robin had rushed passed him to the nearest flower bed. He looked at Zelena and Regina, then awkwardly began to shuffle away before they noticed him.

While everyone continued to either party, argue, or hover around, Robin quickly stripped off the dress and threw it carelessly onto the bench. Then she broke into a hard run and dashed across the field as fast as her little legs could take her. She ran straight for the unicorn where it was drifting in amongst greedy children that were pulling poking and prodding its mane, sides and tail greedily. A few were even trying to jump up and grab its horn like it was a game rather than a piece of its body. Robin nearly stopped to push each of them over but knew she only had so long before her mother caught on to wha she was doing. Once she realized that, she would definitely get Regina or someone else to use their magic and drag Robin back to them before she could get away.

So instead, Robin simply pushed those closest out of her way and jumped up. She managed to grab onto her back and slide her body around into a sitting position on top of her, reaching down and untying the loose rope around her neck that was being used to keep her from running off in the middle of the party. Once she was free, Robin lightly grabbed a hold of some of her long soft hair (it felt like feathers in between her fingers) and leaned forward. She then carefully nudged the unicorn’s sides with her knees and turned her around, directing her around and away from the kids and for the streets.

Roland had drifted over to the present table, probably seeing if there was anything he could sneak into his pockets without getting caught, and Robin directed the unicorn straight towards him. She wasn’t much of a rider, so had a feeling the creature understood that they were escaping, since she immediately followed every direction and rushed straight over to the table. A few people were shouting after them and Robin heard more than one person scream her name (one or two might have even been adults) but ignored all of them.

“ROLAND!” She called.

Roland glanced up in time to see her and immediately jumped onto the table, kicking and scattering presents onto the grass around them. He trampled on a few parcels, no doubt breaking a couple under his heavy stomps, and was laughing when he reached out a hand and caught Robin’s. He jumped and landed on the unicorns back easily and the three of them jumped over the food table ahead of them, ducked around the people rushing around in their way, and shot out of the field and onto the streets.

“Did they just…” Zelena said, her mouth falling open speechless as she watched their shape disappearing down the road.

“Yes they did.” Regina nodded slowly.

Zelena’s body tensed and felt her lips purse furiously. “That. Girl. Is-”

“Just like her father,” Regina chuckled.

Zelena blinked, turning to look at Regina for a moment. Then sighed and shook her head, but was unable to stop the smile pulling at the corners. A moment later the two sisters burst out laughing at the mess the Hood siblings had managed to cause after less than five minutes of arriving at the party.

*O*U*A*T*

Alice was still reading her book on the bench where Robin had left her. She had slipped out the house so her papa wouldn’t see her sad face and ask her what was wrong but now she was even more lonely than if she had stayed inside. It had been nice when Robin had stopped to talk to her, but she’d gone to the party. And even though she said she wasn’t interested in going, she obviously had changed her mind after getting there. Alice had heard about all the things Hope was having and couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at all the fun everyone else was having there.

Just then an odd sound reached Alice’s ears. Like a clopping sound on concrete. She glanced up and her eyes widened at the shape that quickly grew larger as it approached. Within seconds she realized it was the magical pony that Hope had been bragging about (though now Alice could see it was definitely just a normal unicorn) and riding on its back was a boy Alice vaguely recognized and… Robin!

“I’m back!” Robin called, pulling the unicorn to a stop in front of her.

“Hope gave you her unicorn?” Alice gasped, her book completely forgotten as it slid off her lap and onto the floor as Alice climbed to her feet.

Roland snorted loudly and Robin elbowed him. “Not exactly. But anyway! Who cares how! We’re gonna go set her free! Wanna come?”

“Can I?” Alice beamed.

“Duh! It was your idea!” Robin grinned.

“Okay but we better go soon before Emma or Killian come chasing after us,” Roland laughed.

Alice stepped forward and gently stroked the unicorn’s face, moving her fingers over her soft features with care the rest of the kids at the party hadn’t even been capable of. Smile smiled at the creature softly as she did. After a moment, she began whispering and leaning her forehead against the creatures face intimately.

Roland frowned down at her. “What are you doing?”

Alice glanced up and blushed slightly, remembering what Hope had said. “Uh. I’m just talking to her.”

“You talk to animals?” Roland blinked.

Alice hesitated, then nodded.

“That’s awesome!” Roland beamed.

“Told ya she was cool!” Robin said, grinning proudly.

Alice was surprised by their enthusiasm but quickly found herself grinning back at them. “You think it’s cool?”

“Hell yeah!” Roland said. “So what is she saying?”

Alice paused, putting her ear near the unicorn’s mouth for a moment and listening to what Roland would describe as rumbles and huffs of breath. After a moment Alice looked shyly back up at them. “She’d like you to get off her now. She doesn’t really like people riding her.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Robin and Roland rushed to climb off, each moving around to gently stroke her face and apologies in turn.

“I’m serious though,” Roland said, glancing nervously behind them. “We should get going. Come on, I know a short cut to the woods.”

With Roland leading the way, Robin and Alice stood on either side of the unicorn by her head and they began walking and guiding her along together. They moved quickly, very aware that there would be a number of people chasing after them by now, but Roland ducked them in and out of alley ways and behind buildings that kept them off the main street and shortened what would have been a much longer walk.

“So does she have a name?” Robin asked, looking around the unicorn at Alice.

Alice muttered to the unicorn, stroking her while she spoke then paused to listen. She looked up and shrugged. “She doesn’t have one.”

“Should we give her one?” Robin asked.

“Well you got to call her something!” Roland called back. “Can’t keep referring her as ‘The Unicorn’. What about Blaze?!”

“Ugh, no! That’s a boy’s name.”

“It can be a girl’s name.” Roland shrugged.

“Well it’s not her name.” Robin turned back to Alice. “What do you think?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you!” Robin laughed.

Alice fell quiet, watching the unicorn closely for a moment as they walked the long way around the back of the Nolan farm, closing in on the woods. She concentrated so hard on a name that she began frowning and wasn’t quite looking where she was going, causing her to stumble a couple of times, although even that didn’t stop her from thinking hard about names and she barely reacted as she straightened herself back up and kept going. Robin resisted the urge to giggle and instead waited with uncharacteristic patients.

“I know!” Alice said finally. “Frou-Frou!”

“Frou-Frou?” Robin asked, testing the name out. She reached up and stroked the unicorn. “What do you say, girl? You like Frou-Frou?”

In response she gently rubbed the side of her head against Robin and Alice in turn, giving Alice an extra lick along her ear and making her giggle. “I think she likes it!” Alice laughed.

“Frou-Frou it is!” Robin grinned, rubbing the unicorn face.

A moment later they had reached the edge of the wood. Roland paused, unhooking an old waterskin one of the Merry Men had given him from his belt. It belonged to his father and now he rarely went anywhere without it. He turned it up and let Frou-Frou have a long drink from it. He didn’t know when the last time she had any water was but no doubt would need some soon. She was in for a long run once she was free to head as far into the woods as she could get. She was smart, and would probably want to get far enough away to avoid any more run ins with anyone who might once again mistake her for a child’s pet.

“I’m kind of sad to see her go,” Robin said, hugging Frou-Frou around the neck.

“She’ll be fine,” Roland shrugged.

“We can always visit!” Alice said excitedly.

“That’d be fun.” Robin said, then reached over and took Alice’s hand in her own. “Let’s promise! Every day we’ll come here, after school, and see if she’s nearby. And every week we’ll go into the woods and look for her! Roland can help!”

“Sure, Roland doesn’t mind wasting his weekends.” Roland said, rolling his eyes but Robin ignored him.

“Okay!” Alice beamed.

“You gotta promise!” Robin said immediately.

“I promise.” Alice said firmly.

“A proper promise!” Robin said suddenly.

“What’s a proper promise?” Alice blinked.

“We gotta kiss.” Robin nodded.

“We do?”

“Yeah. Cause boys spit on their hands and shake when they make promises. But I don’t wanna spit on my hand. So we can lick our lips and then it’s basically the same thing.” Robin said seriously.

Roland bit his tongue to keep from laughing or correcting her. Little John had told him off for not letting his sister “have her fun” as he put it and in the end, this was a story he could happily file away for when Robin was older and more easily embarrassed.

“Okay!” Alice nodded. The two made a point of sticking their tongues out and wetting their lips dramatically. “I promise!” Alice stated with Robin repeating after her before they leaned in and quickly pecked each other’s lips.

“It’s a forever promise now,” Robin nodded seriously. “We can’t ever break it.”

“Never ever.” Alice agreed.

After they were finished, they watched Frou-Frou run off ahead of them, her beautiful light shaded body fading into the dark shadows of the safety of the woods. Roland was already bored, turning his attention towards the town to see if he could spot anyone chasing after them (almost hoping they would be so they could have an exciting chase) but Alice and Robin watched Frou-Frou go right until the moment she disappeared. Their forever promise to visit her often cemented in their newfound friendship.

A friendship which might one day grow into something more…

#Once Upon A Time #Alice Jones #Robin Mills #Roland Hood #OUAT Fanfiction #Curious Archer

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the-coldest-goodbye · 6 years ago

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Halfdan (Vikings) - SFW Alphabet Headcanons

Halfdan x fem!reader

A/N: Some people seemed to like soft!Halfdan in my headcanons about him with a plus size reader, so I decided to try my hand at some more fluffy headcanons I have! Occasionally it ventures into slightly dirty territory, but not too often.

As per usual, apologies for the length. No brevity here.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s not used to showing affection, so he’s a little clumsy and awkward about it. He had never been in a serious, long-term relationship with anyone before you, so he’s still trying to learn the ropes of all of it. He’s surprisingly sweet and affectionate for someone with a reputation as being a ruthless killer. PDA would make him bashful and he’d be less likely to initiate it than you. Even little things like you wanting to hold hands with him or kissing him in front of people would make him blush. He likes it, but he just isn’t used to the attention and feels very shy being on the receiving end of any sort of affection, especially so publicly. Part of the reason why he’s a little averse to PDA is because he’s worried he’s doing it “wrong” and doesn’t want to look foolish in front of other people or embarrass you with his inexperience. He much prefers to give you physical affection when you’re alone together.

Halfdan would largely show his affection for you through making sure you’re taken care of. With him around, he always makes sure there’s food on the table, furs on the bed, and a fire in the hearth. You got a leak in your roof? He’s there to fix it. Is your hut a little drafty? He’s there to find the source of it and fix that right up. He always offers you the last of his food and walks you home at night. More than anything else, he always looks at you with love in his eyes. It’s plain to see that he’s completely smitten with you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Your friendship with Halfdan would start with him making some snarky under-the-breath remark at a village gathering while someone else was speaking. It wasn’t directed to anyone in particular, but you heard and it made you smirk. You’d whisper something equally snarky about the person speaking back at him, which would make him quietly chuckle. After this, he would always try to sit next to you during any meeting or gathering so that you two could have a sarcastic running commentary throughout the event. Suddenly, he was always around, and that’s it. He decided he likes you, and now you’re stuck with him. He’s your friend and he ain’t going nowhere.

Halfdan has a tendency to be the Bad Influence Friend™. His idea of a good night would be something along the lines of getting absolutely wasted and stealing a cow from a stranger’s farm for the hell of it. In midst of the havoc, he would still be watching out for you, though. He likes a bit of chaos, but would never want to genuinely endanger you.

He has the reputation of being this dark, scary man, so you were surprised when you realized just how mild-mannered he tended to be in most daily situations. He would more or less become The Dad Friend™ to you. Loyal as hell. Your protector. Would make sure you’re safe and that you’re taken care of. The kind of guy who would hear that you wanted a new dining table in the near future, and then would turn up at your hut later that day with all of the materials to assemble a new table for you. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I just had it lying around,” he’d claim. (Liar. He got it especially for you.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Halfdan would initially be a little reluctant to cuddle, thinking that you wouldn’t actually feel comfortable snuggled up with a big brute like him. He would be awkward and stiff until he realized just how comfortable you’d get as you snuggled into his body. Once he saw that you were enjoying it, he would let himself relax and enjoy it as well. This level of physical affection isn’t something he’s used to, so it takes some time for him to come to terms with the fact that he’s allowed to savor it. (Honestly, he has internalized a lot of the judgments that came along with his reputation for being a bloodthirsty warrior. A large part of him feels “wrong” when he wants to bask in the softer, gentler things in life, so he has to unlearn that.)

After getting over that initial reluctance, he would have to admit to himself just how much he actually liked cuddling. It made him feel comfortable and loved, and it let him feel some softness and affection that he very rarely ever experienced throughout his life. Plus, he loved knowing that you were safe and in his arms.

He tended to be the big spoon or the one cradling you, though sometimes you could catch him wanting to be cradled in your arms. He liked having you be the little spoon with your ass pressed against his crotch (dirty fucker), but his favorite was when you would cuddle into him with your face in the crook of his neck. He liked being able to feel your breath on him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Halfdan never really imagined himself settling down since his life had mostly been dedicated to fighting wars for his brother and he never imagined himself doing anything besides being a warrior, but that all changed when he met you. Once he begins to imagine a future with you, he knows that he wanted to settle down, or at least slow things down a bit. He would like to travel with you to distant lands, but not for raiding or for wars — just to explore, learn new things, meet new people, experience new cultures. Maybe in between your travels, it would be nice to be settled somewhere stable in Norway, in a little house on a small plot of land. He has to laugh if he thinks about it too much. He never imagined that he would be thinking about domesticity, but here he is.

In terms of cooking and cleaning, he’s pretty awful. He’s spent most of his life living out of a tent or on a ship. The times he was settled somewhere for a stretch of time, there were generally thralls to do all that stuff for him.

With cooking, he can cook to survive (hunt, clean and prepare a carcass, and cook it over a fire). When it comes to “actual” meals, like those that you’d eat in a Great Hall, he’s pretty clueless. If he settled down with you, he’d be eager and willing to learn how to cook nice dishes, wanting to surprise you with a nice meal every now and then. His main dishes, particularly meat-based ones, would turn out pretty well once he got a grasp of things like herbs and spices. His attempts at making side dishes, though, would be horrifying — sweet and well-intentioned, but utterly disastrous nonetheless. Please don’t give this man raw potatoes. He just can never seem to fully cook them. Oh gods, they’re so crunchy.

When it came to cleaning, he wouldn’t be very mindful about cleaning up after himself, but he’d take the lead on household maintenance projects and repairs.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Halfdan is so committed to you, so if he ever broke up with you, it would only be after a lot of thinking and self-reflection. It would be torturous for him to do it. He wouldn’t throw in the rag very easily either. It would have to be something major for him to call it quits. He would probably try to work through things first with you before ending things, only seeing a breakup as a last resort.

If he ever did break up with you, he would start pulling away from you. You would notice him becoming more distant and quieter than usual. His level of distraction and lack of focus was a clear sign that whatever was on his mind was weighing very heavily on him. After you gently ask him what’s wrong, he would quietly reveal that he thinks it would be best for the two of you to end things.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Throughout his life, Halfdan had never been a relationship/commitment kind of guy, but that was because he had never met anyone that he wanted to commit to romantically. He had always been a loyal brother and a loyal friend, though, so he doesn’t take commitment lightly. Once he meets you and knows that you’re the one, he’d be ready to commit whenever, in any respect that you wanted. If you wanted an exclusive committed relationship, sweet! Want to get married? Hell yeah!

He would probably let you take the lead on that, though, not wanting to scare you off with seeming too eager to tie you down. He’d try to figure out where you were in the relationship based on little comments you’d make, but he had a hard time dealing with this coy, beating-around-the-bush thing, so he’d just wait for the both of you to be a little tipsy before having a classic “Soooo, what are we? What’s the plan here? Where do you see us in the future?” conversation with you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

You don’t have a life like Halfdan’s, spending so many of your days on the battlefield slaughtering others and being attacked yourself, and come out unscathed. He does have the capability to be quite vicious (as his reputation obviously had to come from somewhere), but he tries so hard to be gentle and soft with you, his love. He’s afraid of scaring you off, so he puts a lot of effort into being tender and gentle with you. It’s not an easy process and not something he change immediately, but he tries very hard to get in touch with his emotions and learn how to process them in healthy, constructive ways. However, sometimes he’ll still find it hard to process some things. At these times, he’ll try to isolate himself a bit to avoid blowing up on you on accident. It takes some time and a lot of work, but he does make progress.

He can occasionally be a bit clumsy and crude with his words, and sometimes it’s a struggle for him to fully get in touch with how he’s actually feeling, but he’s also surprisingly more soft-spoken and emotionally gentle than you would have expected from a man with his reputation. Though he always claims that he’s bad with women, he’s actually pretty intuitive and good at sensing how you’re feeling.

Halfdan is surprisingly physically gentle with you for such a notoriously vicious warrior. He looks hard and intimidating, but his touch is typically soft and timid. It seems like he’s afraid of breaking you, so you have to encourage him to not be so timid and remind him that you’re not made of glass.

(I know this is supposed to be SFW, but a quick note that the only times Halfdan tends to get rough with you is during jealous, angry, or stressed sex, but it’s never too over-the-top.)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’s a bit shy with hugs at first because he’s not used to them, but he quickly comes to realize just how much he adores them. There’s nothing he loves more than the feeling of you in his arms. He’s also come to enjoy the feeling of hugging you from behind in public, his arms wrapped around your waist, letting everyone know that the two of you are together. He especially loves craning his head around a bit to give you a kiss on the cheek from this angle because it makes you blush and smile.

His hugs are tight, as if he’s afraid of letting you go. He never wants them to end because nothing is better or more comforting than knowing that you’re in his arms and that nothing else matters at that moment.

One of his biggest fantasies when he’s gone on raids without you, the one that really makes him even more determined to survive and come home, is the thought of the ship pulling back up to the shore with you waiting for him on the dock, with you running up to greet him, jumping into his arms as he wraps his arms tightly around you, never wanting to let you go again.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He says it first and he says it pretty fast, much faster than you would have expected or would have said it yourself. He had never told anyone he loved them (in a romantic sense) before because he had never felt that level of connection with anyone, so he just knew that things were different with you. If what he felt with you wasn’t love, then what was? As a viking, his life would often be at risk. He never knew for sure if he would be coming home or not after a raid or battle. He met you soon before he was leaving for a raid; and for the first time in his life, he feared the prospect of him not coming back. He told you he loved you before he left because he didn’t want to die without having said it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets jealous pretty easily. If another man tried to flirt with you, he would get angry and would scare the dude off. Halfdan is a bit insecure because he never thought that he would find love. Now that he has it, he’s afraid of losing it.

Honestly, his biggest fear is that his brother will take you away from him. Halfdan has spent his entire life doing whatever Harald wanted, and Harald would make damn sure that he would get himself whatever he wanted. For the first time in his life, Halfdan had something all of his own: his relationship with you. Over his dead body would Harald take that away from him.

When Halfdan is jealous, he becomes sullen, tense, and brooding. You could always calm him down by whispering sweet nothings to him and gentle caresses, reassuring him that he’s got nothing to be jealous of.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses start off as shy and timid, but become harder and more passionate as you continue. His really passionate kisses, when his tongue plunders your mouth and plays with your tongue, leave you so filled with lust and wanting more. He also leaves hickies all over your body. The feeling of your flesh against his lips drives him wild.

He loves it when you kiss him anywhere, but he especially has a thing for you kissing the scars that litter his body. He thinks they are ugly reminders of the violent life he’s lived, and seeing them met with such love and tenderness from you makes them a little less ugly in his eyes.

Honestly, part of the reason why he loves seeing your whole body covered in love bites is because of the contrast to his scars. His body shows records of violence and pain. Your body shows records of love and passion. He wouldn’t want you to have it any other way.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s awkward and pretty terrified around children. He doesn’t know how to interact with them and is afraid that he’ll scare them with the way he looks or somehow break them. (Kids scare him more than he scares them, though.)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He typically wakes up early and leaves before you’re up for the day. Before he leaves, he’ll give you a kiss and tell you that he loves you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’s a night owl. He’s usually up late, often drinking and swapping tales in Harald’s tent with others from their raiding group or army. You obviously were always more than welcome to join him, and you usually did because it was a fun time. However, he would also love nights in with you. Regardless of if you’re cuddling and having discussions, playing games together, or making love, it was always lovely to be alone with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Halfdan’s reserved and not the most confident in himself. His brother Harald has always been in charge, and Halfdan has spent a lot of his life going along with his brother’s plans. This resulted in Halfdan feeling like he didn’t really have anything of worth to say. He wouldn’t talk very much until he realized that you genuinely wanted to hear his thoughts and opinions and until he realized that you weren’t going to judge him for them. It would be a slow process for you to coax intimate details of his life out of him, bit by bit; but the more comfortable Halfdan feels around you, the more he would reveal.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s not easily irritated by little things. He can be quite sarcastic and a bit of a shit-stirrer himself for the sake of a laugh, so little things roll off his back easily. It takes much larger things to make him angry, but his actual unbridled rage is a terrifying sight, one that he tries not to let you see.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers pretty much anything related directly to you or your relationship with him. For example, he’ll remember your favorite flower, the dress you saw in the market that you said you always wanted, what type of wood you wanted a new chair to be made out of, your favorite shade of your favorite color, whether or not you liked the crusty ends of a loaf of bread, the place where you had your first kiss, how you liked your hair to be braided, etc. You’re his first love, and it’s all so special and new to him. He wants to savor every bit of it.

However, he won’t remember every detail of every single thing you told him ever. For example, if you told him a story about your mother’s cousin’s daughter’s husband’s brother... yeah, no, he’s not going to remember any of that shit.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Definitely your first kiss. It was after a supper in the Great Hall. The ale had been flowing, and you both were tipsy and in high spirits. He was walking you home, and you stopped him midway to point out how beautiful the moon and stars looked that night. In a rare moment of flirtatiousness (probably with the aid of the ale), he said, “Not as beautiful as you.” A huge, goofy grin came over your face, and you pulled him in for a kiss. His performance probably wasn’t his shining moment. It was probably a little too shy and uncertain, caught off guard, but he still saw fireworks when your lips met. As you pulled away, his face moved a little forward to chase your lips, reluctant to have them leave his. Both of you had goofy grins now. You grasped his hand and pulled him forward to continue the walk back. He had spent so long wanting you, and he was thrilled by the realization that you wanted him too.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Halfdan’s basically your bodyguard. He would make sure no one messes with you, and he would threaten anyone who harassed you. It was a time when his reputation really came in handy because no one wanted to fuck with Halfdan the Black. Oftentimes, a flash of his knife and a growled threat was enough to get anyone to leave you alone, but he would be willing to step things up if the situation was severe enough to warrant it.

He also gave you a sense of security in other ways, like walking you home and making sure you were taken care of.

Halfdan didn’t really need you to protect him, especially not physically, and he didn’t expect you to. Sometimes when other men would give him shit, be it drunken banter or an actual argument of some sort, you would stick up for Halfdan, destroying the other guy with a scathing remark. Halfdan didn’t expect it or need it, but, gods, it turned him on seeing you make an effort to protect him.

Something that also meant a lot to him would be when you would stand up against Harald so that Halfdan had the opportunity to share his own thoughts on a subject or political/battle strategy. Halfdan had spent most of his life letting Harald get away with imposing his own opinions over Halfdan’s, so you showing that you valued his opinions enough to suggest that Harald actually listen to them for a change would mean the world to him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He tries. Oh my god, he tries so hard... but things always seem to go wrong in one way or another whenever he tries to plan something. His heart is in the right place and it is so endearing to see him try to be romantic and to make grand gestures about his love, but things tend to go comically awry. (If he tried to bake you a cake, it would be under-cooked and soupy in the middle. If he tried to set up a little boat for a romantic trip on the water with him, the boat would sink before you even got in it. If he tried to fill your room with your favorite flower, they would end up being infested with bugs and now your room was filled with bugs.) This really upsets him because he wants nothing more than for you to be impressed with his efforts, but it feels like the gods themselves are laughing at him and making a joke out of it all.

You wouldn’t be disappointed, though. Regardless of how things went down, you would be so impressed and touched by his effort. You would always try to let him know how genuinely happy you were and how thankful you were to have someone as thoughtful and sweet as him.

Actually, your favorite thing was how he would always put so much effort into taking care of you without even realizing how much it meant to you. He seemed to naturally go out of his way to make sure you were taken care of, like making sure you had enough food or repairing the broken things around your house without you even asking him. It wasn’t something his did as a grand gesture and he didn’t even consider it to be him going out of his way, but it moved you so much to see him care so deeply about you. You would always point this out to him and let him know that you didn’t need need him to try so hard with being overly romantic. He was already enough, just in how well he takes care of you in everyday life.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Messy-ass bastard walks with his muddy-ass boots all over the clean floor. He gets water all over the place while taking a bath and doesn’t clean it up. Can he, like, maybe stop testing out the sharpness of his swords by seeing how badly the blades fuck up the furniture? The stealing-livestock-while-drunk thing was funny the first few times but it’s getting a little old and now the neighbors know who’s doing it and they’re mad, and also what the fuck are y’all supposed to do with all of these animals? You want to go to bed, but his drunk-ass buddies are still in the house and won’t stop singing.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He had never been too concerned for most of his life, but he would feel a little self-conscious and worried about his appearance once he was with you. He’d worry. Do you think the scars that litter his body are ugly? Do you think his hair is stupid? Do his face tattoos turn you off? Does he look too intimidating? Do you wish he looked a little softer, a little handsomer? (No, you don’t. You have to reassure him that you love him exactly the way he is.)

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

As weak as it made him feel to admit it, yes, he would feel incomplete without you. He spent most of his life accepting that he would probably never find love. Now that he has it, he can’t imagine the pain of having you ripped away from him. You’ve introduced so much color and life into his world, and you have helped him start to see things from a different perspective. The thought of going back to how things were before you were around hurt too much to think about.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon.)

Halfdan can’t flirt to save his life, especially not with strangers. There’s something so awkward and unnatural about it to him. He feels a little more comfortable saying flirty or dirty things once you two are officially together, but he has no game when it comes to trying to woo someone he barely knows. Harald would try to give Halfdan tips and suggestions on things to say or do since Harald is smoother in comparison, but Halfdan just can’t get the hang of it. He’d much rather just become friends with someone and let it develop naturally into something more.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He would hate beating around the bush and not directly addressing things. He doesn’t like things to be vague or ambiguous when it came to your relationship or how you were feeling about each other. It would give him a lot of anxiety, and he would just have to address things head-on.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Halfdan is a light sleeper and also doesn’t seem to need that much sleep. He’s one of those people who never seems to sleep but also somehow never seems exhausted. How does he do it? Who knows.

#Halfdan the Black #Halfdan #Vikings #Halfdan x reader #Halfdan the Black x reader #historyvikings #vikingshistory #Halfdan the Black headcanons #Halfdan headcanons

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robronsecretsanta · 6 years ago

Text

fic: have yourself a merry little christmas

robert decided to perform his very own christmas miracle and actually go home to emmerdale for christmas for the first time since he left in a blaze of glory. except, well - diane’s given his room away to chas’ stupidly gorgeous son, hasn’t she?

a ‘there’s only one bed’ silliness with a christmas twist, for @ letthebluerain. merry merry christmas emma, i hope you have a wonderful one, and an even better 2019! love, your secret santa.

It was cliché, really, but you could feel a difference in the air when you got back up North, Robert decided. There was something crisper, about the air as he stepped out of the taxi, something colder, fresher about it.

Or maybe – maybe that was the part of him who remembered Emmerdale, and Yorkshire, with a bit more fondness now he’d been gone for as long as he had. Robert had left the village at eighteen, and he hadn’t been back since, and mostly by choice.

The first year, it had been because Jack hadn’t wanted him back. Robert’s father had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that Robert wasn’t to set foot on the farm that summer. Jack, he hadn’t been overly impressed with Robert’s choice of career (“you’re not going to make a life out of drawing them stupid pictures, Robert”) and a dramatic relationship, and breakup with Max King before Robert had left for university in a blaze of glory had been the final straw.

He could have come back when Jack had died, Robert supposed. He could have, and he nearly had, he’d made it right to the edge of the graveyard, watching the funeral from afar, watching Andy weep at his graveside, ever the devoted son, even when Robert wasn’t there. But then, well, he’d turned right around, and he’d gone right back to Reading, stumbling in the door of his university house gone midnight, his housemates plying him with beer and takeout, the only family he needed, really.

But that was then.

Robert had gotten a call from Diane, an apologetic one, he had to admit, one asking him to come home and spend Christmas with his family, just for once – after all these years.

All these years.

Sometimes, Robert didn’t realise how long it had actually been, since he’d left. Time flies, when you don’t have to live with your homophobic father who manages to hate you enough that he gets mad that you’ve actually upped and gone to university.

But that was beside the point.

The point was the air, and the air felt different, but familiar all at once – crisp, and fresh, and reminiscent of all those early mornings he’d spent out in the fields with his dad, and Andy, keeping the farm ticking over.

Robert couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at himself as he felt an almost fond tug at his heart, thinking of those summer mornings. Hindsight – hindsight was clouding his judgement, Robert decided, and making him forget why he’d gone to university over two hundred miles away in the first place.

No, he was back for Victoria, because he’d missed out on so many years with her already. It’s not as if they didn’t talk, they talked, of course – they even Skyped, once a week, every two weeks, depending on how busy they both were, and Robert sent her postcards and trinkets from every place he visited, Victoria delighted with her mini-map of Robert’s Erasmus she’d gotten by the end of that semester, getting postcards, and bracelets, and German sweets as often as Robert’s money would allow it.

But he hadn’t seen her, not in person, not since the morning he’d left, a black eye blooming where Jack had smacked him one, upon finding Max in Robert’s bed (he’d gotten reckless, and angry, and he was eighteen years old with a point to prove, alright?) and a suitcase in hand, determined to never ever come back again.

He almost hadn’t come back this time.

Robert had told Diane no, that he was going to be spending Christmas with friends, as he had done the last two years, his overly kind best mate from halls in first year making a point of bringing Robert back to the perfectly non-descript suburb that he’d grown up in, an hour outside London, anonymous, and simple, and everything Robert had craved as a teenager.

Emmerdale had always been suffocating, the kind of place where everyone knew your name, and every other tiny detail of your life. The kind of place where rumours had flown for months around school, after Robert had been seen with a hand down a mystery boys trousers, the kind of place where everyone felt like they were entitled to an opinion on Robert’s life, on who he shagged, on where he worked.

Jack never had to deal with that, living in a two up, two down, terraced house, where every house looked the same, where no-one made the effort to talk to each other, not more than a simple hello anyway.

Robert could feel his skin start to crawl, as he looked around the village, remembering all the reasons he left all at the same time.

It wasn’t too late to run, he supposed.

It wouldn’t take an outrageously long time for the taxi to come back, and he could catch the last train down to London. Jack was so stupidly nice he’d probably drive in and collect Robert from the station, and before Christmas Eve was over, he could be sitting with a mulled wine in hand, chatting to Jack’s grandmother, the elderly lady telling him all sorts of stories about the life she used to have in central London, a life that sounded far more exciting than her neat cardigans and fluffy socks would imply.

He could definitely run.

Robert wanted to run.

“Robert?”

And now he definitely couldn’t run.

Giving his little sister a weak smile, Robert held out his arms for a hug. “Surprise?” he offered by way of explanation, Victoria’s face an absolute picture as she realised that her brother was actually home. He didn’t have that ‘wow, look at how grown up my sister is’ moment, because – well, this wasn’t the stone age, was it? He had Facebook, and Instagram, and Victoria was always happy to update on her life every ten minutes.

She looked like she did on Instagram stories. But – well, a part of him couldn’t help but metaphorically well up, thinking of all the silly, day-to-day things he’d missed out on because he’d stayed away for so long.

“Diane said you weren’t coming!” Victoria explained, wrapping her arms around Robert’s waist, hugging him tightly.

“I wasn’t,” Robert admitted, hugging her back. “But I figured it was about time I came back, built a few bridges.”

“Yeah?” Victoria looked honest to god hopeful as she looked up at him, as though this was the magical beginning of the end for the great Sugden family feud.

“Yeah,” the confirmation tasted acrid on his tongue as he spoke, trying his best not to vomit at the prospect of making nice with his idiot older brother.

Sometimes, Robert would think he’d rather die than ever play nice with Andy.

“Come on, come inside!” Victoria tugged at his sleeve, gesturing for him to come inside the pub with her.

Right.

Robert forget they’d had to sell the farm, that they lived in the pub now – Diane’s name above the door, Emmerdale farm in someone else’s name, and Jack presumably turning in his grave, realising that Andy and his sprogs weren’t going to farm his precious land anymore.

(Good.)

“Diane will be so happy to see you,” Victoria chatted, Robert’s suitcase clacking over the uneven concrete as they headed inside. “God, Robert, it’s so good to see you, I can’t believe you’re home! I’ve got so much to tell you.”

Robert let Victoria natter on as he followed her inside the pub, the Woolpack looking the exact same as it had done all those years ago, for Robert’s disastrous leaving party, down to the scratchy carpets, and the mahogany coloured bar top.

A bar top his estranged step-mother was standing behind.

“Robert Jacob Sugden,” Diane didn’t sound entirely as though she was scolding him, but it definitely wasn’t all excitement. “What are you doing here?”

“I decided it was about time I came home for Christmas,” Robert said, trying his best to crack a joke.

Diane moved around from behind the bar, giving him an affectionate smile. “It’s good to see you, Robert,” she said, scooping him into a hug. She smelled the exact same as she always did, overwhelmingly of the perfume that had been a strange addition to the bathroom shelf after she’d moved into Emmerdale Farm.

“You too, Diane,” Robert said. “What do I have to do to get a pint around here, then?”

“Pay for it, I imagine.”

Ah, the dulcet tones of Andy Sugden.

That was on the list of things Robert definitely hadn’t missed about Emmerdale. Andy was slouched at the bar, looking incredibly sorry for himself, considering it was Christmas Eve.

“Andy,” Robert didn’t even try to hide his grimace. “Nice to see you again.”

“You short of money or something?” Andy said, his words slurring enough that Robert could catch on that he was drunk.

“Andy!” Diane shot him an incredulous look.

“There’s no other reason for the prodigal son to be returning home,” Andy shrugged, swishing the dregs of his pint around.

“Actually, I probably make more money than you do, shovelling cow shit,” Robert snarked back.

Eh, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and he wasn’t going to start being nice to Andy in one either.

“Stop it, the both of you,” Diane fixed them both with a stern look, a hand on Robert’s back. “Come around to the backroom, I’ll get Marlon to fix you something to eat, you must be starving.”

Now that she mentioned it, Robert couldn’t deny that he was absolutely starving. Like, embarrassing stomach grumbling kind of starving.

“Food sounds good,” Robert said, following Diane behind the bar, leaving a mopey Andy behind. “How have things been here, then?”

“They’ve been good,” Diane said, bustling around the kitchen, plating up something that looked a lot like the stew he used to feed the old sheepdog up at Emmerdale farm, thick and gloopy and incredibly unappealing.

“Andy looks terrible,” Robert commented, sitting down at the kitchen table. He’d never been in the backroom of the pub, if he was being honest,. The Dingles owned it on their own, last time Robert had lived in the village, and he’d hardly gotten on too well with them, so he’d never exactly been invited around for cosy dinners.

“Him and Katie are fighting,” Victoria said, almost in a stage whisper, settling herself down next to Robert.

“That’s hardly anything new,” Robert rolled his eyes. Andy and Katie always did fancy themselves as an epic love story, but they fought like cats and dogs most of the time.

“It’s serious this time,” Victoria said, by way of explanation.

“Victoria,” Diane fixed her with a serious look. “I think that’s a conversation best kept between two brothers, don’t you?”

“Yes, because me and Andy love to have deep and meaningful conversations about our love lives, Diane.”

Diane pinched his cheek, setting the food down in front of him. “It’s good to see your attitude hasn’t changed one bit, Robert,” she said, sitting down next to him. “I do wish you’d told me you were coming home, though.”

“I thought I’d surprise you!” Robert said defensively. “Do the dramatic movie style return, and all that.”

“You did always love to make a scene,” a familiar voice drawled, Robert turning to look at whoever it was.

Chas Dingle.

Now, she was never one of the villagers who’d had much time for Robert - to be entirely fair, not many of them had - but he’d always sort of liked her, if only for the time she banned Jack from the pub for annoying her too much.

“Someone has to bring a bit of drama to this place,” Robert responded.

“The problem is,” Diane continued. “Well, we didn’t think you were coming home, so - well, Chas’ son is here, he’s sleeping in the spare room, so there’s not really anywhere for you to stay. Andy is kipping on the couch, right now.”

Great.

Robert had come the entire way home for Christmas, and there wasn’t even a patch of floor for him to sleep on.

“Wait - you have a son?” Robert raised an eyebrow, looking at Chas.

“None of your business,” Chas responded, busying herself making a cup of tea.

Ah.

That was more standard Chas.

“Aaron, he’s lovely,” Victoria said. “He used to live in Paris, you know - he has a very exotic life.”

“Paris is hardly exotic!” Robert scoffed, pushing the gluey stew around his place, already wondering if he could order himself a takeaway to the pub without Diane - or Marlon, for that matter - knowing.

“It’s more exotic than Reading,” Victoria said pointedly, the door opening, and closing in the background, an unfamiliar face entering the room.

Aaron, Robert assumed.

He was - well, Robert had two working eyes, and he wasn’t stupid, he could see Aaron was gorgeous. He had a mop of dark hair, pushed back off his forehead, the sides shaved in close in a way he was surprised he found so attractive. He had a scruffy pair of black jeans on, a jumper that was two sizes too big hanging down over his wrists, his shoulders slumped in a way that made him look completely unapproachable.

“Robert, this is Aaron - Aaron, this is my step-son, Robert.”

Step-son.

That was an intentional distinction, wasn’t it?

Aaron fixed him with an intense look. “Hi,” he said shortly. “Mam, is there anything about to eat?”

“Hi Aaron, nice to see you too Aaron, did you have a nice day? I had a very stressful day, because you didn’t turn up for your shift in the pub,” Chas snarked at her son, shoveling out a plate of the horrid stew as she spoke.

“I told you, summat came up,” Aaron shrugged, slumping down at the table.

“Me letting you move in wasn’t supposed to be you getting to freeload off me, and not pay rent,” Chas looked annoyed, slamming the plate down in front of Aaron. “Honestly, Aaron, you’re not a kid anymore.”

Aaron pulled a face. “Take the stick out.”

Chas slapped him across the back of the head. “Get some manners,” she retorted, a sudden grin on her face. “Diane, I think I have the solution to our overcrowding problem. Seeing as we’ve got two little boys staying with us, they can just share.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Comedy isn’t your strong point, Chas.”

“Oh, I am entirely serious,” Chas said, giving him an overly sweet smile. “You’re only here for a few days, Robert, and my son technically isn’t paying rent to live here, so you can share his room. It’ll be fun, you can have a Christmas sleepover.”

“Mum, I’m nineteen, I’m not sharing my room like - like some kid.”

“I’m twenty two!” Robert retorted. “I’m definitely not sharing a bed. I’ll go and see if Val has a spare room or something.”

“She doesn’t, love, I checked this morning,” Diane gave him an apologetic look. “Chas is right, it’s only for a few days - it’ll be fine, I’m sure you two will get on swimmingly!”

Swimmingly.

Twenty two years old, and six months from graduating with a first class honours degree, and Robert was spending his Christmas sharing a bed with a Dingle.

Sighing as he watched the clock tick over, the possibility of him getting the last train out of Emmerdale, and back down South, disappeared.

Merry bloody Christmas indeed.

“I sleep on the left.”

Robert looked up as Aaron spoke, finally breaking his solid hour of silence. “I sleep on the right,” he replied. “Perfect match, eh?”

“You’re not my type.”

“You’re not mine either!” Robert retorted, more than slightly offended that this kid wasn’t in to him.

Everyone was into Robert Sugden.

“Don’t get so offended,” Aaron smirked, crossing his arms across his chest. “It’s not you, it’s me. No, wait - it’s definitely you. Does the poncy haircut and the weird clothes actually do it for girls?”

“And guys,” Robert grinned, popping open the button of his trousers.

“We do have a bathroom you could change in,” Aaron said pointedly, a look on his face Robert couldn’t quite figure out as he watched, Robert pushing his trousers down over his hips, glad he’d worn the Calvin Klein boxers he’d treated himself to recently.

Robert knew he was good-looking, and well - he sort of had a point to prove with this Aaron, he decided.

“Sure, but if I’m not your type, you’re not going to mind if I get my kit off in here, are you?” Robert said, shrugging slightly as he toed off his socks, adding them to the growing pile of clothes on Aaron’s bedroom floor.

Aaron rolled his eyes in response, and grabbed a set of pyjamas from the chest of drawers in front of him, stomping out of the room, and presumably toward bathroom.

Robert folded the clothes he’d just taken off, unzipping his suitcase to try and at least pretend as though he didn’t have to live out of it for the next few days, Aaron’s room lacking in storage to the point where Robert assumed if he asked for a hanger so that his shirts didn’t need ironing every time he wanted to put one on, he’d probably be shanked.

Clothes away, he decided to take a look around Aaron’s room, curious.

The younger man couldn’t have been living in the Woolpack for very long, or else - or else, well, he didn’t have much of a personality, the room devoid of photographs, or posters. It felt different to the room Robert called his home in Reading, a pinboard over his desk full of photos of the holidays he’d been on with friends from university, photos from his year abroad.

Sometimes - well, sometimes, Robert wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t left Emmerdale, if he hadn’t come out to his father, and basically gotten the boot. If he’d internalised it all, like he’d been so determined to once upon a time, he’d probably have ended up staying in the village, spending his life trying to prove to his father that he was the better Sugden brother.

Robert shuddered, at the thought.

“You having a nose?”

“Yup,” Robert said childishly. “You into minimalism, or something?”

“You into not wearing clothes?”

“Why, did your mum buy me a matching set of pyjamas too?” Robert questioned, eyes running over the plaid pyjamas Aaron was wearing. They looked comfortable, to be entirely fair, but Robert half expected there to be four or five matching sets under the tree in the morning, so they could do the proper cheesy family Christmas.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “No need to be jealous, mam was saying you used to have a crush on her.”

“Lies,” Robert scoffed. “I did that so my dad wouldn’t find out I was shagging Max King.”

Aaron snorted, a look of complete disbelief on his face. “You what? Jimmy King’s brother?”

Robert couldn’t help but feel slightly proud of himself, pulling back the right side of the covers. “Carl wasn’t happy about it,” he admitted, thinking of the shouting match he’d had with the King brothers about how he was corrupting Max.

Aaron laughed, the expression lighting up his face in a way that made him look entirely different to how he had done the past few hours, melting away the annoyance and anger. “Max King,” he repeated the name. “I never would have guessed that, you know - he’s been with his girlfriend for as long as I’ve been here.”

“I broke his heart,” Robert said cheekily, getting into bed. “Moved all the way to Reading - I’m sure he’s not even over me, yet.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, getting into bed beside Robert. “I’m sure,” he drawled, clearly unimpressed again.

Robert gave him an overly cheerful grin, tugging the covers up to his chin, ripping them away from Aaron’s body. “Try keep your hands to yourself tonight now!”

Robert couldn’t see Aaron’s face as he replied, the younger man turning off the lights, but his words were crystal clear in the dark of the room. “Get fucked.”

Robert woke up alone, which was a weird thing to feel weird about, but he’d kind of expected Aaron to be the type who lazed in bed for hours, and he was kind of hoping to have the opportunity to annoy him a bit more, but he did wake up alone, the duvet pooled around his waist, and the sound of life drifting up the stairs, someone clearly up and cooking breakfast.

Stifling a yawn, Robert swung his legs out of bed, rooting for some clean clothes, donning a jumper and jeans - he’d convince Diane to do some ironing for him later, he decided, running a hand through his sleep ruffled hair, too lazy to do much other than push it back off his face.

He was at the bottom of the stairs when the door opened, a sweaty Aaron tumbling through the door, head to toe in running gear. He was panting, heavily, having not even noticed Robert’s presence as he toed off his shoes, music still blaring in his ears.

Holy -

Aaron was fucking hot. Like, sell your mum for half a chance kind of hot, Robert thought to himself, watching a bead of sweat roll down Aaron’s neck, his hair soaking wet and clung to his head.

Jesus.

“Morning,” Robert decided not to be totally gormless, realising that Aaron was going turn around eventually, and he would end up looking spectacularly stupid, standing on the bottom step of the stairs and staring like he’d never seen a guy post workout before.

(That would have been a lie. There was two reasons Robert was a regular at the university gym - one, every single one of the trainers was ridiculously hot, and that was the sole reason he forced himself through an hour of kettlebells every Thursday morning, and two, the rugby team looking all sweaty post their weights session.)

“Morning,” Aaron replied, not offering anything else before he pushed past Robert on the stairs, clearly headed for the shower.

Shaking his head, Robert tried to put the thought of deliciously sweaty abs out of his head, heading into the kitchen. Andy was slumped at the kitchen table, clearly hungover within an inch of his life, and looking incredibly sorry for himself, Victoria plating up what looked like an epic fry up.

Who needed the gym, really?

“Morning!” Robert greeted brightly, about thirty times louder than he needed to be, enjoying the wince on Andy’s face as the noise cut through his hangover. “This smells great, Vic - I’ve not had a proper fry up in ages.”

“I did it mums way,” Victoria smiled softly.

Mums way. The plate did look familiar as Robert looked down, remembering better Sunday mornings of days long gone. He couldn’t help the wave of sadness that washed over him as he realised Victoria probably didn’t remember those Sunday, and it was more likely that Andy had sat with her, listing every ingredient their mum used to put in a fry up.

Maybe Andy wasn’t so useless after all.

“How is life at university?” Victoria asked, excited, as she set a plate down in front of Robert, and another in front of Andy. “I’m thinking of going to cookery school next year, you know - I wasn’t sure what to do after school, so I’ve just been working, but I really love to cook!”

“You should,” Robert nodded. “Could own your own place one day, if you stick with it.”

“I always tell her that,” Andy spoke, voice gravelly and tired. “Proper chef, our Vic.”

Victoria flushed with pride, smiling widely as she sat down. “But seriously, how about you Robert - are you coming back to Yorkshire, when you’re done with university?”

Back to Yorkshire.

That - that was an idea, wasn’t it? A bad one, but an idea all the same.

“I’m uh - no,” Robert shook his head, pushing his beans around his plate. “I’m going to do a masters, actually. I’ve applied to do one in Amsterdam.”

“A masters?” Andy raised an eyebrow. “What’s the use in that?”

“I like studying?” Robert replied. “I know you’ve not read a book since you scraped by your GCSES, but some of us surprisingly like it.”

“Robert, don’t fight,” Victoria sighed, sounding as long suffering as Diane did when the two of them started at it.

“It’s good to know Jack is never gone when you’re around, eh Andy?” Robert rolled his eyes, pushing his chair back.

“You could just call him dad, you know, seeing as that was what he was,” Andy snarked back, anger clearly the cure for his hangover.

Robert scoffed. “Yeah, great dad he was, wasn’t he?” he couldn’t push down the anger. “Kicked his son out because he liked boys, told me he never wanted me to set foot on the farm again. A+ parenting, that. Tell me, Andy, is that how you’re going to raise Sarah and Jack? Seeing as you’re so determined to be exactly like him?”

“Robert, seriously, please -”

Andy stood up, squaring up to Robert.

“It might help if you were actually a Sugden,” Robert said, knowing the words would hit exactly where he wanted them to.

He just hadn’t been expecting Andy to respond by throwing a punch.

And well - Robert wasn’t just going to stand there and take it, was he?

“Robert, Andy, stop - stop it! Diane! Chas!”

Robert didn’t really expect to get yanked away from Andy, strong arms around his waist as some dragged him away, Diane rushing into the kitchen, looking positively furious, putting a hand on Andy’s chest in an attempt to keep him away from Robert.

“Robert, you haven’t been back a day yet!” Diane said, giving him an exasperated look. “What could you two possibly be fighting about now?”

“He was slagging dad off!” Andy practically roared, looking furious.

“Well, he’s dead Andy, so I don’t think he’s going to be too offended, do you?” Robert snarked back, Andy managing to shove past Diane, punching Robert square in the face.

“Aaron -”

Ah, that was who was holding him by the way.

“Can you take Robert upstairs, sort that lip out?” Diane asked, Robert realising then that his lip was pouring blood, Andy - comically - looking as if his head was about to pop off.

“C’mon,” Aaron pushed Robert in the small of his back, trying to urge Robert toward the door.

One fight was enough for the day, Robert decided, allowing himself to be guided toward the door, and up the stairs.

“You and Andy are close then,” Aaron joked, rooting in the cupboards for the first aid kit, Robert settling himself down on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Mm, best friends, me and him,” Robert replied, wincing as Aaron dabbed at his split lip.

“It shows,” Aaron snorted, hands surprisingly gentle against Robert’s face as he mopped up the worst of the blood. “Did your dad really do that?” he asked, voice quiet.

Robert swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“You don’t - you don’t have to talk about it.”

Robert gave a miniscule shrug. “It was a long time ago,” he said. “I got with Max, when we were in sixth form. It’s not - he wasn’t my first, or anything, but it was the first time I really wanted to be with someone. Properly, like. So I decided I’d come out to my dad, and Diane. Diane was good about it, you know - she was supportive. My dad kicked me out.”

“Because you liked fellas?” Aaron shook his head, looking disgusted. “Prick.”

“Yeah, he was,” Robert sighed. “But you’re not allowed badmouth the great Jack Sugden in front of Andy, because Andy thinks my dad was the greatest man who ever walked the Earth. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a bloody shrine to Jack in his house.”

“Caravan.”

“Hm?”

“Andy lives in a caravan, on one of the spare fields up at Butlers Farm,” Aaron explained. “Until Katie kicked him out, that is.” “Does it make me a bad person to feel really happy about the fact that Andy got kicked out of a caravan by someone he’s already married, divorced and gotten engaged to again?”

“Maybe,” Aaron shrugged. “But he did just give you a split lip two days before Christmas.”

Robert let out a dramatic sigh. “There goes my modelling career.”

Aaron grinned, snapping the clasps of the first aid kit closed. “You’ve not got the face for it anyway,” he gave him a pitiful look, patting Robert’s already ridiculous hair. “Stick with being a boffin.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you kick in your sleep. Like, really badly,” Aaron said, emphasis on the badly. “I’m going to be in bits by time Christmas comes over.”

Robert sort of forgot he did that, sometimes. “Sorry,” he winced. “Meet me in the pub, later - I’ll shout you a pint and some grub to make up for it.”

Aaron gave him a tiny smile. “Okay. 5?”

“5 it is,” Robert confirmed, watching as Aaron left the bathroom, his nursing duties for the morning done.

He couldn’t quite quell his giddy excitement as he realised Aaron had actually agreed. He didn’t know much about him, sure - but he was good looking, and he didn’t seem to have much time for Andy, and that ticked most of Robert’s boxes to begin with.

Maybe Christmas in Emmerdale wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Robert hadn’t intended to be late - really, he hadn’t. He’d gone into Leeds to do some last minute Christmas shopping, realising pretty quickly he had some making up to do with Victoria after his and Andy’s little showdown that morning, and he’d gotten stuck in all the mental Christmas traffic, meaning it was well gone five by time he got to the Woolpack, spotting Aaron sitting in one of the corner booths.

“Sorry,” he apologised, sliding into the booth across from Aaron. “I forgot how mad Christmas traffic is, I normally do all my shopping online.”

Aaron shrugged. “You owe me two pints now - and I was hungry, so I ordered two burgers.”

“I’d eat anything right now,” Robert admitted, shrugging off his jacket. If he’d gotten changed since that morning, it was only because he had blood on his jumper, and it wasn’t because he was meeting Aaron for dinner.

Not at all.

“Vic was saying you live in Reading, now,” Aaron commented, nudging a pint toward Robert.

Robert gave him a grateful smile, taking a swig of it before he replied. “Yeah, I go to university there,” he said. “I do graphic design.”

“Like drawing and all that?”

Robert nodded. “We do it all digitally,” he explained. “I used to love drawing silly cartoons, in school, so I figured I’d make a career out of it.”

“You any good?” Aaron asked, a cheeky grin fixed in place on face.

“You can decide for yourself,” Robert said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and bringing up instagram, the page he’d had to make back in September as part of his final year portofolio coming up. He passed it over to Aaron, waiting half anxiously for his reaction.

“They’re alright,” Aaron said, the concentration on his face as he scrolled through the photos.

Robert rolled his eyes. “Alright, don’t be too nice.”

Aaron grinned, the foam of his pint getting stuck in his beard. “I wouldn’t want you to get a big head.”

(Funnily enough though, when Robert looked at his phone later that evening, he had a new follower - aarondingle18, an brand new account with a grand total of two followers, Vic and her gormless friend Adam, a photo of Aaron on holiday the profile picture, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and a grin fixed in place.)

(Only alright, indeed.)

Robert imagined that this was what Armistice Day felt like. Him and Andy were standing in the middle of the pub, Victoria, Aaron, Adam, and the rest of the Bartons settled at a table, waiting to see if World War Three was going to kick off.

“Sorry for punching you,” Andy said, not looking the slightest bit sorry at all.

“Sorry for saying you had a lopsided head.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “You never said that.”

“I did now though,” Robert said. “I couldn’t help but notice it. Have you seen a doctor about it? It might be why you’ve always been such a twat.”

“Diane, I swear to god, I’m going to clatter him -”

“Robert Jacob Sugden, I will bar you from the only pub this village has if you don’t apologise to your brother. It’s Christmas Eve!” Diane gave them both a long suffering look, Chas sniggering to herself behind the bar.

Robert swore he could hear her mutter something about how Robert wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, okay,” Robert held his hands up in surrender. “God, when did you become Emmerdale’s answer to Rocky Balboa?”

“Robert.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert said. “Can we sit down and have a pint now?”

“I’ll bring a round over,” Diane said, looking incredibly pleased with Robert’s half hearted apology.

“You two are worse than me and Pete,” Ross snorted as they sat down.

“Because we were the original feuding brothers, and we did it better,” Robert said, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly,” Andy agreed.

“Are you really not fighting for once, just so you can say you’re better at hating each other than Pete and Ross are?” Victoria raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Robert and Andy replied in unison, Aaron in stitches next to Robert as they spoke.

“I’m so glad I’ve just got a sister,” Aaron said.

“You’re better off,” Victoria rolled her eyes. “I’m telling you Aaron, every time the two of them are in a room together, I age about ten years.”

“We’re not that bad!” Robert protested. “It’s friendly banter.”

“There is nothing more friendly than a split lip,” Aaron hummed, sticking his tongue out at Robert.

“We could ask Andy to give you a matching one, if you’d like?”

“Can you leave me out of your flirting?” Andy said weakly, nursing the pint Diane had put in front of him.

Robert winked at Aaron. “If I was flirting, you’d know it.”

Robert was drunk. He wasn’t like, rip-roaring, vomit over your own shoes kind of drunk, but he was definitely a bit drunk. Happy drunk, he decided, pressed knee to knee with Aaron, Adam and Andy at the bar, having some sort of deep and meaningful conversation, Victoria and Matty huddled at a table of their own.

“What’s going on there?” Robert inquired.

“If I tell you, are you going to go psycho big brother like Andy?”

Robert shook his head. “She’s not a kid anymore, is she? I want her to be happy.”

“Adam was telling me she had a boyfriend last year, Ellis - great guy, apparently, but he got offered a great job in Manchester, and the long-distance didn’t work out,” Aaron explained. “Matty’s been in love with her since school, apparently.”

“That’s sweet,” Robert said, sincere. “You seeing anyone?”

Aaron shook his head. “I had a boyfriend, in Paris,” he admitted. “But I left him, a couple of months back. It’s why I’m here, trying to sort myself out again.”

“You miss him?”

Aaron looked at him, blue eyes sincere, and captivating, keeping Robert’s usually hazy drunk focus. “No,” he said, decisive. “Not even a little bit.”

A comfortable silence fell between them for a few minutes, until Aaron piped up again.

“You seeing anyone?”

Robert shook his head. “I mean - I’ve dated people, but there’s not been anything serious for a long time,” he admitted. “I guess I got so focused on university, and making sure I never had to end up here again, I sort of forgot to.”

“It’s not so bad here,” Aaron hummed.

“Maybe for you,” Robert said, glancing around the pub. “But it just reminds me of my - Jack. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living somewhere where I feel like I have to live up to a dead man’s expectations of me.”

Aaron gave him a sympathetic smile. “Did he not want you to go to uni?”

Robert shook his head. “He didn’t think I could make anything of myself, drawing those stupid little cartoons,” he said, pulling a face. “Twat.”

“He sounds it,” Aaron agreed. “So our bed-sharing is time limited then?” he joked.

“I can give you an extra long cuddle tonight to make up for it,” Robert grinned, wrapping his arms around a squirming Aaron. “I know you secretly love it.”

“I’m going to tie your legs together tonight, I swear to god!” Aaron said, suddenly letting out a snort of laughter, realisation dawning on Robert.

“Are you ticklish Aaron Dingle?” he smirked, Aaron’s eyes widening.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare,” Robert said, waggling his fingers at Aaron, the younger man honest to God clambering over the back of the booth in an attempt to escape.

“I will kill you,” he warned, backing away from Robert’s wandering fingers.

“Worth it,” Robert grinned, getting out of his own chair, legging it after Aaron as he ran behind the bar, into the backroom.

“You’re a pair of children!” Chas called after them, Robert not even bothering to respond as he managed to corner Aaron, fingers ghosting over every ticklish part of Aaron’s body, his ribs the worst part, apparently, Aaron collapsing into uncontrollable laughter, head lolling against the wall.

“S-stop Robert, I swear, I will smack you!”

“You’d never,” Robert grinned, easing up on his tickling all the same, the two of the pressed closely together, close enough that Robert could feel Aaron’s breath heaving out of his chest, Aaron trying to regain his composure.

Robert - well, he’d never wanted to kiss anyone more in his life.

So he did.

Aaron melted in his arms as they kissed, his grip on Robert’s waist impossibly tight. “Upstairs,” he panted against Robert’s mouth. “Now.”

“For what it’s worth,” Aaron murmured, cheek pressed into the space between Robert’s shoulder and neck, breath hot against Robert’s bare skin. “I like your silly cartoons. You’re really talented, Robert.”

Robert couldn’t help the flush that rose in his cheeks at Aaron’s compliment, his arms wrapped tightly around the younger man as he drifted off, hair sex messy and familiar under Robert’s fingertips now, the duvet tugged up around the two of them.

It was a bit bloody cliche, he realised that much.

But cliche wasn’t so bad, Robert decided.

He had a bit of a lightbulb moment as Aaron started to snore softly, gently untangling himself from Aaron, grabbing the pyjama bottoms Aaron had kicked to the floor that morning, the legs coming up a little short on Robert as he grabbed his laptop, tiptoeing out of the room.

If Christmas wasn’t the time to be a bit romantic, when was?

Robert felt like his eyes were glued together as he was woken up by a scratch of beard against his cheek, Aaron kissing him awake. “Morning,” he said, his voice tired even to his own ears. He’d stayed up until nearly four, the previous night, working on a present for Aaron.

“Morning,” Aaron replied, a soft smile on his face - one Robert hadn’t seen until last night, and one he could happily see a whole lot more. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Robert replied. “Do we have to get up?”

“Probably,” Aaron hummed, stretching his arms above his head, fingertips grazing the headboard. “I don’t want to, though.”

“Me neither,” Robert said, waiting with bated breath for Aaron to notice the little card on his bedside locker.

“What’s this, then?” Aaron gave him a curious look, reaching for the paper, a wide smile spreading across his face as he read what was written on it.

Robert was mostly just glad it looked as good in daylight as it had done at four am, two little cartoon versions of them glancing up from the paper where they were sitting on an absurdly tiny bed, Robert’s cartoon self complete with an exaggerated split lip.

“There’s a bed in Reading worth sharing if you ever fancy it,” Aaron said aloud, grinning as he did so.

“Too much?”

Aaron shrugged. “It’s Christmas,” he said, leaning in and kissing Robert again, the tug of his beard against Robert’s still healing split lip making him wince. “Sorry,” he murmured, a gentle hand on Robert’s cheek.

“If you think I care, I’ve got a point to prove before we get up,” Robert said, taking the card from Aaron and flinging it over his shoulder, moving so he was straddling Aaron, pinning his hands over his head.

Aaron smirked. “Prove it, then.”

(Merry Christmas indeed.)

#long post #robron #robron secret santa #robron fanfiction #letthebluerain

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theambivalent · 6 years ago

Text

Q & A

Recently I asked people in my IG story to submit Questions for a blog post. I had some interesting questions regarding veganism, comics and shows.

Here are my answers 🙂

Why are your IG stories getting more ‘vegan aggressive’?

So, before I went vegan, I used to hate vegans who were vocal, although I was never confronted personally by them... which, looking back now, I think was unfair. The mere notion of veganism was annoying because why? Because people were spreading memes about vegans who constantly announce they’re vegan? Even though I personally never witnessed that? Or... maybe because that was the thing that everyone does – single out the one that is different... I mean, I made absolutely no sense.

I told myself when I first made the decision to go vegan, I'm not going to be the one everyone makes fun of. I hid my diet from my co-workers, and intentionally tried my hardest to NOT be vocal about it. And you know what? The second anyone found out about it, I was still criticized. ...STILL.

I didn’t realize how much vegans get criticized until I became one and people noticed it.

I was constantly told...

If I happened to be tired one day –It's because I’m vegan, rather than my lack of caffeine

If my head ached – it's because I’m vegan, rather than being dehydrated

When I noticed a gray hair –because I'm vegan –like age has nothing to do with it?

So finally, I decided to not only confront those people who were putting me down because of my lifestyle, I started standing against them. I’m not picking fights with random people. I always show respect to those who respect me. However, when people are trying to back me into a corner, I will fight back, as anyone else would.

I'm defending myself from those who criticize my life, and that’s something that I've never been confident enough to do until recently, because I've just always had social anxiety.

In some occasions, I speak out against influencers who are making it seem like veganism is unhealthy for their own benefit – not to start drama – but because I feel it’s really hurting the movement and that could be disastrous for animal liberation. I really don’t draw my claws out unless I sense hostility.

Otherwise, I'm a humble person, who understands that not everyone can see past the constant advertisements, posters, magazine ads and billboards that glorify the meat & dairy industry, and are shoved in our faces on a daily basis... after all, they are literally every-fucking-where … and I was once under that thrall myself because of that. So, I can sympathize.

Do you prefer Beyond Burger or Impossible Burger?

Without hesitation I would choose Beyond Burger.

When I first tried both burger patties, I got a bit weirded out, because their texture, taste, and even the way it ‘bleeds’ just tastes and feels like real meat- it's kind of scary... for that reason, I don’t eat burgers too often.

But overall, I love the thickness of the patty, taste and texture of Beyond Burgers way better.

I don’t really consider Impossible Burger to be vegan - I only consider it plant-based.

Now, what the hell does that mean?

It is Plant based because there are no animal products in it... But I don’t consider them cruelty free, or vegan, because they do test on animals when there’s absolutely no need to. Animal testing = Animal torture. They have verbally stated that they’re catering to the meat-eating population and have served actual dairy based cheeses with their product while lying about it. [see link here for details: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zoibL0mtkk ]

I do believe that [Impossible Foods] are trying to do a genuinely good thing by introducing a plant-based food to meat eaters, I just can’t take a bite out of an impossible burger now, without the thought in the back of my head of lab rats being exploited just so I can eat this. I have no problem with those who eat their products, that’s just how I personally feel.

That being said, even before Impossible foods changed their policy to include animal testing, I still considered Beyond Burger to be the better of the two, again due to the patty thickness and overall taste.

As a possible alternative, I hear the brand LIGHTLIFE is introducing burger patties too, so that’s another option for people who like the ‘realistic’ burger patties.

How do you feel about the comment that pesticides/herbicides and the plant harvesting machines kill small animals and therefore a plant-based diet still kills animals?

So, the thing about veganism is that less animals die as a result of that lifestyle change. So, allow me to yeild the question...What’s worse? Your standard American diet that contributes to billions upon billions of animals being raped, slaughtered, skinned & exploited for our fashion and taste buds...? ...or a plant based vegan diet where a few small animals and insects might be harmed by pesticides? On the other hand a large percentage of the crops being grown are meant to feed the animals being sent to slaughter, so I really don’t see how this evens the odds here.

Of course, if there were a way to do this without harming even a fly, any vegan would opt for that option – and should that option arise, trust me, I –and most vegans- will make that change. But I personally think that using that to ‘refute’ the lifestyle- which some people do- is ridiculous & idiotic.

I’ve recently started growing my own strawberries, broccoli, limes, peppers and asparagus to take those items off my grocery list, and imo, they taste way better, and are not treated with pesticides. That only knocks a tiny percentage off my menu items list though...

Since my yard size is quaint & small, it’s not practical for me to create an entire home farm to feed myself when I can just go to the grocery store.

How do you feel about the “ex-vegan" youtubers?

I think it’s very upsetting to have viewers being lied to by their influencers- some of whom stopped being vegan a long time ago, and lied about it for financial gain. It is disrupting the growth in the movement.

Most of these ‘ex-vegans’ have similar things in common:

raw diets -a dangerous practice-

Vegan for extreme weight-loss

alkaline water every single day

Juice detoxes for unreasonable amount of time

Did not take medication for gut health, then blamed said ailment on veganism

Water fasting for weeks at a time – with no food at all

Didn't consume enough calories

NONE of their videos talk about doing it for Animals

Over-restricted themselves, often only eating one thing, like papaya for example, for days at a time

The main issue here, is they weren’t eating well, and as a result got sick.

To be clear... you can get sick from ANY DIET if you’re not getting the nutrients you need.

Meat eaters, vegans, vegetarians, ... seriously whatever your diet may be– make sure you get the nutrients you need!

But the issue here is that they didn’t take responsibility for spreading the ‘weight-loss propaganda’ and pseudo medicine practices that got them sick in the first place, lied about not feeling well for the sake of their businesses, then proceeded to take money from people buying their programs... while they were feeling sick and potentially making other people sick! ...And none of them have given any refunds for their “meal plans”.

From the veganism movement point of view, the fact that they’re blaming everything on veganism, rather than their dangerous nutrient-lacking practices, is turning every one they’ve influenced away from veganism.

Most of their influencers who genuinely wanted to go vegan for animals who could have gotten sick from these disgusting practices, are not only having failing health, but also feel helpless that they couldn’t do what they intended for animal liberation... and that’s very disappointing and makes me sad.

Vegan zombie made a video that shares my sentiments.

See it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sK_pySNNFK0

Adding to that, how do you feel about the Raw Alignment Interview video?

So, the funny thing about this video is that she got caught in a lie... and she used this interview to sort of justify that lie, and then proceeds to reveal that she was lying some more.

check these comments below:

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First, she says she stopped being plant-based 3 months prior, then 7 months (September). Another youtuber actually has proof that she messaged her asking about doing less vegan videos on her channel 2 years ago....??? Which she actually denies in this interview. Huh? ...and then she admits she lied to a fellow vegan because she wasn’t ready to be ‘outed’? ..what?

I still feel left in the dark, and there are way too many contradictions in this video. What she wanted to be a ‘redemption’ video turned into a sloppy attempt to hide more lies.

On top of that - the guy conducting the interview, claims to be a moderator, and yet is also an ex-vegan who believes that all vegans have digestive issues and are masking it to promote the movement.... um... huh? it’s completely one-sided.

The problem I have with this, is she’s justifying the practice of lying to her audience. IMO, that’s not fair to her audience, whether it has to do with veganism or not, because thousands of her followers were following her advice of only eating avocado with chips for a week straight or water fasting... she’s making people sick... and getting paid for it. It is very upsetting... I hate it when people lie, even more so when the health of other people are at risk.

See interview video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wcV4rUhitPI&t=1052s

What would you tell people who are afraid of going plant-based because of this “ex-vegan" drama?

I would say, do your research! Don’t follow just anyone on YouTube and blindly do as they say. You'll notice most of these fake influencers will tell you to eat one way because it ‘feels good’ rather than saying, ‘hey, this study from world health org proved this is good for you’.

I would also say, don’t be afraid! It's been proven so many times that plant-based foods are healthier and promote optimum health. The CDC, and the WHO have consistently found that meat, dairy and eggs contribute to high cholesterol, diabetes, & heart disease. Meanwhile, a vegan diet includes zero cholesterol, and has been shown to reverse heart disease!

I think a great YouTube channel to look out for is Gojiman because he’s got the nutrition education to give advice and is great at explaining why’s and the how’s. See his channel here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8zKmTVcs5s3IIR2DVlxfzA/videos

Also, when keeping in mind which influencers to follow – pay attention to the ones who talk about the animals. The ones that aren’t vegan mainly for health/weight-loss, tend to promote a way of eating that contains more daily nutrients and calorie intake. It's just a trend I’ve noticed.

Also, I have a lovely playlist of reactions, recipes, and detailed information on the lifestyle you can check out here:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcJhPHQwnc_pcg0yQn2rMKPxAMcRLx4BR

Do you have family/friends who aren’t vegan? And how do you deal with them?

Yes! Lots! Haha; and I don’t really ‘deal with them’ in any way.

They are aware that my husband and I are vegan, and they do joke about it.

We take no offense, and usually they lay off when we don’t give a reaction.

I have had talks with my parents about introducing more plants into their diets because they’re getting older and are trying to be healthier, but I don’t over-impose anything on them. I take vegan foods and they at least try them, which is awesome! They’re my family and I'll always care about them no matter what they eat.

When we have parties with friends, I usually bring something vegan, and they’ll try it and most of the time will love it and go back for seconds.

It's actually not uncommon for vegans to have family and friends who are not vegan.

So long as there is mutual respect for one another (at least vocally lol), we all get along quite nicely.

I honestly don’t think I've met a real vegan who doesn’t genuinely care about someone who eats meat.

We're really not a judgmental bunch - I think that’s one of the things people assume about vegans, and it’s completely untrue.

What is your favorite healthy meal???

Healthy meal... I love Buddha bowls! They're so easy to make and you can make several variations.

My fave Buddha bowl would consist of roasted Sweet potato wedges, quinoa with lime & hot sauce, sautéed edamame, and grilled kale with avocado ….and a sh*t ton of sriracha.

It’s super filling and is a good source of iron, protein, potassium, magnesium, niacin, folate, lutein, beta-carotene, B vitamins, Vitamin A, B6, E, C, K, Calcium, riboflavin, phosphorus, and Omega 3 fatty acids.

No joke- it contains all those nutrients, I just looked it up!

The best thing is that you can make so many different versions of the Buddha Bowl, and I change it up every time!

I never opt for organic foods or gluten free... I just don’t really feel it making a difference in my body, or taste, so why not go for the more affordable items?

What is your favorite vegan junk food?

Pizza – hands down! Although I could order that in, I still love making it from scratch at home - I just love knowing exactly how much of what is going into it.

We usually do plain cheese using ‘Follow Your Heart’ Parmesan, which melts really well, but every so often, I'll endulge and get some vegan pepperoni from the market.

My husband loves sweets, and I love savory... so, while my fave junk foods include vegan burgers, pizza, corn dogs, hot dogs, tamales, veg jerky.... his favorites include vegan donuts, cinnamon rolls, cakes, and pan dulce.

Do you miss any food since going vegan?

There is honestly a vegan version of anything these days... I'd have to say there isn’t anything I miss.

I've had vegan tamales, pozole, tacos, birria, bolillos, pan dulce, elotes and so much more (yes, I'm mexican- can you tell?).

The only thing I was missing for a while were hot cheetos, but last year I discovered a brand called ‘peatos’ which doesn’t exclusively make vegan chips, but their fiery hot flavor is vegan and fill the void it my heart that cheetos left …. so no. I'm not missing anything at all.

What’s your all-time favorite batman comic story arc?

Okay, so this is a complicated question... one of my top faves is ‘The Long Halloween’ because of the ending.

Who knew Barbara Gordon could be so evil at a time when the Gotham series wasn’t out yet? That twist gets me everytime I re-read it!

I could easily say I love Crisis on Infinite Earths, Batman Hush, Death in the family, Superman Red Son, Under the Red Hood.... seriously my list is pretty long... but, I have to be completely me honest and some might hate me for saying this, but I actually do love the Flashpoint story arc.

Flashpoint is kind of a touchy subject because it brought about the new 52 issues that divided some fans.

But when you isolate the story of Flashpoint, it really gets insane, I mean, it wasn’t just thrown together for the sake of rebooting the universe. Barry Allen had a reason to try to change the past – his love for his mother.

It sets off a course of events that creates an alternate reality where Bruce Wayne actually dies in the alley with his Mother and His Father, Thomas Wayne was the sole survivor of the mugging, leaving him to be an older, vengeful, blood-thirsty, gun-slinging Batman... and it’s just a nice contrast to the Batman we’ve always seen.

Sure, take the costume away, and he’s basically the Punisher, but what makes this different, is that we don’t see Batman under that light very often.

Tie in the Amazon war against Atlantis and ...omg, does the drama ensue!

Plus, that touching letter that Thomas writes to his son, that Bruce gets to read at the end …*cry* it’s so sweet!

How are you liking the Titans & Doom Patrol series?

So just so you know, DC Universe online is SO WORTH IT if you are into classic shows/movies and love to read comics – they have a huge collection you can read at your leisure. And the new series that they’re producing are all looking amazing!

Okay, back to the shows....

I’m going to jump on Titans first...

BEAST BOY

OMG, they mention veganism with Beast Boy! Way to represent! Beast Boy has been a favorite of mine ever since the original teen titans animated series ...I’m going to be honest and admit here that I haven’t read any of the Titans comics before watching that series.

I love his inclusion in the Doom Patrol. He is well written, with the exception of only being able to turn into a tiger for some reason? I’m hoping that in later seasons, he’ll somehow harness the power to change into tons of other animals as he does in every other incarnation of the character. It’s also weird that he’s not always green...? But appearance isn’t as important as his development. We see his struggles with his powers, especially when he kills someone as a tiger, and how he copes with that. His relationship with Raven feels authentic and for some reason not at all creepy, even though she looks like she’s 10 years younger than him.

RAVEN

Raven is a bit of a different story, she dwelled further from the comics than usual... not knowing that she is part demon or who her father is, and not having the knowledge of where she’s from is different than the Raven stories that we’re used to... so it takes a while to get used to that idea – not to say that the show fails... but it’s a bit difficult to retrain your brain with these things sometimes. She seems exceedingly whiny at first, until I realized she’s just a teenager, and teenagers, let’s just face, can be very whiny indeed. We’re so used to seeing her as a ‘hardened’ persona; monotone and serious. This show, it feels like they just grabbed a normal girl and put makeup and a wig on her ...and- voila! She's Raven. It’s out of character, but for the sake of the storyline, it actually somehow works.

ROBIN

Robin shows a fairly dark side that I think we’ve only seen in comics thus far; he is trying to prove himself capable of going solo and as a result tries to disassociate himself from Batman, stating that he doesn’t want to get to the tipping point that he believes Bruce has. I love his history with Dove and the struggle to strive to the best while keeping his head down. I like that he gets to see vigilantes from the cops’ point of views when they put down the idea of Robin coming into their neighborhood. He's a lot more well-rounded here with a bit more history, too. Not only are the Flying Graysons part of his story, but his love life and relationship with Batman play a vital role in his development.

STARFIRE

At first glance of Star Fire, I had mixed reactions... “I hate that costume”, “why is she wearing fur?”, “why is her skin not orange?” ...and yes, some of that still kinda-sorta bothers me, but little by little, they’re bringing more of her backstory to light as the season progresses, and she ended up being one of my favorite characters.

I still think she should be able to fly, and I do miss how disconnected she is with human culture in other renditions of the character. But once again, this show makes it work, and I love it!

Also, it looks like next season will give us a more comic-book inspired look to Starfire - so I can’t wait to see how that will turn out.

CYBORG

Why TF isn’t Cyborg in this?!

Oh... he’s in Doom Patrol?!

So DOOM PATROL, is an interesting series... it’s weird, and just so random, and I actually really love it!

Anything that brings more of the lesser known comic characters will always be something I'd be interested in.

But the fact that this show is just as ridiculous as the comics, I think, is amazing.

I mean, they gave us a donkey is being used as a portal... go in the donkey’s mouth, and out his butt?

A bunch of bad guys made of dead skin and letters that were never sent...

Using beads dipped in sriracha for a protection spell...

You can’t get more ridiculous that that! This is typically something you only see in comic books and I love that it’s something that they don’t worry about making more realistic on this show, and that’s something that most show runners don’t take a risk in doing.

I can’t really dwell too much on this because I am not completely caught up with the show... but I definitely will be soon!

TITANS & DOOM PATROL – both great shows worth watching!

How excited are you for the JOKER movie?

I don’t think I could possibly be more excited. Joaquin Phoenix is an amazing actor (and vegan)!

From the trailer it looks like they might be going with the Joker origin story from ‘The Killing Joke’?

However, I think it will purely be based on the development of the joker because it doesn’t look like they’re going to fast forward to the future where he shoots batgirl (and maybe rapes her?) and kidnaps Jim Gordon, and tries to make him break down.... at least nothing relating to that appeared on the trailer, but I guess we’ll have to wait until October to see.

What shows are you watching right now?

Other than Doom Patrol?

On HBO, I watch Veep & Barry and ...in about a week, I'll be watching Game of Thrones – the anticipation is KILLING me!

On Netflix... I’ve seen part one of the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina ...I love the satanic visuals- so cool! Will be watching Part 2 soon.

I also love the Punisher series, but we all know that’s not renewed – but it’s fun to re-watch.

LOVE DEATH & ROBOTS is a great one that has beautiful animation and well, written short stories.

I often go and re-watch ‘the office’ and the series ‘you’ as well.

Spanish shows I like include ‘Club de Cuervos’ & ‘Diablero’

Any new comics recommendations?

Border Town! Omg, I love it!

Not going to explain... just go read it! ...you’ll see!

I love writing reactions and answers to questions.

Thanks to those who contributed their questions on IG

~Ambivalent Thought

#RAWVANA #raw alignment #ex-vegans #veganism #comics #dccomics #joker #doom patrol #titans series #Q&A

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maddie-grove · 6 years ago

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The Top Twenty Books I Read in 2018

My main takeaways from the past year’s reading:

Growing up is hard, whether you’re a working-class college sophomore trying to adjust to an Ivy League college, a chronically ill medieval kid trying to beat witchcraft charges, or A GHOST THE WHOLE TIME.

You can go to Kansas City or the Congo or SPACE, but you can never escape the past.

Maybe I should be more worried about getting murdered?

Anyway:

20. East by Edith Pattou (2003)

Rose, a sixteenth-century Norwegian farm girl, loves her large family, but sometimes feels at odds with their rather staid personalities. So, when a talking polar bear offers to end her family’s poverty and her sister’s illness if she’ll stay with him for a year, she accepts not only out of desperation, but also wanderlust. This expansive retelling of “East of the Sun, West of the Moon” (already a winner because of its determined, flawed heroine) shines because of its vivid use of multiple settings and its well-developed minor characters. I initially thought it was a little slow, but I really came to appreciate Pattou’s skill over time.

19. Joe College by Tom Perrotta (2000)

Danny, a working-class Yale sophomore in 1982, thinks he has a lot to worry about. His rich friends are clueless, his townie coworkers at the dining hall resent him, and his crush is dating a professor. Then he goes home for spring break, where he’s confronted with a pregnant ex and a bunch of mobsters who try to interfere with his father’s lunch-truck business. I mostly read this book for completism--I love Perrotta, but The Wishbones made me wary of his earlier work--yet this seemingly lighthearted story contains some fascinating moral and ethical dilemmas, plus a hero who is sympathetic despite his callowness.

18. Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness (2010)

In the explosive conclusion of Ness’s Chaos Walking trilogy, the protagonists find themselves in the middle of a war with an enemy they don’t understand, forcing them to wrestle with questions of right versus wrong, forgiveness versus revenge, and the possibility of redemption. This was an intense read, but there was a lot of genuine joy and love mixed in with the death and war.

17. Ashes to Ashes by Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian (2014)

In the less literally but just as emotionally explosive conclusion of Han and Vivian’s Burn for Burn trilogy, former revenge-partners Lillia and Kat try to move on in the wake of a tragedy, as well as the abrupt departure of Mary, the other member of their retribution-themed trio. The future is looking bright, but then it becomes clear that Mary is neither gone nor happy with their life choices. I read the first book of this trilogy way back in 2014 and, while I enjoyed it well enough, I wasn’t blown away. This spring, though, I had the sudden urge to read the next two books, and they were both a wonderful mix of affecting human drama and ludicrously soapy plot twists.

16. The Charm School by Susan Wiggs (1999)

Isadora Peabody, the awkward scion of an otherwise graceful old Bostonian family in the 1850s, decides to take her fate in her own hands and become a translator on a merchant ship bound for Brazil. The captain, freewheeling Ryan Calhoun, isn’t too happy with this unusual arrangement, but he comes to admire and sympathize with the independent-minded and painfully self-conscious Isadora. At the same time, Isadora realizes that Ryan’s untidiness and occasional bouts of drunkenness disguise a heart and principles and a talent for making out in lush Brazilian gardens. I was absolutely delighted by this romance novel, which is an absolute romp with some terrific character development.

15. The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness (2009)

In the middle book of the Chaos Walking trilogy, the protagonists reach the end of a long journey, only to find themselves separated and caught between two warring factions. This installment does a great job of elaborating upon the world introduced in the first book, offering new perspectives on old characters, and introducing compelling new conflicts.

14. Fire with Fire by Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian (2013)

In the middle book of the Burn for Burn trilogy, classmates Kat, Lillia, and Mary deal with the fallout of their semi-successful Strangers on a Train-lite revenge scheme. Kat and Lillia want to call it quits, but their sympathy for Mary causes them to agree to one last score, so to speak. Unfortunately, FEELINGS and PAST TRAUMA and DANGEROUS PSYCHIC POWERS complicate matters. Despite my love for Ashes to Ashes, Fire with Fire has a special place in my heart because it’s the first book to explore the characters’ emotions in depth, as well as the first one to go way over the fucking top.

13. I’ll Be Gone in the Dark by Michelle McNamara (2018)

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a rash of horrifying home invasion rapes, seemingly meticulously planned, plagued the bedroom communities of Sacramento. Then a series of uncannily similar home invasion murders broke out in the Southern California. In this book published after her death in 2016, McNamara makes the case that this was the work of one person, dubbed the Golden State Killer. McNamara has a clear, humane way of describing grisly and/or convoluted events, and her portrait of the dark side of California suburbia is enthralling.

12. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (1998)

In 1960, a dangerously determined and self-righteous reverend from the American South travels to the Belgian Congo, even though his own church begged him not to go. He makes the questionable decision to take his exhausted wife and four daughters--vain Rachel, suck-up Leah, nearly mute Adah, and baby Ruth May--along with him. Their new home is a shock to all of them in various ways, and that’s before a personal tragedy and the Congo Crisis enter the picture. Kingsolver makes excellent use of her five viewpoint characters, all of whom have distinctive voices and enjoyably unpredictable (yet entirely appropriate) character arcs.

11. Lighter than My Shadow by Katie Green (2013)

As a young child, Katie has seemingly minor issues around food, but during adolescence she develops a serious eating disorder and almost starves herself to death. A diagnosis and the ensuing support of her parents seem to signal hope, but recovery is more complicated that one might expect. This graphic memoir offers a nuanced portrait of the sheer range of stuff that gets wrapped up in an eating disorder: religion, gender, sex, control, trauma, the desire for independence, and so much more. Green’s “cute” art style enhances the story, both because it makes an interesting contrast to the upsetting material and because it grounds the reader in the humanity of the characters.

10. Mindhunter by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker (1995)

Throughout the 1970s, FBI agent John Douglas, along with the rest of the Investigative Support Unit, compiled information about an increasingly common type of criminal: the serial killer. Gradually, they developed the practice of criminal profiling. As gruesome as it might sound to call this an excellent beach read, that’s essentially how I experienced it (not that I went anywhere this summer, but still). The pace is fast, the style is engaging, and the authors are frank but not overly lurid in their presentation of the nasty details.

9. The Beggar Maid by Alice Munro (1977)

In this collection of connected short stories, Rose, a bright Canadian girl, grows up in a rough, deprived neighborhood with her sick, stern father and prickly but not unloving stepmother. Life in the wider world brings her mingled pride and shame at her background, a largely disastrous early marriage, and eventually a satisfying but decidedly unglamorous acting career. Munro is a master of description, and she has a sense of fun that puts her head and shoulders above most short story writers. And the title story is just the most perfectly painful exploration of why someone would stay with a partner who is deeply wrong for them.

8. Dark Places by Gillian Flynn (2009)

In 1985, seven-year-old Libby Day narrowly escaped death at the hands of her teenage brother, but her mother and two older sisters weren’t so lucky. Except that Libby doesn’t feel so lucky, either, because she’s thirty-one years old with massive trauma, dwindling funds, and few adult life skills. Then a true-crime enthusiast contacts her with an offer: cash in return for investigating whether her brother was actually the murderer. Dark Places may be the awkward middle child of Flynn’s novels, but that reputation is undeserved; it has a thrilling plot, a perversely lovable heroine, and a sly critique of the “Morning in America” view of the 1980s.

7. The Hostage by Susan Wiggs (2000)

In the confusion of the Great Chicago Fire, frontiersman Tom Silver kidnaps heiress Deborah Sinclair, hoping to force her industrialist father into compensating the victims of his negligence. He’s not prepared, though, for her dogged escape attempts, her hard-earned resilience, or the hints that something was horribly wrong in her life even before the kidnapping. I had my doubts about reading a kidnapping romance, but Susan Wiggs proved me wrong. (It helps that Tom’s motives are both understandable AND not presented as an excuse for dragging Deborah into his revenge plan.) The super-slow-burn romance pairs wonderfully with the action-packed plot, and I love Deborah so much.

6. Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn (2006)

Troubled reporter Camille Preaker returns to her small Missouri hometown to investigate the grisly murder of one tween girl and the ominous disappearance of another. As upsetting as the case is, it doesn’t hold a candle to what waits for her at home: a softly cruel mother, a barely there stepfather, and a teenage half-sister who alternates between adoring Camille and tormenting her. Sharp Objects entirely deserves its reputation as the best (if not most popular) Flynn novel; it has a beautifully constructed plot, descriptions so lush that you feel like you can reach out and touch Wind Gap (not that you’d want to), and a deeply flawed yet admirable heroine.

5. The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness (2008)

At nearly thirteen, Todd Hewitt is the youngest resident of Prentisstown, and nobody is ever going to take that distinction away from him. Just after his birth, a plague killed most of the humans on New World, including every woman and girl. What’s more, the same plague made it so the thoughts of men (and most other living creatures) are audible to all. And the mayor of Prentisstown is a religious fanatic who won’t let anyone watch videos or teach kids to read. It’s...not awesome. Then Todd makes a shocking discovery that forces him to flee his community and question everything he knows. This book is a fascinating sci-fi take on the frontier horror story (ala The Scarlet Letter, The Crucible, and, more recently, The Witch) with a read-hundreds-of-pages-a-night plot and astonishing moment of wonder.

4. After the Wedding by Courtney Milan (2018)

Lady Camilla Worth, daughter of an earl who committed suicide to avoid treason charges, has passed from home to unwelcoming home ever since, finally ending up as an unknown housemaid. Adrian Hunter, a mixed-race ceramics heir on a desperate mission to make his family happy, happens to visit the house where she’s employed. Under some very strange circumstances, they’re forced to wed at literal gunpoint. Working together to unravel the mystery and get an annulment, they grow to like each other, which complicates things. This is one of my favorite romance novels ever, with wonderful characters (especially Camilla!), an explosive plot, and masterfully explored themes of healing and being true to oneself.

3. Wild Things: The Joy of Reading Children's Literature as an Adult by Bruce Handy (2017)

A famous magazine writer and father of two young children, Handy expounds upon the classics of children’s literature (The Cat in the Hat, Goodnight Moon, the Little House series, Narnia, the Ramona books, etc.). As someone who frequently rereads the favorites of my youth to de-stress (House of Stairs 5eva), the subject was tailor-made for me, and Handy’s execution is impressive. He covers an amazing amount of ground, switches deftly from one mode of analysis to another, and shares plenty of funny anecdotes and moving reflections on parenthood.

2. Blankets by Craig Thompson (2003)

In this autobiographical graphic novel, Craig, a creative, devout, and deeply lonely teenager in rural Wisconsin, meets his first love, Raina, at a church retreat that otherwise would’ve been miserable. They become pen pals and are finally able to arrange for him to spend a few complicated, wonderful weeks with her and her family. Their relationship and its subsequent fallout drive him to confront his conflicted feelings about his faith, his art, and his family. This is an absolutely beautiful story, complemented perfectly by the wintry landscapes and expressive human figures.

1. Breath by Donna Jo Napoli (2003)

Salz, a twelve-year-old boy in medieval Saxony, is dismissed and sometimes even reviled by most of his community, including his own father and brothers, for the unnamed illness that stunts his growth and makes it difficult to breathe. Still, he’s got a lot going on; he helps his beloved grandmother around the house, studies for the priesthood, and belongs to a secret coven. When an abnormally wet spring drives the rats indoors and causes a strange disease to spread among the locals, Salz’s sharp intellect and thirst for knowledge are more needed than ever. This novel is a historically grounded retelling of “The Pied Piper of Hamelin” where the protagonist has cystic fibrosis, and did I ever think I would type that combination of words? No, I did not, but I am so glad things worked out that way. Napoli’s treatment of disability is unusually gratifying, because she illustrates the essential things that a society loses when it dismisses the sick and disabled (as well as some other marginalized groups, such as women). At the same time, Salz’s family and neighbors aren’t cruel for the sake of cruelty; they’re just uninformed, scared, and/or bad at managing their own problems without lashing out at others, which does not absolve them but makes for a more thoughtful story than if they were just bad seeds. The portrayal of Salz’s struggles to reconcile the different sources of wisdom in his life--Church orthodoxy, pagan folk practices, and the knowledge slowly filtering in from the Arabic world--is also fascinating, plus the pathological mystery makes for a tight, exciting plot. All this in less than 300 pages! And do not get me started on how much I love Großmutter.

#books #reading #top twenty

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capaldisrighteyebrow · 7 years ago

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Unorthodox Auto Repair - A Reylo Fic

That time this video came up in chat and @mnemehoshiko made me have cracky Reylo thoughts about fixing car dents with dildos.Thanks to @spacedarcy for reading this over and helping me fix that pesky problem!

Links: FF | AO3 (ETA: Link added!)

Rey has a split second to make her choice: take the fall or chance an impact. If she swerves now, she'll have to lay down the 200 kilogram bike—not the best option under any circumstance, but a full-blown Bad Idea when sporting a mini dress and heels instead of proper leathers and boots. Damn Rose and her insistence that her bachelorette party should feel like Vegas despite taking place at the Tico family farm.

Option two doesn't give her much better odds: if she brakes now, she may not have the distance to spare before hitting the jackass sitting at the crossroads without so much as parking lights. Her only saving grace is that her heels paired with the unfamiliar country roads have tempered her lead foot. She's kept the engine between her thighs at an even purr instead of coaxing it to the delicious growl she loves to hear, because she does want to show up to Finn's wedding alive come morning.

Gritting her teeth, Rey makes her choice.

In the Porsche's insulated cabin, he almost doesn't hear the screeching tires. By the time he does, it's too late. The car lurches forward from the hit, though it only moves a few inches while parked. Ben scrambles up from his reclined seat, the stars he was observing through the windshield utterly forgotten, and throws open the door.

This night just keeps getting better and better, he thinks sourly. First, the disastrous corporate banquet; now, this.

The air smells like burnt rubber as he circles round to the back of the car. An accented voice scares away the songs of nearby nocturnal creatures concealed in the cornfields surrounding the intersection.

"Shit," the voice exclaims as the girl flips up her visor and starts to remove her helmet with shaky hands. "Fuck."

He casts a cursory glance over the two vehicles. The headlight of the motorcycle shines on his back end, the only light for miles and miles just inches from his bumper. There's a dent, but nothing looks cracked or scratched on his end; her bike's front wheel didn't fare as well. The popped tire sags, making it look like the aging Triumph is bowing to his car.

Insurance details can be hashed out after manners have been met. "Are you okay?"

She swings her right leg backward, dismounting the bike. The black fabric bunched at her hips falls down to her upper thighs, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take in how much skin stretches between the hem and her black pumps. Legs. Legs for days. Toned and smooth and. . .the absolute last thing he should be focusing on right now.

"I didn't ask to see my life flash before my eyes," the girl answers after running her hands over the front of her leather jacket and up again to grip the back of her neck, "but yeah, I'm fine."

Now that manners are dispensed with, his voice takes on a harder edge, "Are you drunk?"

"I've had drinks," she throws back, "but that's not the problem."

He holds the shock of anger in his fists, squeezing it up his arms and through his neck, before finally gritting it out around his teeth. "You rear-ended my car."

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, kicking up dust from the road as she steps toward him, an accusatory finger pointed at the loosened knot of his tie. "I bumped into your black car that didn't have any fucking lights on in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere at night," she counters. "If anyone was a hazard on the road, it was you."

He's both impressed and horrified by her words. The sharks he swims with usually conceal their teeth around him; seeing them bared and ready to bite is oddly refreshing. "Are you always this eloquent at three in the morning?"

"Only when my best friend is getting married tomorrow, and his fiance will kill me if I end up in jail," the girl goes on.

"I didn't say I was going to call the cops," Ben remarks. He has every right to. Taking his car in to be looked at by the dealer for underlying damage will cost him more than what her bike is worth. Still. . .the truth she hit upon nags at him: he is at least partially responsible for the accident. Parking at an intersection without hazards—even on a back road no one should be cruising through on a still-dark Saturday morning—wasn't the best choice on his end.

Her eyes snap up to his, hopeful. "You mean that?"

Ben groans inwardly. Considering the age of her bike and the sudden calmness in her tone, he assumes it means she has no insurance. He doesn't care much; money has never been a concern on his radar. But her bike is inoperable, if not totaled. How is she going to get it fixed without coverage? What would have happened had she been thrown from the bike and injured?

He puts aside the what-ifs to focus on the present. His jaw eats around the lie as his hand waves off the entire accident, willing to sweep it under the proverbial rug seeing as neither of them are hurt. "There's no damage."

Her eyes narrow. "Are you blind? Or do you really not see that dent?"

"It's nothing major," he corrects.

She's already shaking her head at him, not accepting his words even though she's the one that benefits from him not making a fuss. This girl seems determined to hold on to something he's ready to move past, to forget.

She crouches next to his bumper, hands smoothing over the impact site, whispering her apologies. "I'm so sorry, gorgeous. I'm gonna fix you up in no time."

"Are you talking to my—?"

"Shh," she hisses. "Let me think. I can get this dent out. I know I can."

She'd give anything to have her tools. Normally, she keeps the essentials in her saddlebag at all times, but she'd needed the space to transport party supplies tonight. For a moment she considers offering to fix the dent at her shop on Monday—even goes so far as to visualize the sleek, black 911 model nestled into the single station she calls a garage—but brushes off the thought.

The G-Man, whom she's upgraded from jackass due to his offer to forego a paper trail, would probably laugh at such an offer. He's dressed in navy Tom Ford pants and a tailored white shirt that knows every curve of muscle in his upper arms and chest intimately. This is the kind of man who doesn't work for the government so much as is the government. He doesn't come to businesses that break half a dozen OSHA laws unless he's there to give a citation.

Better not to invite trouble, Rey agrees with herself. Even so, she can't leave his beautiful Porsche looking like this. If only I had something with suction. . .

"Ah!" she cries, startling his spine straight in her eureka moment. Spinning dangerously on her heels, she bends over to dig through her saddlebag. It's a crazy idea, but the physics of it should be the same no matter if the pull is coming from a traditional suction cup or from the more unorthodox tool she has on hand thanks to Rose and her ridiculous party favors.

Her hand finally closes around the soft shaft of silicone and she whips it out into the country air.

At first, Ben isn't sure he's seeing what he's seeing. It can't possibly be that.

She straightens and holds the electric blue dildo aloft like it's some award. A delighted laugh at her ingenuity turns into a fit of giggles as she considers the obscenely large phallus, pressing the base to her hand several times as if testing it out. Whatever simulation she's running, it passes. "This should do the trick."

He intercedes before she can reach his vehicle. "Wait," he tells her, "You're going to fix my car with a. . .with that?"

Her smile falters slightly as she looks from him to the intimate toy—how anything so imposing can be called a toy, he can't begin to fathom. Flipping the dildo so she's holding the tip, she shows him the end with the concave cup. "It's just like a plunger," she explains. "It'll work just fine. These things have some incredible suction."

He's at a loss for words, but his eyebrows must speak for him because her eyes cringe shut and she runs her tongue along her bottom lip. "Not that I would know," she mutters, clearing her throat.

"This really isn't necessary," he protests. "I can have a mechanic work it out tomorrow."

"I am a mechanic," she returns with a proud smile. "And one that won't charge you a fucking pound of flesh for an easy fix."

Without another word, she brushes past him and kneels down on the road, clenching her jaw against the bite of the asphalt on her bare knees.

"It's just. . ." he begins again, gesturing at the thing he can't seem to name without his cheeks threatening to catch fire. "Why do you even have it?"

She shrugs as she lines up the base of the dildo with the center of the dent. The thing is so large that even her two hands don't cover all of it. "It's from the party. No need to worry," she adds, "I haven't used it yet."

Rey remembers learning about spontaneous human combustion in school and thinks it might be happening to her right now, starting at her ears. Haven't used it yet? she repeats to herself with an internal groan she wonders if he can hear. You don't plan on using it at all, Rey. It was a gag gift.

She goes silent with embarrassment and hopes he thinks she's concentrating on her task. There's not a chance in hell that she can meet his eyes right now to check. Instead, she secures her hold around the dildo and presses it firmly against the dent. She feels the air compress beneath it, gives the dildo a slight twist to lock it in place, and then yanks back with a determined pull.

The dent pops out with a hollow thunk, and it's over. Easy, peasy. She's probably just saved him a grand with a five second job.

His remark is a dumbfounded whisper: "I can't believe that worked."

She's still flushed from her previous comment, but she can't help grinning at the skeptic. "I said I could fix it. I'm good at fixing things. Always have been."

"Even with your skills," he starts, "I don't think there's a way you can fix that tonight."

She follows his gaze to her busted front tire, and Rey scrunches her nose at the sight. It really is a miracle that she wasn't bucked from her seat when the rear of the bike popped up. Having opted for two wheels all her life, Rey's had her fair share of scary situations and taken one or two trips to the ER; tonight marks the first time she's ever been truly afraid of not walking away.

"I'll have to call for an Uber," she remarks, tucking the dildo under her arm to retrieve her phone. "Finn will give me a tow to my shop in the morning."

As she unzips a pocket on her leather jacket and removes her phone, Ben scuffs the asphalt with his cap-toe Oxfords. Getting an Uber to come all the way out here at this hour is going to take forever and cost her an arm and leg. He would extend an offer to drive her home, but he can't think of a way to express it without coming off sounding like a creep. They are relative strangers, after all. He doesn't even know her name.

"I'll wait with you," he says instead, leaning against the side of his car and tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. "It's the least I can do."

"You might be out here until dawn," she comments as she scrolls through the app to contact a driver.

"I insist."

Her thumbs stop moving across the screen. The girl peers up at him, cocking her head to the side. "If you're willing to wait that long, why not just give me a lift?"

Ben thanks the stars that she is the one who asks, and he pushes away from the vehicle. "I'd be happy to, if you're comfortable with that."

She looks from him to the car, an odd sense of longing in her glance. In the eyes of a mechanic, the sleek Porsche must be an awfully big temptation. The hunger in her gaze isn't focused on him, that's for sure. He fleetingly wonders if it's possible to be jealous of his own car.

"On one condition," she states, then changes her mind, "No, two."

Tentatively, he nods in agreement. He did say he wants her to be comfortable with him driving her home. "Make your demands."

"Show me your ID."

Of all the things she could have said, that isn't what he anticipated. "My what?"

"Your license," she repeats. "I don't make a habit of getting into cars with men at three AM. You could be a serial killer."

His eyes go wide and his jaw slack in mild horror—these are the conclusions women leap to?—but he's already digging into his back pocket for his wallet. In a moment, he produces it and slips his driver's license out of the clear window, holding it out to her between two fingers while questioning her logic, "Even if I was out to kidnap beautiful women, how would having my license keep you safe?"

She shrugs, snapping a picture of it and tapping out a message he presumes she's sending to a friend. "It wouldn't," she answers, "but at least if I go missing, the police will know where to look first."

"A bit morbid, don't you think?"

"I like to think of it as pragmatic," she responds, finally reading his name from the card, "Ben Solo."

He watches the way her mouth forms his name, how her pink lips kiss together before curving around the vowels. "What's your other condition?" he inquires as he plucks his ID from her hand.

She moves past him and ghosts her free hand an inch over the car's shell, headed for the passenger side door, as she makes her second request: "I want to hear her roar. I may never get the chance to ride in one of these again, and. . .it'll kill me if I don't find out what she can do."

He mirrors her movements as she speaks, meeting her on the opposite side of the car. He was right about the hungry look in her eyes as they feasted upon his car. "I think I can make that happen," he agrees with a wide grin, adding, "But he prefers to be called 'Kylo.'"

"Ben and Kylo," she repeats with a smile. "We had a rough start, but I'm glad to have met you both. I'm Rey."

#reylo fanfic #reylo #reylo crack #rey and ben solo #modern au #humor fic #capaldiwrites #rffa writers

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