#[because there's always a good deal of manual labour for him in them]

[lordofdestructionm]

An Unlikely Friendship betrayed

Mordecai being repressed as all hell and having feelings for the first time in his life for his straight best friend and not dealing with that very well is of course pure delicious angst

But even with an entirely platonic attitude to the tuxedo that doesn't necessarily mean Viktor is less hurt by what happened

Viktor is a man who has always wanted to feel useful and needed. As a farm hand, as a soldier, as a manual labourer, as a handyman for his neighborhood, and as a bootlegger.

But unable to return to the land of his birth, tossed aside by the US government after serving his purpose in the war, losing an eye when striking for fairer pay and conditions, abandoned by his wife who took his daughter with her, Viktor has had that sense of purpose snatched away from him too many times. He starts working for Atlas as much because it offers him a new one as much as any gratitude he had for getting him out of custody.

A BIG part of that new purpose became watching out for and guarding the back of a younger tuxedo cat, trying so hard to appear cold and capable to conceal the desperate lost man inside. For whatever reason, despite all his noise, nagging, criticism, prickliness,and their regular arguements, this unlikely partner he spends most of his time with somehow achieves that rare feat of being considered a friend by Viktor "Vinegar" Vasko

He makes sure he isn't taking needless risks, he goes out of his way to retrieve his eye wear from half way up destroyed stairs in a burning building,he tries to help him improve his weak social skills, he wears a tie he offers him for Christmas, and seemingly even agrees to wearing a matching suit at the 1926 New Years party despite hating formal wear

He has a practical purpose as a mechanic, gunman and the muscle of the Lackadaisy gang, while more personally his circle is not much bigger than Mordecai's.

A good hearted but senile neighbor in Mrs Bapka, a young bright eyed girl who fills the gap where his daughter was, and his eccentric partner and likely both best and only friend.

But then Atlas dies, and not long after one of those people puts a bullet in his one fully working knee. We don't know to what extent if any Mordecai explained himself beforehand, but we have to assume Viktor believes like most other people that is was pure spite and self interest as he left them for their biggest rivals.

Not knowing it was a desperate measure to protect him

Now neither of his legs work properly, he is relegated to tending the bar which he must feel is as bad as being benched completely, and following the pig farmers attack, in part due to the robbery of their weapons by that same ex-partner, he currently can't even do that

He is left sitting at home feeling broken and useless without a clear purpose to keep him going, to distract him from the many bad memories hanging over him

All because of the one person he thought, after so many years, wouldn't abandon him, needed him, would always have his back

Not stick a knife in it.

based on response to post by @felinelun

[lemmetreatya]

Husband!Reiner x Black!fem Reader

this isnt as hunky dory as i initially thought this to be but i think its still a valid insight into life with rei. surprisingly ive been having a lot of news, convos and experiences with various people in my own life about marriage and children so i guess this post was a subconscious embodiment of that. either way, enjoy 🫶🏾

Husband!Reiner knows he lucked out in bagging you and he absolutely adores people coveting him. everytime he tells someone hes cuffed, he literally cannot wait to show them a picture of you

Husband!Reiner always spoils you when it comes to bringing home gifts. Its rare that he ever comes home empty handed. more times than less he’s entering in with your favourite snacks or maybe a bracelet he thought suited you whilst he was on break earlier in the day

Husband!Reiner isnt picky when it comes to food. that man would eat just about ANYTHING you feed him and say how its the best thing hes ever tasted. not that youre a bad cook, but he’d find a way to praise even the simplest of meals.

“god, baby, this so good!” reiner’s cheeks were bulging full of food whilst he gave his compliment.

with a sweet laugh, you shook your head whilst opening a beer for him by cocking the tin lid with an opener.

“its literally just rice and stew. you eat it all the time by now.” placing the bottle next to his plate, you bent down to kiss his forehead.

he made a grunt of disagreement.

“dont change the fact that it’s always so good!”

Husband!Reiner is quite reserved when it comes to intimacy and sex. the furthest he’d go in terms of public displays of attraction is hold your hand or a quick peck on the cheek. he’d occasionally lean his chin on your shoulder when in the presence of other company.

however, in the private presence of each other, his attitude towards public reservations has never stopped him from pulling you to the side for a quick fuck before you go out with the girls or letting you go down on him once parked outside his family home for a visit.

Husband!Reiner isnt the best with chores. He tried to help in the past, and has the utmost purest intentions when offering his help, but his standard of clean isn’t the same as yours and so you believe you’re better off just doing everything yourself.

Husband!Reiner is really handy with manual labour tho!! if anythings broken around the apartment hes more than happy to get on it right away. if hes unsure how, he’ll find a tutorial on youtube and work it out from there

Husband!Reiner helps with all the tricky stuff with your hair. whether it be helping you to twist it before bed, wash day or being a live wighead for you to style your pieces — he’s available.

he learnt especially for you but always says if he’s possibly going to have a black daughter one day then hes gonna have to learn.

Husband!Reiner wants kids. its one of the few things the two of you disagree on and several arguments have lead out from that. he loves kids in general but he gets particularly broody whenever he babysits or goes to visit his baby cousin gabi.

it also doesnt help that Husband!Reiner has a particular breeding kink. hes okay with you going on BC because that’s your business and it means he can bottom out anytime! but it does sadden him that in result it means he cant give smol gabi a playmate

“i just think it’d be nice for her to have someone to play with!” he said as he tooths another parting in your hair with the metal rod of the comb. he gingerly took a scoop of hair grease from the tub before layering it down onto your exposed scalp.

“but rei, thats not your— our —responsibility to deal with. its her parents job to give her a sibling if need be so you gotta stop stressing about it like it’s your problem to solve.”

the man was quiet for awhile as he continued to grease your head. when he sighed, he looked over at the two of you within the mirror.

“i know.” he said after awhile. “i just…i never had any siblings or cousins growing up, you know? i don’t know if id want her to go through the same thing i did.”

Husband!Reiner is very family oriented. even though its just the two of you, he still tries his best to make the most of holidays and time off. he always insists you have at least two ‘holidays’ to yourselves a year — sometimes abroad, sometimes on an excursion or even just a spa weekend away. that way when it comes to festive holidays, there isn’t a feeling of fatigue from NOT spending time with each other, meaning you can spend it with extended family and not feel drained from lack of timeout

Husband!Reiner smokes as a habit rather than a coping mechanism. his favourite brands are malboros but you absolutely hate the fresh smell of the smoke once hes come to you after one. he doesnt smoke as much as he did when you first met him.

(back then, he promised to ween off of them if you were to give him a chance! — he did for awhile but after he got closer to the Jaeger’s around a year ago, he picked up the habit again. that’s another thing you two argue about)

“reiner, that fucking stinks. get the fuck outside with that shit, i’ve told you about smoking that nastiness inside here.” you say, flailing your arms by your side as you walk into the living room.

turning around with a face of confusion, reiner spoke slowly in a low tone.

“but i literally am outside, im on the balcony.”

“then close the door! all that smoke is coming inside and it’s stinking up the place.” you exclaimed.

“but i wanna watch the match at the same time.” reiner pointed towards the tv but you could only shrug.

“watch it through the window then.”

“but then i wouldn’t be able to hear the tv!”

“reiner james braun, i swear—”

reiner didn’t want, nor wait, to hear what else you had to say to him. with a grumble beneath his breath, reiner complied and leaned backwards to slide the balcony door shut, the action slightly shaking the walls.

Husband!Reiner is hospitable but mostly for people he’s used to. he loves setting up gatherings for your friends to come round and enjoy each other’s company. since uni, a lot of you haven’t been able to see each other a lot but reiners a bit like the glue that keeps everyone in touch

however, since all of you know each other from around the same time (and because they paired the two of you up!) your friends sometimes felt responsible for your relationship and were weary of any ‘threat’ made towards it

“you two thinking of extending the family anytime soon?” mikasa said, her voice hushed as you, her and annie sat on the balcony and away from the bustle of everyone else inside

you made a noise of surprise at her inquiry.

“actually, we have been! i was thinking of getting either a cat or a puppy. im not too keen on dogs but they say if you nurse them from young, you can get them to behave really well.” you deflected as your mug of hot beverage made its way to your lips.

with an amused hum, annie side eyed you.

“you know thats not what she meant.” she said as she took an inhale of her cigarette. “she’s talking about kids and you know it.”

as soon as annie spoke, your mood suddenly soured. with a huff you looked up towards the night sky.

“why does everyone keep asking me this question? im sure no ones asking pieck and porco this shit and they’ve been together longer than us. or you and bertholdt! so why is it me thats always being asked this stuff?”

mikasa shuffled awkwardly in her seat. hugging the blanket she had over her higher towards her chin, she made a dejected sound before speaking. from that alone, you knew she was reluctant to say her next words.

“yeah but…you dont see either of them loudly proclaiming their contrasting ideas. all of them have decided between each other what they want and seem at peace with that. but reiner’s like…the broodiest man ever and never fails to remind us. the fact that you two dont have kids yet means there’s obviously a hold up on your behalf.”

at mikasas bold words, a dry laugh left your mouth. was this seriously the conversation you were having right now?

shrugging your shoulders, you gave her a wild look

“so?! is it such a bad thing for me to not want them? why’s everyone coddling around reiner and his needs of wanting kids? whys no one thinking of me — the person whos gonna have to carry said child and be their primary care giver — who says im ready to give this life up for that?! why’s no one taking my choices into consideration?”

softly hopping in her seat, mikasa briefly hid her face behind the blanket before pouting over at you.

“i am taking you into consideration! and i know! and im sorry for bringing it up again. eren put me up for asking because he says hes sick of reiner’s whining in the guy’s groupchat. you know im on your side regardless.”

mikasa laid her hand over on your exposed arm, her face laced with remorse but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of discontent at the knowledge that reiner was vocal to your friends about you not wanting children.

blinking forwards, you could only weakly shrug. even though mikasa had given her reasoning for asking, you still couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed

“i know, man but just… miss me with that bullshit. i know what im saying when i say i don’t want em right now.” you mumbled, now feeling more conflicted than before.

that night, you and Husband!Reiner have a bit of a honest conversation about how reiner talks about the whole kid thing with his friends. hes very quick to assure you that he doesn’t talk bad about you behind your back but tells them that he cant have them right now when you have a contrasting opinion to him

you personally dont have a problem with that because these were your friends too — theyed be quick to g-check reiner if he ever said something less than positive about you and then report it directly to you

but for the sake of the situation and with how sensitive it was, you asked reiner if he could refrain from sharing that personal aspect of your life with them

“i know i’ve said it way too many times now but im truly sorry for all this. mika was wrong for asking you that.” reiner says as you lay under his arm. you found solace by burying your face into his side.

“well i dont blame her. if you’re constantly telling people in the groupchat that kinda stuff then yeah, of course they’re gonna feel like they have to intervene. they’re our friends and they only want the best for us.”

you could really tell reiner was thinking this all over in his head by the way he made subconscious groans.

when he had finally made up his mind, he slightly bent down to kiss your forehead.

“yeah i guess so. i wont bring that stuff up again, im sorry for putting you in that position, baby.”

the two of you laid up next to each other, and went on to talk about other miscellaneous things. however, just when you were about to fall asleep, you tiredly mumbled into reiner’s skin.

“its not that i don’t ever want kids. i just…not now, rei. im still very much enjoying life with just the two of us. kids are hard work and a lifelong commitment. everything i know and do will have to change from here on out and i just dont think im ready for that kinda burden yet.”

with a lethargic hum, reiner nods his head.

“yeah, i get you.” he mumbles.

although Husband!Reiner still wants kids, he agrees to getting a puppy in the mean time. he says he might as well get the practice while he waits.

surprisingly Husband!Reiner is in absolute adoration of the new bundled edition. the pup is boisterous and hyper but listens to commands well and learns quickly

the puppy is even more enamoured by smol gabi who always seems to have either its tail or ear within her chubby small hands. still, the puppy only sees it as a bunch of fun

Husband!Reiner isnt perfect, and definitely has so many flaws where he needs to fix up on but he’s trying and he really does love you so you’re okay with working him through all of that.

[pxrtgasdace]

♠ devil’s playground, a study of ace’s hands prompted and featuring a cameo by @pilawforhire

Any other day, in any other instance, inked fingers demanded more attention that plain ones. More interesting to foreign eyes they were deemed. 

Even to familiar ones they were still an object of interest, and Ace couldn’t stop himself from taking a peek at Law’s hands as he read from across the room, some book titled something long and with the suffix -ology somewhere in there. Though Ace’s good eyesight allowed him to discern the letters on the cover enough to read them if he wished so, it was on Law’s also letter-bearing digits that he centred his eyes. To watch him flip a page or secure the paperback by changing his hand’s positioning so as not to damage it was far more interesting than to guess what it was he read about with such concentration and collected enthusiasm.

Law’s hands... They were not Ace’s pick. They were what they were, the useful appendages humans had been blessed with by whatever Creator. Still they were worthy of his unconscious fascination every now and then - they’d draw his gaze to them and there it would linger.

But that was any other day. Today, the plain, old boring fingers were worthy of protagonism, which they had earned by their own modest merit.

Leaving Law to his readings, Ace looked down upon his own hands, currently partially obscured by the playing cards interspersed between his fingers. He had been trying to up his skills by playing Napoleon at St. Helena while his mate offered no more than his presence in the living room but, having gotten bored with the complexity and loneliness of the game, had ditched it for some good old house of cards fun.

It would have sounded depressing were it not for the fact Ace was not so bad with it. His hands lacked the precision Law’s hands had been graced with and gotten over the years, and it was true his temper rendered it impossible for him to be best friends with Lady Patience... But, because there was something childish in building a house of cards, and even simplistic in using them for their physical aspect thus stripping them off their playing value, a man like him could enjoy himself.

Ace started placing the cards on the table one by one but he had to stop at finding a particular one amongst his pile. The Ace of Spades. It was said that those bearing the name of ‘D.’ were superstitious fellows - he and Law had never truly sat down to talk about it; they might discuss fate and a cursed existence but never prophecies and the stuff of legend. Could this argument be naught but belief in itself? 

Still, Ace knew enough to say this was what they called the ‘death card’. He’d heard it several times in his life thanks to his sharing of the card’s name. It was always the Ace of Spades. Never the Ace of Hearts, Diamonds or Clubs. It was Death that immediately popped to people’s minds when they made a connection between this Ace of flesh and bone and that of the cards. Rational an assumption - everybody dies - but charged with a sense of imminence that seemed to bid adieu to any joys he could yet live.

Were Ace inclined to such thoughts, he’d find it amusing how Law would bear ‘death’ in his hands while he bore his in his name. Predestination versus choice. For now, he discarded the bit of cardboard and paid attention to his bare hands. 

Like Law’s, they were what nature had given him, a pair of useful must-have anatomical tools. That’s where the similarities stopped, as he found, paying attention to his hands for the first time he could recall. 

His hands were slightly more ample than the average man’s, still keeping to propotion and not freakish enough to demand looks of curiosity and disgust, though, from certain angles where their size was enhanced, they looked somewhat cartoonish. The digits were broad and rough in appearance, with scars scattered all over, in various sizes and ages. 

Most of these Ace had gotten during his childhood where his living outdoors and penchant for trouble formed a dangerous combo which made any boy return home with a collection of injuries and bruises to kill for. Climbing trees, setting traps for wild beasts, directly hitting said beasts when the traps failed, browsing trash, debris and scraps of construction material for things of worth, building things with said finds, wielding his metal pipe in fights against everyone who touched a nerve (and that was a big slice of Goa Kingdom’s demographic)... All activities of action and violence would take a toll in the end of the day. 

Most marks had healed and disappeared with time but Ace still displayed a few.

For instance, he had, on his left hand, between the second and third digits and descending in a line on the back, a scar he’d gotten when defending Luffy from an aristocrat not even a year after the loss of Sabo. 

The boy was running so carefree, challenging his big brother to catch him, when he went straight against the nobleman. More than insulting the juvenile rabble, the man produced a blade the Lord knew from where and took a swing at Luffy. Ace’s reaction, though justified, was disproportionate, with him putting more strength into his own metallic blow than the threat demanded. The blood was boiling hot in him, filling each and every vessel with hellish rage and Ace did not measure his power nor his foe’s. He couldn’t - after Sabo, no one was taking his little brother, the still cry-baby one away.

The man had reacted as he ought to, taking the child as a serious opponent, for Ace’s appetite for chaos rivalled that of many an adult male. Ace could not explain how the fight had gone because blood had deafened and blinded him and everything had been just a blur of black and white and red, with Luffy’s wailing in the background, muffled to his brother’s ears but loud as war trumpets to the crowd. If he had a single scar to prove the story true, he had only himself and the demon that had possessed him that day to thank for. 

Now, while he didn’t exactly feel proud of it, Ace considered it a medal for bravery, embroidered in his flesh.

Speaking of the flesh, Ace’s hand felt like leather to the touch. A rough thing, still it glistened like a delicate craft thanks to the numerous calluses that covered his hands. This hardening of the skin could be relatively blamed on seafaring. The sun, the wind, the sea. The rope scraping flesh every time he moored Striker. 

Part of it was still to blame on the survival skills he’d gained as a kid and of which he still made a good use as an adult - climbing trees and roofs was an effective way of losing chasers or to find one’s way in an unknown city with only a few points of reference; hunting for meat when fish wouldn’t satisfy; knowing how to make a shelter for himself with what was available... Sometimes Ace would even make a use of that dagger he carried against the leg to carve a piece of wood duiring long, lonely and dull times in the company of none but the crescent-shaped raft.

Then, there was a third reason, a much more recent one: his Devil Fruit. Many things in Ace’s biology had changed when he’d become a man of fire. His hands, for example. The fire within them had affected the flesh by multiplying its flaws twofold at least; but there was a plus side, or so the lucky few who were allowed Ace’s trust to touch his hands considered: they were always warm, regardless of weather and external temperature. Not hot, never cold.

This warmth was enough to melt snow if there was no fabric in between, like the sweet warmth of his bodily fire had been capable of melting away some of the ice Law had raised as a wall encircling his heart.

Finally, and not so poetically but in a far more practical note, Ace’s nails were always kept short. More often than not, they were stubby and showcased white spots as the result of mild damages to the nail bed or low calcium - again, consequence of the hardships of a seafaring life. Other than that, Ace could boast of managing to keep all ten fingers in his twenty-two years of existence. And ten toes too, for that matter!

Concluding his analysis, Ace intertwined his fingers together and eyed the cards. From the distance, he heard Law flip a page and its silence enhanced sound cut the air. 

In what gestures were concerned, and still as a part of this study, Ace’s hands were used to performing a couple of them that spoke of his personality, more than sticking to the activities they were meant to carry out. 

As part of an adult take on the childish temperament he wished to tone down, Ace would often crack his knuckles as either a warning his patience was about to end, if accompanied by glaring eyes; or as an alert it had indeed reached its quota if the coals turned wild or the sides of his face looked uneven. He also cracked them as a response not to anyone but himself, whenever he embraced a mission or arrived at a troubling verdict.

He made guns out of his fingers as part of his fighting repertoire, in a move where his injured fingers and their right hand counterparts would face a foe and spit real fire in gun-like blasts. By keeping his middle finger facing the palm of his hand, Ace would do a child-friendly version of these finger guns when with his friends, as to acknowledge a joke or in the way of a salute.

Ace also took his hands to his lips to whistle and, when bored, he’d drum his fingers on what surface was available, whether it was the Moby Dick’s railing, the dinner table or his muscley arm.

Most of all, Ace’s gestures worked in association with his hat. Never had a hat been so cherished after his brother’s straw one and it didn’t even share its meaningfulness. 

Both of Ace’s hands would often go for it in greeting, for various reasons and in a miscellany of combinations. Sometimes he’d spread his fingers over the top in order to lift the cowboy hat from his raven hair. Sometimes he’d hold it between his fingers and his thumb, and so he would nod. Or he’d hold the same way only along the brim to nod as well or give it a soft pull. 

Speaking of which, hats also served as a great means of concealing one’s countenance, as much as they worked on shielding eyes and protecting the head from the hostile weather overall. A wide brim was a helpful friend when the eyes sparked with rage or drowned themselves in tears and hence it was not uncommon to find Ace pressing his hat deeper against his skull, in the hopes of giving silent frustration some privacy.

If it seemed like Ace only knew how to manhandle the trademarked hat, truth was his harsh hands knew how to be gentle with it, even if one would think otherwise at the sight of the man twisting the object when it was heavy with rain as to dry it. Call it ‘tough love’ if you will, but even this misuse was an expression of how much he cared for his hat, which would often receive pats and cleansing brushes of the fingers to send the dust away.

Finally, there were the small things, revealing of his core, also not to be relieved of blame for the pitiful state his hands were on at twenty-two. Cooking gave him no burns but guitar playing benefited from the ugliness of those calluses as much as it shaped them. Slamming his fists against the wall to release the anger. Mimicking Law in his favourite gesture of flipping the bird, though Ace did it less commonly than his Death-bearing counterpart.

Ace looked at the pairs of triangles which formed the two floors of his house of cards. With a single blow of the right hand, soft and almost merciful, he took it down. Law turned another noisy page. Ace decided he’d had enough of being idle.

With all fifty-two cards in his hands, Ace swiped those in his right to his left until he identified the pair he needed. In a mute march towards Law, Ace, rather imperiously, placed these two over Law’s open book so he wouldn’t get lost next time he picked it up. 

The Ace of Spades and the King of Hearts. While he knew the first was the death card, he knew not of the latter’s meaning. All he knew was both could apply to either of them. All that mattered was that Law liked hearts.

“I think you’ve had enough of that medical-ology. C’mon, I’m bored!”

[glimmerglanger]

If you feel like doing more HotR, could you do a Christmas (or any other family event) scene? I had a thought of Ben having a huge family Christmas for the first time in his life and it made me feel some type of way

Ohhhh, that’s such a cute and sweet idea. I ended up not going for Christmas, because the idea of a Thanksgiving meal occurred to me and wouldn’t let go. This is SO DOMESTIC. Codywan with a lot of family feels.

~~~~~

Ben had tried to cook a meal on Thanksgiving precisely once in his life, while in college and sharing an apartment with Quin. They’d attempted to cook a turkey in their oven, promising to handle the stuffing and potatoes, as well. Luminara and Bant were each supposed to bring other dishes, he could no longer recall exactly what.

None of them had succeeded.

Some of the resulting food had been, at least, edible. Much of it had not.

They’d eaten stale cereal with milk while sitting around and watching a football game, instead.

It was a good memory, in the end. Something they laughed about together. And Ben had never tried to cook anything like that, again. Qui-Gon had never been interested in such things growing up. He said it always ended up being a waste, and that true thankfulness had nothing to do with cooking too much food or overeating.

And so, really, Ben wasn’t expecting anything when he woke up on the last Thursday in November, tucked in close to Cody in the new bed they’d bought a month ago, tired of trying to wedge into Cody’s little twin.

Technically, he mostly noted Thanksgiving because it meant he didn’t have to work and could, allegedly, sleep in. But Cody was always up early. Cattle didn’t take holidays, after all, and Ben was generally up when Cody rose, after sharing a bed with him for a few months, and so he was sitting at the table in the pre-dawn light when Cody put a cup of tea in front of him and said, “Eat a big breakfast this morning, we won’t eat again until late.”

“Hm?” Ben asked, tilting his face up, and got a kiss in answer.

“I’ll be back,” Cody said, brushing a kiss to his forehead, as well, before zipping up his coat and disappearing through the door. “You finish waking up.”

Ben nodded, drank his tea, and pulled out his books to make some headway on his final paper; not due for weeks yet, but it was a huge project. By the time Cody came back, cold clinging to him, he’d gotten most of his work done and grinned, standing to pull Cody into a hug, murmuring, “How about you let me warm you up properly, hm?”

Cody grinned against his mouth, slid his cold hands up under Ben’s shirt, and said, “Later. We’ll warm each other up. Come on, get dressed. We’re about to start the cooking.”

And it was only then that Ben really, truly, recalled that most people around the country did something for the holiday. “Ah,” he said, with a little grimace, thinking about the delicious food that Jango and Val managed to produce on a regular basis, “I really can’t cook.”

Cody snorted, thumbs brushing over his skin, and said, “We know. That’s alright. Anyone can cut up vegetables. Come on.”

Which was how Ben ended up standing in the kitchen in the main house, which had been cleared of all chairs, the counters and table stacked with meat, vegetables, and large metal baskets.

“Here,” Cody said, nudging Ben between Wooley and Echo, “just cut whatever mom tells you to chop. I have to go check the pit.”

“The pit?” Ben asked, but Cody was already heading out the back door. Echo was involved in an animated conversation with Fives, and Wooley was humming along to whatever music playing through his earbuds, and so Ben just shrugged, took the yams he was handed, and started peeling and chopping them.

The parade was playing on repeat in the other room, the television turned so that everyone working around the table could kind of see it, and Ben fell to talking with Boba and Ahsoka - also contributing by chopping vegetables - as Val and Jango did something with what appeared to be a bunch of chicken over by the counters.

It wasn’t until Fox - and Ben had only met the man the night before - brought over a basket lined with aluminum foil and started putting the vegetables in, that Ben thought to ask, “What are we cooking, anyway?”

Fox blinked across at him. Despite having only met in person the previous day, Ben felt like he knew Fox well enough. They’d spoken often throughout his court cases, after all.

“Dinner,” Fox said.

“It’s a hāngi,” Boba said, tossing yams into the basket. “Mom and dad only do them for special occasions. You missed the one in July. Just put the vegetables in, you’ll see, it’s really good.”

And that was that. Ben helped load up the vegetables, and carried one of the baskets out through the back door when instructed, over to what appeared to be a pit, well back from the house.

Cody and Wolf - who had also flown in the night before - were standing over the pit, which was radiating heat, leaning on shovels. A large pile of ash sat to one side, and Cody’s pants were covered with it. Jango and Val reached the pit first, and Ben watched as baskets were lowered in, one after another, meat first followed by the vegetables.

Cody covered the food with blankets before he and Wolf grabbed up their shovels again and started burying the whole thing.

Ben lingered to watch, smiling when Cody finished and stepped over to kiss him sweetly. “Now what?” Ben asked, since he’d just watched them bury dinner.

“Now it cooks for a few hours,” Cody said, nuzzling back against his jaw. Cody no longer felt cold, but he’d been, apparently, standing by a fire pit and doing manual labour. “And then we eat it.”

“No,” Fives said, bounding up and pushing Cody’s shoulders before continuing on, “now we play football.”

Cody rolled his eyes and said, “That, too.” His expression grew more serious as he looked Ben up and down. “You don’t have to play.”

“I think there’ll be an uneven number of players, if I do,” Ben pointed out. It seemed handy, having twelve children if you wanted even teams for sporting events.

“Nah,” Rex said, arriving at a jog, “Ahsoka’s playing, so you have to, otherwise we’re a man down.”

Which was, he supposed, how they all ended up down in the field where Ahsoka still did the dog training classes, though the obstacles had all been cleared away, giving them lots of open space. The brothers agreed, after only a little arguing, that Fox and Wolf should get to be captains, to welcome them home, and the oldest set of twins quickly picked teams.

And Ben only realized that Cody thought he didn’t know how to play when Cody tugged him to one side - they were on the same team, which Boba had thought was hilarious - and said, “Just have fun, alright? We don’t play tackle anymore, and it isn’t a big deal who wins or loses.”

Ben stifled the smile that tried to curl across his lips at Cody - quite possibly one of the most competitive people he’d ever met - claiming that it didn’t matter who won or lost. He just nodded and said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And, when he got the ball, two plays into the game, he scrambled back, looked down field, and nailed Crys a few feet away from the line they’d designated the end zone. Crys caught the ball, shouted, laughing, dodged past Ponds, and took the two necessary steps before getting jumped on by half his brothers and buried.

Ben laughed, well back down the field, blood pumping fast with a swell of pleasure, and Cody grabbed him by his shoulders, turning him and pulling him into a kiss. “You!” Cody said, after a beat, pulling away from him. “You can--”

“Throw a football?” Ben suggested, kissing him again, briefly. “Indeed I can. Not as well as I could in highschool, but--”

Cody kissed him again, laughing against his mouth, and only quit when his brothers all gathered around to heckle them, insisting on getting back to the game. They chased one another around the field, grabbing for the rags tucked into belts, tossing the ball around, until Ben felt breathless and delighted, until Jango hollered for them from back towards the house.

Cody took his hand on the way back up the lane and led him around to the back of the house as many of the rest of his brothers flooded inside. Cody, Fox, Wolf, and Rex seemed to be on, well, unburying duty.

Ben watched them work for a moment, turning as Val stepped up to his side, offering him a beer, asking, “Good game?”

“Seemed to be,” Ben said, nodding his thanks and taking a long drink. It was cold, which felt good after all the activity. Despite the chilly temperatures, he was sweating all down his back, even with his coat thrown to one side.

“Good,” she said, and nudged him, “come inside and get cleaned up for dinner. Then you can come back and watch Cody, if you want.”

He snorted a laugh and followed her, scrubbing his hands clean over the kitchen sink, watching Cody through the window over the counter, listening to the family bicker about setting the table behind him and--

Swallowing, thickly, as his throat got tight all at once. He took the opportunity to splash water across his face, drying his skin even as cheers started going up, the brothers outside pulling the first of the baskets from the pit.

Ben shook himself and went to help out, bringing food inside, watching Val and Jango start dividing things up among all the different plates set around. It felt kind of like getting caught in a whirlwind of delicious smells and laughing people, all of it sorting itself out in the end with them clustered around the table, chairs all pressed together, wedged so close that Ben wondered, for a beat, if Cody were about to end up in his lap.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing.

The food smelled delicious, savory aromas filling up the room, chicken and some darker meat on his plate beside sweet potatoes, potatoes, cabbage, and what he thought might be pumpkin. The family talked and yelled and laughed through the meal, and Ben just...absorbed it, sat in the middle of it all and took it in, even as they finished and even as everyone pitched in to clean up.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, much later, when all the work was done and they were back in their space, Ben toweling off his hair after a shower that he’d desperately needed.

“Mm?” Ben asked, tossing the towel into the hamper and shivering when Cody caught his hips, tugging him over to the bed, pressing a kiss low on his stomach.

“Today too much?” Cody asked, looking up at him, expression concerned, his hair still wet as well, curling up more from the moisture.

“No,” Ben said, leaning into his touch and threading his fingers back through Cody’s hair. He smiled, just a little, feeling his chest aching with an overabundance of contentment. “No,” he repeated, and sighed when Cody kissed his stomach again, “It was just enough.”

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper - Pt 15

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talk of past abusive relationship, swearing

Length: 1.2k

Notes: Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’, keep the story rollin’. More plot, lack of smut, surprise guests, it’s all coming together now I promise. Since tags don’t work for me, like AT ALL, I’m going to attempt a posting schedule! Which is laughable if you know how I story-board. Every Tuesday night at 7pm MDT

Series Masterlist

You needed to get laid.

No, not just laid. You needed to get fucking dicked down. 

You needed it so hard and rough that you couldn't walk the next day. 

It had been seven weeks. Seven weeks without an orgasm.

Sure, you'd tried to get off on your own fingers but after the delicious stretch from manual-labour-thickened digits how could yours ever compare? You had gone so far as to order a vibrator, something you’d never even consider for fear of getting caught, but your body always stalled out just on the cusp of an orgasm. 

You needed Frankie and you were going to get him,

Date night was back on the table, and hopefully, you'd be getting railed on said table before the end of the night. Frankie had been very reserved when you'd brought up the idea of a sleepover for Annie, but once Jacquie had assured him for the fifth time that she knew how to take care of children, seeing as she had four of them herself, he had agreed.

The scheduled day had arrived, legs were shaved, an amazing meal was cooked, and a sweet little babydoll dress was purchased that you knew would drive him crazy. You even went the extra mile and set up your old record player and had Johnny Cash crooning at you from the living room.

Finishing the final touches, you surveyed the table setting, trying to decide between using your nice plates to complete the aesthetic or just putting down plastic so you could sweep the table clear and mount your boyfriend on it without fear of broken ceramic. 

Finally deciding on the first option, presentation is everything after all, you were digging through your china cabinet when the doorbell rang. How formal of him, you thought to yourself, glad he was playing along with the unspoken mood you'd set for the night.

Opening the door, your gaze widened a comical amount and your jaw went slack. There was nothing in the world that could have prepared you for this.

"Close your mouth dear, before the flies get in."

"MOM?!"

It really shouldn't have shocked you, knowing the woman as well as you did, that she would show up unannounced like this. Ever since you'd let it slip that you and Frankie were in a relationship she'd been dropping hints that a visit was due, and you, not wanting to deal with her, had been blatantly changing the subject every time.

Then, Frankie had to go and tell her that an adorable little girl was now involved? That's not something she could ever resist, even if it wasn't exactly being offered to her.

Finally coming to terms with the fact that you weren't going to get railed tonight, and instead would be spending your week fending off your mother's well-meaning but entirely outdated advice, you opened the door wider and welcomed her into your home.

"Where's Dad?" You ask, glancing behind her onto the porch, noting a distinct lack of other vehicles. "Did you get a cab here?!"

"Sweetie, honestly, you know I don't like to drive and he doesn’t like to leave home," came her answer from your dining room where she was already adjusting your place settings to her standards. "Besides I wasn't sure how long you'd need me here for so I decided to fly and will just borrow your truck if need be."

So matter-of-fact, as if it was the simplest notion in the world, and said with such nonchalance, your mouth was back to hanging open again from the sheer audacity of the woman.

"Mom, no, wait, what?" You were floundering, completely at a loss for words. "Why would I need you here right now? I needed you when I was young, dumb, and blindly in love with Brad. I needed your guidance and concern when I was being manipulated-"

"Oh come on-" she tried to interrupt you with a wave of her hand.

"No! You keep trying to tell me he wasn't that bad but you weren't there. You didn't hear how he talked to me, how he treated me." You were over your shock, residual hurt and betrayal were now rearing their ugly heads. "Don't you shake your head at me! How dare you chose his side over mine! I was your daughter, your little girl," the words were getting stuck in your throat now, burning so hot with emotion you could almost see the pain they were inflicting as they landed on her ears. "and you chose to ignore the signs, the cries for help. You were only there for me when he died, but even then it was just to send your regards!"

"We really didn't know..." she answered in a small voice, so quiet it barely registered through the roaring in your ears.

"Denial, maybe? I don't think we could bear the thought of anything but a fairytale being true, so we willfully ignored the signs." She waited for a beat, probably giving you time to yell back at her but when you stayed silent she continued, "I don't think it truly sank in just how badly you'd been treated until you moved away. We thought quitting college was you just deciding you wanted to start a family. Then when you stopped calling friends and family, we hoped it was because you were making new ones. Then your weight loss and depression we blamed on infertility, and then again from the grief of his death." Lifting your head up and wiping away the tears that had streaked your cheeks, she smiled sadly at you while tears fell from her own eyes. "I'll never forgive myself."

"How could you not?" You sobbed, letting yourself sink onto a dining room chair.

Your mom tentatively made her way over to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and hugging your head to her stomach.

"Oh, Mom," you couldn't finish the sentiment, but you didn't need to. Springing up, you enveloped each other in a tight hug and rocked back and forth until the tears dried and your breathing was almost back to normal, save for the occasional hitch and sniffle.

Breaking apart, you were just about to ask if she wanted some tea when the front door flew open.

"Where's my pretty pus- oh! Oh."

"Frankie," you said calmly while your eyes screamed ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME at him, "this is my mother."

"So this is the handsome face behind that gruff voice!" God bless Margot and her ability to ignore the obvious, sometimes it actually came in handy. "And I suppose he's the second place setting for a lovely night I seem to have interrupted."

"Oh, no, Mom it's okay-"

"Nonsense! I'll check myself into the sweet little bed and breakfast I've booked for the week and see you both tomorrow!"

"It is nice to see you, Mom," you admitted, finding yourself meaning the words more than you expected to. "I'll meet you in town tomorrow and show you around?" Maybe having her here for a while would be nice, if the week went as well as tonight had, your relationship with her would be salvaged.

"You really don't need to do that, you just got here!" Frankie tried to reassure her, having noticed the red, swollen, tear-streaked faces and assuming there was unfinished conversation to be had.

You knew your mom was immovable once she had made up her mind, however, so you just followed her to the door and handed her her coat and your truck keys.

"Marvelous!" She pats your hand in thanks before a sly smile quirks her mouth up to the side and she winks, "Have a good night, Pretty Pussy!"

Part Sixteen

[lassieposting]

Any alive! Skulduggery hcs that you haven't shared? I live by your version of him tbh

Hi anon! I think I covered skug's backstory up to when he signs up to fight and then skipped ahead to when he meets his wife, so you can have the Early War Years

- so when we left skug, he'd been on the pirate adventure and essentially moved in with ghastly's family at age 16, and that's where he stays for the next three years. Ghastly's father introduces him to taking pride in his appearance, Ghastly introduces him to Hopeless, and Ghastly's mother Saoirse introduces him to three things: motherly love, household chores, and the back of her hand for swearing in the house. He settles into the family, flirts with the prettiest local girls, develops an allergy to manual labour, and starts Experimenting™ with Ghastly, who's absolutely besotted with him.

- at 19, he has his surge, and it's bad. Ghastly has his a few months earlier, and it wasn't pleasant, but Ghastly was always going to be an elemental. He was sick and achy for a few days and howling in pain for just one or two. Skug expects much the same: he hasn't used necromancy in years, and he's had the best elemental tutors his parents could find.

- But he's inherited an insanely strong necromancy gene from his biological father, and an insanely strong elemental gene from his mother, and his surge ultimately comes down to two branches of magic trying to destroy each other to be the last gene standing. His temperature skyrockets as the elemental gene tries to burn the necromancy out of him. What looks like black blood seeps from his eyes and his nose and the corner of his mouth. His veins go black as the shadows retaliate. It goes on for days. Ghastly's mother is beside herself trying to get water into him so he doesn't die of thirst.

- If he hadn't also inherited the extremely rare genetic abnormality responsible for magical ambidexterity, his surge would've killed him. But he did, so it doesn't, and eventually he comes out of it and spends the next six months or so just recovering.

- at this point, the sanctuary is pushing recruitment. Ghastly doesn't look twice at the posters, but skug does. Ghastly's whole world is his family, their farm, and his father's tailoring business. But skug's father is a diplomat, he's got extended family involved in the war, he was supposed to go to a fancy French university that ended up being burned down during an attack by some pro-Mevolent riots, he's had to field questions from smaller siblings about when - and if - their dad would be coming home. He's highly educated, politically savvy, and emotionally involved. He decides he wants to sign up to fight.

- Saoirse does her best to talk him out of it, but skug is skug, and he digs his heels in and insists this is what he wants to do. He's going to join the war effort.

- Ghastly and Hopeless think it over and decide to join up with him. Hopeless, because he's an idealistic young man looking for glory, and Ghastly because someone has to watch skulduggery's back and keep him out of trouble, or he'll get himself shot long before he gets to set foot on a battlefield.

- honestly, ghastly isn't expecting skug to last long in the army. Skug is a pampered spoiled rich brat, and he's about to be surrounded by people who will scream in his face and make him do drills and expect him to obey orders, and he thinks it will take a few weeks tops before skug wants to desert

- that is. Not what happens

- like. none of them like it very much to begin with. hopeless has never had to do this much exercise in his life, and he hates it. ghastly is lonely and homesick and just wants to go back to dublin. and their first CO decides he hates skug on like, their first day of training, because he's a smart-mouthed arrogant asshole who's never had to be afraid of anything but his own father, and he does not react well to being ridiculed during drills. skug's ego takes a good solid battering because the other enlistees don't appreciate being given extra chores as punishment for him mouthing off, ghastly has to crack some skulls to make sure he won't be bullied for his scars, hopeless doesn't quite fit in and gets some nasty ribbing over it

- but also? they've got untapped talent, all three of them. they end up black ops fighters for a reason. hopeless tops the class for intelligence and undercover operations, because he can become anyone. ghastly is strong and level-headed and does well under pressure. and skulduggery is a natural leader, a ruthless tactician, and has a tendency to pull off insane plans that would go horribly for anyone else.

- they survive basic training. they get sent into the field. and ghastly and hopeless find that they're actually pretty good at this. they earn the respect of the rest of their platoon. and skulduggery? he starts to thrive

- this is the era of wealthy aristocrats buying their way into leadership positions they don't have the experience or common sense to do well in. almost none of the lower-class soldiers have any patience for it, but as a fellow aristo Skug has the social standing to call them out on it, so he still has a habit of making enemies of his commanding officers. he resents being handed orders by men who are less than he is, less clever, less observant, less capable. he goes out of his way to prove that his way of doing things is better.

- and? it works for him, sort of. he gets promoted several times - first he's pulled out of the enlisted ranks to be trained up as an officer, then he makes lieutenant, then captain - partly because he's Challenging to deal with and partly because he's becoming incredibly competent. it's fairly common for skug to get a flogging (for disobeying orders) and a promotion (because it worked out well for him) simultaneously. he has quite a few stripes by the time he meets wifey. when he starts being given command of a squad of his own, he takes ghastly with him as his number two, and hopeless comes along for the ride.

- at some point, skug gets palmed off on then-colonel corrival deuce. it's phrased as "oh here i'll give you some of my best men", but corrival is experienced enough to recognise "god please take this one off my hands im begging you" when he sees it, and sure enough, he butts heads with skug almost as soon as they're introduced.

- by this point skulduggery's men have developed a reputation for being a bit wild, and they're very loyal to him, so corrival has his work cut out. but? he's got a bit of a different approach to a lot of his fellow officers, because he came up through the ranks himself. so instead of locking horns with skug and trying to flog him into compliance, he turns skug into his pet project, his protégé. he gives him a loose rein, defends his decisions to the higher-ups, and doesn't interfere too much with how skug runs his team, but he also doesn't tolerate backtalk, bullshit or cheek. he's the stern-but-fair mentor figure - the Captain Holt/Captain Pellew/Lord Wellington to skug's Peralta/Hornblower/Sharpe. and skug's never had a very involved father figure, because ghastly's father is massively introverted and his own was short-tempered and perpetually disappointed in him, so corrival trips his "kids want boundaries" switch and actually wins him over.

- corrival hangs onto him after that. as he gets promoted and moved around, skug goes with him, and by extension so do his team. corrival learns to use the sensible members of the group - ghastly and hopeless, then erskine - to triangulate skug and stop his temper getting the better of him. he's incredibly proud of his chosen men, and all three of them really come into their own under his guidance. skug turns down promotion a couple times because it would mean a change of CO, and he knows there aren't many people he'd take orders from anymore.

- and then skug meets wifey.

- when skug gets married, neither his mother or father attend. they don't approve of wifey or her pitiful dowry. they assume, as does kenspeckle, that he's marrying her to Do The Decent Thing because he's knocked her up, and his father reassures him that he doesn't have to marry the girl, just send her somewhere far away and send her money to support her brat, and this whole sorry indiscretion can be put behind him. skug is. furious. he was smart enough not to take wifey with him to announce the engagement, and he ends up having a screaming match with his father that ends with him a) walking out and b) getting disinherited. he marries her anyway, and despite mr and mrs pleasant senior snubbing the whole event, he's got a full complement of parents there all the same - ghastly's parents turn up, and so does corrival.

- it's a military thing - skug's in his military dress uniform, they cut the cake with his sword - the parade sword, at least, the one he's never actually used, they walk out of the venue through the sword arch and skug's team do the rifle salute. ghastly's mother drags him to one side, pulls him down by the shirtfront to fuss over his hair and try to make it lay flat, licks her thumb and wipes a smudge off his cheek, embarrasses him in front of all his friends. then corrival snags him while they're waiting for the bride, tells him off for not having perfectly shiny buttons, redoes his collar for him, and tells him, "You'll do" like he isn't about to cry a lil. he offers skug some whiskey from his flask "for courage" and without really thinking skug says he doesn't need it because he's never been so sure about anything in his life and corrival is just. he's fine. he's not choked up at all. stand up straight, boy, for god's sake.

- he also makes a speech ghastly still brings up hundreds of years later, because it's the soppiest the old man ever got with any of them. along the lines of "i never had a son, and if i had, i like to think he would've turned out absolutely nothing like you, because you are single-handedly the reason i am going grey several hundred years ahead of schedule. that being said, i couldn't be prouder of the man you've become; you are at least half as stubborn and annoying now as you were when i met you, and i think i can claim at least some of the credit." and then, to wifey, "as to you, my dear, you have freed me, this monster is yours now. to your health, and my heartiest hopes that your future children turn out like you, because one of him is plenty."

- wifey laughs until her sides hurt and she's wheezing. skug pretends he's offended. ghastly wolf-whistles noisily and gets clipped round the ear by his mama. corrival tears up a little in the middle of his speech and clears his throat to hide it. and when it's all over and they're about to leave, wifey thanks him for coming because she knows it meant a lot to skug, and he promises her he'll do his best to bring skug home safe and sound until this damnable war is over.

(he wishes he'd been able to keep that promise until the day he dies)

[justforbooks]

Why do we read? The wealth of genres available suggests that some of us read for comfort, escapism, knowledge, or to improve ourselves. Whilst these are all perfectly valid reasons, it’s also worth thinking about reading about themes, perspectives, and societies that go beyond our own comfort zones.

During the Covid-19 pandemic, it has been estimated by the proofreading service, Global English Editing, that 35% of the people in the world have read more books than usual this year.

With normality disrupted, is it no wonder we have turned to books more? Books can give us all sorts of benefits, but when thinking about our reading habits during a pandemic, it is worth looking at this from a mental health perspective.

The Benefits of Reading — But Why It Should Also Challenge Us

Reading can force us to be mindful, take us away from the blaring digital world that we have become more reliant on, and force us into the present by talking one page at a time. “Bibliotherapy” is a relatively new form of reading therapy being used in clinics, libraries, and schools to promote recovery in people with mental health difficulties in some places in the world.

With these mental health benefits in mind, it is one explanation for why so many of us have taken to reading during the pandemic. But reading to improve our mental health can also be coupled with challenging and educating ourselves. Reading fiction is one of the best ways to do this. Not only are you benefiting from its natural escapism, but in many cases, fiction forces you to put yourself within the shoes of others.

A central theme with my reading habits in 2020 was choosing books that challenged me. In this respect — the books that follow have forced me to go beyond what’s comfortable — as I have learnt about different issues experienced by characters I wouldn’t necessarily encounter in my daily life.

Each has changed my perspective on a range of issues — highlighting why it’s important to read books that challenge us.

An American Marriage, Tayari Jones

Literary fiction

Celestial and Roy are a newlywed couple — for a brief moment — they indulge in the feeling of being married and the excitement of spending the rest of their lives together. Until one incident changes everything. Roy is wrongly accused of a crime he didn’t commit and is sent to jail for the rape of a woman.

“Much of life is timing and circumstance, I see that now.”

Whilst in jail, Roy desperately tries to keep his new marriage alive, whilst sending Celestial letters and hoping for a better future. But Celestial cannot continue to live her life waiting for theirs to start. In many ways, it is a story about relationships and love but heavily tainted by the blatant racism that lays at the heart of the American criminal justice system and how it has the power to alter lives.

Why Did it Challenge Me?

Reading this as a white woman, made me realise this situation would never happen to me. Reading from the point of view of Roy, a black man, wrongly convicted for a crime he didn’t commit purely on the grounds of his race and circumstance — was a learning experience for me.

I grew up in a considerably white town. Until fairly recently, I knew very little about racism and how it perpetuates the very systems that we typically view as ‘just.’ Therefore, reading about these types of experiences that I wouldn’t usually be exposed to in my life, was essential for me.

“Twelve years is what they gave him. We would be forty-three years old when he was released. I couldn’t even imagine myself at such an age. Roy understood that twelve years was an eternity because he sobbed right there on the defendants’ table. His knees gave way, and he fell into his chair, The judge paused and demanded that Roy bear this news on his feet. He stood again and cried, not like a baby, but in the way that only a grown man can cry, from the bottom of his feet through his torso and finally through his mouth…”

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell

Political fiction

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists was written during the early twentieth century and tells the story of a group of Edwardian workers. Owen, the outspoken socialist, makes it his mission to persuade and educate the rest of the group on the importance of a fairer society. He tries to make them realise the extent of their exploitation and how little it achieves — but he is always fighting an uphill battle.

In many ways, this book could be regarded as a socialist manifesto. But in others, it is far more than that. Through Owen, as readers, we learn that poverty is not about misconceptions such as laziness, but is more often than not, a political choice.

It’s rhetoric surrounding the workplace, and the unskilled versus the skilled worker highlights how we still undervalue certain people in society. Nurses and cleaners make up the groundwork of our society; however, they are still persistently underpaid. Throughout the novel, Owen makes a case for a redistribution of wealth, workplace rights and an overhaul of the capitalist system which in his eyes, is responsible for the vicious cycle of poverty they find themselves in.

“Every man who is not helping to bring about a better state of affairs for the future is helping to perpetuate the present misery and is, therefore, the enemy of his own children.”

Despite being written long ago, it contains an essential insight into the reality of working-class, Edwardian poverty, poor workplace conditions, and poverty workers' experience to keep themselves alive. Of course, it is inherently political, but it also teaches readers about human and societal values. Such as fairness, equality, and decency.

Why Did it Challenge Me?

Despite it being set during a very different time, it made me re-evaluate all the problems within our own society whether that’s the persistent gender pay gap, poor sick pay, or people not being eligible for financial help during the Covid crisis when they’ve had to stay at home during lockdowns.

Above all, the descriptive scenes of the workplace — most notably — one in which a young boy, Bert, who is told off for trying to light a fire to keep himself warm — made me realise how brutal and hard work manual labour jobs in the Edwardian period were — and how little rights they had.

Such A Fun Age

Fiction

Emira is a young black woman, living in Philidelphia and trying to find her feet. She works as a babysitter for a middle-class, white blogger who thinks she’s all clued up on race. Through the perspective of Emira, the novel deals with the casual forms of racism and microaggressions that many of us (particularly white people) may not usually notice in our day to day lives.

“Emira had met several “Mrs. Chamberlains” before. They were all rich and overly nice and particularly lovely to the people that served them. Emira knew that Mrs. Chamberlain wanted a friendship, but she also knew that Mrs. Chamberlain would never display the same efforts of kindness with her friends as she did with Emira: “accidentally” ordering two salads and offering one to Emira, or sending her home with a bag filled with frozen dinners and soups.”

Switching between Emira’s perspective, and Alix’s, the blogger, Such a Fun Age is a poignant, comical and revealing portrayal of the present world and the half-hearted ways in which white people commonly approach the subject of race. Alix thinks she is all clued up on what it’s like to be a black woman, as she has plenty of black friends, and after all, employs a young black woman.

Stephanie Hayes, writing in The Atlantic, sums her character up brilliantly in stating that the novel, “satirizes the white pursuit of wokeness.” Furthermore, this switching between two completely different characters means,

“Alix’s myopia isn’t lost on Emira. Writing from the younger woman’s point of view, Reid renders white people whose eagerness to shed their blinkers results in fumbling attempts to identify with black people — as much to burnish their own images as to genuinely connect with others.”

Why Did It Challenge Me?

It made me realise that some of the ways I used to approach talking about race — were wrong. By reading about Emria’s experience with her boss, Alix, I was exposed to the realities of casual racism. Something, as a white woman, I am have never experienced myself. This is obviously something I will never understand, but after reading this, I feel more aware and educated about it.

Reading this forced me into the perspective of Emira, a character living completely outside my own bubble. It opened my mind up to how the daily lives of others can be so different. Most of all, it forced me to stop and think.

Keep the Aspidistra Flying, George Orwell

Political fiction

This book encapsulates the dilemma that many young, recent graduates like myself, have to deal with. Do you strive to embark on a career that’s safe and stable, or pursue something you love, even if it takes longer and involves many more hurdles along the way? Gordon, the protagonist, has a safe job at an advertising firm; however, he gives this all up to work in a bookshop, for a slither of his previous salary.

After leaping into the unknown, he tries to stand against the capitalist society he feels he is forced into. Deliberately quitting a good job, and living below the poverty line, Gordon thinks he is making a robust, political stand. He tells the reader how he hates money and how this rampant need fuels every part of our society.

However, Gordon eventually realises the errors of his ways — as he learns his actions aren’t realistic because they aren’t encouraging a change to the system.

“The mistake you make, don’t you see, is in thinking one can live in a corrupt society without being corrupt oneself. After all, what do you achieve by refusing to make money? You’re trying to behave as though one could stand right outside our economic system. But one can’t. One’s got to change the system, or one changes nothing.”

Why Did It Challenge Me?

In this current job climate, it was a reminder that at the moment, no industry is ‘safe’ and that there is no such thing as a ‘proper’ job. Those jobs such as advertising, marketing, retail and hospitality — that we were always taught—were secure and ripped apart during the pandemic. It made me think about my own plans and perceptions of the job market.

Additionally, Gordon’s inherent dislike of money and the capitalist world reignited my desire for a more minimalist outlook and society. After all, money is never the route of all happiness.

Reading fiction is an enjoyable form of escapism, but it can also teach us a lot about other peoples’ lives, and challenge our own ideas and values. We can often become comfortable living in our own bubbles and reading the same books we have always turned to.

But reading fiction can help challenge our own comfort and promote a more diverse world view — when dealing with subjects such as race, society and culture. By reading fiction, we get to be inside the minds and live inside others' shoes we may never encounter in real life. Thus, it’s a form of stepping outside that comfort bubble, a form of social education, and a way of understanding people.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[chandelier-s-notebook]

@the-only-gamer-gost‘s WritingTober Day 6: Win/Loss

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The sandy haired boy was quickly rising the ranks, becoming one of the best in the club. But he and the pink haired kid always seemed to miss each other.

The patrons were ready for a fight between the two. They were ready to bet. They were ready to watch these two boys duke it out.

The consistent winner of years passed. And the new kid in town, who’d been watching from the shadows for a while now.

- - -

The day of the duel came. Overhyped beyond belief. They grabbed their weapons and started to dance.

But it was not what the patrons wanted. Well it was. But not entirely.

There was none of that flashy stuff. No long, drawn out spares. No leaping out of the ring to climb the rafters. No clang clang clang clang above their heads a tempo. It was quick. And it was dirty.

Actually they were very clean fights. Under a minute each. Minimal blood. But that’s not good for spectator sport.

The two were under immense pressure for their supporters to win. This was their rebellion.

- - -

Between rounds, they would clean up nicks and such. They would also be a reprise to get ready for the next duel. They had agreed before hand, 10 individual duels. No tie breakers.

In that time, the sandy haired boy would talk to himself. What he did wrong. What he did right. What he would focus on in the next one. With his bandana wearing best friend hyping him up to the stars.

Our potato boy was silent. His musician acquaintance the person in his corner. Him and his dancer baker friend. Cheering him on, not really sure how much help they could be in not knowing a thing about sword fighting. He was just happy they were there are him.

- - -

He let out a breath. 5-4. He’d win or he’d tie. He was finally calm.

- - -

Sandy on his back. Sword at his neck. Calling out mercy. 6-4

- - -

The champion lowered his sword and stuck out his hand to pull his competitor up.

Sandy them raised their hands over their heads, proclaiming the pink aired boy the winner.

To each other, they muttered under their breaths: “Train for another one thousand years.” “Goddamnit.”

~ ~ ~

After the flight, he flipped up the hood of his green cloak. Taking the long way home with his friend. Trying his best not to sulk up the alleys and roads of Port.

The pink haired boy followed the performers to the Sweet Shoppe & Bakery. Eating some food the girl’s mother had left out.

- - -

The two downtrodden boys passed the Shoppe. They heard the little jingle of the bell and ran inside when the dancer beckoned.

Thanking her for the slice of cake they three had started.

It was a bit awkward at first. Before the duelists started comparing. Friendly posturing. Calming banter.

“Child.”

“You’re older by like a month!”

“Child.”

- - -

“What’s your deal man? I’ve seen you loading sacks of produce onto the trade ships. You need a job man? Because there are less labour intensive jobs that pay much more than the docks do. You could some work for my family.”

“I’m a farmer. I live out in the country. Manual labour is my middle name.”

[dutifullybitchypeach]

My two cents worth for the first six chapters and some reasoning around IC and Nesta. All my own personal opinion. Read if you want but it's just my general thoughts. Please, please don't flip if you disagree. I love Nesta and the darkness she is in right now and her behaviour is taking over this sassy no nonsense Queen and it needs to change.

THIS INCLUDES SPOILERS.

....................

Is the House of Wind a prison...technically no. Nesta just does not have the ability to fly or winnow. And no one is on standby to be her taxi. She can leave by walking. Amren threw her that challenge on purpose. She's not alone, Az and Cassian live there. And the Priestesses. Yes it has dark memories. Yes. I know that and I take it on board.

On a side note, it's irritating to hear 'I'm not your prisoner" from Nesta (who I like!!!!) I think of Azriel, Feyre, all the Fae Under the Mountain, even Elide 💗. Then again everyone's idea of prison is different. But the fact remains. She CAN leave. It's just bollocks hard. For a reason

But we know it's what she needs. We know that. We don't have to like it. Not one likes the reality. The ultimatum is uncomfortable and harsh. Our way or fuck off. They are not suggesting manual labour or degrading her. They suggest training, food, working in a library, purpose, being part of something. This doesn't sound bad to me. It just sucks it comeing across as an order. But this is Nesta's POV and she doesn't do requests or pretty please. The fact I got riled up reading it is a compliment to Mass. I had to take a major step back and reassess. Nesta sees everything as an attack. And no that is not her fault. Stay with me! I agree people enjoy provoking Nesta ( Rhys, Morrigan, Cassian) and then get affronted when she bites back. At some point I'd enjoy her retaliation akin to her ripping their head off :) And their vow to never go there again.

The IC 'review' is what annoys me. The "we" will decide where you go from here if you play ball. My hope 🤞 is that Nesta will TELL THEM where she will go/what she will do with sass. But right now sitting on a rock instead of trying to train is fucking juvenile (Again I stress I like Nesta). She hates her power as far as I can tell. But she is so low she can't see the wood from the trees. Or the hand that is been given to her.

Does Feyre have a right to be embarrassed. Yes. I'd die of shame if my sister (I have 3 btw) kept at that again and again and again all on my families dime. Without even being polite or respectful to anyone. She's only ever provided for Nesta. Period. Not to mention being a high lady with all the responsibilities that entails. Living her own life (well earned) and well life in general! I mean Jesus, Nesta is not her only priority. She maybe ours lol! But Feyre has 101 things going on. Give her credit. She tried with Nesta several times. Gave her space and time which Nesta wanted while still making the effort to reach out. Nesta needs to acknowledge that. Feyre was bankrolling her self destructive lifestyle and it had to stop.

The whole "your behaviour reflects badly on us". Well yes it does. Nesta doesn't get a free pass. The whole of Pyrithian is rebuilding and our girl is pissing away money. That's not even hers! Her behaviour does undermine the Court, folks must eye roll when IC lay down the law when your sister/ sister in law is prancing around being a with a big fuck you. Everyone is broken and rebuilding. And it's a slap in the face. Is the saving face irrelevant to Nestas issues, yes! But is Feyre allowed to feel fucked over, yes! Sisters say shit when they fight. Arguments are not flawless debates. Their emotive and bring out the worst in people. Feyre darling is feeling the pressure of being high lady and it came out all wrong. Especially when it's your sister acting up.

And Nesta never tried (as far as Feyre can tell) WE know Nesta IS trying, and surviving every day is a battle. But Feyre doesn't. Why would she. Nesta doesn't speak to her. But their relationship is so toxic that it's beyond Feyre to get it. And that is not her fault. NO ONE is perfect. There is only so much responsibility Feyre can CONTINUALLY take.

Rhys being there. I have a feeling that a male will not let his pregnant mate anywhere near someone he is afraid of. It's instinctive. Someone who hasn't trained to control their powers especially. He is on High Lord mode cause guess what he is a High Lord. This is his court and the people in it his responsibility. Not to mention the oncoming drama with the queens on the horizon and general court bullshit. Does he abuse his position of power.... well in this world the HL have the power. Everyone is answerable to one. Even Amren obeys the rules. Nesta doesn't/won't recognize that. Which is rare. They tricked and lied to get her "consent" surprise surprise a dick move from Rhysand/Feyre. We know they will do that for the "greater good". Lie, steal etc all in the name of saving the day. He screwed Morrigan over in front of her ass Father for flip sake! My point is the NC stability is his priority now more than ever if impending fatherhood is on the way. It's no surprise he wants Cassian to take on more responsibility. Nesta is a liability cause she is AWOL. It's worth noting he had this plan for months but Feyre refused preferring to give Nesta space and the opportunity to decide for herself what she wanted. So we could assume if Rhys had his way Amren and Nesta would have still been friends and it would have been far different. Amren would have been by her side. Do I condone his domineering behaviour, no not in a million years. And neither did Feyre. Will he apologise? Probably not he's an arrogant ass. And wanted to control the room. Fact. He wants/needs Nesta on board the team to bolster his ranks. She is that powerful. We KNOW he will do anything to protect his family (baby on the way).

Morrigan and her nasty comment on sending Nesta to The Court of Nightmares. Cassian acknowledges it's an insult but also the truth. That's a harsh fact on how Nesta is percieved right now. But I believe she wouldn't just thrive there, she would CONQUER ;) I don't know if Morrigan is referring to the people that abused her or the "type" of people that live in Hewn City...? Will we give HER the benefit of the doubt... hmmm.

Morrigan and that comment on good people giving Nesta the benefit of the doubt...that's Morrigans issue. She never gave Eris the benefit of the doubt and yet he proved her wrong with Keir. She's all over the place as a result . And she's been lying for 5 centuries. To her family. Cassian said he values the raw honesty that he has with Morrigan. Wow is he going to get a shock some day. Nesta may be a bitch but at least she's an honest one. And Morrigan knows it which must rattle her to no end. Point is Mor isn't supposed to be in this story very much and Nesta never really cared for her opinion anyway. So neither should we. I've checked out of Mor. Knowing she won't give Azriel closure or honesty just makes me not consider her opinion. It suits her to keep Nesta down in the gutter so her lie can continue.

Amren - her behaviour. I have to remind myself Amren is OLD, a stint in the Dungeon is probably a standard response! Her idea after the Summer Court fiasco and the jewels was to go there and crush them. Amren is by nature harsh. Which is why she gets on with Nesta the most. Cassian tells us she cares. Nesta can't see this. Her comment on Nestas sex life in ACOFAS. People ran with that. Fae lifestyles always kind of disgusted her. She wasn't Fae so bodily functions were an alien concept. Now she's Fae she's slightly horrified. Also no one else has much to say on Nesta's bedroom antics. Cause it's a non issue Mass doesn't do slut shaming. So neither should we. Speaking as a woman also here.

Elaine - we know Elaine craves peace and quiet. Confrontation is not her thing. Being there would mean Nesta would use her as a crutch, and I'm not sure Elaine wouldn't cave. Nesta pushed her away on purpose and Elaine choose to try and find some sort of contentment. That's her right and choice. Agree or disagree. She walked away or decided she can't deal with Nestas difficult behaviour. I don't know. Or is she oblivious to the situation ?! Who knows. Elaine is an enigma! It's the first 6 chapters! Right now they are two different people and have been drifting apart since ACOWR. Nesta is a dichotomy of pushing people away and hurt when they stop trying. It's exhausting for the people that have to deal with it. Who are not perfect and have their own issues and lives. Elaine has stepped back from this situation. Because either she recognizes it needs to happen or cannot sway the majority. Though I think Elaine did say something to Feyre, cause when Nesta pressed her she refused to say what Elaine thought. Just that she wasn't there and not part of the issue. Feyre is high handed when it comes to her sisters. Because that's the role they allowed her. Nesta is fighting back. And Feyre takes it personally. Which is only natural. They're sisters.

Cassian! Ah Cassian. He was spectacularly rejected and being around Nesta is a constant reminder. That's enough to make me cringe in a corner. He acknowledges he stayed away cause it hurt too much. He's a soldier and has serious self discipline. He has no idea how his behaviour/comments hurt her until she confronts him. Deliver him a few home truths. Another well deserved kick in the balls. Flirting with Mor, not sure his behaviour there has ever changed. He keeps it normal cause being around Nesta gives him the shakes!! Lol. He is slack jawed after Nesta and wants her badly, passion we know is big thing for them. It ignites them. Raw and real. Recognising Morrigan is aesthetically beautiful is just a fact. We know she's a looker. So what. Meh to this issue some people have.

We know from spoilers they start training and communicating and Mass is a Nessain ship so I'm excited to see this grow and flourish! I've read spoilers here on these two so I've no qualms.

Cassian for me is right. He and others have been through similar situations before so can empathise. But until she answers him back without snapping he won't be able to be that shoulder to lean on or turn too. He's not going to be her Prince though. Nesta is her own Queen!

I've read some spoilers on her friendships and I'm so happy. I've no idea how it will go but it says to me that the IC have a block when it comes to Nesta and don't see her the way others do and Nesta opens up to people who don't have a predisposed prejudice.

Also the IC have no idea how Nesta is going to react at any stage. It's like walking around on eggshells. Why would anyone actively choose to be around someone like that. That and very obvious fact they are BUSY AF. They don't have time to have a daily bollicking from Nesta. Yet all fall in when the plan is announced. Make what you will of that.

Some further musings:

Nesta being reminded she has to be respectful to Clotho and the priestesses is sobering. Like wow, people can't trust you will have basic manners. Again I know this is Feyre saying it but Christ to worry about that. Will be interesting with Gwyn and that friendship and a nice reality check for the IC.

I spent 4 God damn books understanding Rhys motives. He's a prick yes. Which I enjoy. But the bastard people are making him out to be I don't agree. Half of Pyrethian hates/hated him, Nesta hating him won't stress him. Or her for that matter. They have a 2 people they both care about in common and will just have to deal.

Training in Illyria, well Nesta is powerful, training in the mountains is probably damage control if she explodes. And a change of scenery from her prison!

Rhys was controlled for 50 years, Amren escaped worlds to be free. I don't believe they want to control Nesta.

Families are messy and fucked up. The intervention is a perfect example of how arseways it can get.

Azriel being Azriel I'm not sure about anything with him right now. I've read the snippets and spoilers and I'm all over the place. He is one of my favourites. FYI when I say IC I never mean Azriel I don't know why but I always imagine he finds it just plain drama and avoids it at all costs. Nesta is drinking and gambling away her life. Okay! Nesta is now training and we are all on board to help. Okay! Nesta is a powerful Queen and we are all afraid. Okay! Nesta has turned Cassian into a drooling mess and hes ass is hers. Excellent ;)

Sisters! They need to deal and respect each others independence. They are all in the wrong. It's just annoying at this stage. Personally I'll rip into my sisters when I need to but usually get a red mist when anyone else does. Even if they are in the wrong. I have a habit of always defending them.

So overall the angst killed me in the first 6 chapters. Did Rhys dominant shite irritate me? Yes. Do I want Nesta to make it clear she's not a pawn in his/their world? Yes. In spectacular fashion please.

Did Feyre handle it well? No. Does she ever deal with Nesta well? No. Perhaps only when Nesta is more inclined to talk. Which is rare. The ultimatum we know from Cassian sickened Feyre she recognizes it for what it is it but really cannot see any other option. Her fault or a combination of factors you decide. It was hyper tense situation we all just wanted to get through.

Would we be so angry if this was a soft approach headed by Elaine/Feyre/Amren? Would Nesta even react?

Cassian compared Nesta to a sleeping dragon who has just been woken up. Nesta needed a kick in teeth. A major reality check. Life in Pyrethian is hard. This a fae world. She is angry and incensed they have dared to 'interfere' and 'assume' she will be controlled. I want her to tackle her demons, confront her fears her issues with herself and others and live! Live! I've no idea what she wants and can't wait to find out.

***I've read some spoilers on the end. The rumours and the actual basic plot ending. I'm like Mass I love a HEA. And am hopeful I'll be satisfied. I had a similar theory when I heard the pregnancy rumour. A move by Nesta that would never have anyone doubt her.

[catgirlxox]

A friend of mine highkey just fucking implied that BenKai is healthy because they "negate each other". As in Ben is the only one that can handle Kai's bitchiness and Kai's the only one that can reign in Ben's ego. Not paraphrasing. She really said that. And I was like, bitch, put it up That's Ben Tennyson abuse ma'am you're going to jail—

Oh no. No no no I hate this argument. Prepare yourself. I’m about to go off…

First of all, Ben probably has the most humble “cockiness” I’ve ever seen. 

We all know those people (or at least have run into them at some point) that act as if they’re entitled to the entire world for no reason. 

Ben actually has a reason to be proud of himself, but does he ask for any more than a little credit? No.

He doesn’t demand fame and fortune in return for risking his life everyday. He barely even demands respect (that he deserves)!

He called himself “adorable” once (he’s right) and everyone somehow got it into their heads that his “ego” is extremely inflated. 

So much so that now they think he deserves to be stepped on - metaphorically and literally - in order to be a better character somehow. It’s just as bad as people who think that Ben has to actually lose someone close to him, like Max, in order to “really” mature.

Anyway, the reason Ben can handle her “bitchiness” is BECAUSE HE’S TOO GOOD FOR HER. 

How many times has Ben had to cooperate with people he didn’t particularity like or agree with in order to reach a common goal? 

How many times has Ben forgiven others and given them second chances even when they didn’t seem deserving? 

He literally made peace with aliens who previously wanted to kill, not only him, but EVERYONE IN THE UNIVERSE. He even made friends with one who was spitting insults in his face practically half of “Alone Together.”

He’s all about saving lives. Do you people know what that entails? 

What do we do with criminals? 

Either one of two things: punish those whose crimes are unforgivable, or attempt to correct their mindset, outlook, and behaviour in order to reintegrate them into society. 

Considering Ben’s “second chances” philosophy, which one do you think he leans towards more whenever reasonably possible? 

(Ben 10: Alien Force - “War of the Worlds Part 2″)

What I’m saying is that proves it’s in character for him to be cooperative rather than begrudging and vengeful.

It’s the begrudging and vengeful attitude that drives his enemies to keep coming back in attempt to end him. But as we know, it’s not productive. 

Holding a grudge implies being stuck in your ways. And, because Kai’s attitude towards Ben hasn’t changed much since they were ten, even after he saved her multiple times, in a sense, she is stuck in her ways as well. She’s stubborn.

And that is another argument people like to bring up to validate this pairing - that both Ben and Kai are stubborn. They have “similar flaws”, apparently.

But Ben is a different kind of stubborn. He never backs down but he’s always fighting the good fight.

Kai, on the other hand, is fighting the good guy.

I think the silliest argument I’ve heard in attempt to validate the claim that Kai is a good match is that she “fits” into his action lifestyle. Basically, unlike Julie, Kai doesn’t seem to have an issue with Ben being a full time superhero, so that automatically makes her more “suitable.“ 

But shouldn’t that be expected of someone dating a superhero?

By supporting your significant other’s passion, you are doing what you should be. It’s literally the bare minimum of being decent.

Am I supposed to be impressed by the bare minimum??

Besides, just because two people are in the same field of work doesn’t automatically mean they have chemistry. Being in the same line of work just means they’re in the same line of work. 

And, going back to my point about Ben’s second chances philosophy, they definitely wouldn’t work together so well if Ben wasn’t cooperating in the way he always tries to. 

The argument that they "negate” each other heavily undermines Ben’s character in order to attempt to place them on an equal level. 

Did Kai ever attempt to redeem herself for her “bitchiness”? No.

It just became a character trait. 

The truth is that everyone has flaws. And that’s not inherently a bad thing. A character having distinguishable flaws allows them to feel fleshed out. Flaws are a significant feature to focus on because they often stem from something deeper. The beauty is that, through character development, having flaws gives the character something to attempt to improve when their storyline and interactions with other characters provide them with chances to do so. 

You could see this with Kevin’s redemption, for example. Or even what is referred to as Ben’s “ego” throughout the continuity. 

But when Ben continuously gives Kai chances to be better, and she shuts him down, she ignores her own flaws. 

Notice that Ben doesn’t ignore what others perceive are his flaws. 

I say it like that because flaws are arguably subjective. But regardless, all those moments throughout the OS and UAF which show characters like Gwen, Kevin, Max, and even Azmuth critiquing Ben on his character actually did make an impact. Whether I think it was right or wrong is irrelevant to the fact that, by Omniverse, we had him explaining to an imaginary crowd what it actually means to be a hero.

(Ben 10: Omniverse - “Malfactor”)

“It’s about making a difference." 

In front of nobody but himself, where he could have just indulged in the fantasy, he put his “ego” aside to display the integrity of his character development by that point. 

If his ego was really so bad that it desperately needed to be squashed, then he wouldn’t be out here believing time and time again that everyone deserves a chance to be better.

(Ben 10: Omniverse - “Parallel Paradox”)

Perhaps it’s because he has always taken that chance himself, knows the benefit of it and wants to see others improve as well rather than being vengeful or begrudging. 

Kai is a…tragic case, tbh. 

The fandom likes to daydream about her “potential” and what she could have been. But truth of the matter is that the writers chose to present her this way. If they wanted to have her some other way, wouldn’t they have done that? 

Whether it was to make her somewhat interesting by being a source of drama, I don’t know. All I know is that they crossed the line between dramatic and toxic very quickly, and possibly without realizing. 

In conclusion, it also pisses me off is that these kinds of claims just gloss over the abuse. 

It’s not something to make light of just because Ben can "handle it.” I know he can handle rough treatment. That’s what his literal job entails. 

It’s not what his relationship should entail. 

If anyone else reading this still doesn’t believe me, please. Go get stepped on and belittled constantly and tell me that shit is romantic. Because I’ve had my fair share of experience with mistreatment and it hurts terribly. I can’t imagine having to deal with that on top of all the selfless manual labour he already chooses to do everyday.

[punkscowardschampions]

Lux & Amber

Lux: Hey, Amber, I was wondering if I could talk to you, when you've got the time to 💬 back and forth for a bit 😌 Amber: Hi Amber: this'll work... Amber: are you okay? Lux: Yes in the sense this isn't a total emergency Lux: but no in the sense I'm not bothering you for no reason Lux: I don't know how to start this Amber: total emergencies are what my mama's for anyway, but I'll still try to help, if I can Lux: Yeah Lux: not that I'll be having that kind of emergency ever Lux: well, it was his idea Lux: and I don't know whether he expected me to follow up on it or not but I'm going to Lux: so maybe I don't feel as insane Lux: it's about Dash Amber: Oh Amber: we're not together if that's what's worrying you, it was just once Amber: and it won't be happening again Lux: I knew you weren't Lux: maybe knew is an overstatement, thought, anyway Lux: what do you think of him? Amber: you did, because he doesn't do 'together' and we all know that Amber: what did he do to make you feel insane? Amber: I think it's probably similar to the way he made me feel stupid, but I'm ready to be wrong Lux: How did he make you feel stupid? Amber: I thought we were friends, we're not Amber: and I thought that maybe he was just a little lost, but he knows exactly what he's looking for Lux: Yeah Lux: I think it might be the same Lux: he said one thing at the time Lux: but then today he said something that made that all so Lux: gross Amber: because he wanted something different from you today from wanting to have sex with you Lux: he said it was part of the tour Lux: which in itself...but then he said he only did it to 'tourists' Amber: I've been here for months, how am I a tourist? Lux: I know! Amber: my family lives and works here and he goes to school with me, I see him every day for like hours, on the commune and outside of it Lux: I wanted him to admit that it was a lie, that this was like family, because that isn't what you do to family, even if it's totally chill or whatever, you still don't view all these girls as your sisters, like you clearly do the boys as your bros Lux: but he couldn't do that, 'cos if this is all bullshit then what is he doing Lux: but then that amounted to him essentially saying he did it to the most fucked up, vulnerable girls, who he knew would go away before it became an issue for him...and that's me, so, everything else he said is untrue and manipulative and Amber: I don't think he understands family for what it's worth, whether he really believes this is one or he's hiding behind that Amber: but if that's his perspective, I understand now why he seemed to immediately regret sleeping with me, because it's unlikely I'm leaving any time soon Amber: even if my 'vulnerability' did jump out Lux: you've at least confirmed I'm not hysterical Lux: he said I should ask you, that it's cool Amber: I'm sorry he hurt and used you like that, I didn't realise I'd have to start warning every girl here Amber: or that he was THAT person Amber: yes, he lied to me and stole from me but he's not the first hippie boy I've met who tried to do some kind of free love revival Lux: he said he wasn't scared of me 'telling' on him to these girls because everyone else is into it too Lux: but he asked me not to multiple times so clearly he doesn't think everyone would still be down if it was total transparency Amber: plenty of people here are into it and whatever you say or don't say, there'll be girls who are still into him Amber: I fell for it after everything I'd seen and heard because he made me want to, I was still willing to give him another chance afterwards Amber: pretty face and prettier words, right? Lux: I'm just sick of dealing with people who are shitty Lux: just because they're not as shitty to me as everyone else Amber: there are people here who would listen, I hope, hold him accountable instead of falling into the forgiveness and understanding speech immediately Amber: my mama, for one, if it came from you instead of me Lux: there's people here who don't like me too Lux: more than that Amber: Who? Lux: I'm not trying to turn this into a big tattle-tale party Lux: I tried to tell him but he wasn't listening Amber: you can tell me, I'll keep my temper and listen Amber: nobody wants to listen to teenage girls and I'm not feeding into that lie that we're all hysterical, even though I am angry Lux: some of the older ladies Lux: they don't think I am a teenage girl Lux: that I've co-opted the experience of being a woman for the aesthetic, without ever having to face the adversity and struggles they do, as biological women Amber: I don't have the vocabulary to express how disgustingly narrow and dangerous that thinking is Lux: it's interesting to hear it from a perspective other than religion, I guess Lux: but still Lux: he thinks it's perfect here, and everyone is Amber: and his brother thinks it's hell on earth Lux: you know his brother? Amber: I met him and my 'aesthetic' jumped out for him Amber: he decided who I am because I live here Lux: I almost thought he'd made him up Lux: in a weird way Lux: I don't know how you get Dash and then him, from what he sounds like, anyway Amber: their experiences are actually entirely different Amber: Dash has opted out of any of the struggles, by being here, so it is perfect for him in that way, I guess Amber: like a utopia Amber: it's no wonder his brother thinks none of us live in the real world Lux: He doesn't 'do' responsibility, he said that Lux: responsibility to be an alright person really is the minimum Amber: plenty of people here obviously don't either Amber: those woman you mentioned don't even understand their own privilege, they just want to tell you yours Lux: don't get me wrong Lux: here is fine Lux: and lots of the people are nice and whatever Lux: but whenever I talk about my family it's like this smugness of how backwards they are when I've got the same treatment from plenty of non-religious folks for no reason but disagreeing Lux: my parents think they're saving me from eternal damnation, because they love me, that's not nothing Amber: like the thinking that anything about living this way makes us superior isn't backward Amber: they're pretending to be free and open is the key to the kingdom and the only way anyone gets to be here Amber: but it's not Lux: I just need somewhere I'm safe Lux: so I can actually sort out what I'm doing with the rest of my life Amber: I know what you mean Amber: I feel like I'm always asking for time to figure things out but it doesn't happen like that Lux: Sorry to put more strain on your time right now Lux: it just Lux: ugh Amber: honestly, it's a relief that there's someone else who feels the same about this place Amber: I can't talk to my parents about it, they love it here Lux: You can talk to me about it any time Lux: even if I am your dad's teacher's pet right now Lux: I just get really bored of the manual labour here, I don't mind chipping in, obviously, but being stuck here all day every day, I want to be using my 🧠 Amber: he talks about you A LOT and I am jealous but I'm not holding it against you personally Amber: if only you could take my place in school... Amber: but for now, do you want to come with me? Somewhere where everything is concrete and plastic? Lux: Dash would be so upset we're not talking about him right there Lux: sounds like heaven Amber: does he 'do' upset? 🙄 Lux: I'm trying not to care right now Amber: we're caring about 🛍💅 like teenage girls with like ZERO struggles Amber: I full intend to buy the most uncomfortable and impractical bra ever and wear it everywhere those women are Lux: 😆 Lux: as long as I can find some falsies to fill mine Amber: I probably should too, there's not much going on here Amber: and when you're in a better headspace, I'll introduce you to my friends from school Amber: I think it'll help Lux: really? 😀 😃 Amber: Yes, some of them are so 'normal' it makes me feel 👽 Amber: but in a good way Lux: I could use that Amber: the conversations hit different because they are Lux: I liked talking to him Lux: 'til he messed it all up Amber: not to be ✌☮🕊 but do you want to give him another chance? Lux: I really don't know what I think or what I'm going to do yet Lux: I've got no desire to hate anyone or be petty Lux: but he isn't sorry so Lux: I'm just a pushover and an idiot if I give him another chance Amber: caring is important but you need to care about yourself too, especially if he isn't sorry Lux: I just hope he can make some better choices Lux: but unlikely Lux: he's happy with how it is right now Amber: treating girls right instead of passing them around like 🚬🌿 isn't growth he's ready for Amber: yet Lux: its hard to know what I should say Lux: if anything Lux: to these other girls he was openly being nasty abouy Amber: his honesty was brutal, why soften the truth if it only protects him? Amber: you can always show them the relevant parts of the conversation if you kept it Lux: I'd feel like crap if other people got hurt needlessly when I knew Lux: but I'm hardly endearing myself to them if they don't see it how I do and they just think I'm trying to like, claim him or whatever nonsense Amber: I can do it, he's already made all those jokes about me being 💔 Amber: and I've been here long enough for everyone to know who I am Lux: 🙄😒 Lux: why are guys like that Lux: they say they wanna chill with down girls but then their ego makes them wanna believe you're actually in LOVE with them Amber: I wish I knew, and that I didn't have sex with him Amber: but he probably would have said I did anyway, I guess Lux: He's the second person I've ever Amber: well now I'm really 😠 Amber: my dad'll be upset about it but if I see him around I will hit him Lux: I mean, I'm straight Lux: so I was gay Amber: that's adversity if those judgemental woman would like to get into it, liking boys is the biggest struggle Amber: they really don't make it easy for us Lux: Are there any boys you like that aren't him Amber: I need to make better decisions, so that means saying no to that question Lux: Gotcha Amber: but it's a lie and I'm not lying to you today too Amber: just so you know Lux: I appreciate it Lux: probably got enough frivolous boy chat for the both of us though, so you can try to be better Amber: he did say he likes me, I do have that in writing, but what have we learned today if not to trust stuff like that Lux: is he from school? Lux: not all guys can be total assholes, right Lux: that sounds like something those old ladies would say Amber: he's a good person but he insists he's bad for me, I have to listen to that, don't I? Lux: depends why he thinks that, I suppose Lux: it could be an insecurity thing Lux: or a genuine warning Amber: he thinks it's genuine, and I know why he does, we are very different Lux: good different like your school friends Lux: or the bad kind Amber: I don't know Lux: Tricky Amber: it's another thing I need more time to figure out Lux: You'll have it Lux: boys wait for girls like you Amber: girls like me? Lux: Beautiful Amber: that's girls like US Lux: 😌😚 Amber: beautiful and weird and getting out of here for a while even if boys are waiting for us Lux: heck yeah! Lux: he's waiting on Cleopatra though, currently Amber: who? Amber: is she new here? Lux: oh, that's not her real name Lux: umm Lux: another 💎 Amber: he's not waiting for me Lux: Sapphire! Amber: of course Lux: I don't know her Amber: she got here a few weeks ago, her brother Onyx tends to speak for her more than she does for herself Lux: don't love that Lux: was picturing Liz Taylor Lux: wouldn't need to worry about her Amber: did he say she looks like Elizabeth Taylor? Lux: just Cleo Lux: well, 'vibe' which can mean everything and nothing, I really don't know Amber: I don't 👀 it Lux: like you said, if anything his words are pretty Lux: which is nice, in a fucked up kinda way Amber: I don't think I'll try and remember how he described my 'vibe' though Lux: just let me know if he's doubling up on 👼s Amber: there are less 👼🏽 it would be creative Amber: but no Lux: not going to keep a list for him so he can keep track or anything Amber: if he keeps one himself I didn't find it when I searched his room Lux: wait, WHAT??!? Amber: he stole my stash, I didn't want my dad to get upset with me so I went to his house to see if I could get it back Amber: that's how I met his brother Amber: I didn't find it, if he smoked with you, that was on me Lux: asshole Lux: I need to find something cute to wear at the shops Lux: it's the most teen girl response possible Amber: [tells her where she can find all the best clothes because it'd be such a free for all cos nobody has proper rooms or storage like] Lux: 🤞 having my ankles on display is a CHOICE LEWK Lux: ['cos how many of these malnourished girls are 5'10 lol] Amber: ✂ Amber: short shorts are a teenage girl staple Amber: I'm going to get something else pierced while I'm this young and beautiful Lux: 😄😄 I have the legs for it 💁 Amber: and if you get 😽 called, you get to say everything Dash refused to listen to earlier Lux: Alright, I'm ready 😎 🤩 🥳 Amber: 🙃 Amber: let's go!

[free-pigeon-bread]

Going through a batim phase, here are some character head canons/bios.

Joey Drew:

- Started the company in the 20s when everything was good and easy and he did it with no idea of how to run a company

- thinks he's rich but he lives in a one bedroom apartment eating cold mac and cheese.

- has a really deluded perception of himself, he sees himself as a swanky bachelor with his own company but he's just broke guy that has bouts of psychosis

Sammy Lawrence:

-grew up on a farm so he is strong. While at the farm he played the fiddle but dreamed big and ventured to the big city of New York, because of his belief in dreaming big he made friends with Joey, who quickly employed him making him one of the older employees of the studio.

- He does have a particular fondness of things that remind him of home, like the banjo which his father played and Jack, who also grew up on a farm but came to the city as a teen ager for work.

- Gets to work early to use the coffee machine while no one else is there, unfortunately (for Sammy) this means he has to interact with Wally Frank's when he finishes his shift the day before to get the keys.

Jack Fain:

- A country boy, raised on a much smaller farm than Sammys. He was the youngest child growing up and his parents were very protective of him growing up so he didn't do that much manual labour and had a pretty breezey child hood.

- His sister would play tunes on the piano and Jack would like to make parodies of the songs she sang. She was very complimentary about them and encouraged him to do it for a living.

- His sister died of small pox before she'd become the famous pianist she wanted to be so Jack felt like it was his job to become a lyricist. So he snatched up the opertunity to write for the bendy cartoons.

Henry Stein:

- Has one of the two and a half brain cells that float around the studio, the other belongs to Lacie Benton and the half is fought over by Grant and Wally.

- Talks to inanimate objects while on the job, sometimes rehearsing conversations he plans to have with other people because he's a bit of a perfectionist.

- Very respectful, refuses to be unnecessaryily mean to other people and does his best to be polite

-joined the company because he had the skills and Joey was an old friend

Susie Campbell:

- Originally from a well to do family in Rhode Island, she took professional singing lessons as a kid and prides herself on her voice. Comparing it to the likes of Helen Kane.

- Snatched the role of Alice Angel as she saw it as her way to make it properly big and get invited to massive parties and get gifts of chunky diamond jewelry.

-she lives in a better part of New York which is paid for by her family. She travels for about an hour each day to get to the studio and arrives 'fashionably late' most days.

Allison Pendle:

- Another farm kid. She's the oldest of her siblings and is the mum friend in any friend group. Yet she always looks the youngest.

- Lives with two of her friends in a progressive part of town. Her friend , Lottie helped her get the job after hearing her sing in the shower.

- Feels a bit out of place being one of the few people at the studio that's actually sane.

Wally Franks:

- A teen that's far to optimistic to be living in a time period to be known as the great depression, treats every cent he earns like its a million dollars. Unfortunately he wouldn't treat riches very well and as such he only keep enough to pay for food and pay rent, he's even missed a couple of rent dates too.

- has always lived in the city, the more dangerous end mind you. He had three old siblings growing up and they were all dreamers, once they hit eighteen they moved out to make a fortune. Wally did the same when he moved over to the studios side of town. He hasnt heard from any of his sibling since.

- He REALLY wants a dog but he knows he can't afford one but he's befriend every stray hound on the block and even earns a couple extra dollars by walking some better off people's dogs.

- Joined the studio expecting riches and fame, like all those other animations studios but instead hes gotten stuck scrubbing the floors.

Thomas Connor:

- Posably hasn't slept in a week, probably hasn't slept for a month. He is determined not to fall behind in his work because that would mean trouble from GENT and his... Employer

- Is in love with Miss Pendle, kind hearted with good intentions. Likes to think about starting an American dream type of living situation with her.

- likes to act all gruff and mean around Wally but it's only to toughen him up, inside Thomas sees him as an unofficial son. He is determined to see Wally with an actual job one day.

-only works there because GENT makes him do it.

Lacie Benton:

- Her grandfather was an engineer, her father was an engineer but her mother only had one child and it was a girl but the family legacy refused to change tradition.

-  Towards the end of her fathers life and started blue prints for house service robots. He died before he could make them and Lacie is doing her best make the bendy-matronics as close to the blue prints as she could muster.

- She is also a GENT imployee but likes it at the studio because people are so worried about themselves that they leave her alone.

Bertrum Piedmont:

- Was alive in the victorian period and acts as such. He uses flamboiant words and would probably faint if he ever saw a flapper, let alone talked to one. Very opinionated too, anti-communist anti-nazi anti-KKK. Which is all pretty understandable.

- Comes from old money, owns a GIANT mansion on the other side of town. Met Joey at an up and coming business man party and was somehow tricked into working for him.

- No one may call him Bertie. Ever.

Shawn Flynn:

- Irish if you hadn't guessed it. Very prepared to belt out the Irish national anthem if need be or just drunkenly shout in your face.

- He drinks and fucks and fights and Lord help anyone who makes a deal to arm wrestle. He actually lives in the tavern, rents a room every night and if he doesn't have enough he'll sleep out back.

- sometimes his drinking problems cause problems at work, which can range from hungover to painting the bendy dolls crooked to outright fighting and swearing in the break room.

Grant Cohen:

- Tried, depressed and really really stressed.

- Met Joey at the bar the night he'd been sacked from his old place and joey lept at the change of easy hire.

- Is a very good accountant but the job he's got is just mad, it's the ultimate loss making company. He very often has to turn to drinking to calm down.

Norman Polk:

- Likes his alone time and can get very irritated if he has to do anything social for a long period of time. In contrast to this he does like people watching.

- he also rarely speaks to other people but of he does it's very down to earth and honest, he doest really care what you think about him or what you say to him.

- No one knows how he joined the company, not even Joey. One day he was just there, doing his job, really well.

My ask box is totally open and I'm bored so you'll likely get quick answers!

[princeyadon]

ive been avoiding making this post cuz i needed time to process and get over most of the anxiety around it

during the week, just after labour day weekend, my supervisor started to really do a verbal beat down on me. it was made worse by the fact that for 3/4 days we were alone together all day. each day she got worse and worse, it got to the point where she would go out of her way to set me up to fail to get angry at me and basically yell at me.

i would go on break and would plan to finish a task when i got back, only to come back and find her doing it for me without having asked, then she would get angry at me saying how she has to do everything for everyone and how her part of the counter she can’t keep up w because she was always having to do my job for me. she would give me something to do and as i start to do it, get angry at me for not doing something she never mentioned i should do.

she put me on fruit station, which im rarely on, knowing full well i rarely do fruit, so im not very good at it or fast at it. i guess she figured i was being too slow at salad station, she expected me to fill it in 3 hours when we ran out of lettuce and i had to manually cut it all. she didnt even finish the counter in a day when it was more full than the day i ran out of lettuce. 

just things like that, all day. any time i came back into the bar from break, or from going to the back, she would be telling me off for something. slamming things, groaning, huffing, giving me scary looks, not giving me normal behaviour [so if she bumps into me normally id get a light hearted, oh sorry aibou!! but instead i dont even get looked at, much less any sort of vocal response]

it got so bad i told my manager how she was treating me, and i told him not to talk to her until i wasn’t alone w her. i didn’t want to deal w her lashing out on me for it.

but i couldnt last long enough, and i ended up having a panic attack. i blacked out for a second when it started and i slammed my stuff down while she in the middle of yelling at me for something, and i went to the back of the store to find my manager. WHILE im going to the back, shes STILL yelling at me.

im full on freaking out, hyper ventilating, i was too terrified to leave the back out the way yer supposed to because she would see me. so he took me out the other way to see the store owner because it was too serious.

i talk to him[store owner] abt it and he was very understanding, and spoke to my supervisor abt it. he told me there wont be any repercussions and that she won’t be bothering me anymore.

i knew she wouldnt. not directly. i knew she’d pull the cold shoulder instead.

and she did, she wouldnt speak to me, she wouldnt even look at me, if she did, it was to make an intense glare at me. like, sorry you did this to yourself, i guess.

she made sure to leave the max amount of time you can leave early, never said bye, took her stuff and walked on out. it was so tense in there that i had indigestion and felt sick when i got home and had to call into work yesterday. she wasnt there yesterday, but i physically couldnt do it

i have to see her all week starting tomorrow. im nervous........ were alone for a number of hours each day;;;. our coworker is back after she fucked her knee, and theyll be together in the morning. im only w both of them for abt an hour or so, and some days itll just be my supervisor and i

store owner told me if she does anything else, to immediately go to him, so i will. but... yanno.....

i usually get up at abt 10am on days off because i get up soooo early for work, that i no longer sleep past 10am for the most part. i ended up sleeping till 12:30pm the day i called in because of it;;;

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 4)

Summary: Arthur falls off a cliff and lands in the past. Hellbent spoilers.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Part 5: here

The ghost doesn’t care for his struggles, holding him easily in one clenched fist. The area around him burns an angry purple, heavy and suffocating. There’s no doubt to what the ghost intends to do, and Arthur freezes up lest he hastens his demise with a misplaced kick. Below are rows of jagged stone, glowing lavender-grey. The scenery is painfully familiar. Visions of The Cave briefly pull him from one distressing state into another. For a moment the ghost disappears and is replaced with sickly green. Something is sliding into this mind, picking him apart. Couldn’t breathe. Green. Ahead of him Lewis walks, disappearing into churning shadows. He reaches out, but it’s too late. Lewis is gone.  

His left hand sparks, sending small shocks through his shoulder. He’s back with the ghost and the cliff, frozen against gravity. His arm is gone and its mechanical replacement is a mess. Still, the sparking pain gives him enough awareness to move it up to hopelessly cling to the ghost’s arm.

Their eyes meet, and even with blurry vision, he knows there is nothing but fury and rage.

A burst of angry purple.

“Lewis?”

The world is fuzzy and he’s falling. Lewis’s glare follows his decent, face unmoving in his hate. He slams onto the twisted spikes, chest breaking open.

And he’s…

He’s lying on his back, staring up at an off-white ceiling speckled with mildew. The fluorescent light flickers once, and he blinks spots from his vision. There’s a hurricane, whipping his memories around, making it hard to focus. Even lying against the cold ceramic tiles, he’s feeling hot and stuffy. Where’s Lewis? What happened to the cliff? For a second he is terrified and sick to the stomach. It tugs him down, threatening to swallow him up. He waits, focusing on the smell of damp towels and occasional water drips, and the moment passes. Carefully, he lifts his left hand and stares, wiggling his flesh fingers around. The bathroom, his bathroom at Lance’s place, is quiet.

Right…time travel…He’s two years in the past.

“Ha,” he exhales. What is his life?  

Arthur starts on his breathing: in on four, hold for seven, then eight out. Slowly, he feels out his natural rhythm, and everything around him begins to feel more real. So much for no more freak-outs. He pulls himself upright and explores along his head. No bumps or scrapes so he must have been able to control his decent or had sat down at some point. He doesn’t remember. The blurry vision is probably a side effect of shallow breathing. Not enough oxygen to the brain and stuff. It’s been a while since he’s had a full-on dissociative blackout violent enough that he’s been unable to manually pull himself free with controlled breathing and meditative exercises. A sign that the Lewis Situation has affected him more than he would have liked.

Usually, when he has these sort of troubles, he would talk to Vivi, and maybe Lance if he’s really desperate. Not exactly an option here. Not right now anyway. Arthur leans forward, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm. He’s still shaky, head swimming, but the fear is tapering off, winding back to its more manageable cousin, anxiety.

Next, he stands, moving slowly to test his balance. Somewhat light-headed, he twists the sink’s tap, running water to splash on his face. As he does, he catches sight of his reflection for the first time since waking up. Their eyes connect, and it’s like meeting a weirdly identical doppelganger.  

Two years isn’t a long time. Not long enough to really make any significant changes to appearance. Not at his age. Yet, the person that watches him from the mirror is a world younger. People say that stress ages you, and -now examining his reflection- he’s inclined to believe them. There are no dark circles under this person’s eyes, his face is full, and he’s practically glowing. All indicative of a balanced diet and plenty of sleep. It's strangely unsettling, and he immediately hates it. Hates the younger him for having everything and still managing to be unhappy. For taking everything for granted.

What did younger Arthur have to be upset about? The minuscule chance that Vivi and Lewis would ditch him for some inane reason which had probably made sense at the time? A fear of becoming the ‘dreaded’ third wheel? Forget that noise. He’d settle for not being hated/maimed, watching his friends be happy together and not whatever broken things they’d turned into. Even if the watching occurred at a distance, he would be happy. ‘At a distance’ might even be optimal because the one thing he now knows for sure is this: He is NOT the younger Arthur.  He turns abruptly away and exits the bathroom, running a hand over his face as he goes.

And he almost slams into Vivi who’s standing right outside. It nearly sends him straight back into a panic.

“Arthur,” Vivi stumbles back, hand raised as if just about to knock, “Don’t open doors like that. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Hehe,” he breathes out, glancing around. Neither Mystery or Lewis are in the hallway. It’s just him and Vivi. Slowly, he relaxes enough and responds with relief boarding on amusement, “I scared you? You almost gave me a heart attack. Maybe next time don’t stand so close to doors you know might open at any second.”

Vivi snorts, then fixes him with a more concerned expression, “Well, you were in there for a while. I came to check up on you. Was kind of worried you’d drowned in the toilet or something.”

“Uh, thanks Viv, but, as you can see, I have not drowned,”

“So you say…” Vivi rubs her chin, taking in his damp face and hair.

Then one of Vivi’s hands is on his forehead and the other on her own, comparing their body temperatures. He tries to keep his breathing at a normal tempo. It’s still slightly faster than usual, not helped by Vivi’s jump scare.

“You feel a bit clammy, but not overly hot. So that’s good I guess.”  Vivi is now staring him right in the eye, face scrunched in consideration.

“I did splash water on my face…”

She leans in close, moving her hand from his forehead to pull at his cheek. So Vivi had noticed something was off. Lewis had probably picked up on his odd behaviour as well. Great. Vivi moves the second hand up to squeeze his cheeks together like she’s trying to reorganise his face. It’s kind of awkward.

“I’m fine,” he tries, batting her hands away, attempting to gauge just how worried Vivi is before saying anything too incriminating.

“You sure? You seem a bit… peaky,”

“Yeah, I mean,” he rubs the back of his head, “I woke up with a migraine this morning. It’s been kind-of distracting and causing a bit of nausea.”  Arthur snaps into ‘excuse mode’ with disgusting ease, quickly running through possible causes for his odd behaviour. He taps his head and put on the old ‘everything’s good smile.’

“It’s not bad enough to put off the painting though. You guys were looking forward to that,” It wouldn’t have fooled the other Vivi, future Vivi, who had developed an almost supernatural ‘Arthur bullshit detector,’ as she called it.

“Oh... Is that what’s wrong. You should have said something. It’s not like we’re on a strict timeline so we could have rescheduled,” this Vivi nods in acknowledgement, humming thoughtfully, “maybe you should stay away from the hard labour. Just for today, I mean. Me and Lewis can do the painting if you’re not feeling too good.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he relaxed back a bit, “I’ll just take it easy,” and maybe avoid Lewis for a little longer because he was so many levels away from ready that he might as well be floating in outer space.

“Actually, I have a new project I’m working on so I’ll probably be spending some time upstairs,” he adds to give himself another excuse.

“Owo, new project,” Vivi lights up, energy returning, “what’s this one about. Are you finally making that ghost detection devise? It is, isn’t it? Please tell me it’s the ghost detection device… Wait,” Vivi puts her hands on her hips, glaring, “is this why you have a headache, because you were up all night.”

His next smile is genuine because Vivi always makes him smile, even when he feels guilty for lying.

“Haha, yeah,” He runs his fingers through his hair, “you got me.”

“I knew it,” Vivi puffs, giving him a light punch in the shoulder. He manages to contain the automatic flinch.

“I told you, water and sleep. It’s the best way to keep headaches away especially in the summer. You have you been drinking water?” The last sentence is said in a way that is almost threatening.

Arthur actually laughs at that one, “Yes, I’ve been drinking water.”

Well, younger Arthur has been drinking water. Probably.

“Obviously, not enough if you're nauseous. Come on, I think I actually have peppermint tablets in my wallet that’ll help,”

He acquiesces to Vivi pulling him in the direction of the kitchen, grateful she’s not about to push him for details. Gone are the days when Vivi would pester him until she was 100% sure he was okay and not downplaying anything. They’re left behind in a never-to-be-lived future with his, most likely, dead body. If he had any say in it those days would never come again.

Right now he’s running on empty, but, as soon as he has space to plan, he would get all this sorted. Or as sorted as he could manage. The bar to success is pretty low, so his chances are good. He’s just been given the motherload of second chances, and he's not about to screw it up, anxiety, panic attacks, and dissociative amnesia notwithstanding. He’s going to protect Vivi and Lewis from that messed up future no matter what.

For now, he needs to focus on getting through the rest of the day.

...

Note: So part 4=Arthur deals with shit and has a small identity crisis. Also, Vivi trying to figure things out, having noticed something is off but unable to pinpoint what. I’m hoping to be able to write a part 5 in the next week.  

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Wrestling with the Washing Machine

Summary: Mr Gold is rather flustered by the lovely young woman who has come to fix his washing machine.

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “I’m fixing *insert appliance/furniture/house thing* and now I’m all sweaty”

Rated: T

=====

Wrestling with the Washing Machine

When Mr Gold answered the doorbell of his salmon pink Victorian home at half-past three on a Sunday afternoon, he had been expecting pretty much anything except the sight that met him.

A full marching band with banners proclaiming their support for a halibut for the next president would have surprised him just a little less than a young woman wearing jeans and a utility belt, her dark hair in a bouncy ponytail and a sunny, eager smile on her face.

“Hi, Mr Gold. I understand you have a problem with your washing machine?”

Against what was possibly his better judgement, Gold closed the door without speaking, and he stood staring at the wood for a few moments. His reputation around the town was bad enough already; adding ‘slamming doors in nice young ladies’ faces’ to the list of his sins was hardly going to make a difference.

Gold did indeed have a problem with his washing machine, namely that it would get halfway through a cycle and then randomly switch itself off, leaving him with a washing machine full of water and sudsy clothes. What perturbed him was that the only person who knew about his washing machine predicament was Dove, whom he had called in his capacity as a general handyman and jack of all trades.

Had Dove sent him some kind of stripper-gram as a joke? No, Dove wasn’t that kind. His sense of humour was sharp and dry, which was one of the reasons why Gold got on with him so well, and he valued his position enough to know not to do anything like that to his employer. Besides, the lady’s attire had been practical rather than provocative.

He opened the door again. She was still standing there, looking rather amused by his reaction to her presence.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying not to sound like he was suspicious of her.

“My name’s Belle. I’m Mr Dove’s niece. He sent me to fix the washing machine. He would have come himself, but he’s done his back in, so he’s staring at the ceiling in the living room to rest it. I assure you that I’m very competent; I do all the fixing at home.”

Satisfied by her credentials, Gold stood back and let her in, leading her through to the kitchen and reflecting that he hadn’t known Dove had any relatives at all, let alone a disarmingly pretty niece.

He’d managed to get the laundry out of the washing machine - it was now sitting in a pile in the conservatory - and he had drained out the water as best he could.

Belle took one look at the appliance and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this kind of thing before, I know what the problem is. It’s not the machine, it’s the wiring. There’s something wrong with the electricity supply, so it’ll just cut out in the middle of the cycle as the machine dies. It should be a simple enough fix if I can get to the plug socket behind it.”

She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking brisk and business-like and far cuter than she had any right to be. Tapping one finger against her lips as she thought hard, a little furrow coming between her brows, she suddenly whirled round on her heel to face Gold.

“Have you got some old towels we can put down to soak up any spills? There’s still water in the drum and I don’t want it to slop when I move it.”

Gold looked at the machine, and then at Belle, and he wondered how on earth she was going to move the thing. She was tiny, looking like she might blow away in a sharp gust of wind.

“Mr Gold?”

He realised that he hadn’t answered her, and he gave an awkward cough. “Yes. Towels. Right.”

He left the room to go and retrieve the stack of towels he kept in the hall closet for household purposes, and when he returned, he found Belle on her hands and knees in front of the machine, looking in through the door and glaring at its innards.

“I wonder when was the last time you were serviced,” she was muttering to it. “I reckon you could do with a nice deep-clean and de-scale. That’ll make you feel better, even if your power supply is causing your current woes. You’ve had all that stale water sitting in the bottom there for a couple of days now, and that can’t be very pleasant for you.”

“Are you talking to the washing machine?”

Belle jumped up on hearing his voice, looking like she’d been stung, and her face was beet red as she turned to him.

“Nope?” she said brightly, then her shoulders sagged. “Yes, I was. I find that appliances always tend to work better when you’re nice to them. If you’re constantly kicking them and telling them that they’re stupid pieces of junk, then they’re never going to work properly for you. You wouldn’t work properly for someone if they told you that you were a piece of junk.”

There was a vehemence in her tone, and Gold wondered if she had first-hand experience of such a thing. He decided that it would be better not to ask, and just to let Belle get on with the process of fixing his washing machine. If that involved sweet-talking it, then so be it.

Together they spread the towels down on the kitchen floor, and Belle set her weight, ready to move the machine.

“Do you need a hand there?” Not that Gold thought he was going to be any better placed to move the thing, but perhaps they could manage it between them.

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t need to move it much, just enough for me to shimmy down behind it so that I can get at the plug. Besides, I don’t want to put any strain on your ankle, and I really don’t want to have to deal with two men putting their backs out thanks to moving heavy machinery.”

Gold was about to point  out the likelihood of Belle herself ending up flat on her back next to her uncle, but before he could do so, there was a shriek as the machine jolted forwards, and Belle stood up, admiring her handiwork.

“Perfect.”

Gold just stared at her in gobsmacked wonder. She must have arms of steel. He was still picking his jaw up off the floor when she vaulted herself up onto the machine and slithered down into the gap behind it, vanishing from view completely.

For the next few minutes, the only indication Gold had that Belle was even there were the occasional grunts of exertion as she fiddled about in the tight space behind the machine. Presently a slim arm appeared, putting a screwdriver on top of the machine and then disappearing again.

There was a loud bang and some muttered profanity, and Gold chanced to take a step closer to the washing machine.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, the stupid thing just won’t go in far enough and there’s not enough leverage to wiggle it about.”

Gold really didn’t know what to say to that, because combined with all her grunting, his mind was going to some places that were fast becoming rather inappropriate.

Her hand appeared over the top of the machine again, groping for the screwdriver. Gold hastened to hand it to her.

“Thank you!”

There was another sound that bordered closely on the obscene end of the scale, and Gold decided that it would be a good idea to sit down before his knees gave out completely. Good grief, he’d only known the woman five minutes and he employed her uncle, he really shouldn’t be having those kind of thoughts about her. She was performing manual labour, there shouldn’t be anything remotely sexual about it.

There was an exclamation of triumph from behind the machine, and Belle popped up again, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. Her face was flushed a very pretty pink colour from the exertion, and there was sweat dripping along her hairline, but Gold was still of the impression that she was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Belle pulled herself up from behind the washing machine and vaulted over it again, before giving a huge heave and wrestling it back into position.

“It should work fine now, Mr Gold,” she said brightly. “The wiring in the plug socket had gone, but I’ve fixed it now. No more trouble.”

She gathered up the damp towels and folded them neatly onto the side, and then gave him a brilliant smile. “I’ll be off now, then.”

“Wait.” Gold raced after her as she made her way towards the front door again. “I really should compensate you for your time.”

“Oh, it was nothing. I was just doing a favour for Uncle Derek.”

“I understand, but I do pay your Uncle Derek.”

Belle looked ponderous for a moment. “It was an easy job, really. Not worth much. Maybe you could buy me a drink instead?”

“A pardon?”

“A drink.” Belle grinned. “Would you like to buy me a drink as payment for me fixing your washing machine?”

“I… Yes.” He nodded enthusiastically lest his intentions be misinterpreted. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Is tonight good for you? I go back to Boston tomorrow. Aesop’s Tables?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll see you there, then. Eight o’clock?”

Gold nodded as he opened the front door and Belle trotted down the path towards the Mini parked up behind his Cadillac in the driveway. For several minutes after she had driven away, he could only stand in the doorway staring at where she had been.

Well, that was certainly a new experience for him. He had started the day with a broken washing machine, and he had ended it with a date.

[firesidefantasy]

DRAGONFOLK | DRAGMA 

A half-human, half-dragon race fuelled by selfish desires and a love of hoarding all things shiny and old. Shrouded in mystery and legend, nobody really knows much about the dragonfolk. It is of popular belief that they are an ancient and wise race of an almost divine nature who chose not to meddle in the lowly affairs of mortals. There are few things that could be further from the truth. Dragonfolk are a turbulent race who rarely lack the social skills to form communities, never mind cities and governments strong enough to allow them the technological and social progression many assume they have long since achieved. A couple of dragonfolk cities are situated in the land around The Walled City and Vara, often near mountain ranges where they thrive best. It is really the Dragonborn, a subculture within the Dragonfolk, that make the biggest impact on the world beyond legend. 

CREATION

The Dragonfolk were evolved from relations between humans and dragons, although how exactly this happened is a mystery to most. Even the Dragonfolk themselves do not believe in such a tame beginning, however. Stories of their creation range from divine intervention, to being born out of the flame of an almighty dragon, to being forged in the heart of a volcano. Whatever the story is, for there are many, it is guaranteed to elevate them to heights undeserved through their own merit.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Dragonfolk vary in physical attributes. Most are tall and lean with long, magnificent tails and the ability to breath fire. Some have scaled skin, others have pointed ears or horns poking out from a long mop of hair. Many have large wings, others have small, stubby wings, and some have no wings at all. The look of a Dragonfolk varies as much as both humans and dragons themselves do.

THE DRAGONBORN

A subculture of Dragonfolk dedicated to the search for ancient relics and shiny treasures. They could easily be compared to a community of treasure hunting pirates; often violent and harmful in their methods and willing to fight both one another and innocents for ownership of the most interesting of treasures. The Dragonborn are shrouded in legend more so than even the Dragonfolk themselves. Many plays and children’s stories are centred around the adventures of the Dragonborn. They are not studied in history classes so much as literature - very few believing of their existence until their most important relics have been stolen and it is much too late. 

The Dragonborn can often be found banding together. Individualism runs deep in their community, but many recognise that there is power in numbers - especially when competing against one another for ownership of treasures. This leads them to forming Bands or Gangs. It is common for these to have a formal hierarchy of power and leadership. New Dragonborn will join a Band and work their way up the food chain, although a rare few will strike out on their own. 

Bands often have a central headquarters in the mountains, used for the storage of their hard earned treasures. These are hoarded and guarded by dragons. 
Dragonborn spend as much time stealing from one another as they do hunting for new relics. 

Wars between Bands are increasingly common. 

Much like pirates, Dragonborn make use of ships to house their crew and temporarily store their treasures. Individuals often have simple water ships and their adventures are relatively tame. Others make use of dragons, trading treasures and adventure for the manual labour of pulling a ship through the air. For the biggest bands, often with several immortals or self-proclaimed ‘wizards’ on board, magic is an option for keeping their ships afloat and often invisible as they explore the skies. These ships are large and decorated with banners, flags, and symbols. They have room for the storage of both treasure and supplies, and places for members of the crew to take turn sleeping. 

Few Bands have risen to a position so infamous as the Igni. These Dragonborn are the most notorious treasure hunters; known to be the most ruthless, but also the most effective in result. They will stop short of nothing to obtain the shiniest treasures and most ancient and historic of relics. Orlaskan, their ringleader, is perhaps the most infamous Dragonborn assassin in most human mythology. Although few get his name right, and even fewer believe he exists, his name is enough to strike fear into the heart of any Dragonborn. Many Bands take the Igni on, but none have ever been victorious in doing so. Their ship is bigger than some small villages and is kept afloat, invisible, and shield-protected by the magic of a highly regarded Dragonborn immortal - one who is bribed with the most expensive of treasures for her service. Their ship is decorated in full black, and always looks as if it is being swallowed in flames. A simple illusion, but one good for keeping away all sorts of predators.

rothkal, flight and dragons under the cut

ROTHKAL 

Rothkal is the biggest and most important Dragonfolk city; often claimed to be the capital of Dragonfolk society as a whole. The city spans a large amount of land in the plains between The Walled City and Vara and has existed longer than either, although it now keeps itself hidden behind an invisibility shield; a protective measure after the spark of plague that almost crumbled both of these countries. Rothkal can only be found by pureblood Dragonfolk and is more of a trading hub for smaller Dragonfolk communities than a home for a larger population.

Rothkal is often the hosting grounds for sporting festivals, for which Dragonfolk from all over the globe attend. It’s markets are unrivalled and as such, Dragonfolk merchants travel here to trade with one another rather than striking deals between one another. Rothkal is also a religious ground for the Dragonfolk and it’s mountains are believed to house Tomergana; ironically given the same name as the dragon god of the Kiribiani religion. Religious pilgrimages to Rothkal are rare but not unheard of, and in some communities, is even a requirement for those wishing to join the ranks of religious leaders. 

As of the current time, Rothkal is under the rule of Xarxan; a well known assassin who’s line of work likely had something to do with his rise to power. The long line of previous tyrants will not be missed, however, and it is believed that Xarxan will bring a sense of stability to the Dragonfolk capital for some time now. As the population of Rothkal is relatively limited, and the government almost non existent outside of a small chamber of advisers to the tyrant, there is nobody to question such changes to a serious extent. As long as the population is fed, entertained, and the markets go on, no Dragonfolk care enough about this government to protest it. After all - they could just as easily move away or start a community of their own. Those living in Rothkal primarily do so for work, convenience, religion, or family ties. For the independent, unattached Dragonfolk, these things could very easily cease to matter.

Rothkal as a city has some of the most marvellous architecture ever seen. The intelligence and power of the Dragonfolk is relatively unrivalled, and it is something of a shame that they cannot collect themselves long enough to put it to good use. Arches, domed roofs, and soaring skyscrapers built of marble are just some of the artistic masterpieces created by the Dragonfolk. Everything from their religious buildings to castles to farm houses are a piece of art. The city has largely been turned from wood and brick to an architectural masterpiece of stained glass and marble in the last 200 years. It is perhaps one of the few positives of the tyrannical reign of the Drazavur family.

FLIGHT

Many Dragonfolk have wings and therefore have the ability to fly. This is taught at around the same time as toddlers are learning how to walk. Some parents toss their toddlers off high platforms in order to force them to use their wings, others have a more progressive view to fight and teach it incrementally. Regardless, by the time a Dragonfolk is ready to begin their education - either informally, outside of the city; or formally, for those living in a city - they are expected to know how to use their wings. Many Dragonfolk cities are organised with flight in mind; meaning the buildings are not always accessible by foot and stairs are not always provided. 

Of course, not all Dragonfolk have wings. Some have small wings that make flight difficult, and some have either lost their wings in an accident or were never born with them at all. These Dragonfolk are more common than any able-bodied Dragonfolk are willing to take into account. Those without wings are often looked down upon and excluded from society, some literally outcasted and others just put into poorer positions. Even in more progressive societies, where they are treated as equals, provisions will not be made for them. 

It should be noted that this is one area where the Dragonborn are better than their law abiding counterparts. Orlaskan, the infamous leader of the Igni band, does not have natural wings. Artificial wings have been crafted for him instead, and it is well known that they are more envy-inducing than many treasures in and of themselves. Similar provisions are provided for any Dragonborn without wings, and because of this, many who are outcasted turn to the Dragonborn life. Dragonborn without wings are often put into positions of authority, as it is believed that those without wings have greater leadership qualities than those with - largely a mirroring of respect and awe for Orlaskan. 

Flight within Dragonfolk communities is not only an important aspect of life practically, but also in sport. Air races, gymnastics, and mess ball are all massively important aspects of the cultural and social lives of Dragonfolk. These are some of the only times individuals and communities will come together and celebrate in their shared heritage and culture. Sporting tournaments similar to the early Olympics have emerged over the past hundred years and are a point of pride for all Dragonfolk. Even the occasional Dragonborn band will drop in to compete. 

DRAGONS

Although Dragonfolk largely ignore their human ancestors (and often deny being their descendants at all, for they find humans tiresome and irritating at the best of times), they are very close with the dragons from which they descend, and are quite proud of this heritage. There are many different types of dragons, and as such, the relationship between the Dragonfolk and the dragons differs largely. Small fruit dragons can often be found in the houses or camps of Dragonfolk; family pets or lifelong companions in a very similar way as a dog might be to a human. These bumbling, clumsy creatures are more than happy to be domesticated, and largely safer for it.

The largest and most powerful dragons are often worshipped and served within communities. One town has many problems with neighbouring villages due to their need to feed their dragon with cattle from local farms - a story for another day, most likely. Tomergana is the most fearsome of dragons and she is worshipped by almost all Dragonfolk cultures; although a mythical dragon, most likely. 

Many dragons are put to work by both Dragonfolk and Dragonborn; on farms, transport, and war. They are paid fairly for their work and where they are not, dragons rights activists will be shortly on your tail. Dragons are much more powerful than their half-human counterparts and will not work where they do not wish to do so. 

For Dragonborn, dragons are often used for raids and wars. Their fire breathing abilities make them invaluable, and although Dragonborn can fly, it is much easier to think and fight where another is doing this for them. 

Dragons are even used as disability animals for some. 

The bond between Dragonfolk and their Dragons is fierce and unbreakable, and the two races will protect, defend, and support one another to their final breath.