#ditto the brothers in Onward

[airyairyaucontraire]

I do admire Antonio Banderas' ability to say a line like "Adiós, Humpty Dumpty" with smouldering intensity.

[fire-emblem-heroes-supports]

M!Corrin/M!Kana C-A Support

Written by 017bluefield

Requested by @dreamsapphire28

C SUPPORT

M!Kana: Doot-doo-doo, doot-doo-doo, patroling Askr ca-stle, doot-doo-doo…

M!Corrin: Hm? That sounds…oddly familiar… Who’s singing that?

M!Kana: Doot-doo-doo, doot-doo-doo, no enemies here, doot-doo-doo…

M!Corrin: Huh? Oh–gods, it’s Kana. Sort of? It’s definitely my counterpart’s son, alright. (Or, my daughter’s counterpart… This is so much stranger than what happened back home…)

M!Kana: Hm? Whoa!

M!Corrin: (Oh! he’s in front of me already.) Uh, good afternoon, young man.

M!Kana: Oh! Good afternoon, Mister Mama’s Brother!

M!Corrin: Y-Yeah… We’re having some find weather today? (Mister “Mama’s Brother”, huh?)

M!Kana: We sure are! A sunny sky, and no mean people who want to fight! But I’m patrolling to make sure nothing goes wrong!

M!Corrin: I see… (Just like my daughter…) That’s…very proactive of you. Perhaps I could join you for today?

M!Kana: Ohh, great idea! Come on, sir; this castle won’t patrol itself! Onward, march! Doot-doo-doo, doot-doo-doo…

M!Corrin: Oh! Goodness, he’s just as exuberant. I’d better keep up!

[M!Corrin and M!Kana have reached support rank C.]

B SUPPORT

Summoner: Thanks for keeping an eye on Kana, Corrin. I know his mother is grateful to you for this as well…

M!Corrin: Hey, that’s what family is for, Summoner.

Summoner: Haha… Indeed it is.

[The Summoner leaves.]

M!Kana: Mister Mama’s Brother?

M!Corrin: Oh, Kana! Patrolling again?

M!Kana: Actually, I was heading for the stables to help feed the horsies and the wyvries [wyverns] and the pegasi. We sure have a lot of mounts to take care of…

M!Corrin: Yeah… If you want, I could join you?

M!Kana: Sure thing, Mister… Hm, that’s actually a little too long.

M!Corrin: Oh, really? Well, in that case, why not call me “Uncle Corrin”?

M!Kana: Ah, OK! That’s so much better! Sorry about that.

M!Corrin: No harm done, Kana. Now then, care to lead the way?

M!Kana: Roger that, Uncle! Onward, march!

M!Corrin: (“Mister Mom’s Brother” was still pretty amusing though… Ah, well.)

[M!Corrin and M!Kana have reached support rank B.]

A SUPPORT

M!Kana: Here you go, wyvries! Make sure to chew and swallow!

[wyvern roars]

M!Corrin: You’re getting very good at this, Kana!

M!Kana: Thanks, Uncle Corrin!

[scene change]

M!Kana: Phew… That’s my chores done for the day!

M!Corrin: Ditto… I bet Kana’s finished her chores too… Oh–

M!Kana: Kana? Oh–right, I remember. Kana is also the name of Uncle Corrin’s daughter. Kana and Kana! Eheh…

M!Corrin: That’s correct, Kana.

M!Kana: Uncle, you don’t need to look sad like that! We don’t mind having the same name at all. It’s…actually kinda cool!

M!Corrin: Truly?

M!Kana: Mm-hmm! Besides, Kana loves Mama and Papa… [hugs Corrin] and Uncle Corrin, too!

M!Corrin: And Uncle Corrin loves you, too, Kana. Now, why don’t we go find your cousin and mother so we can all unfurl our wings later?

M!Kana: Yes, let’s!

Both: Forward, march!

[M!Corrin and M!Kana have reached support rank A.]

[queenmorgawse]

bang bang, there goes your heart

here’s some modern / espionage au sangcheng as a somewhat belated birthday gift for @hua-lian !! once again, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JY, ilysm and i hope you enjoy this. <3 ( read on ao3 + end notes )

For the eighteenth time in the span of twenty-four hours, Jiang Cheng asks himself how the hell he ended up here — stuffed in a janitor’s closet, with his heart racing in his chest and about two inches of breathing room between his face and Nie Huaisang’s.

It begins, as all disastrous stories do, with a dare from Jiang Cheng’s idiotic brother.

“You wouldn’t have the guts.”

“Like hell I wouldn’t.”

In retrospect, it really is laughably easy to get Jiang Cheng to do anything, especially when your name is Wei Wuxian and even a slight smirk from you can be enough to send him spiraling downward into an ocean of spite. It’s like they’re eight, not twenty-eight.

The mission isn’t even anything complicated. Get in, socialize, wheedle the right information out of the right people, plant a few cameras and microphones here and there, get out. ( Wei Wuxian is not actually dumb enough to suggest they pull this kind of stunt during an assignment that requires their full focus, much as Jiang Cheng hates to admit it. )

“You’ve got to go together anyway, don’t you?” His brother flutters his lashes at him, and any charitable thought towards him Jiang Cheng might have entertained immediately vanishes from his head. “Why not as a couple?”

“What am I getting out of it?” Jiang Cheng grits out. After twenty years of knowing each other, he’s learned to exploit an opportunity when he can.

“If you do it, Lan Zhan and I will do it next time we have to be undercover together,” Wei Wuxian declares, and Jiang Cheng snorts.

“With you? Like he’d let you.” If he’s being honest with himself, he’ll admit that one was mostly to get a rise out of the other. Lan Wangji will definitely let him pass as his fake boyfriend, fiancé, husband, whatever he asks of him, a fact obvious to all but the interested party.

Whatever. It’s not the point. If they go, Wei Wuxian might finally clue in on Lan Wangji’s feelings, and then Jiang Cheng will (hopefully) be free of his oblivious pining. What’s one evening of pretending against that?

“Fine!” he snaps, and Wei Wuxian’s face lights up. “I’ll do it, but only if Nie Huaisang agrees.”

“I doubt he wouldn’t,” the other retorts, intently checking out his own nails. “You’ve got to change your personality for this thing, which is clearly your most disagreeable trait, so once that’s done, anyone would jump on the chance of going on a not-date with you.”

Jiang Cheng launches himself across the desk at him.

-

The evening even started out well. No one even glanced twice at their forged invitations, the appetizers weren’t half bad, and Nie Huaisang clearly charmed at least one of the targets they were supposed to. Everything goes exactly according to plan, until Jiang Cheng spots an unfortunately familiar set of faces across the room and swears under his breath.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he says with the most convincing smile he can, crossing the room and tugging at Nie Huaisang’s elbow. “Darling,” the pet name leaves a strange taste on his mouth, though not an unpleasant one, “can we walk out for a minute? Family emergency.”

The lady across from them makes sympathetic noises and waves away Nie Huaisang’s apologies. Jiang Cheng watches him deliver a few more carefully chosen lines about how sorry he is and how he’ll be delighted to bask in the light of her company again when their business is taken care of before he lets himself be led away.

“What is it?” Huaisang asks the moment they’re out of earshot.

Jiang Cheng jerks his chin towards the entrance, where a commotion is visibly kicking up some metaphorical dust. “Wen Chao, some new girl of his and Wen Zhuliu just got here.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widen. “What? Qishan didn’t notify us.”

“When do they ever tell us anything important?”

“...Good point. What do we do?”

Jiang Cheng only hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Lie low, tell the boss so they can take it up with Qishan themselves, and follow what they’re doing on the cameras we already placed. Wen Chao won’t give a shit about the Five’s agreement, he’ll definitely be an asshole and expose us if he recognizes us.”

He doesn’t voice the more pessimistic possibility : that this is indeed something none of the other four central offices know of, and Qishan Wen has its own agenda in sending its own agents here without warning them. It could be nothing, just Wen Ruohan’s usual pride in assuming he doesn’t have to notify anyone else of his will if he doesn’t want to, or - knowing the Wen patriarch - it could be suspicious.

It’s not Jiang Cheng’s place to decide. The best he can do is not compromise their mission, report to the higher-ups, and comply with what they’ll do.

“I hate them so much,” Nie Huaisang sighs, and though his tone is merely annoyed, Jiang Cheng is reminded of Nie Mingjue’s usual fits of rage whenever Qishan’s central office is involved.  

“Ditto,” Jiang Cheng echoes. They exchange an exasperated look, several years’ worth of disagreement flashing through their heads, before Jiang Cheng sighs and offers Nie Huaisang his arm again. Together, they sweep out of the ballroom unseen.

-

For such a majestic place, the museum certainly lacks spacious, empty rooms. Oh, Jiang Cheng does not doubt that there are offices aplenty in parts of the building that aren’t accessible to the public, with locks that would be laughably easy to pick, but the only cameras they’ve managed to place so far have a ridiculously small range. Which leads them here, now ⎯ crammed together in a closet, with the light of Jiang Cheng’s phone between them and not much room for anything else.

He’s uncomfortably aware of Nie Huaisang’s presence, from his quiet breathing to the flowery smell of his cologne. When he tries to move, they knock together once again, an awkward tangle of limbs in the dark.

Nie Huaisang takes a sharp breath.

“That is indeed a gun in my pocket,” Jiang Cheng hisses before he can add anything.

He must have gotten it right, as in the glare of his screen, the other’s mischievous look turns into one of disappointment. “Jiang-xiong, if you ruin my jokes before I even get the chance to tell them, what am I to do?”

“Get a better sense of humor,” he snaps back, ignoring the flush creeping up his neck at the way Nie Huaisang’s lashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks.

“How rude.” Jiang Cheng can feel him tilting forward. Deliberately closer, he tells himself. He’s just teasing you. Still, it’s hard to keep his thoughts in order when Nie Huaisang quite literally leans on his chest, his face now just a breath away from Jiang Cheng’s. “Don’t I even get an apology?”

Maybe it’s because of his nerves. Maybe tension has been running through him like electricity through a wire for the past hour, and something had to take the edge off. Or maybe it’s the warm weight of the arm Nie Huaisang has slung around his neck, his general proximity, and the fact that Jiang Cheng has kissed him once at a drunken college party and lived from that point onwards with the knowledge that perhaps, just perhaps, he wanted to do it again.

Regardless of the reasons why, here is what happens : Jiang Cheng tilts Nie Huaisang’s chin up and presses his mouth against his.

Nie Huaisang makes a little surprised noise and goes boneless in his arms. It only lasts an instant ⎯ before Jiang Cheng can overthink his decision and jerk away, Huaisang is the one grabbing him by the collar and bringing their lips together again. They crash against the back wall of the closet, Jiang Cheng’s arm coming up around the other man’s waist to brace the fall.

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang breathes, like he’s discovering it for the first time. Jiang Cheng finds he likes the way it sounds on his tongue, soft and breathy, like something to be held dear rather than carelessly thrown around.

He should say something. Explain. Ask him, is that alright?, even though it must be, given the enthusiasm with which Nie Huaisang reciprocated, tell him he’s been thinking about this an embarrassing lot. But Jiang Cheng has never been good at juggling with words, especially when they matter as much as they do now, so instead, he runs his fingers through the loose strands escaping from Nie Huaisang’s bun and kisses him again.

He loses track of time ⎯ the only thing that matters then is the warm touch of Nie Huaisang’s lips on his jaw, on his neck. He makes a sound he would be way too embarrassed to let anyone here in different circumstances, but Huaisang doesn’t point it out, only seems to take it as encouragement.

Then Jiang Cheng’s earpiece, so far carefully tucked under his hair, crackles, and both of them are brutally jerked back to reality.

“A-Cheng?” Jiang Yanli’s voice on the other end of the line instantly sobers him up. “Are you alright? We reached Qishan’s office and demanded an explanation, they should be removing their agents now.”

Next to him, Nie Huaisang has also recovered, as straight-faced as someone who was not making out in a random closet just a few seconds ago. He swipes Jiang Cheng’s phone out of his hand and flips through the cameras before nodding his assent. “Gone,” he confirms. “Or at least I can’t see them anymore.”

“Good. Do they know we were there?”

Jiang Yanli chuckles. “Not your names, no. I wish I was there to watch them try to figure out which of the guests were Lotus agents.” She pauses before her voice turns serious again. “Coast’s clear. Go do what you have to do. I sent Nie Huaisang some convenient excuses in case you need to explain what took you so long.

“Thank you, A-jie,” Jiang Cheng says, just as Nie Huaisang echoes with thank you, miss Jiang.

“Good luck, you two.” He can almost feel the smile in her voice before the earpiece goes silent again.

The atmosphere is awkward as they step out of the closet into a mercifully deserted corridor and fix up their clothes. Jiang Cheng’s collar is somewhat rumpled, and he knows without looking his hair must be a mess.

He catches Nie Huaisang looking at him, an amused glint in his golden eyes. “What?”

“You’ve got lipstick on your neck,” Huaisang says dismissively. “Better clean that up quickly.” He taps a finger against his lips (now somewhat smudged themselves), then seems to take pity on Jiang Cheng and pulls a packet of wet wipes out of seemingly nowhere.

“Thanks,” he mutters. The first wipe comes out stained with a dark shade of red.

If he’s blushing, and Nie Huaisang is watching, he might as well end himself here and now.

“We are not talking about this,” is what Jiang Cheng finally settles on. He pairs it with a withering glare, for good measure.

“No, we’re not,” Nie Huaisang agrees, then winks. “Not before I take you out for dinner for real.”

Not for the first time tonight, and - he has a feeling - probably not for the last, Jiang Cheng is left speechless.

[rolling-in-the-undertale]

Here’s my Secret Santa gift for scarytinyturtlebutt! I submitted it to her yesterday, but for some reason it wouldn’t link to @undertalesecretsanta This is me linking it again, so hopefully it works :)

“What do you guys usually eat for Christmas?” you asked Sans as you grabbed a can off the grocery shelf.

“well,” he chuckled, “this is our first christmas, so technically nothing.”

“Oh, right.” Monsters had only been on the surface for two years. Sans had explained they hadn’t yet tried or integrated many human traditions into their own yet, even though some of theirs were very similar. “Then what do you usually eat for Gyftmas?”

“whatever paps wants,” he shrugged, moving to stand on the bottom rack of the cart, leaning his torso over the handle. “it’s different every time.”

“Like what? I need specifics.” You walked further down the isle, pulling both cart and lazy bones with you.

“one time we had a pancake and hot chocolate bar, another time we had oatmeal with those little dinosaur eggs…”

“I sense a theme here,” you said, raising an amused eyebrow.

“heh, yeah. paps says it’s the only time of the year that breakfast for dinner is okay.”  

“Hmm,” you mused as you scanned the shelves for anything else you might want. You and Sans hadn’t come prepared with a list, planning to figure it out as you went. Not seeing anything in this section, you pulled the cart onward. “Maybe we’ll have to add some kind of breakfast food to our feast then. Any suggestions?”

Sans thought for a moment. “what other foods are ya making?”

You started listing them off on your fingers. “Turkey, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes. A few other things I haven’t decided.”

“savory stuff, huh? maybe a quiche, then? papyrus likes those.”

“Ooh, perfect!” Your eyes lit up. “I know a great recipe.”

“goes good with ketchup, too.” He flashed a mischievous grin as he leaned off the moving cart to snag a giant bottle of the stuff.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re buying that separate. I refuse to pay for your unholy addiction.”

“i can quit anytime.”

“Yeah right,” you snorted. “Right after I quit my sleeping addiction.”

“hey, papyrus quit his.” He winked. “anything is possible.”

You stopped walking to grab a few spices. Then you looked him straight in the eyelights, deadpan expression. “Monkey-walrus hybrids wearing nothing but potato skins and living on the sun in cotton huts.”

His browbone contorted in deep confusion. “what the hell did you just say to me?”

“Not everything is possible.” You gave him the widest, shit-eating grin you could.

“i think you need to get checked out,” he smirked back.

“Okay. Right after you get your addiction checked out.”

“maybe we should just check out of this store.”

“As soon as I check out this sale over here.”

“in the meantime, i’ll be checking you out.”

“Ooookay. Time to check out of this conversation.”

“does that mean i win? checkmate.”

“I’m legit done with this now,” you laughed. “No more!”

“sue me. i’ll write a check.”

“Noooo! Sans!” You started walking away.

He followed with the cart. “check. chhheck. check. hm. sounds weird now.”

“Why did I ever agree to date you?” you huffed.

“ditto, ms. monkey-walrus hybrid,” he grinned, an amorous sparkle in his eye.

Unable to hide your own smile, you shook your head and replied, “Let’s just go pick out a turkey, bonehead.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day was Christmas Eve. You headed over to the skeleton brothers’ house in the late morning to start working on dinner. Usually your big feast was on Christmas itself, but the monster queen Toriel was hosting a huge party that day and you’d all been invited. Since Sans and Papyrus had never had an authentic human Christmas before, you decided it was your duty this year to make sure they did. This was one of the best times of the year, after all. It would be a crime not to experience it in full.

Papyrus answered the door, as per usual.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE, HUMAN!!” he shouted.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Papyrus,” you nodded as you stepped over the threshold.

“I CAN’T WAIT TO START THE FEAST PREPARATIONS!! THIS IS GOING TO BE SO INTERESTING!” he said as he followed you into the kitchen.

“Haha, yes,” you smiled, eyeing him a little nervously as he began to pull out the ingredients you’d bought the day before. “Just remember that I’m the Master Chef today, young Padawan.”

He paused a moment to shoot you a confused glance. “OH, THAT’S THE WARRING STARS REFERENCE… YES!! I WILL DO EXACTLY AS YOU INSTRUCT!”

“Good,” you chuckled. “First we should start on the pies.”

“this looks like a pie-ne time to join,” said Sans, peeking around the corner.

“Oh, hey! You want to help, too?” you asked hopefully.

“nope,” he grinned, taking a seat on one of the counter stools. “by join i meant watch.”

“And nap on all of our counter space,” you said wryly.

The day went by rather quickly with all the cooking and baking. All the previous cooking lessons you’d given Papyrus had paid off, evidenced by the minimal burnt dishes. Sans had been a bit of a butt, hiding things you were using when your back was turned (you suspect he’d been bored). But all in all, everything had turned out just fine.

After the table was set, you all sat down together to eat.

“so, uh,” sans started, “is there something we say before we eat?”

You paused in the middle of lifting a knife. “Like what?”

“i dunno, like ‘merry christmas, let’s eat?’” He shrugged.

“You said it then. Let’s eat!”

“AGREED!!” Papyrus chimed in.

Just as you were about to carve yourself some turkey, a flash of white zipped across the table, grabbing the bird by it’s leg and dragging it just as quickly over the other dishes. Bowls were tipped and flipped, splattering food and juices across the tablecloth.

“STOP THAT DOG!!” Papyrus leapt onto the table in pursuit, only creating a larger mess.

It all happened so quickly that you barely had time to register. You just stared as a glob of mashed potatoes smacking onto the front of your shirt. Turning to Sans, you saw his grin tighten as he leaned to rest his forehead on the table. The sounds of an angry Papyrus started to fade out through the front door.

“What the—why was—who let—the food—friggin’…” Your strained mutterings trailed off in an exasperated whine. You could feel hot tears begin to form as you took in the sight before you. “All of our hard work…”

“i’m sorry y/n,” Sans said, placing a hand on your back.

“What’re we going to do now?” Your voice shook, and you turned to look at him. When you saw his face, your eyes went wide.

“what?” he said, feigning innocence. “my bones felt a little dry. thought they could use some moisturizing.” His cheekbones were coated in a nice layer of gravy that was slowly dripping down his jaw.

The ridiculousness of it, paired with the ridiculousness of this whole ordeal… you really wanted to cry, but you couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that erupted from your mouth. Your doubled over in your chair, mirthful tears replacing sad ones. You heard Sans emitting similar levitous sounds next to you. This totally sucked, but it was going to be alright.

When Papyrus came back empty-handed a few minutes later, you two were still cracking up.

“WHAT IS SO FUNNY?” he asked, visibly fuming. “THAT DOG’S ENJOYING OUR FOOD SOMEWHERE, AND HE DOESN’T EVEN PAY RENT!!”

“It’s okay, Papyrus,” you managed to say while catching your breath. “We can figure something else out.”

“BUT ALL OF OUR KITCHENING HAS BEEN WASTED!”

“’kitchening?’” Sans smirked.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!”

“Hey, I think the quiche is still salvageable,” you said, pointing to a round dish off in the corner of the table. There was a small paw print decorating the center of its golden-brown top.

“well that’s a pawsitive,” Sans snickered.

“EUGH! YOU’RE GOING TO EAT IT WHEN IT HAS THAT GLUTTONOUS BEAST’S FOOT COOTIES?!?”

“Sure, we’ll just cut around it,” you replied, not sounding too confident after his description.

“more protein,” added Sans.

“SANS, DON’T BE GROSS!”

You all ended up eating the quiche, which Papyrus complimented liberally despite his initial aversion, and supplemented your meager meal with the extra rolls that hadn’t made their way out of the kitchen yet. It wasn’t the traditional feast you’d planned, but it was at least memorable.

After the mess was cleaned up, you all changed into cozy pajamas and cuddled on the couch to watch “A Christmas Story.”

“HMM,” Papyrus mused after one part. “IF THAT’S HOW THE HUMAN SANTA TREATS CHILDREN, I’M NOT SURE I WANT TO RECEIVE GIFTS FROM HIM…”

“That’s just a mall Santa, Paps,” you said behind a yawn. “The real Santa’s nicer. Right, Sans?”

But Sans was fast asleep against your shoulder. That was too bad. You thought he’d get a kick out of this movie, but now he was going to miss the best parts. With the long day you’d had, it wasn’t long before you, too, were dozing off.

~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke to the television turned off and blanket stretched over you. A warm skeleton was snoring as he cuddled you from behind. Looking about, Papyrus was nowhere to be found.

“Sans,” you whispered.

No reply.

“Sans, hey! We’ve gotta put out the presents.”

There was stirring, and then, “five more minutes, mom.”

You practically leapt off the couch, facing him with a frown. “What?”

He chuckled at your reaction and proceeded to stretch and yawn. “i’ll go get the stash then.”

The “stash” was hidden in Sans’s closet, probably the one place his brother wouldn’t dare go.

While you waited, you took a moment to admire their Christmas tree. Colorful lights twinkled off glittery ornaments, casting a soft, festive glow into the room. You remembered helping to decorate it a few weeks ago. Papyrus hung most of the ones up high since he could reach, and Sans… had mostly watched. He opted to coordinate which ornaments went where so no two of the same were too close to each other. His opinion wasn’t much called upon. Silly goof. You smiled fondly at the memory.

Sans appeared next to you holding a large, bulky trash bag.

“sansta claus reporting for duty,” he said.

“Pffft, dork,” you snorted, reaching inside the bag to grab a present.

“mmm, you shouldn’t call sansta that.”

“I do what I want,” you giggled, placing the present under the tree.

“that’s naughty, and you know what naughty children get.” He wiggled his browbones.

“Why, Sansta!” You feigned shock. “First you call me ‘mom’ and then you flirt with me? I think you’re the naughty one.”

Caught off guard, he struggled to keep his laughter at a low volume. “ya got me there. but seriously—” he pulled a small package out of his jacket pocket—"this is for you.”

You looked at the carefully wrapped box in front of you. “I can’t open that, silly,” you said. “It’s not Christmas yet.”

“that clock says it is.” He nodded to the timepiece on the wall, which read “3:07.”

You smiled wryly. “Alright, fine.” Taking the little box, you gave it a gentle shake. “It’s the key to a new Lamborghini!”

“ha! nope.”

“Oh, sorry. A yacht.”

“how could i have fit a whole yacht in there?”

“The key to one, geez,” you smiled, giving his shoulder a nudge.

“just open it,” he chuckled.

You carefully peeled back the paper so as not to rip it, and then neatly folded it up. “That’s quality paper. Gotta save it for later.”

He rolled his eyelights at you good-naturedly.

Lifting the lid to the box, you saw a smooth, black heart attached to a silver chain.

“Is this coal?” you asked, eyes widening. “Woah.” You pulled it out and held it up to get a better look.

“kinda. it’s called jet. it’s supposed to have useful properties.”

“Wow, thank you, Sans,” you said, admiring the pendant. He remembered you were into that kind of stuff. “That’s really thoughtful.”

“here, lemme put it on for ya,” he said, turning you around. Taking the necklace, he moved your hair to one side and clasped it around your neck. He turned you back around. “there. beautiful.”

You beamed up at him. “I have a present I want you to open now, too.” You shuffled around in the bag a minute before finding it. “I think Papyrus might be a little… disappointed with me if he saw it.”

Sans raised a browbone and proceeded to unwrap the package. “ha! i thought ya said you didn’t want to support my addiction.” He held up a ketchup dispenser in the shape of a gun, smiling widely.

“Yeah, well, I figured it’d be more amusing to watch you drink it this way,” you said.

“heheh! yeah, i bet it will be!” He examined his gift once more. “and you’re probably right about my bro. you’d never hear the end if he knew you gave it to me.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “we should finish putting out these presents before he wakes up. He’s such an early bird.”

He nodded, then stepped closer to wrap you in an embrace. “merry christmas, y/n.” He pressed his teeth to your hair.

You stood there a moment, enjoying the warm and intimacy of the moment. “Merry Christmas, Sans.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Here’s a link to the ketchup gun if you were curious: https://laughingsquid.com/condiment-gun-shoots-out-ketchup-and-mustard/

[scarytinyturtlebutt]

Merry (late) Christmas from your Secret Santa!!! I hope this short story is alright! Let me know whatcha think! :D 

This is for the @undertalesecretsanta event

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What do you guys usually eat for Christmas?” you asked Sans as you grabbed a can off the grocery shelf.

“well,” he chuckled, “this is our first christmas, so technically nothing.”

“Oh, right.” Monsters had only been on the surface for two years. Sans had explained they hadn’t yet tried or integrated many human traditions into their own yet, even though some of theirs were very similar. “Then what do you usually eat for Gyftmas?”

“whatever paps wants,” he shrugged, moving to stand on the bottom rack of the cart, leaning his torso over the handle. “it’s different every time.”

“Like what? I need specifics.” You walked further down the isle, pulling both cart and lazy bones with you.

“one time we had a pancake and hot chocolate bar, another time we had oatmeal with those little dinosaur eggs…”

“I sense a theme here,” you said, raising an amused eyebrow.

“heh, yeah. paps says it’s the only time of the year that breakfast for dinner is okay.”  

“Hmm,” you mused as you scanned the shelves for anything else you might want. You and Sans hadn’t come prepared with a list, planning to figure it out as you went. Not seeing anything in this section, you pulled the cart onward. “Maybe we’ll have to add some kind of breakfast food to our feast then. Any suggestions?”

Sans thought for a moment. “what other foods are ya making?”

You started listing them off on your fingers. “Turkey, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes. A few other things I haven’t decided.”

“savory stuff, huh? maybe a quiche, then? papyrus likes those.”

“Ooh, perfect!” Your eyes lit up. “I know a great recipe.”

“goes good with ketchup, too.” He flashed a mischievous grin as he leaned off the moving cart to snag a giant bottle of the stuff.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re buying that separate. I refuse to pay for your unholy addiction.”

“i can quit anytime.”

“Yeah right,” you snorted. “Right after I quit my sleeping addiction.”

“hey, papyrus quit his.” He winked. “anything is possible.”

You stopped walking to grab a few spices. Then you looked him straight in the eyelights, deadpan expression. “Monkey-walrus hybrids wearing nothing but potato skins and living on the sun in cotton huts.”

His browbone contorted in deep confusion. “what the hell did you just say to me?”

“Not everything is possible.” You gave him the widest, shit-eating grin you could.

“i think you need to get checked out,” he smirked back.

“Okay. Right after you get your addiction checked out.”

“maybe we should just check out of this store.”

“As soon as I check out this sale over here.”

“in the meantime, i’ll be checking you out.”

“Ooookay. Time to check out of this conversation.”

“does that mean i win? checkmate.”

“I’m legit done with this now,” you laughed. “No more!”

“sue me. i’ll write a check.”

“Noooo! Sans!” You started walking away.

He followed with the cart. “check. chhheck. check. hm. sounds weird now.”

“Why did I ever agree to date you?” you huffed.

“ditto, ms. monkey-walrus hybrid,” he grinned, an amorous sparkle in his eye.

Unable to hide your own smile, you shook your head and replied, “Let’s just go pick out a turkey, bonehead.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day was Christmas Eve. You headed over to the skeleton brothers’ house in the late morning to start working on dinner. Usually your big feast was on Christmas itself, but the monster queen Toriel was hosting a huge party that day and you’d all been invited. Since Sans and Papyrus had never had an authentic human Christmas before, you decided it was your duty this year to make sure they did. This was one of the best times of the year, after all. It would be a crime not to experience it in full.

Papyrus answered the door, as per usual.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE, HUMAN!!” he shouted.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Papyrus,” you nodded as you stepped over the threshold. 

“I CAN’T WAIT TO START THE FEAST PREPARATIONS!! THIS IS GOING TO BE SO INTERESTING!” he said as he followed you into the kitchen.

“Haha, yes,” you smiled, eyeing him a little nervously as he began to pull out the ingredients you’d bought the day before. “Just remember that I’m the Master Chef today, young Padawan.”

He paused a moment to shoot you a confused glance. “OH, THAT’S THE WARRING STARS REFERENCE… YES!! I WILL DO EXACTLY AS YOU INSTRUCT!”

“Good,” you chuckled. “First we should start on the pies.”

“this looks like a pie-ne time to join,” said Sans, peeking around the corner.

“Oh, hey! You want to help, too?” you asked hopefully.

“nope,” he grinned, taking a seat on one of the counter stools. “by join i meant watch.”

“And nap on all of our counter space,” you said wryly.

The day went by rather quickly with all the cooking and baking. All the previous cooking lessons you’d given Papyrus had paid off, evidenced by the minimal burnt dishes. Sans had been a bit of a butt, hiding things you were using when your back was turned (you suspect he’d been bored). But all in all, everything had turned out just fine.

After the table was set, you all sat down together to eat.

“so, uh,” sans started, “is there something we say before we eat?”

You paused in the middle of lifting a knife. “Like what?”

“i dunno, like ‘merry christmas, let’s eat?’” He shrugged.

“You said it then. Let’s eat!”

“AGREED!!” Papyrus chimed in.

Just as you were about to carve yourself some turkey, a flash of white zipped across the table, grabbing the bird by it’s leg and dragging it just as quickly over the other dishes. Bowls were tipped and flipped, splattering food and juices across the tablecloth.

“STOP THAT DOG!!” Papyrus leapt onto the table in pursuit, only creating a larger mess.

It all happened so quickly that you barely had time to register. You just stared as a glob of mashed potatoes smacking onto the front of your shirt. Turning to Sans, you saw his grin tighten as he leaned to rest his forehead on the table. The sounds of an angry Papyrus started to fade out through the front door.

“What the—why was—who let—the food—friggin’…” Your strained mutterings trailed off in an exasperated whine. You could feel hot tears begin to form as you took in the sight before you. “All of our hard work…”

“i’m sorry y/n,” Sans said, placing a hand on your back.

“What’re we going to do now?” Your voice shook, and you turned to look at him. When you saw his face, your eyes went wide.

“what?” he said, feigning innocence. “my bones felt a little dry. thought they could use some moisturizing.” His cheekbones were coated in a nice layer of gravy that was slowly dripping down his jaw.

The ridiculousness of it, paired with the ridiculousness of this whole ordeal… you really wanted to cry, but you couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that erupted from your mouth. Your doubled over in your chair, mirthful tears replacing sad ones. You heard Sans emitting similar levitous sounds next to you. This totally sucked, but it was going to be alright.

When Papyrus came back empty-handed a few minutes later, you two were still cracking up.

“WHAT IS SO FUNNY?” he asked, visibly fuming. “THAT DOG’S ENJOYING OUR FOOD SOMEWHERE, AND HE DOESN’T EVEN PAY RENT!!”

“It’s okay, Papyrus,” you managed to say while catching your breath. “We can figure something else out.”

“BUT ALL OF OUR KITCHENING HAS BEEN WASTED!”

“’kitchening?’” Sans smirked.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!”

“Hey, I think the quiche is still salvageable,” you said, pointing to a round dish off in the corner of the table. There was a small paw print decorating the center of its golden-brown top.

“well that’s a pawsitive,” Sans snickered.

“EUGH! YOU’RE GOING TO EAT IT WHEN IT HAS THAT GLUTTONOUS BEAST’S FOOT COOTIES?!?”

“Sure, we’ll just cut around it,” you replied, not sounding too confident after his description.

“more protein,” added Sans.

“SANS, DON’T BE GROSS!”

You all ended up eating the quiche, which Papyrus complimented liberally despite his initial aversion, and supplemented your meager meal with the extra rolls that hadn’t made their way out of the kitchen yet. It wasn’t the traditional feast you’d planned, but it was at least memorable.

After the mess was cleaned up, you all changed into cozy pajamas and cuddled on the couch to watch “A Christmas Story.”

“HMM,” Papyrus mused after one part. “IF THAT’S HOW THE HUMAN SANTA TREATS CHILDREN, I’M NOT SURE I WANT TO RECEIVE GIFTS FROM HIM…”

“That’s just a mall Santa, Paps,” you said behind a yawn. “The real Santa’s nicer. Right, Sans?”

But Sans was fast asleep against your shoulder. That was too bad. You thought he’d get a kick out of this movie, but now he was going to miss the best parts. With the long day you’d had, it wasn’t long before you, too, were dozing off.

~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke to the television turned off and blanket stretched over you. A warm skeleton was snoring as he cuddled you from behind. Looking about, Papyrus was nowhere to be found.

“Sans,” you whispered.

No reply.

“Sans, hey! We’ve gotta put out the presents.”

There was stirring, and then, “five more minutes, mom.”

You practically leapt off the couch, facing him with a frown. “What?”

He chuckled at your reaction and proceeded to stretch and yawn. “i’ll go get the stash then.”

The “stash” was hidden in Sans’s closet, probably the one place his brother wouldn’t dare go.

While you waited, you took a moment to admire their Christmas tree. Colorful lights twinkled off glittery ornaments, casting a soft, festive glow into the room. You remembered helping to decorate it a few weeks ago. Papyrus hung most of the ones up high since he could reach, and Sans… had mostly watched. He opted to coordinate which ornaments went where so no two of the same were too close to each other. His opinion wasn’t much called upon. Silly goof. You smiled fondly at the memory.

Sans appeared next to you holding a large, bulky trash bag.

“sansta claus reporting for duty,” he said.

“Pffft, dork,” you snorted, reaching inside the bag to grab a present.

“mmm, you shouldn’t call sansta that.”

“I do what I want,” you giggled, placing the present under the tree.

“that’s naughty, and you know what naughty children get.” He wiggled his browbones.

“Why, Sansta!” You feigned shock. “First you call me ‘mom’ and then you flirt with me? I think you’re the naughty one.”

Caught off guard, he struggled to keep his laughter at a low volume. “ya got me there. but seriously—” he pulled a small package out of his jacket pocket—"this is for you.”

You looked at the carefully wrapped box in front of you. “I can’t open that, silly,” you said. “It’s not Christmas yet.”

“that clock says it is.” He nodded to the timepiece on the wall, which read “3:07.”

You smiled wryly. “Alright, fine.” Taking the little box, you gave it a gentle shake. “It’s the key to a new Lamborghini!”

“ha! nope.”

“Oh, sorry. A yacht.”

“how could i have fit a whole yacht in there?”

“The key to one, geez,” you smiled, giving his shoulder a nudge.

“just open it,” he chuckled.

You carefully peeled back the paper so as not to rip it, and then neatly folded it up. “That’s quality paper. Gotta save it for later.”

He rolled his eyelights at you good-naturedly.

Lifting the lid to the box, you saw a smooth, black heart attached to a silver chain.

“Is this coal?” you asked, eyes widening. “Woah.” You pulled it out and held it up to get a better look.

“kinda. it’s called jet. it’s supposed to have useful properties.”

“Wow, thank you, Sans,” you said, admiring the pendant. He remembered you were into that kind of stuff. “That’s really thoughtful.”

“here, lemme put it on for ya,” he said, turning you around. Taking the necklace, he moved your hair to one side and clasped it around your neck. He turned you back around. “there. beautiful.”

You beamed up at him. “I have a present I want you to open now, too.” You shuffled around in the bag a minute before finding it. “I think Papyrus might be a little… disappointed with me if he saw it.”

Sans raised a browbone and proceeded to unwrap the package. “ha! i thought ya said you didn’t want to support my addiction.” He held up a ketchup dispenser in the shape of a gun, smiling widely.

“Yeah, well, I figured it’d be more amusing to watch you drink it this way,” you said.

“heheh! yeah, i bet it will be!” He examined his gift once more. “and you’re probably right about my bro. you’d never hear the end if he knew you gave it to me.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “we should finish putting out these presents before he wakes up. He’s such an early bird.”

He nodded, then stepped closer to wrap you in an embrace. “merry christmas, y/n.” He pressed his teeth to your hair.

You stood there a moment, enjoying the warm and intimacy of the moment. “Merry Christmas, Sans.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Here’s a link to the ketchup gun if you were curious: https://laughingsquid.com/condiment-gun-shoots-out-ketchup-and-mustard/

______

Oh my gosh, this is so nice. Thank you so much!!! Sans and Reader seem really sweet and relaxed with each other. That ketchup gun is a total riot. xD I really like how you wrote the playful banter. I’m all about that stuff, and it was so nice. It just has a really soft and warm feeling. <3

I was really D: when that dog nabbed everything, but hopefully since they’re a monster they won’t try eating the turkey’s bones. Bird bones shatter since they’re hollow and can get lodged in dog throats. If they’re smart enough to nab everything at once, they should be smart enough not to do that?

I’m completely on the same page as Papyrus. Breakfast food is the BEST. :D Thanks again! This is such a sweet story!

[freshginandtonic]

My Watch is.. still going

Since starting a new position at work and waking up at 2:30 every morning I have become a hermit - bad for my social life and general wellbeing, but a great time to start watching a new TV series. Or rather, a show that’s not new at all, just one that everyone has been watching for 8 years, and I’m just jumping on the bandwagon now. Yes, I have finally gotten into Game of Thrones. As I write this I have five more episodes of the final season to watch, so I figured now was as good a time as any for some self-reflection on the fact that, in between working ten hours a day, the rest of my time has been devoted to finding out who will end up on the Iron Throne and sleeping.

I’ve always been of the credence that yes, one day when I’m 60 and have enough time, I will in fact sit down and watch Game of Thrones. That all changed at 4am in the last week of May, when I arrived at work to find a package on my desk -  w the words ‘unbowed, unbent, unbroken’ written on it - I later learned that was the motto of one of the great houses of GoT - and a USB inside, with the first season all ready for me. Thanks to my colleague Will, my watch had begun.

Throughout each episode I’ve live texted Will my thoughts, emotions and reactions to just about every scene - usually in all capitals. I’ve noticed this has greatly added to the quality of my viewing - it’s nice to know you can send a one line quote from Season 2 episode six and he’ll know exactly where I am in which episode and can respond in kind with a follow up line, appropriate gif or meme. It’s different to the normal viewing experience because while you don’t have the immediacy and intimacy of an in-person response, the anticipation of a text reaction feels like more of a shared, special event - I’m taking time while watching this thing to let you know I’m watching the thing: here are my raw thoughts. Far more exciting.

My phone had to be put down for some moments though - particularly for the Battle of the Bastards - it was such a sensory overload I couldn’t be trusted to text properly AND keep track of Jon Snow. 

So I began, a novice in season one (in love with Jon and Robb and protective of Ned - how well did THAT turn out?) and I quickly realised I wasn’t going to be able to get through this without some help. So I had some red wine to cope with the first big death of the season (it’s been so long I can’t really remember who it is now) and got on with it. Then came Ned’s death (cue gasps) and onwards to the most important part of season three - no, not the Red Wedding - you better believe I’m talking about Robb Stark’s first relationship and sex scene w cute healer Talisa. I will say I never thought a scene with a leg amputation could be choked with sexual tension, but let me tell you GoT made it happen (context: Robb is on the battlefield being smouldery, Talisa comes to help a wounded enemy soldier and has to cut his leg off while she and Robb exchange heated flanter) and then they finally get it on after she tells some heart wrenching story about her brother (sad but it went right out of my head as soon as I saw Robb’s bum. It’s the important things).

There’s been a lot written about the shock value of Game of Thrones - killing main characters for the sake of killing them, using sexual violence as a plot device, and gratuitous violence. Regarding the sex and violence; first, there’s a Lot if it. A lot more than I thought. Lots of boobs and bums and moments where I had to pause when a family member came into the room. I was pretty surprised at how normalised this became for me - before long I found myself glad and inwardly cheering when someone got axed, poisoned, or ripped apart by dogs (you all know who I mean here.) 

When violence was used, sometimes in not-so-great moments (shall we be reminded of Sansa’s awful rape scene) - it did  sometimes serve as a real catharsis to see some truly terrible people be given their comeuppance (Ramsay’s great ending, Joffrey’s wedding, ) Other people who don’t deserve it are brutalised as well (once again Sansa, and how many others I can’t remember). There’s definitely no discrimination on that front.

 There’s also a weird sense of redemption. Not in every character (obvs - what show is this again?) but being able to follow a character’s arc in one go without break has made their journey all the more meaningful. Particularly for the character of Theon: (a brief summation: he betrays his adopted family and best friend, then gets mutilated and psychologically tortured and broken down before he breaks down and changes). Seeing him come to back to life and find his morals again has been a real highlight and emotional strongpoint of the show for me. I cheered and teared up for each bout of progress he made - fair play to him, he took his fucking time and made loads of mistakes along the way, but he got there.

Regarding the controversial Ending™ my dad told me he read about one guy who binged the whole show like I’ve done, and he had a markedly improved opinion of the final season compared to other people. Everyone I’ve spoken to has, in their own words, said there’s a Golden Period (roughly seasons 2 - 6), and then everything from then on is basically horse shit. I don’t know if that’s right or I’m in a position to judge yet, but right now there’s nothing more satisfying to see characters who have been on separate journeys for literally 8 seasons come together and interact after so long.

So to sum up watching seven and a half seasons, roughly 68 hours and 4080 minutes of TV in under a month - it’s been A Lot. I think I have popular and unpopular opinions about the characters and storylines (pop: Jaimie and Brienne need to bang) vs (unpop: Dany’s character development - nope and she needs to stop conquering cities pls). I am glad I’ve waited this long to watch it all in one go (if I had to wait a year to find out what happened to Jon Snow after the season five finale I would have fucking RIOTED). I’ve appreciated the small moments: the Night’s Watch banter, the dire pups, Jon and Ygritte’s excellent enemies to lovers relationship (a personal favourite trope of mine), and everything Varys says, to the bigger pieces of the puzzle: Jon’s true heritage, the Stark’s getting avenged, Arya’s and mainly Sansa’s transformation from the girl who wanted to marry Joffrey to the absolute badass bish she is from where I currently sit.

So is my life changed? Nope. But at least now I’m part of the cultural carpet. My watch is nearly over, but what an absolute time its been.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS OF GREAT MOMENTS FOR THOSE IN THE KNOW (AKA EVERYONE ON EARTH)

Sam getting ripped for reading by all the dudes in the Night’s Watch

Dany’s excellent outfit choices in s7/8 - a particular shoutout to the winter outfit of season 7 episode 8 and the grey frock with the red dragon cape (LIVING for the texture)

Ditto Cersei - taking power suits to a whole new level since taking the Iron Throne (this particular outfit is an absolute LEWK and the picture doesn’t do the spiky shoulders justice)

Jon’s transition to the man bun post-resurrection (I personally detest man buns but I absolutely loved this change for him)

Sansa’s dead straight curtain of hair - there’s something super satisfying about it after years of her wearing those Padme Amidala style ‘Southern Style’ hair

The entirety of House Tyrell (particular mention to Lady Olenna who deserves all the awards in the world for only killing one character in this show)

Lady Margaery’s sassy backless dresses (she knows how to make the most of the King’s Landing climate)

Jaime and Brienne’s entire relationship (from the enemies to friends trope to him GIVING HER HIS SWORD AND A WHOLE SUIT OF ARMOUR) - if that’s not a love confession then I will just cut off my own damn hand

The entirety of the shirtless Flex Scene™ of the pilot

Sansa saying the iconique phrase ‘How do you answer these charges, Lord BaELISH’

Any time anyone said the words ‘King in the North’

Battle of the Bastards - need I say more. I won’t big it up like so many of the magazines and entertainment websites did, but it felt like one of the most realistic depictions of a medieval battle you could find. I felt it in my gut. I don’t know how you couldn’t. When Jon couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe.

Bran literally being the group member of the assignment who drags you down bc he just sits in a cave

[godlessgeekblog]

How to plan a family D-Day weekend in Normandy

The flags are going up, the mowers are out and the cafe owners are stocking up on beer and cider — as they always do ahead of June 6 every year.

The anniversary of D-Day stirs powerful mixed emotions here in Normandy. It is both a celebration of the liberation of Europe — which began that day — and a commemoration of those who fell here in the pivotal summer of 1944.

This year, though, will be particularly poignant because the 75th anniversary is likely to be the last occasion when the veterans return in significant numbers. And because royalty and world leaders will be joining them, anyone without a ticket will want to stay well clear of the French coast between Cherbourg and Ouistreham during the week of June 3.

The Daily Mail’s Robert Hardman devised a three-day itinerary to see all the main D-Day beaches and memorials 

On any other day, this part of the world is not merely worth a visit. It is an enthralling, humbling experience which should be high on anyone’s ‘to do’ list. And you do not have to be a military history buff to enjoy it.

In the run-up to this year’s events, I took my family for a long weekend and the only problem was cramming it all in to a few days.

For the Battle of Normandy was not just about getting ashore. The ‘beaches’ were actually a 50-mile stretch of coast — and the battle itself lasted nearly three months. As a result, there are enough museums, ruins and landmarks to keep you occupied for weeks. I have been back here time and again over the years and there is always something new to see or do. So how best to get the full picture?

With three children aged between seven and 11, I wanted to make sure they all went home with a story to tell and a rough idea of what happened 75 years ago.

We based ourselves in the small city of Bayeux, with its charming streets and half-timbered cafes, and this is how we did it . . .

Day One:

The British-Canadian Sector

Sword Beach, where British troops landed during D-Day operations. The beach is in the town of Ouistreham in Normandy 

The Normandy landings were divided into five zones which history has come to know as ‘the beaches’. To the west are the two vast stretches where the Americans landed — codenamed Utah and Omaha. 

To the east are the two British ones — Gold and Sword — either side of the Canadian landing zone, codenamed Juno. 

Since the Brittany Ferries service from Portsmouth sails in to Ouistreham, on the edge of Sword Beach, you might want to start here.

Start at: Pegasus Bridge

The first piece of France to be liberated from Nazi rule was not a beach at all. It was a crucial metal bridge over the Caen Ship Canal several miles inland from Sword Beach.

Shortly after midnight on June 6, three gliders carrying crack troops from the Ox and Bucks Light Infantry landed in precisely the right spot and captured the bridge intact. It has been known ever since as Pegasus Bridge (after the badge of the airborne forces) and here you will find the Pegasus Memorial. This first-rate museum tells the story of the army of liberators who came by air.

Donations from veterans and their families ensure there is a steady stream of fresh exhibits. An entire glider door had just turned up when we arrived. A new bridge spans the canal so the original — still sporting its battle scars — sits in the museum’s garden, along with a replica glider and a beautifully restored Cromwell tank.

Take a short trip up the road to the Commonwealth War Cemetery at Ranville, where more than 2,000 men lie buried next to a village church that’s still peppered with bullet holes.

Juno Beach Centre

Onwards to Canada’s museum at Juno Beach. On D-Day, no nation advanced further than the gallant Canadians yet their achievements are often overlooked. Not here, though. The full extent of the country’s war effort is captured in a series of well-planned exhibitions, along with a digital tour which kept my lot captivated for an hour and a half.

‘Best museum of them all,’ was the verdict of my eldest. It’s right on the beach, next to a German bunker complex. A good paddling opportunity.

Bringing history to life: Robert and his family enjoyed an educational holiday in Normandy 

VC Memorial

Grab some lunch nearby and head for Crépon, passing Ver-sur-Mer where the splendid new Normandy Memorial is taking shape with the help of the generosity of Daily Mail readers.

Five minutes away is the roadside monument telling the heroic tale of Sergeant Major Stan Hollis of the Green Howards, the only man to win the Victoria Cross on D-Day itself.

Gripping film footage

Another ten minutes down the road and you reach the clifftop cinema above the handsome old spa town of Arromanches-les-Bains. The view is superb. Ditto the 360-degree cinema experience which uses surround sound and news footage from the time to tell the whole story of Normandy in 20 minutes. Its powerful footage had even our seven-year-old glued.

Longues Battery

The gun battery at Longues-sur-Mer. You can climb inside the gun casemates and children will enjoy clambering over the original guns

HELP HONOUR OUR HEROES  

There is still no memorial on French soil to the 22,442 British servicemen and women who died in the Battle of Normandy. Now, thanks to the efforts of the surviving veterans and Mail readers, this magnificent monument, above, and memorial park will open above Gold Beach next year. Donations to the Normandy Memorial Trust at 56 Warwick Square, London SW1V 2AJ or normandymemorialtrust.org. 

Skirt round Arromanches and head for the gun battery at Longues-sur-Mer, still in remarkably good nick considering that it was bombarded comprehensively by the RAF before it was silenced by the Royal Navy.

You can climb inside the gun casemates and children will enjoy clambering over the original guns. Equally impressive is the forward observation bunker, still perched on the cliff edge. It is the one they used to film the epic Hollywood movie, The Longest Day, and has barely changed since 1944.

Double back to Arromanches for a drink as the sun sets beyond the remains of the Mulberry harbour. This was the mind-boggling artificial port which the Allies towed across the Channel at a sedate 1 mph. These mighty blocks of seaweed-encrusted concrete are now much-loved landmarks. The busy museum on the seafront tells the story.

Day Two

The American Sector

Of the 156,000 troops who landed on D-Day, 73,000 were American, as was the Supreme Allied Commander, General Dwight Eisenhower. The U.S. forces were allocated the western half of the assault. Their initial aims included the capture of the vital port of Cherbourg.

Start at: St-Mere-Eglise

Like the British airborne forces who arrived to the east in the early hours of D-Day, thousands of Americans dropped in to the west.

Famously, one unit of the U.S. 82nd Airborne Division landed in the town of Sainte-Mere-Eglise while a house was on fire, illuminating the night sky. Many paratroopers were picked off before touching the ground.

A wounded Private John Steele ended up dangling from the church by his parachute and feigned death until he was lowered down and taken prisoner (though not for long).

His story has entered Normandy folklore and, to this day, a dummy paratrooper still hangs from the church — much to the delight of my children. Across the square, the U.S. Airborne Museum is full of interactive displays and each visitor receives a tablet to follow the action.

Utah Beach

Half an hour’s drive further on, the Utah Beach Museum is an excellent state-of-the-art visitor centre built into the sand on the site of a German bunker.

There is a wide selection of landing craft — including a replica Higgins Boat — and a B-26 Marauder bomber, all telling the story of a beach landing which went more or less according to plan.

The beach of Arromanches where you can also find a 360-degree cinema experience, which uses surround sound and news footage from the time to tell the whole story of Normandy in 20 minutes

It is also the perfect spot for some well-deserved bucket-and-spade activity. It is a short hop to Saint-Come-du-Mont where the D-Day Experience gives visitors a lively simulated ride in an American C47 aircraft as it flies U.S. paratroopers into the unknown.

Omaha Beach

While Utah was a success, the other American landing beach was a killing field. Forever known as ‘Bloody Omaha’, it was where thousands of men lost their lives.

Well-entrenched German positions survived aerial bombing and poured withering fire on the attackers. Today, Omaha Beach is a bracing strip of golden sand, popular with land yachts (sail-powered go-karts).

Above it is the main U.S. Cemetery, a panoramic resting place for nearly 10,000 men (and four women) which will be familiar to viewers of the Steven Spielberg epic Saving Private Ryan. The film was inspired by the story of one U.S. family, the Nilands, who lost two boys in Normandy. There are, in fact, 45 pairs of brothers resting here.

Arrive towards the end of the day and watch the sunset ceremony — known as ‘Taps’ — bring down the two main Stars and Stripes. I counted hundreds of visitors, many of them in tears. A new visitor centre opens this summer.

British cemetery

The beautiful maintained plots in the main British cemetery in Bayeux, pictured, where more than 4,000 Commonwealth soldiers lie 

Britain’s fallen heroes are to be found in beautifully maintained plots across the region. Head back to Bayeux and visit the main British cemetery where more than 4,000 Commonwealth (and 466 German) soldiers lie, including a holder of the Victoria Cross, Sidney Bates of the Royal Norfolk Regiment.

Day Three

Bayeux, Caen and Inland

Half an hour away from Bayeux the regional capital, Caen — which was bombed to smithereens in 1944 — has a huge museum telling the story of the war from the French side, a sombre reminder that there were even more civilian than military losses here.

German last stand

The battle for the beaches was relatively quick. Most of the fighting was inland, among pretty medieval hedgerows known as ‘bocage’. Small memorials pepper the landscape. Head an hour south of Caen to the bloodiest battlefield of all. At the end of the Normandy campaign, tens of thousands of German troops were squeezed in to a narrow strip of countryside known as the Falaise Pocket. Up to 10,000 were killed here.

The Memorial Montormel museum, run by a charismatic English-speaking curator, is the perfect spot to take in the magnitude of what happened in the now-peaceful valley below. Much is made of the role of horses in the German war machine. Their fate is not so easily explained to young pony-lovers.

My three children learned a lot and played a lot. But I made the mistake of buying them each a replica ‘cricket’, the metallic clicker used by airborne troops to identify friendly forces at night. They have not stopped clicking the blasted things ever since.

TRAVEL FACTS 

Robert Hardman and his family travelled overnight from Portsmouth to Caen/Ouistreham by cruise-ferry in an en-suite cabin. Fares from £85 one way for a car, plus two passengers, brittany-ferries.co.uk. The Hotel Luxembourg in Bayeux has family rooms from £137 (hotel-luxembourg-bayeux.com) For more information on commemorating D-Day 75, visit normandydday75.com 

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[trevorbarre]

“Age cannot wither them...”

I was debating with a friend today about pop/rock compositions, and about how anyone above 30 seems unable to write classic pop/rock numbers. The Beatles were all in their early 20s when they produced their best known compositions; ditto The Rolling Stones. One only has to read about Jagger;s latest ‘conquest’, a 22-year old, to realise how ‘out of time’ this particular dodgy septuagerian has become. Paul McCartney has become similarly irrelevant. Only the recent Nobel Prize recipient Bob Dylan is keeping the freak flag flying on behalf of his chequered generation.

What is it that means that one has to be under 30 to create great rock music, I wonder? It really does seem that this is youth music, as the sad products of the Gallagher brothers has recently proved. Sure, Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, Tom Waits and Neil Young have produced great work in their middle ages, but you know what I’m talking about, yeah?

The Rolling fucking Stones and their zombie roll outs, and the awful U2 cavalcade are indications of the true horror of middle-age and middle-class rock ‘n roll detritus. I’m amazed that they can take themselves seriously, particularly the Jagger phallocentrism and the Bono leather-trouser parody.  They are an embarrassment for us already embarrassed 60 year olds.

However, here comes the cavalry, the improv gerontocracy!! 

 Barry Guy, with his 70th birthday (slightly younger than the absurd Jagger), at the helm of the celebrations at The Vortex last April, playing in all the groups that were featured over three hours of challenging improv. Trevor Watts, Paul Lytton, John Russell, Terry Day, Steve Beresford, David Toop- all around the age of 60, and all still producing challenging work, which is more than can be said of the Rolling plutocrats, who seem to tour mainly to please their accountants. There are some left of even greater age - Sonny Rollins, Cecil Taylor, Lee Konitz- let’s hope that they are acknowledged  as the greatest of our elders - as opposed to the bogus oldsters as represented by the greatest pretender of all, Mick Jagger, who has ripped off his mentors from 1963 onwards.