together at last, t?, warnings: none? Pre-wedding night and these two dodos can’t bear to be apart.
They said it, they both agreed to it. No seeing each other before the wedding, it’s bad luck. And yet, Aaron is on his phone, texting Robert at eleven just because he doesn’t know what else to do.
He doesn’t know if it’s sad or romantic that his soon-to-be husband again is the person he does everything with, and that being without him for one night is twenty times harder than he imagined.
We should be together, Robert texts him.
Aaron sighs. They’ve not spent a night apart since they got back together, so the thought of actually being without Robert opens up a pit in his stomach and a hole in his chest.
We’re not supposed to.
C’mon.
Robert.
I love you.
Aaron doesn’t know what to say to deny that. The chasm inside him expands and he feels unstable. Not unready or unprepared for their wedding, but the lack of Robert in his life, even for a night, destabilises him and he can’t know which way is up until he sees Robert’s face.
Sneak up.
Like the old days?
It’s soft, and it makes Aaron smile. He’s lying on what used to be his bed, feeling a sense of nostalgia for how things were. Not the struggles, but the simpler parts. The spaces in between where they fell in love.
He lets Robert in in the cover of darkness. He checks whether the coast is clear and waves him up and presses a finger to his lips to shush him. So much has changed and Aaron can see it in the lines of Robert’s face. He’s older now, crows feet creeping in around his eyes because he laughs more. He isn’t that same scared man rebelling against his own heart. He owns it and gives it to Aaron without reservation.
They laugh at the similarity of it, lips barely touching through their grins. Married. It’s what they’ll be. It doesn’t change anything for Aaron. He’s always been Robert‘s. Stolen with a kiss and a touch of fear. Maybe if Robert had lied that day in the layby, pretended to be smoother than he was, Aaron would have forgotten him, but he didn’t. He let his fear shine through, let it take him away from Aaron, but then pushed it back enough to come for him in the garage. He wrote honest desire on Aaron’s heart and nothing has ever come close since.
It’s that craving that’s brought them here now, clothes peeled off, and hands lovingly pressed against hot flesh.
Every kiss is I need you. Every touch, I desire you. Every look, I love you. Aaron lives in those moments, where time stops, and it’s four years ago, three years ago, two, and yesterday. Nothing ever changes for them. His body throbs for the way only Robert knows how to touch him, tucking himself inside Aaron; mind, body and soul, rewriting him into the song of two people. It’s all he’ll ever be now, and he craves it. To exist only in this comfort of them. His sighs aren’t ignored, Robert is attentive to him, giving him more kisses, more sloping fingers as he grips and clutches at what he needs.
Pleasure mounts and peaks, but Aaron feels the most for the moments after, when Robert shakes and lies on his chest, safe and cocooned in his arms. Today, Aaron is himself for one last day, but it’s an illusion. He’s Robert’s. He always has been, and finally, he gets to be in every way that he can be afforded. His husband. Never to be torn asunder.
He kisses Robert’s forehead and lets him doze. He can leave in a bit, when night gives way to day, and when tradition demands absence. It’s not, and it never will be who they are. Aaron is Robert’s, and today is just the day he gets to show the world that.
I mean, I don’t want to shame anyone who has said it, thought it, or posted it. I have too. But as a philosophy, as a statement of belief, I hate it. Because it means you’ve given up. We are absolutely NOT fucked.
Things are so bad. This country has taken a turn that I could never have predicted. It is absolutely fascist, nativist, and extremist. It’s every bit as scary as it seems. But we are not fucked.
I read a long-form article on the Russia hacks in the New Yorker not long ago. However much you think that influenced the outcome, it was an instructive piece of journalism. There is very little indication that there was a specific political agenda that was being wished for. The goal was simple: Sow chaos and undermine the faith of Westerners in their own institutions.
This is really important to think about right now.
I have a high regard for Mueller and I think his investigation will have some influence. But don’t wait on him to save us. He can’t. And don’t wait on impeachment. I would support it fervently, but it is nothing to bank on. And especially don’t assume Trump can’t win again. He absolutely can. Our best bet – better, even, than all of our protests and actions – is actually voting.
It’s so square. It’s so old-fashioned. Many of us involved with the hard-left or anarchist scene have been trained to disregard it.
Fucking don’t. NOT NOW, guys. It is the best tool at our disposal. Yeah, you can say that they will sabotage it, reject it, whatever. “Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof.” In other words, don’t create troubles before they exist. Anything seems possible to me right now, but it remains the case – despite hacked voting machines and gerrymandering – that there is no known mechanism by which our government can deny massive voter turnout.
Take back the House in November. Then take back the Presidency in 2020. The worst thing we could do is pretend that these are givens. I never, ever, ever thought that this piece of shit could sit in the Oval Office. I was so humbled by my error. Therefore I assume he could take it again – I know he could – unless we accept the threat as real.
When we say, “We’re fucked,” we roll over. We defeat ourselves. We do their job for them. Don’t do that. We are NOT fucked. We are in a fight. It sucks. It’s hard. People are suffering. The earth is suffering. It will get worse.
You know, since everyone loves the Nazi comparisons, there were people during the HEYDAY of the Third Reich who NEVER said, “We’re fucked.” They said, “We’re in a fight.” And you know what’s interesting? Nazi Germany went from the worst regime in the world to a liberal democracy within a lifetime.
Look at Japan. Take the historical view. Stop pretending that the worst of what’s happening now is what is going to always happen. This is what is happening RIGHT NOW. That’s all you know. If you think it’s going to be this way forever, read a book.
Countries slide into fascism for long periods. It happens. Countries also have short-term extremist right-wing governments. Happens in Europe all the time. They get voted out. The threat remains. The threat of fascism will remain in America in a way it never has before. It’s a real movement. But we’re not fucked. Not even close. We can get off the ropes in the mid-terms and knock them out in 2020. But only if we stop saying that we’re fucked, and start seeing this as a fight.
I’m no Pollyanna. Things are so unutterably bad that I walk around in a constant state of nausea and horror. But you have to take the historical view, and you can’t lie down and say we’re doomed, or else they have beaten you.
Again, I don’t want to shame anyone who says, “We’re fucked” as an emotional reaction. I get it, I really do. But if you say that as a historical reality, then you SHOULD be ashamed. We are so far from being fucked. It’s time for that warrior spirit, from everyone.
Our best bet, actually our only realistic bet, is to mobilize the vote. There has always been a silver lining to this situation. I have always hesitated to state it, for fear of sounding like I am not taking the horror seriously. Fuck that; I do. But there has always been the possibility, there remains the possibility, that this is a time when our country faces up to its worst reflection, sees it truly, and breaks the fucking mirror. A time when the last bastion of white power and male supremacy and oligarchy attempts to enact fascism, but the antibodies of the American system and American multi-culturalism kick in to reject it.
Where do you want to stand in that equation? As someone who rolled over because we’ve have had two awful years of shit that much of the world has already experienced many, many, many times over, so you decided that we’re finished and done for? Come on. Look at Europe, look at Africa, look at Asia. Back and forth with this shit, and much worse.
I have your back. Get up. Here’s my hand. Let’s fight.
It can’t become hip to give up. It can’t become hip to say we are fucked. Look at history. People have been so much more fucked than us, and won. If you truly believe we are finished, I’m sorry, but you were the first to fall. Stick a fork in you, turn you over, you’re done. I don’t want to see you do that, if only for the selfish reason that we need you.
Do all the protests, do all the direct action, make all the phone calls, then mobilize in October and November. That’s when we can get off the ropes and start punching again. Take the long view, my sisters and brothers. Don’t let them take you out of the fight.
Now would be a good time for the ED social media team to actually have a Tumblr account. Because seriously – please don’t touch fanfic. You know it exists. We know you know. But what ITV’s lawyers and accountants and big wigs like is that there’s this unwritten law between studios and fandom: plausible deniability.
You don’t read it, you don’t look for it, you don’t talk about it. We write it, we post it, we make a sum total of zero pence from it.
It works both ways, you know that? Growing up I watched Babylon 5 and the writer/creator spent time on an official message board. He’d talk to the fans, he’d answer questions… Then one day he saw a post with a “what if” storyline and suddenly it wasn’t fun because they’d just commissioned a script with pretty much that exact storyline. The guy who posted was just speculating and had no clue but he had to sign a release because otherwise he could have claimed influence.
Another show I watched actually had a standing arrangement with some writers/producers and they would answer directed questions and comment on episodes. They asked for their accounts to be limited so they couldn’t access the fan stuff: videos, fics, artwork. They didn’t want to notice that stuff because if we sailed a little too close to the truth with some speculation then we were all covered.
If I write a fic where Ross is actually Seb’s father and you’re reading it or talking to me about it? You can’t ever do that. Joe Tate turns out to be two kids in a fancy suit? Debbie finally gives up men altogether? All storylines that are now burned.
Because otherwise I can claim intellectual influence (or something like that). The characters are yours, yes, but the ideas and the stories? They’re ours. That’s why fanfiction exists in this little grey area.
Please. Don’t come and play in this sandbox. No fic writer wants this. You don’t want this. Share the artwork, talk to us, give us clues and tidbits and be sarcastic when we point out it must be voting season.
Thank you sweet anon! I have been feeling a bit down so that really helped! I’ve been worried that I’m being too mean lately but it’s nice to know that I’m not! lol I’ve had that theme for a while but it is pretty rad though.
I like that word. Rad. I need to use it more. I’m sure you are now regretting following me now. lol
Thank you for the kind words and I hope you have a great week! 🙂
Amanda Janes Tumblr Backup 