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lastbluetardis · 3 years

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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kixa · 3 years

Text

MSBY @ thanksgiving w/ a black s/o

*based on my thanksgiving*

*I’m only doing Bokuto, Atsumu, Sakusa, and Hinata because I don’t rlly know the other players*

warnings: none a lil cursing ig 🤷🏿‍♀️

header source: mei_HQ (@AMeihq)

Bokuto:

⭐︎ baby boy is so excited

⭐︎ This is not his first time meeting your family, so of course he knows what he’s getting into

⭐︎ He loves everything your family makes

⭐︎ Occasionally he’ll want to bring a dish of his own preferably something from his culture

⭐︎ He absolutely loves pie all of them btw (pumpkin, sweet potato, pecan, and apple) my mom makes the best apple pie ong

⭐︎ But sadly when he asks about the food he doesn’t realize it’s all homemade so he just assumes that the stuffing, greens, and pies are from cans *meaning all the food is store-bought*

⭐︎ Ok so Bo doesn’t really understand black people time, so if your family says they’re eating at 3 they’re lying you’re eating at 9/10 at night, but he insists y’all get there early, like no babe if we get there at three the turkey’s not even in the oven.

⭐︎ The aunts absolutely adore him, even the messy ones

⭐︎ Like if the aunts are loud he’s right with them

⭐︎ So do the little cousins, he gives them piggy back rides and listens to their stories from school (great dad material *wink*)

⭐︎ My mom loves to decorate, so whenever he comes over he gushes over the decorations talking about how cute they are.

⭐︎ He loves playing games with the family, especially spades or pokeno because that’s usually when everyone gets tipsy and things get fun

⭐︎ He’s definitely not shy that’s why your family loves him so much because he knows how to hang

⭐︎ He gets so happy when they ask him about volleyball cause that means that you talk about him often

⭐︎ If you guys have been together for some time and he asks what certain foods are, your family will look at you like you’re crazy because how have you been with him this long and ain’t never made him pie or greens

⭐︎ “I’m sorry baby, y/n ain’t never made you no soul food like this before, y/n you ain’t been feeding this boy?”

⭐︎ “Wait no I do, I feed him come on grandma. Bo don’t I fee-“ *she pulls Bo to her height* “Baby if she ain’t feeding you you let me know so I can hook you up,” and Bokuto just nods and laughs

⭐︎ When grandma motions for him to get up and dance with her he’s kind of hesitant but goes anyway, so he holds her hands and they sway to Luther Vandross

Atsumu:

⭐︎ Ok so all the aunties love him like we been known he’s a ladies man🥱

⭐︎ Believe it or not he’s actually pretty shy to meet your family

⭐︎ That man who’s ego is the size of a whale’s is suddenly the meekest person in the room

⭐︎ Like he’s doing that knee thing ppl do when they’re nervous and he’s gripping the steering wheel pretty hard type nervous

⭐︎ When y’all get there your grandma is coming to give you a hug and he just stands there a lil awkwardly like: 🧍‍♂️

⭐︎ But omg he’s surprised when your grandma makes her way to him to give him big hug as a way to welcome him into the family

⭐︎ He’s so polite when asks for stuff, calling people Ms. And Mr.

⭐︎ He wants to make the best impression aw baby

⭐︎ Honestly his fav food has to be the greens omg he loves them (when made the right way greens are delicious)

⭐︎ But he literally asks for everything on his plate; greens, mac & cheese, ham, turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, relish, rolls, etc. the list goes on

⭐︎ When everyone started eating it was a whole lot of smacking and no dialogue but then the jokes and reminiscing started to flow meanwhile he stayed silent the whole time just lightly smiling at everyone

⭐︎ So when someone turned to ask him a question about volleyball or y’all’s relationship he damn near chokes on his food

⭐︎ But when he talks it’s just very formal and stiff

⭐︎ I think baby was just overwhelmed

⭐︎ But back to all the aunties loving him, yeah so they talk him up and gush over his looks and muscles

⭐︎ And he’s blushing up a storm because of the constant compliments plus they were loud so now everyone’s attention was on him

⭐︎ For some reason he is a monster at uno like baby boy destroys everyone every time

⭐︎ So of course your family is highly shocked because who would’ve known that the shy closed off bf of yours would be eating ppl up in a card game

⭐︎ Meanwhile he’s asking for another plate

⭐︎ Overall he loves how friendly and funny your family is, he was going around to everyone who had cooked and complimented their food generously

⭐︎ But omg in the car he’s so happy and food drunk that he’s just murmuring how much this was the best thanksgiving he had

Sakusa:

⭐︎ So of course he’s quiet with his mask (omg he looks so intimidating to me bye)

⭐︎ When the family asked him questions and most of his answers were just one word

⭐︎ So for the majority of the night he didn’t really say anything

⭐︎ But omg is he cute, he would literally follow you around because he’s a little anxious to be alone with your family

⭐︎ When y’all get plates he takes such small portions, and grandma caught him, saying “Oh no baby you’re all skin and bones get some more” then proceeds to put giant ass helpings off all the foods on his plate

⭐︎ He just looks at her, the plate, then you lol

⭐︎ Basically grandma takes care of him the whole night and he’s just dazed

⭐︎ She even takes him into the kitchen to make sweet potato pie with her, and grandma doesn’t let anybody help her make this pie

⭐︎ Everyone’s like 😧

⭐︎ He’s very hesitant but helps anyway by mashing up the sweet potatoes (he’s a pro baking idc idc)

⭐︎ Plus he has nice hands oop

⭐︎ He honestly looks so happy and he’s even smiling a lil aw

⭐︎ I think he was just so happy, even though he’s been kind of offstandish all night your family never gave up on him

⭐︎ So when the pie was done your grandma thanked him and gave him a grandma kiss on the cheek he was so shocked (blushing like crazy)

⭐︎ Now everyone was talking to him asking more questions and he was answering them a little better (he was highkey nervous)

⭐︎ Believe it or not he brought mahjong with him and wanted to play with everyone but was too nervous to ask

⭐︎ Once you brought it up everyone was cool with it, but little did he know he had a little competition for being the ultimate player

⭐︎ So now the game is still ongoing with him and your mom playing

⭐︎ To sum this up he was very nervous at first so he gave off an intimidating vibe but after spending time with grandma he warmed up a lot

⭐︎ Him and grandma are besties now so he talks to her all the time and they have scheduled baking days bye

Hinata:

⭐︎ Just like Bokuto he is overly hyped he was literally jumping in the car he was so excited

⭐︎ And you have to warn that your family can be a lil oc

⭐︎ He genuinely didn’t know what you were talking about because as soon as your aunt opened the door she gave him a big hug

⭐︎ He had the biggest smile he was so happy

⭐︎ Mind you he has never met your family, but he was still greeting everyone shaking peoples’ hands receiving hugs

⭐︎ When they ask about you guys you let him do all the talking and he just goes on and on about how much he loves and appreciates you

⭐︎ Everyone adores him they find him so sweet and energetic he fits in the family just right

⭐︎ Oh and my boy knows music so y’all are playing oldies and he’s singing right along with them

⭐︎ Hinata is more of aMac & cheese type guy so mans is fucking that shit up, after his 5th helping you had to stop him lol

⭐︎ But he loves all the food and he’s complimenting everyone on the food boosting peoples’ egos and shit

⭐︎ Bruh he is love with the apple pie, he almost fell out it was so good (he found your mom and requested a pie for his birthday)

⭐︎ He had to move to the couch because he had a literal food coma and needed a nap

⭐︎ While he was sleep everyone was just gushing over him, asking how he was so sweet

⭐︎ After his power nap y’all played spades, he was kind of lost so grandma helped him out he got it pretty quickly though

⭐︎ He mainly did all the talking that night even talking about MSBY and volleyball

⭐︎ To me Hinata is like a child even in time skip so he gets along with the children so well

⭐︎ When it was time to go he was so sad he didn’t want to, he enjoyed himself to much plus he was in love with your family

⭐︎ So basically he was pouty the whole ride back to the hotel

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ashhdaniellee95 · 4 years

Note

Can you do an imagine where reader has started a relationship with Ruzek but is Antonio’s best friend and has been since they was born and finds out they are dating Adam and things get heated as antonio sees reader as a little sister and is quite protective x

Relationship Interrupted

for @heatherjayy95 | The pictures above does not belong to me.

→ Paring: Reader × Adam Ruzek

→ Warnings: language, fighting, & sex

→ Reader is Antonio's best friend and he gets protective over her when he finds out she's dating Adam.

One Month Ago

"So um," Adam goes to say as he clears his throat, "will you, be my girlfriend?" He asks you, as you smile at him and nod your head before answering his question, "yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend." He walks forward and engulfs you in a warm hug as he leans down and sweetly, yet ever so lightly kisses your soft lips.

Now

It was a big case and Voight needed everyone to be on their a-game today.

Antonio went to the break room to fix himself a coffee then walks back to his desk. As filing out paperwork for the case, he hears Ruzek coming up the stairs talking to someone, probably on the phone, so he ignores it and continues on about his business.

But as Ruzek gets closer to intelligence, Antonio realizes that Adam is talking to you on the phone, about your morning. And man, Antonio did not like that. But e keeps his eyes on Ruzek while he does his work but when he hears them talk about a date this Friday, he doesn't like it.

He waits for him to finish the conversation and approaches Ruzek. "What do you think your doing, talking to {y/n} like that? Huh? Talking about going on a date Friday! Ruzek she's my best friend! You know how I feel about dating her." Ruzek doesn't like him coming up to him like that. "Back off Dawson. I know she's your best friend, but she likes me. And she wanted to go on a date Friday. I like her too, so I agreed. You don't need to get pissed."

They continue to argue until Kevin and Jay hears, and comes in and breaks up the fight. Then Voight talks to both of them and tells them to deal with it until they get the case solved.

Friday

It was the day they had planned, going to a nice dinner then coming back to his place and watching a movie.

They went to the Italian restaurant a few blocks down from her place. They had everything, from pizza and pasta, to salad and sandwiches. She got the one thing she loved the best; ham and pineapple pizza, he got a cheesesteak and they both shared a salad.

After they ate, and he paid for the meal, they went back to her place to watch a movie.

He got the popcorn out and put it in the microwave to pop while you got some other snacks.

They decided to watch Alice in Wonderland, which was {y/n}'s favorite movie.

As you see the castle come into view and the words 'Walt Disney Pictures' on the bottom of the screen, you get closer to Adam, his body providing warmth.

In the middle of the movie, you feel him lightly kiss your neck, so you move closer to him, and he smiles at you.

His kisses start getting heavier and his tongue lightly drags across your neck where he stops at a spot and starts sucking and kissing.

Your neck turns a slight purple color and Ruzek continues his way down your colar bone to your boobs, where he licks your nipples and kneads the other one with one of his hands.

The movie is long forgotten as he pulls you to him, his back against the arm of the couch and you straddling him. You move your hands through his hair in pleasure as he moves to the other boob and does the same thing.

Your hand gets shaky as he moves up to kiss your lips. He takes his shirt off and unbuckles his pants as you take your shirt and bra off and slowly slide your pants down your legs. You move up so that you're sitting on his hard on and start humping him. He gets frustrated so he takes your panties off and grabs a condom he had stashed in the coffee table drawers and rolls is on smoothly.

You sit up a little to better your position and helps you slide down on him as a groan leaves his lips.

He lets you get used to him before he starts rocking his hips faster into your vagina.

Antonio decided to stop by {y/n}'s place to make sure she was okay. She had given him a key a year ago so in case he needed to come by when she wasn't there.

The two of you to busy with each other to hear the door unlock and open and shut.

He walks to the living room to see {y/n} and Ruzek getting heated on the couch, so like normal, he gets pissed. "What the fuck is going on?" "Antonio! What the fuck are you doing here?" "I was coming to check on you, to make sure you're okay. But obviously you and asshole here are locking lips and spreading DNA. Why the fuck would you want to do that, with him?"

You'd had enough. Ruzek was pissed too. But you knew if he handled it, it would never finish the beef and it would be on going, so you dealt with it.

You grabbed your shirt and your black cover up robe and went over to Antonio.

"I love you Toni, but you can't keep barging in my relationships like you that person, so give me the key." "The key? Why?" "Why? So you won't interrupt anymore of my relationships. So, hand me the key and get out!" He was shocked at how you were to him but did it anyways.

He didn't think he was intruding, he was just making sure she was okay, but clearly she was just fine without him and that scared him.

After he left her house in shock, she went back to Ruzek to finish what they started.

She took her shirt off but kept her cover on. She straddles him and slides back down his standing dick and starts riding him like there's no tomorrow, the names being thrown out, moans and growls here, hair pulling and nail scratching there. She loved it all.

He continues thrusting up inside her vagina, pleasing her body until your feel him twitch inside you and he cums inside the condom.

You slowly slide off and help him clean up, then finish watching the movie that was forgotten a while back.

→ I hope you like it! ←

#antonio dawson #adam ruzek #adam ruzek smut #arguments #writing

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

Text

☄ ----- MOONRISE RADIO.

summary: you’re hawkins high’s new science teacher, faculty advisor for the newly reinstated hawkins av club, and crazy townie who overhears a russian comminucae on a broken ham radio. chief jim hopper is into it. joyce is a good wing-woman and the kids just want to listen the the buggles. pairing: jim hopper x reader, murphy as a placeholder surname. rating: t, some swears. word count: 3.8k a/n: this is a season three au! here’s the set up for all the drabbles i am going to end up writing for hopper bc he literally owns my whole ass, thanks, enjoy ;)

Hawkins, Indiana is a small town.

For this exact reason, Chief of Police Jim Hopper knows everyone.

... Seriously.

Everyone.

Hawkins is kind of like Saturn: try to leave its orbit and you’ll get caught in the rings -- literally. Y’know, high school sweethearts marry one another, settling down, and boom! Hopper winds up at their end-of-the-cul-de-sacs on domestic dispute calls and reunites with that shithead co-captain of Hawkins basketball team who keyed his car Sophomore year.

Life in Hawkins is a never-ending cycle of existence that renders everyone in the small town a familiar face. Everyone knows everyone’s business. Everyone knows everyone.

And everyone certainly knows Jim Hopper.

So, imagine his surprise when after her first day of high school, over a ravoli dinner, El nudges a crumbled pink piece of paper his way with an excited look on her face. The paper is well-loved paper and home to her new class schedule, a point of interest -- she’s marked what classes she has with the boys and Max.

“I like science,” she says with a full mouth, “Fun.”

El points to her sixth period.

Imagine Chief of Police Jim Hopper’s surprise when he sees an unfamiliar name. Someone he doesn’t know.

And she teaches science.

Summer fades with a wave of heat and full moons.

The last week of August creeps up on you and before you even realize it, you’re moving into the cleared out room of a retired Mrs. Gomez and hanging your own name up on the door along with three planetary mobiles, a periodic table and a big exo terra tank for the freshmen class pet on the back windowsill.

One period turns into six, and a week turns into three.

Your life begins again, Hawkins style.

“Miss Murphy!”

You’re wiping down the chalkboard, smearing drawings of ionic bonds into dust when the stampede begins.

Typical Friday.

You like Mike and Will and Lucas and Dustin and El and Maxine. The little squadron of hellions had managed to win you over easily within the first three weeks of school -- between the abundant D&D references and constant “curiosity voyages”, you’d seemingly become their go-to with questions, gossip, and over-all mentor-ship.

The whole bunch of them sat together in your sixth period class, and the whole bunch of them were really the only ones excited about Dash, that aforementioned freshmen class pet that you’d scooped up behind the school and saved from being roadkill.

El immediately wanders to the tank and makes sure the heat lamp is on.

You can’t help but smile. These are good students. You like them. They like you.

Maybe it’s because when you were younger, you were just like them.

It’s like a sixth sense. They just... know.

“We have a question.”

“Is it about reptiles again?” you chirp, wiping your hands, “I don’t know, like, anything about komodo dragons, Dustin, I told you --”

“No!” Dustin waves his hands, hopping up onto the edge of your desk, “No, this is about the AV Club.”

“AV Club?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “The AV Club!”

You blink. All six of them are looking at you expectantly. You deadpan.

“You lost me.”

“She’s new here, guys,” Will sighs, gently nudging Lucas who makes an O with his mouth, “Remember?”

“Right, right, right,” Dustin sighs, waving his hands with a charismatic no-front-teeth smile, “Sorry, Murph, my excitement precedes me --”

You shoot Dustin a look. No nicknames. He knows the rule.

“Make it quick,” you groan, waving an apologetic Dustin off your desk as you begin to collect papers from the previous period, “I have the open house tonight and I gotta get some grading done before -- you’ve got fifteen to catch me up on this AV Club thing.”

Lucas claps his hands. They all settle into the desks in-front of you.

You narrow your eyes.

Mike begins.

“So, there’s all this old radio station equipment in the top of the gym...”

You wring your hands.

You fiddle with the hem of your dress.

This is nerve-wracking.

For the first time in a while, you curse the fact you’ve got mostly freshmen in your classes -- with every new round of bright blue visitors stickers, parents are eager to pick your bones when you begin talking about your curriculum, expectations and the like. I mean, it’s good, you guess, that there’s parents who are engaged but... as a new teach at Hawkins, you can’t help but feel like you’re missing a part of the bit.

It’s nearing the end of the night now and you’ve noticed the parents don’t greet you like they do the other teachers. Like... like friends.

Maybe it’s because you’re new.

New to the town, too. Not just teaching high school science, you mean.

You wonder if all the news stories pouring out of that Hawkins Lab have anything to do with how cheap rent is in the area. The multi-family unit you’ve settled into is in a nicer suburb in town -- green lawns, a playground, neighborhood BBQs... You’d moved on the pretense of your hiring, excited at the chance to get out of the city for a while and live a quieter life.

You jump six feet in the air when someone knocks on the door-frame of your classroom.

“Oh my god --”

Your hand flies to your chest.

“Uh, sorry -- Sorry, is this... is this Miss Murphy’s room?”

The first thing you notice is the badge. It glints in the florescence.

The next thing you notice is... him. I mean, he’s tall -- tall and broad and intimidating but... soft. His eyes are tired and his voice is quiet and you’re staring, Jesus Christ, you’re staring --

Chief of Police Jim Hopper has never felt smaller.

You’re new -- definitely new. Hopper knows, in that moment, that you must be, He would remember someone like you. I mean, how could he not?

(Everyone knows he’s got a soft spot for beautiful women, but he’s damn near mush right now. Pudding. His knees are pudding. He is an idiot and his knees are pudding.)

He makes the doorway look tiny.

You sputter. “Y-yes! Yes, it is. Hi, I’m, uh, Miss Murphy.”

“I figured,” he chirps, lips quirking under his mustache. He waves the piece of paper in his hands, “Kinda... kinda said so on the schedule, y’know?”

“Jim!”

Immediately, someone shoulders his backside.

Right in the damn kidney.

“Christ, Joyce, ow --”

“Be nice!” she cries with a laugh, stepping around him.

The woman is comically smaller than the police officer before you. Joyce has a kind smile and sweet doe eyes and she excitedly rushes to shake both your hands in her own.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she gushes, “Will has said so many great things about you --”

Your eyes widen. “You’re Will’s mother? Will Byers?”

“Yes!” she nods, “Yes, and, uh, this is Hopper --”

Joyce nearly snorts when Jim just blinks. She elbows him. He jumps.

He was staring.

“Jim Hopper,” he clears his throat, trying to regain any semblance of composure. This really knocked him off his game -- you really knocked him off his game. He was fully expecting some nasty old widow to be teaching, not a young, brightly dressed woman who’s smiling at him, Christ almighty, smiling, “Chief of Police.”

He offers his hand. You shake it and your lips quirk. “Are you... here to investigate me, or...?”

“Oh!” his eyes widen, “No, no, uh -- El is my daughter. Adopted.”

“Ah, right. Miss El. Got it,” you laugh a little, nodding, “Groovy.”

“Groovy.”

(Joyce narrows her eyes, grinning between yourself and Hopper. Groovy indeed.)

“She was nice.”

Jim’s cigarette glows red in the evening September air. Joyce, beside him, has this horrible, conniving look on her face -- the same look she gave him when she convinced him to ask Jenny Gonzalez out Junior year -- and Jim immediately goes on the defense.

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Miss Murphy,” Joyce grins, “I saw you staring.”

“I was not.”

“C’mon, Jim,” she chirps, “She’s pretty --”

“Yeah, a pretty bad idea.”

Joyce rolls her eyes so hard Hopper can feel it.

“Listen,” Jim says, flicking his cigarette into the pavement, “With everything goin’ on, I don’t have time for something like that.”

“Jim, stuff like that doesn’t care if you’ve got time.”

Joyce watches him climb into his truck. He slams the door shut,

“If it’s meant to be, it happens anyways!”

He narrows his eyes.

Then, cranks the window down and raises one finger.

“Not on my watch.”

Famous last words, Jim Hopper. Famous last words.

Happy Monday.

“I’m joining AV Club.”

“...What?”

“AV Club. Science. Fun.”

Hopper just takes a looooooong sip from his morning coffee. Eleven stabs her eggos. She forks a hunk into her mouth and chews.

Hopper takes another sip.

“AV Club.”

“Yes. Radios.”

“Radios.”

“Yes.”

You’re sweating.

The storage space of Hawkins High’s gym is ninety degrees at least -- and here you are, brandishing a flashlight in the dark as the Mighty Hellions dig through the space and pull box after box from the makeshift sauna.

“Think this stuff still works, Murph?” Maxine asks.

You ignore the informal nickname and pull open a box to eye a bundle of cables. They’re in good shape. The mic, at the bottom, is too if not a little grimy.

“I don’t see why not.”

After a grueling hour and a half, they finally set up shop in the closet across the hall from your classroom. It’s usually where they keep glassware and Bunsen burners but... with a little begging and a dejected look from Dustin, you grant them their plea and help them set up the impromptu radio station with relative ease.

The desk in the center of the room -- Mrs. Gomez’s old one -- is a little wobbly, but it works.

“And now,” says Mike, “The moment of truth.”

El flicks the switch.

And nothing happens.

Not so Happy Monday.

"How was AV Club?”

“Sad.”

Hopper’s mouth is full.

“Sad...?”

“Radio is broken.”

“Oh,” Hop hums, “M’ sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay,” El says slowly, looking out the window on the ride home, “Miss Murphy buying us new wires.”

Hopper blinks. “Miss Murphy?”

“Yes. Nice.”

Very.

Joyce rings you out the next evening at Melvald’s.

“I’m surprised you didn’t try Starcourt.”

You laugh a little. “What, that super mall?”

“I heard they’ve got everything,” Joyce chirps, “Will and the kids go there nearly every weekend. Ice cream, movies... you name it. A great place for a date, I bet.”

You laugh and pull out your wallet. “Oh to be young and in love.”

“No kidding,” she grins, taking the cash, “Speaking of... are you...?”

“Young?” you laugh, propping your elbows up on the counter, “Or in love?”

“Either.”

You like Joyce. She’s funny.

“No,” you sigh, “Nope. No, not right now. Neither. I spend my Tuesday nights with wine and a TV dinner.”

“Y’know,” Joyce hums, a knowing look in her eye as she bags the radio supplies, “I know someone who does the same exact thing.”

It’s Miller High Life, actually. And Tostitos.

That’s besides the point, though, because while Joyce is still very much on his case about the new science teacher, Jim is very much focused on the fact none of the stations god damn radios are working.

He could really go for a beer right now.

Something is jamming the signal.

Actually, to clarify -- the same fucking song on repeat is jamming the signal.

For the last two hours, it’s just been Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles over and over and over and over again. And then again, just for good measure. On the fourth round of the song, Jim had unceremoniously lobbed his walkie across the station. On the tenth, he’d yanked the chord for the radio out of the wall.

If Hopper hears that fuckin’ oh oh sound one more time, he’s going to lose it.

Callahan just shrugs when, finally, the music stops and the booming voice of Dustin Henderson comes over every walkie in the room.

“GOOOOOOOOOOD EVENING, HAWKINS INDIANA!”

Hopper peels into the high school parking lot.

Long strides carry him through halls that he knows way too damn well -- halls that wind and turn and lead him right to room 305. Your name is scrawled across the door alongside a picture of a constellation and a beaker.

But, the classroom is empty.

And then he hears it.

“-- OH OH! VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR! --”

“I am so sorry, Chief Hopper -- I had no idea that was the PD’s frequency.”

You’re wringing your hands but you’re also two beats from laughing and Hopper is really trying to keep it together because... I mean, it’s funny.

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels bad. He... well, he probably shouldn’t have slapped the broadcasting mic out of Dustin’s hands. He’s got a short wire now-a-days, blame the whole Hawkins Lab incident and the fact he’s essentially harboring a fugitive and allowing aforementioned fugitive to go to high school and jam radio channels with Today’s Top 40 in her free time.

“No, no -- I... It’s fine. It’s fine, really, just...”

Hopper drops his hand. You’re trying your best to hide a smile that’s threatening to sweep across your whole face.

“Do not let Dustin play any more of The Buggles, okay?”

You chew your lip and lean closer, whispering. “... Did it really play for two hours straight?”

Hopper’s nostrils flare. He nods weakly. You note the missing walkie from his belt.

And then you burst into laughter.

You buy more cassettes at Melvald’s the next week.

“Oh,” Joyce grins, holding up a Madonna album before scanning it across check-out with a beep, “Nice stuff -- is this for AV Club?”

You laugh. “Let me guess, Chief Hopper told you about ‘The Incident’?”

Joyce's lips quirk and she tilts her head, eyeing you carefully as you bite back a smile and muscle out your wallet from your bag. “... No, he did not.”

“The kids were on the wrong frequency,” you gesture, a bit sheepish, “And, I mean, I had no idea until Chief Hopper had to come to the high school and let us know that he’d been listening to Video Killed the Radio Star for two hours straight.”

“Oh god.”

“Yeah,” you raise your brows, pull a face and mimic the catchy hook, “Oh oh god.”

Joyce snorts.

“It’s not working!”

“Boys,” you sigh heavily, “Just... Just let me look at it.”

There’s a scramble and the sea of bodies part. Max and El are posted by the door, watching with a dejected sort of disappointment. Your knees hit the floor and you ignore the fact your jeans are going to be covered in nasty dust from the underside of Mrs. Gomez desk. Your necklace jingles and you sigh, settling on your back and waving for Dustin to pass you the flashlight.

“Did Hopper break it?” it’s Mike, “If Hopper broke it, I swear to shit --”

“Language.”

“Sorry.”

You squint, pushing apart the mess of wires and sighing loudly when you find the problem.

It’s... weird. Like... Like some of the wires have been chewed clean through.

“Looks like one of the wires is frayed.”

“Frayed?!”

You take the main component home with you.

It’s sitting on your passenger side seat when you pull into Melvald’s.

In the spot in-front of the store sits a Hawkins Police Dept. truck with a CHIEF decal on the side.

“She’s funny and smart and came in here and talked about you --”

“Talked about me?” Jim’s leaned against the counter, coke in his hands, “Hold on, what? You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah,” Joyce’s voice lilts, “She, uh, was telling me about The Buggles incident.”

Jim groans.

“Oh, yeah, when I nearly drove my fist through the kids’ new hobby?”

“-- Funny, she left that part out --”

“I made an ass of myself, Joyce.”

“Hey,” Joyce coos, throwing her hands, “Maybe she likes that about you... y’know... your uncanny ability to be a... uh, an ass?”

“Nice.”

“I’m kidding.”

The shop door dings and Chief of Police Jim Hopper chokes on his diet coke.

You stop short in the doorway.

The store is mostly empty -- it’s almost closing time, anyways -- and you can’t help but feel like you’re intruding on Hopper and Joyce’s conversation, especially when Hopper is cursing and wiping at the soda spilled down the front of him.

Overhead, Movin’ Out by Billy Joel plays.

“-- Workin’ too hard can give you a heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack --”

“Miss Murphy!” Joyce grins, “Hi there!”

“Hi Joyce,” you smile, nearing the counter. You can’t help but hide a smirk as Hopper sighs and stands. He drops his hands to his side and you get a full view of the coke down the front of his uniform, “Chief.”

(A little part of him dies inside then.)

(Joyce sees it.)

“Evening, Miss Murphy.”

“Rough night?”

“Little bit,” he heaves, downing the rest of his soda and crushing the can. He lobs it into the trash can beside the register with ease, “Well, duty calls, ladies.”

“Duty calls?” Joyce asks, crossing her arms. Suspicion paints her features.

She’s trying to get him to stay -- trying to goad him into a conversation with you, just like she always does, but the problem is that Joyce is a great wing-woman and honestly?

That kind of terrifies him.

It’s been a minute and a half since he’s considered anything more than a one-night stand with someone. He’s been busy, y’know, saving this dimension and keeping a top-secret government facility secret.

“Yeah,” he deadpans, not feeding into it, “Duty.”

“Duty.”

You blink between them both.

Jim’s out the door with the tinker of the overhead bell.

Ouch. You turn to Joyce.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Famous last words.

“Testing, one, two, three --”

You groan, switch frequencies one more time, and throw your hands.

Maybe the whole Hawkins High Radio Station idea was never meant to come to fruition. It hurts to admit it and you know the kids are going to be so damn upset, but no amount of soldering and wire replacements seems to be getting this hunk of junk to give out any sort of signal.

You take a long drink from your glass of wine and collapse back onto the couch.

Then, you hear it.

"I’ll be sure to let Chief Hopper know, Miss Murphy.”

“Listen, I... Is he here? I’m kinda in a rush and this is sort of important --”

You’re pushing past Florence, the nice secretary, before you even realize it.

You’d known Hawkins was a weird town. That much was pretty clear from the odd disappearances, government labs and toxic leaks. But this... this is more than just weird. This is borderline panic inducing.

Hopper has a cigarette between his lips and his hat on his desk when you barge in.

He jumps six feet in the air and spills his coffee.

“Jesus --”

“Listen, Chief, I know you’re a real busy guy, but --”

“I am so sorry, Jim,” it’s Florence, moving to put herself between you and the Chief, “Miss Murphy, please, if you can take a seat, Chief Hopper would love to hear all about your top secret Russian communicae when he’s done his coffee --”

When Jim’s eyes widen a mile, you realize he knows something you don’t.

Jim feels small in your living room.

It’s a nice place -- furnished with plants and art and your TV has a stack of sci-fi movies atop of it. In the middle of your rug, though, sits the ham radio surrounded by a winding mess of wires. It’s off, and when you near it, you wring your hands. You’re nervous, he can tell. You can hardly stand still.

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

Hopper blinks. He clears his throat. “What?”

“This... Hopper, I swear, I heard Russian --”

“No, I... I believe you,” he says slowly, narrowing his eyes, “Hawkins is a...”

“Weird town?”

“Weird town.”

You nod slowly then, crank the on switch, and the radio hums alive in a language neither of you know.

Hopper just sighs.

“... What do you know about radios?”

“It’s close,” you say finally, blinking up from the manual, “It has to be -- I mean, this specefic model only broadcasts and receives up to fifteen miles. That’s... what? Like, all of Hawkins?”

“Just about,” Jim hums, hands on his chin, “and what about the channels?”

“I mean, it’s messy -- I hijacked your frequency. On accident.”

Hopper smothers a smirk with a drag of his cigarette. You grin. His office back at Hawkins PD falls quiet for a moment and you catch yourself staring again. Across from him, you squirm a bit in your seat and turn your attention back to the Olympia Radio booklet.

“There’s no way of tracking the channels,” you sigh, “I... I dunno. I’m kinda out of my element here.”

“What is your element?”

“Chemistry,” you chirp, “And biology. And some physics.”

“Chemistry, huh?”

“Speaking of which, I know you don’t like me much but,” you rush, blinking up at him, “Thanks for believing me.”

The moment would have been sweet if Hopper hadn’t reeled backwards, like he’s been punched. His face screws up in confusion and he waves, cigarette smoke halo-ing around his head as his mustache twitches.

“Wait... hold on --”

“It’s okay,” you console, “Seriously, I... I’m new around here, I... I get it a lot. Folks don’t really trust the new girl next door. Especially with everything that’s been going on.”

“I... I never said --”

You serve him a look.

“Duty?”

“... I panicked.”

“Panicked?”

Hopper sighs. “You’re just as bad as Joyce.”

Your brows raise. “Are you and her...?”

“No!” he cries, “No, no, I... I am single, I am very single, and I am very busy, but despite that, I still would like to ask you out to dinner, and that is terrifying, okay --”

You blink. “You... what?”

Jim’s about to try and dig himself out of his metaphorical grave when the radio flares up again.

You scramble to grab the recorder and Jim turns the volume up -- quickly, you record the repetitive sentence and when the line finally goes silent again, you spare Hopper a look.

“How about dinner and Russian For Dummies?”

#stranger things imagine #jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #moonrise radio #stranger things headcanon #stranger things reader insert #jim hopper headcanon

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meganshinsou-tm · 4 years

Text

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter nineteen: carry me

❧ genre: tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: N S F W, smut, night terrors, ptsd, drug use, attempted suicide mentions, domestic abuse, self-harm, mental abuse, descriptions of blood/stabbing/torture. Please do not read this chapter any further if any of this warnings are triggers in anyway. Take care of yourself. <3

❧ chapter song: Carry Me by Papa Roach

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

Hot.

It’s so hot … no ice, ice blue. They’re cold, so cold. Those eyes so full of rage, glimmering so brightly and god they’re beautiful but it’s dark inside of them and despite the flames coming from his palms, it’s cold inside of the ice blue eyes.

“I love you so much angel, you know that right?”

The voice is intoxicating, so are his hands, his cruel love - he’s most definitely a drug. It’s so fucking bad for you, destroys you, ruins your entire life but … you can’t put it down or walk away. It welcomes you with open possessive tarnished arms, a beautifully stitched evil smile, onyx colored hair. It loves you, he loves you. The hand-prints being burned into your thighs are more than proof enough of that, the smell of your own burning flesh is the smell of his love.

“I - I do Dabi, I love you -” you convulsed in agony, nail-beds nearly splitting as they clawed at the table beneath you and shrieked, “I l-love you too.”

He leaned down, dulling his flames but not putting them out completely, and kisses at your cheek before licking up the stream of tears that flow down it. Somehow his kiss, his tongue, it's even hotter than the flames. Still it makes your heart flutter, revives the butterflies in your stomach and at the same time makes you sick.

This is his love.

Suddenly you’re not beneath him anymore, there’s no more fire, it’s just black.

You shivered, chilled to the bone and that shiver turned into your body thrashing in pain as light flooded your vision. Something’s in your back, you couldn’t breathe and the taste of blood was on your tongue. Moaning out, you pressed your forehead to the cold floor, clawing at it, sobbing.

Each breath feels like the last one, whatever was in your back digs deeper and deeper. There’s something warm and slick dripping from above you and onto the shell of your ear, a hot breath against the back of your neck.

“Why angel, why did you try that? The only way you can get away from me is in a fucking box, the box I put you in."

You felt his fingers gently caressing your hair before his they knot into it at the scalp. He yanked your head back hard enough that the tears swimming in your eyes carved more trails down already wet cheeks.

Your body feels like it's about to shatter under his touch.

"You don't choose when you die. I do."

A simple fact. Truth. An ever present reminder of his love for you; his complete and utter control over your entire being.

He let your head fall back onto the ground, a sob ripping out of your throat at the knock of your skull against the concrete.

"But you already knew that, didn't you, angel?"

You couldn’t reply, a knee pressing against the curve of your spine as Dabi sat up and the sound of rattling is heard before an orange pill bottle is being chunked onto the ground next to your head. Your vision was blurred with tears, also by you fading in and out of consciousness from the pain in your back and from the …

“Pills huh?” He snickered, leaning back down to press his cheek to your hair, the sharp pain in your back sinking further, deeper. “Fucking pathetic, you must’ve been on the fence about leaving me behind. How could you - I’m hurt.”

It was bullshit of course, you could tell from the dark chuckle that followed those words.

There’s a kiss to your sweating temple, somehow it calmed you just a little bit. He inhaled deeply and you can hear the skin of his stitched smile ripping right before there’s a disgusting squelch in your ears and a wave of un-explainable pain suffocating your entire body. This thing you feel in your back, its twisting roughly.

You wail. He laughs. Everything goes blurry until it’s black again.

“You’re mine angel. All mine. Get that through your fucking skull. Take a bit and sleep it off. I’ll be back.”

Kirishima was in the kitchen, Duchess sitting at his feet while he cooked. There were plates full of waffles, eggs, bacon, lined down the counter. Oil from a slab of ham popped inside of the skillet and made the massive man jump back with a whistle and smile.

“Almost got me!”

Red eyes looked to the clock on the stove. It had only been maybe two hours since Kiri woke up and left you peacefully sleeping in bed. After everything that happened the night before, it had left both of you exhausted, barely able to even land kisses on each other’s lips after your bath.

Sill, he managed to wake up earlier than he needed to, body too used to his early workout routines. There was no other way Kiri could think of spending his time other than making a good hearty breakfast for when you woke up, then spend the rest of the day being lazy in bed, watching movies and taking it easy. You deserved it, well you deserved more of course but for today this seemed like it would be enough.

Duchess whined, breaking Kiri’s train of thought and he looked down at her, shaking his head.

“No ma’am. You already had eggs and rice! Between you, her and me, I don’t know how I’m gonna keep food in the fridge.”

The pit pouted her jowls, huffing out a quiet noise, known as a whisper that Kiri taught her. Her tail wagged back and forth impatiently and her owner chuckled, still shaking his head before tossing her a piece of bacon. Duchess didn’t even bother chewing, just swallowed it whole.

Kirishima sighed and flipped the piece of ham one last time before deciding it was done and plated it, moving the skillet off the burner and turning it off. He was in the process of setting the table that rarely ever gets used, the plate of waffles almost on the surface, when he heard a scream that made his blood run cold.

The porcelain cracked as a wave of hardening rippled from his elbow and to his hand before it was dropped, left forgotten as he bolted towards the bedroom.

Once in the doorway his eyes widened.

You thrashed around in the covers, sweat visible on your brow and neck, teeth gritting hard enough that he could hear them grinding from where he stood. You white-knuckled your skin, clawing ruthlessly at your thighs, grabbing at your back. Tears streamed from your face and whimpers, screams, blood curdling noises leaving through your teeth.

“P-please … stop … breathe breathe, I c-can’t … k-kill me … “

Kirishima nearly long jumped from the door and to your side on the bed, kneeling next to you and shifting your body as his weight dipped into the mattress. He tried to think, strategize. The memory of you having a similar experience that night in his truck came back up. Fuck what did he do again?

Shook you!

Kiri went to do just that before pausing and second guessing. He had always heard you never wake a sleepwalking person, was it the same for this? Sure last time it worked but at the moment as he watched helplessly, things looked so much worse than that night. Finally Kirishima decided not to shake you but to cautiously touch your shoulder, nudging it just a little as he spoke softly.

“Baby, baby please wake up. It’s just a nightmare,” Kirishima quietly pleaded. “Come on, let me see those pretty eyes little one. Fuck - wake up please.”

Almost automatically your eyes shot open wide with fear and you gasped, waking up in a frenzied jolt. Something was touching you, grabbing you and it was enough to make you cower in fear. Eyes screwing shut, you shielded yourself with your arms, balling up and violently shaking.

“Please n-no more … make it stop. It b-burns Dabi, I’m sorry j-just please let go.”

Kirishima resisted the urge to cradle you in his arms and comfort you, shield you from this nightmare that was still playing in your head. At the same time though he knew he just needed to be easy, think of some way to safely bring you back to him.

Fuck - think!

“Wait …” he quietly murmured to himself as he looked at his palm.

All those times he needed to be calmed, to be tamed, there was only one thing that could do the trick.

Kiri closed his eyes momentarily and took a breath before reaching out and finding an opening to lightly touch your cheek, having it rest perfectly in his palm.

“Little one -“

Suddenly, a switch flipped inside your head. That cold and menacing voice being extinguished as a warm and loving one overpowered it. Slowly, your arms lowered and eyes blinked open. It took a few seconds to register where you were, heart beating so fast and chest hurting as you took in lungfuls of air, feeling like you were just brought back from the dead. It wasn’t cold anymore, there was no pain in your back.

Looking to the side and leaning into the palm on your cheek, you saw Kirishima kneeling there right next to you. So much worry and relief was written all over him and in a flash you were flinging yourself into his chest and feeling strong, protective tattooed arms wrapping around you.

That coppery smell of blood and burned meat wasn’t assaulting your senses anymore. Instead it smelled sweet and salty, your nose burrowing deeper into the hard heaving chest. The fabric of Kiri’s shirt held the scent of cooked food, bacon grease and batter. Your fingers clung to it, your mind clung to it as you inhaled more and more, trying to become grounded to keep from going back to that hell.

A pitiful and heart wrenching sob ripped from you, muffling into Kiri’s body. He sighed and held you tighter, feeling his shirt get warmer from the plethora of fresh tears that soaked it. He felt so helpless to you.

“Shh, I’m here little one. I’m right here, I’ve got you - I promise.”

You finally looked up to him, eyes rimmed red with a running nose.

“I don’t want him to find me Ei … I don’t want these dreams anymore … d-don’t want to be his anymore.”

Kirishima shushed you, calloused and warm hands holding your face. His eyes scanning it as he shook his head and wiped at your tears.

“I won’t let him find you baby, we won’t let him. Look, you’ll stay here with me until we have him dealt with, I won’t leave your side, I won’t let you out of my sight. Fuck I’ll even hold your hand going to the bathroom if that makes you feel safer! But you gotta believe me, I’m not going to let him take you not without a fucking fight! You don’t belong to him (Y/N), you’re not his, he doesn’t own you. You … you’re mine okay?”

Slowly your breathing was calming and your mind focused on the hands cupping your tear stained cheeks, the red eyes holding you there in the present. You blinked to release a few more droplets that hung from the corners of your eyes before nuzzling your face into those comforting and protective hands.

“I - I need you … to prove it.”

Kirishima’s red brows furrowed, his head tilting. Confusion spread across his face at the oddly timed request.

“Of course but maybe we should talk about this first, get you fed -”

“Please Eijirou.”

Your lips pouted. No, that’s not fair at all.

Soft, small hands were wrapping around his wrists, your teeth chewing on your trembling bottom lip. Before Kiri could protest, try to talk you down from whatever coping mechanism this was, you were already straddling his lap and grappling desperately at his shirt with shaky hands, nuzzling your cheek against his own with unsure kisses.

“I - I’m fucked up I know … but I need this so much. How Dabi loved me -”

“That wasn’t love (Y/N),” Kirishima hissed when a tear covered kiss was placed on his jaw, “That was torture, abuse … it f-fucking wasn’t love.”

Since when did he start crying, Eijirou wondered when you kissed a tear from his cheek. He turned his head and looked at you. You were so broken and so was he. He had gotten over his demons for the most part though but you … they were still so new, still lingering, literally.

“Then show me what it is, please! Fuck me, claim me … make him disappear please ...”

A needy roll of your hips had Kirishima groaning and biting down on his lip. The air seemed to grow thicker between your faces and his resolve was slowly diminishing. Soft plush lips grazed at his own, both of you breathing heavily into the other’s mouth as your arms hung around broad shoulders, fingers pinching at the back of his shirt and trying to pull it off as you quietly pleaded on his lips.

Kirishima didn’t stop you, hunching his shoulder blades and letting you remove the shirt, next he removed yours, your cheeks flushing pink after tossing the garment to the side. It wasn’t because you were completely bare apart from your underwear but because your skin still felt so hot, feverish. It was suffocating.

“I still feel it Ei, I can fucking feel him on my skin … it burns, they all burn, everything fucking burns,” you cried out, broken and shaky as your nails clawed ruthlessly into the purple flesh and made you whimper before placing your palms on the irritated skin and trying to heal them. Repeating the morbid process over and over - Kiri froze in shock briefly. “... I don’t want to burn. I don’t want these anymore, I hate them! No matter what I do they w-won’t go away!”

Quickly Kirishima fell back down to reality and took your wrists in his hands, growling lowly with anger.

“Stop that! Fuck please stop you’re hurting yourself!”

“What does it matter Ei! That’s all I’m ever fucking good for, for hurting, maiming - it doesn’t matter cause I can just heal it right … or t-try. You won’t help me so I-I have to do it myself!”

Tears violently rolled down your face, eyes bloodshot red and body constantly trembling. Kirishima frowned, his brows furrowing as he tightened his grip on your wrists when you tried to pry them away. He was going to help you, but this wasn’t the way!

“(Y/N), this isn’t something you can fucking heal with your quirk! This goes deeper than these fucking scars, these burns! Baby please, I want to help you and I will, I swear on my life I will - but this isn’t the way! Hurting yourself further doesn’t fix this, you can’t hide all this shit under new wounds and hope that the scar tissue keeps building and building until it’s gone!”

Your head shook and fell forward as you sobbed, heart shattering dry heaves leaving your body. Kirishima was starting to cry his own tears while you had this monumental breakdown right before him. He wasn’t a fucking professional but he could deduce that with the recent events, all your re-pressed memories, your past, just came flooding back when your brain was most vulnerable.

Sure you seemed okay on the outside up until now but knowing what Kirishima knew now, it was mind-blowing to him how you were able to keep this up for so long without any real help. But he also realized, you were totally alone until finding the shop, even then you were alone with these secrets. You held so fucking much inside of yourself, while still managing to look unbreakable on the surface, hiding behind your quirk.

Kirishima sighed and released your wrists, your body collapsing into his chest again and him holding you close and tight. Together you both cried.

You realizing for once you weren’t over it and him realizing the years of fucked up conditioning you endured.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry little one. If I could, I’d make this all go away I swear. You didn’t deserve any of that, how someone could take advantage of your love like that, of you like that, its fucking sick. I’m going to help you but not this way, this way isn’t right. Sex, self-harm, repressing, that’s not going to un-do all that abuse. Baby, this is going to take time, it's going to take someone professional. I’ll do everything in my power to show you love, how it’s supposed to really be, in the meantime but sooner or later, when you’re ready, of course, we need to talk about other options as well. Options that’ll help me help you that much more. I love you so fucking much and I’m going to do everything in my power to help you start over, keep you safe, healthy and happy. But you have to promise me, no more hurting yourself, no more thinking you’re only use is for pain. You’re so much more than that, I know six other guys who can help me prove it too.”

You whimpered and clung to Kirishima. Taking in every single word he said to heart. You were broken into a million pieces, struggling to keep all of them together only to have it blow up out of nowhere but by the grace of some fucking divine power - you had Kirishima. He was there helping to gather those pieces side by side with you.

“Okay,” you replied with a raw voice, “I promise. I - I’m sorry about this Ei … I really am.”

Kirishima kissed your head, resting his cheek against it.

“Don’t you dare apologize for this little one. The past twenty-four hours has been a fucking shit show, it’s fine, you did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“I tried to make you fuck me for the first time while crying my eyes out like a lunatic!”

The red-head quietly chuckled and rubbed your back.

“So I was a little taken back by that but it's nothing. I’ll make you a deal though, let me show you a few others ways I can love you without having to use my dick and then if you still need ‘that’ type of loving afterwards, then I shall go above and beyond to help out yeah?”

You huffed a laugh into the crook of Kirishima’s neck and weakly smiled, looking up at him.

“So you’d like infinity and beyond me with your dick is what you’re saying.”

A razor-sharp smile grew on his face before he playfully nipped at your cheek and kissed it.

“Dick-Lightyear to the rescue!”

“Fuck you!” You cackled with a light nudge to his chest.

“That’s the point little one, now - let’s go experience example number one of love, food!”

After getting you out of bed, Kirishima brought you to the bathroom to wipe your face clean with a warm rag, placing kisses to your cheeks almost every second. He rubbed the tops of your thighs gently with a thin layer of soothing lotion, even though you had healed the broken skin, the constant repetitive trauma to it had your flesh irritated and burning up. Once he was done getting you fixed up all you wanted to do was cling to him and crawl back in bed, you felt exhausted from the abuse of your quirk and crying so hard.

But that wasn’t going to happen, at least not yet. Kirishima was adamant about getting you fed, which you weren’t entirely opposed to considering how much your stomach growled. Once you were fixed up, the man carried you to the kitchen, sitting you down at the table that was covered in plates of food. You pouted, crossing your legs like a child in your seat and wiping your eyes to try and hide a tear. How you were still able to even produce anymore was beyond you.

Kiri returned to the table, sitting next to you with plates and utensils. When he looked at you, he pulled your seat closer and cupped your cheek.

“What’s wrong, you okay?”

“I’m sorry Ei, I’m really not trying to make you worry … you made all this by yourself?”

Sighing with relief, the red-head nodded and kissed your temple.

“I did. I woke up kinda early, I usually work out in the mornings, and after what happened yesterday I just wanted to treat you to an easy day. You know, make you a giant breakfast, be lazy and watch dumb tv, other stuff. Just whatever to rest and make you happy again. Granted it started out a little differently but that’s no ones fault and if anything, it's more reason to just take an off day or two, to take care of each other.”

“But … why.”

Kirishima furrowed his brows, brushing your hair back and wiping a tear away.

“Because I love you, not like I need a reason to feed you, but if you want one then that's it. You deserve to be fed well, be healthy. You deserve to take a day off and be lazy. You deserve the entire fucking world on a golden platter, by the means of waffles and bacon, shitty horror movies you love so much, a warm blanket on the couch with me and Duchess, hugs and kisses, back rubs, gifts, you name it. This - this is love little one, it comes in different forms, like uh - ah that night at the bar when I cut you off from those terrible shots and got you a snack! When I held you that night at Sero’s and we shared ice cream together even if it was fucking snowing outside. When I held that nasty ass ‘noodle’. That was love. Bakugou being there for you that night, Sero and Denki bringing you food each morning or watching anime with you, Shouto teaching you how to draw and letting you use his studio as your safe space. Deku letting you smother his face in kisses and choke him to death with bear hugs, even fucking Hitoshi being a pompous ass to me - it’s all love.”

You sat there, listening, saturating.

Your mind was doing it’s best with damage control, replacing fire with waffles, degradation with playful teasing, blue eyes for grey and blue eyes, spiky black hair with ash blonde hair, staples with freckles. Slowly the image of Dabi was becoming that of all the guys at the shop, you knew they loved you but now you were truly understanding just what it meant.

“I didn’t even know. I spent so many years thinking that hurt and pain was love. Every time he belittled me, scolded and yelled at me, every-time he marked me with fire or a blade, I thought it was love. He never so much as made me food before, patched up my wounds that he caused. At night when we slept together he held me, but it felt like being held in a cold prison, it was inescapable. When he smiled at me it always gave me chills, not in a good way though. You know … I can’t even recall him ever saying he loved me when he wasn’t torturing me. I was so stupid, I stayed for so long until it was too late.”

Kirishima rubbed your knee, squeezing it gently.

“You’re not stupid (Y/N). He manipulated you, conditioned you into believing those things. Nothing is your fault, none of it. You just gave your heart to the wrong person is all. It won’t be overnight, but you’re going to get through this the right way, I’ll be right here with you too to help. We’re gonna beat this, beat him, together.”

You nodded, taking his hand on your knee and threading your fingers together. Turning to look at him, you smiled. “Thank you Eijirou. For everything, I’m so lucky. I love you so much.”

“I love you little one, so much more,” he grinned and leaned over, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, “Now, how about we stuff our faces. I want you to get that little tummy nice and full!”

You smirked and scrunched your nose as Kirishima started to place food on your plate.

“Then maybe later you can stuff something else nice and full?”

Almost instantly Kirishima choked on air, nearly spilling the glass of milk he was pouring for you.

“Shit,” he rasped out, collecting himself and placing the glass next to your plate with a nervous laugh. “Hah, yeah. More reason for you to stop stalling and eat, you’ll need your energy!”

“Yeah … I guess so.”

Without another word the two of you ate your meals, only exchanging a few words in between such as complimenting about how good everything was or asking for more. Other than that there was a silence, not a very welcomed one but you decided to ignore it for now and fill that small tiny void with a mouthful of waffles.

After finishing, you helped Kirishima clean up, working together to do the dishes, feeding the leftovers to a very grateful Duchess. When you were done and drying your hands, you watched as Kirishima dried the dishes. That silence still lingered. Still unwelcomed.

So with a sigh you shook off the uneasiness and went to hug Kirishima from behind while he stacked the plates back in their cabinet, placing kisses to his back and humming at how warm his skin was under your lips. Your hands lightly rubbed at his chest, fingers pressing at the firm muscles of pecs and tracing the dips of his abdominal's and the cut of his hips. He closed the door and placed his hands flat on the counter before him. Your lashes fluttered against his shoulder blade, teeth dragging down the tan skin and making his head fuzzy. His breathing became more labored as your nails clawed across the waistband of his sweats, the tips of them dipping underneath it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, digging his own nails into the counter-top as your hand palmed at him over his briefs. “B-baby wait.”

Your eyes blinked at his words, hand slipping back out and arms unwrapping from him completely as you backed away. Kirishima took a second to breathe deeply before turning around to see you leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed nervously and eyes looking at the ground.

“You’re still freaked out from earlier … aren’t you,” you spoke quietly, ashamed.

Kirishima frowned and moved to stand before you, petting your hair and letting you lean into his chest as he shook his head.

“I’m not freaked out I promise … just apprehensive is all. Baby - you were having a mental fucking breakdown not even an hour ago, crying, scared. You weren’t okay at all and I just … I just want to make sure you are now, truly okay. Look we don’t have to rush this, I can wait, will wait, however long I need to for you - I just want you to be happy and in a good head-space when this happens, I don’t want you to think of our first time as anything less than happy.”

You looked up into red worried eyes.

“Eijirou, I know I didn’t go about it the right way back there, my head was in a frenzy and I was trying to make what I saw just go away, to focus on something else. I shouldn’t have put that on you and I’m sorry … I know I need help, I need help with a lot but I want you to be the one who takes this step with me, to help me heal in this area because … just like everything else, that part of me if damaged too.”

Kirishima sighed, wrapping his arms around you tight and burying his face into your hair.

Of course that fucking monster would - there were no limits with him. It hurt to even think about how much further Dabi went to humiliate you, abuse you. God he hated this guy with every ounce of his being. First though, he needed to help you.

Kirishima rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head before pulling away and taking your face in his hands.

“There’s nothing wrong with being broken little one. Nothing that happened to you could ever make me love you any less, or want you any less. If you’re truly okay and ready for this, then I promise I’ll make damn sure to help you heal as much as I can, as many times as I can, as long as I can.”

You couldn’t help but smile, trying to hide a giggle in his chest. It failed though, making Kirishima chuckle himself and grab your chin, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“I’m trying to be sweet here goddammit.”

“If you wanna be sweet then fucking kiss me already.”

Not having to tell him twice, Kiri smiled and kissed you sweetly. You hummed, kissing back and giggling when he suddenly lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You promise you’re okay?” He questioned against your cheek, before kissing it.

“I promise Ei, I’m okay.”

“Okay. Then - where should we do this?”

Somewhere in between the kitchen and bedroom, you and Kirishima turned into a pair of playful idiots. You squealing as he chased after you in the room, tackling you onto the ginormous bed and tickling your sides without mercy. You pleaded and begged, a smile on your face and cheeks flushed pink from the quickened heartbeat and fits of laughter. Kirishima happily silencing them with his mouth, his hands left your side and found your own, fingers threading together as he placed your arms above your head.

“I love you,” being whispered onto your cheekbone, jaw, temple, eyelid, every inch of your face.

Your heart fluttered in its chamber, body melting into the mattress from the three words alone. Hearing them said along with soft and gentle kisses, strong loving hands caressing your arms and face - it felt like something you couldn’t explain, like no words were good enough for it and it was only just starting.

Sharp teeth were nipping under your chin, lips gently sucking at the skin down your throat. Small patches of purple started to blossom under the surface, trails of teeth marks following in their wake. Kirishima smiled when he could feel the vibration of a moan rolling through your throat. His hands roamed to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and kissing as more and more skin was revealed. The tip of his nose moved along the curve of your hip, you giggled from the touch and ran your hands through red hair, tugging at it when Kirishima took a rougher bite at your rib cage.

“Ei,” you whimpered.

Kirishima grinned and licked at the indention's, kissing it.

“You okay little one, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Hurt. That was far from it.

“I’m okay Red.”

The redhead chuckled and brushed his nose against the curve of your still mostly-covered breast, almost purring as he nipped that too. His hands trailed gently down your sides, the soft tickle and heat of his breath made goosebumps rise on your flesh. Those red eyes are gentle, locked onto your face, your reactions, as he sucked another bruise onto you. You loved the playful smile on his lips as he sat up, both hands rested just under the hem of your shirt.

“May I?”

You couldn’t help your soft laughter, the sound only making Eijirou smile more brightly as you nodded and lifted your arms, letting him pull off your shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Your eyes followed his movements as he sat up on his knees, and something in your chest fluttered. You had seen him shirtless before but … good god he was beautiful - and all yours.

Kirishima held out his hands for you, an invitation, and gently placed your hands on his stomach before he resumed his place on top of you.

“Touch me,” is all he murmured before he leaned down and kissed your throat, and now down your bare chest as you let your hands gingerly roam up his form, over his shoulders. One of his hands kneaded one of your breasts, and the sudden contact made you moan before your nails gently pressed into his tattooed skin.

Teasing crimson eyes locked onto yours, Kirishima’s mouth closed around the pebbled bud of your nipple. The moan you bit off while your back arched damn near made Kirishima lose his mind, thoughts becoming a heated haze as fire spread across his skin, he gave a small growl in the back of his throat that made a smile tug at the corners of your lips. His sharp teeth pricked gently into the plush flesh around his target before he gave it a firm suck, tongue playing with the steel barbell that pierced through your nipple.

He winked at you as he pulled away and gave another nip to the valley between your breasts and then another further down your stomach right above the hem of your panties.

He’s trying to make you associate this gentle, loving pain with him, you realized. The care in the action nearly making you cry.

“Eijirou,” you whispered, and the man on top of you paused in his ministrations before he leaned down and gently pecked at your belly button.

“Yes, little one?”

“I love you.”

“And I love you;”

Kirishima nuzzled your stomach, letting you run your fingers through his hair as he kissed at the scar on your hip before he sat up on his knees, warm and calloused hands running affectionately, lovingly, from the said scar then down along the burns on your legs. The skin was cooler than the rest of your body, a little rougher in texture and feel but not by much, not that he cared anyway.

“Every single beautiful inch of you.”

You smiled and sat up on your elbows, “Kiss me again please?”

There was no hesitation, Kirishima fell down to his palms resting by your sides and causing you to bounce from the force of him. You giggled, foreheads softly knocking against the other as he framed your cheek in his palm and pulled you in for a kiss. Soon the sweet and soft exchange became more heated, moaning and groaning coming from the both of you as teeth pulled on lips and tongues lick at each other. Your hands were back on his body, feeling every rigid dip of muscle, making light red claw marks over the colorful ink. Kirishima’s own hand kneaded your breast again, softly tugging on the piercing and making you let out a needy moan.

“Hah, you’re so fucking cute,” he breathed against your throat before rutting against you, rocking you back into the mattress and making you claw at him more with need.

“Ei, please - please I need you.” You sighed and grabbed his hand that rubbed at your side and led it down to the fabric of your panties.

“Need you so much,” you replied with a kiss to his jaw.

He nodded, placing a kiss to your forehead as his fingers looped around the waistline of the panties and started to pull them down. You lifted your hips to help him out, both of you smiling at each other once he discarded the garment on the floor. Sitting back on his calves, Kirishima parted your knees, making your legs slowly spread open before him.

His eyes lidded, cock twitching at the sight. As a sharp tooth bit at his lip, Kirishima descended down between your legs, kissing and biting his way along the insides of your thighs. The tips of his soft hair tickled at your burned skin and made you smile, running a hand through the locks, brushing them back to reveal dark red eyes staring back at you. This darkness didn’t provoke fear in you though, instead it provoked desire, causing you to throb even more with it.

Kirishima continued to kiss his way further between your thigh, letting the tip of his tongue tease after each peck. A smile grew in his eyes that never left your own, he was toying with you. It was hard to fight back a giggle and softly knock the side of his head with your knee for dragging things out, when you wanted something you wanted it right away.

“Eijirou!” You whined and raised your hips, trying to inch yourself closer to his mouth.

“Aww such a needy little baby.”

“Fuck you!”

Kirishima chuckled and wrapped his arms under your thighs, jerking your body down and making you shudder when the feeling of his warm breath fanned across your soaked core.

“I intend to little one, I just gotta get you warmed up first, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyes rolled, a smirk on your face, “Hah, whatever you s-say-”

The last word came out as a purr when Kirishima finally latched his mouth around your clit and began sucking softly. Instantly you became a puddle of mush, muscles going lax. Kirishima groaned from the taste, digging his fingers deeper into your thighs. His red eyes never closed though, too immersed in watching as your chest rose and fell with deep sighs, how the barbell nipple piercings would catch a ray of sunlight through the blinds and gleam for a second. Your hips slowly rolled, matching the pace of his own tongue that rolled against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Uncoiling one arm from your thigh, Kiri used the now free hand to rub slow agonizing circles on your clit as he kissed and nipped at the burns that grazed his cheek.

You trembled and let out a wanton moan as the fingers easily slipped inside of you, curling perfectly as they pumped slowly. One of your hands traveled down to the thigh Kiri held and he interlocked your fingers together, kissing them sweetly.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he cooed, licking at your clit again briefly, “my sweet baby girl.”

Your lips pouted, moaning even more from the praise. This was all so new, this praise. It made you feel thousands of butterflies swarming in your belly, had your cheeks a warm shade of pink and made you even needier for more. You wanted this forever, those tattooed hands touching you and comforting you, those red eyes always looking at and adoring you. You wanted Kirishima forever.

Willing your eyes back open from the overwhelming pleasure, you managed to look down, not surprised to see those exact eyes staring up at you. A wave of pleasure rippled through you again, making your hips buck up as you moaned with a smile.

Apparently your lover enjoyed that, judging by how his eyes widened and smiled back. You threaded your fingers through his hair, grounding yourself as you held on and tugged lightly when he started to finger you at a faster pace, mouth abusing your clit with more force. Your eye contact never broke, spurring on the building pressure in your lower belly. With each languid lick and pump, the closer you were to pummeling off the edge. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip, pitiful whimpers escaping from between them and brows furrowing.

“E-Eiji, need you.”

Kirishima slowed his pace and you let out a deep breath that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. Fingers loosening in his hair. Soon the thick fingers inside of you were no longer there, making you pout from the emptiness. A razor sharp smile had you perking back up though before Kiri was licking his lips clean, as well as his fingers that were covered in your arousal and making him hum. Kiri awed when you blushed at the sight and kissed each of your thighs again.

“Don’t get shy on me now little one.”

You sat up on your palms when he rose back up on his knees, hands roaming from his chest and down to his hips as you kissed at the tattoos on his stomach and looked up at him.

“Can I?” You questioned, your fingers dipping under the waistband of his sweats.

“Of course,” he grinned.

With a way too eager smile you started to tug down the pants, along with his briefs, making sure to go slower the lower they fell. Kiri steadied himself by holding onto your shoulder, his thumb brushing the skin of it gently and a hiss leaving from between his teeth once his erection was finally freed from the clothing.

After removing them you couldn’t help but reach out and stroke him slowly, enjoying the satisfied groans that left his throat as you paid special attention to the piercings that lined the top and underside of him. Kirishima was placed perfectly before you on his knees and you didn’t miss the chance to lap up the pre-cum that oozed from the tip of his cock, teasingly sucking before you finally popped off and smiled up at him before placing a long flat tongued lick from the base of him to the very tip.

“F-fuck,” he groaned and playfully pushed your back to the mattress, hovering over you with a smirk.

Your returned the expression with a giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. The both of you smiling against the others lips. You licked at his, moaning from the taste of yourself still lingering. Kirishima rolled your lips between his teeth in return, one of his hands roaming down your side to rub your thigh and wrap it around his waist, his cock rutting between your lips. A sigh floated into his mouth and you felt hot skin and cool steel grazing against your clit.

“Eijirou,” you breathed onto his cheek, a strong hint of need in your tone.

He blinked and looked at you, nuzzling your face with his. You were so beautiful, so perfect to him. The pink that dusted your cheekbones and how your eyes shone at him were just a few of his favorite looks on you. He swallowed slowly, nodding his head and kissing your temple.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you in any way, we go at your pace.”

You nodded back and let you legs spread wider around his broad and thick waist, the action making him growl unconsciously like an animal. Kirishima took hold of himself, stroking slowly as he lined up with your entrance and slowly eased himself in. You bit off a whimper, feeling your walls being stretched more than ever around him.

This mountain of a man was already much bigger than you in terms of height and weight, and the size of his cock matched that ratio. It was thick and not too long, truly he had a really attractive dick, the piercings only making it better in looks and feel. Kiri fought back his own groans in order to soothe you, pressing his cheek to yours and speaking softly as his arm wrapped around you.

“I’ve got you little one,” he cooed before slowly and finally bottoming out inside of you with a soft thrust, “I - fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you breathed out, melting into his hold. “You can move baby, I’m okay.”

“At least one of us is cause shit,” he huffed out with a smile.

You snorted, trying to hide it in the crook of his neck as you laughed. Kiri laughed with you, showering your face with kisses and struggling at the same time to not instantly cum. God you were so tight around him.

“You’re not making this any better when you laugh sweetheart, it only gets tighter - jesus christ.” He panted.

Biting on your lip, you willed yourself to calm down and looked Kirishima in the eyes. He was smiling.

Never in your life had you laughed or smiled so much during sex, truly you didn’t think it was possible. You didn’t think feeling this warm, this loved and cherished was possible at all. But here you were, being proved wrong all because of Eijirou Kirishima. So many wonderful things were possible with this man and it made you want to ask for something you were never allowed before. Your hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing at his scar.

“Uhm actually now that I think about it … d-do you think I could maybe uh … be on top?”

Kirishima quirked a brow, looking taken back by your question.

Suddenly regret started to consume you, making you second guess your request and start to shy away. Before he could reply your head shook and you looked anywhere but his face.

“I’m sorry, just forget I asked, it’s stupid.”

“What? No -” Kiri cupped your face and smiled apologetically, “It’s not stupid at all, I’m sorry my face is dumb sometimes. Of course you can, god, yes! I-I’m just a little taken back as to why you even need to ask you know.”

With a relieved sigh you melted into his touch.

“Well with him … I was never allowed to be on top … he owned, controlled everything. He was superior to me in everything and made sure I knew my place beneath him.”

There was no hiding the protective growl that rolled up through Kirishima’s chest. The more and more he heard about this asshole, the thinner his will became to not go off the handle and hunt him down.

Not responding, Kiri kissed your head before telling you to hang on. You didn’t have time to really take in what he meant before your bodies were shifting on the bed, both of you grunting and groaning from the movement. Soon you were straddling Kiri’s lap and he sat back against the brick wall behind the bed, a smile on his face as he took your hands in his own.

“Don’t you ever think that you are less than equal to me, got it? I’m not me without you, I’m absolutely nothing without you.”

You scrunched your nose at him, trying your best to fight back tears and lean forward to kiss him. His hands resting on your hips as yours framed his face.

“Got it,” you smiled before kissing him again, showing him your gratitude the only way you know how at the moment. “And I’m not me without you too, I love you.”

“I love you too little one.”

In no time you picked up from where you left off, kisses becoming heated and needy all over again, fingers clawing and digging into each other. Your hips rolled slowly, making Kiri groan while he was abusing your throat with more bites. You repeated the action, drinking in the way it made the man beneath you malfunction and forget how to breathe.

“I - I’m sorry if I’m not good at this right away,” you moaned into his hair, causing his hips to buck up into you, his arms wrapping around your frame and mouth sucking between your breasts.

“Hah, y-you’re fine little one. If you want we can set up a practice routine?”

You tugged at his hair with a grin, making his head lull back and red blissed out eyes look up at you. “You wish,” falling from your lips before they’re crashing with his. You both moaned together as you picked up your pace, rolling your hips back and forth into his and him helping to lift you up and down gently on him.

Here and there you managed to hover yourself above the tip of him before sinking back down on his cock roughly, making the most beautiful noise fall from Kiri’s lips each time. You were both covered in patches of purples, your own more noticeable across your naked skin. Red claw marks dressed his shoulders and chest, your back, hips and ass.

Kirishima let his head fall back against the brick, teeth gritting and eyes screwing shut with one particular thrust of your hips. He was constantly drowning in how warm and wet you are, how perfectly you wrapped around his cock like a glove and stimulated him just right. The way you looked at him from above with a newfound confidence and power in yourself making pride swell in his chest. You were so strong to him, stronger than himself.

“Am I - mmm, am I doing it right Ei?”

You question him with equally blissed out eyes, your hair cascading around his face as you placed a kiss to his cheek and purred in his ear. He smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist and petting the back of your head with his opposite hand.

“Yes,” he grunted, holding you tighter, helping to quicken your pace, “Fuck yes little one, just like that. Such a good girl.”

The praise makes you preen with joy and satisfaction. Kirishima knows it's what you need to keep going, to heal, but it just comes so naturally. As you both chased after your highs together, he showered you with praise, kisses. You could only whimper and moan in response as your body started to tremble, thighs burning and heat spreading like wildfire from the pit of your stomach and throughout your limbs.

You felt so full, nearly drooling from the feeling of the piercings adding even more delightful stimulation inside of you. You started to go limp, losing stamina but Kirishima held you, helping you.

“I love you so much Eijirou, so much,” you spoke onto his cheek with a shaky breath.

Your cunt clenching tighter and tighter around him, was sending spark after spark of mind numbing pleasure to his brain, up his spine, to the tips of his fingers that were holding onto you for dear life. Gritting his teeth, Kirishima cursed, he couldn’t last any longer and neither could you.

“I love you more little one, my little one.”

Your mouths found each other for one more kiss before you were both crying out as white ebbed across your visions. A wave of hardening rippled through Kiri’s back, scraping against the brick and he came with you. Your hips slowly stuttered to a stop and you fully went limp in his hold, walls still throbbing around his cock and milking out more thick warm ropes of his cum, making you nuzzle into his neck and hum from the feeling.

Kirishima groaned and tried to catch his breath, waiting for the multi-colored blotches to clear from his eyes while rubbing your back and kissing at your face lovingly. After taking a moment, he gently moved to lay you both down on the bed. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest and then listening closely to his heart slow back down to a normal pace.

“You’re so precious to me you know that? Everything - my entire heart, my soul. I swear I’ll never hurt you little one, only love you, truly love you. I’ll treat you like a queen, cause that’s what you deserve.”

Looking up, your heart overflowed with so many emotions. You wiggled your way closer to place a sweet kiss to Kiri’s lips and touch his face.

“I know you will Eijirou, but we’re equals, so you’ll have to deal with being treated like a king I guess.”

Kirishima smirked and bit at the tip of your nose before you both cuddled back up together and closed your eyes. His hands playing with your hair and caressing you shoulder softly as you drifted back off to sleep that he hoped and prayed was devoid of that monster.

“I guess so huh.”

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survivorparr · 5 years

Text

the sun and her moon, part 6/8 (all you wanna do)

aka, In Which we Journey North

Ex Wives/No Way | DLUH | Heart of Stone | Haus of Holbein| Get Down

.....

Aragon rubbed her hand vigorously up and down her right bicep to dull the sharp pain.

“What the heck, Kitty??”

“Punch buggy, no punch backs!”

Aragon let out a sharp gust of air as she flicked her eyes towards the ceiling of the van, then retrained them on the green hillside whizzing by outside the window.

Behind her, Anna and Parr were deeply engaged in an argument about whether John Dowland or Hans Gerle had been the better lutenist. The air was filled with a faint, sweet melody coming from Jane, humming in the driver’s seat.

And folded in upon herself in the back seat, eyes aimed at the window but certainly not paying attention to the scenery, was Anne. The events of last night danced in her mind’s eye:

“Are you alright, Cath?”

“Yes - no - I don’t know. Yes, I’m fine”.

“‘I don’t know’ isn’t yes. Tell me what you’re thinking”.

She had taken one of Cathy’s small, warm hands in hers. There was no sound except the pounding of her own heart. Then:

“I just... think I need a minute to think”.

“God Cath, I’m so sorry, I just assumed - in the bar - I thought there’d been a moment and I -“

Cath squeezed her hand hard. “There was. There was a moment. And... I want there to be more moments, a lot more. It’s just... I’ve never... been with a woman before”. Her eyes shone and she seemed to be wrestling with her own mind in order to get the words out. Anne suddenly felt the absence of Cath’s hand in hers as she retreated onto her bed.

“I’m so sorry, Anne. It’s just that you mean the world to me, and if I can’t manage to come to terms with... feeling this way about you, and something goes poorly, I just don’t know what I’d-”

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, okay? Promise. Go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning”.

“Actually... could you stay a minute?”

Anne’s chest had tightened, but then she’d seen how small Catherine looked, how vulnerable. She’d crawled onto the bed and molded Cath into her empty spaces, running her fingers through her thick curls.

Thick curls that were now covering the back of a head sitting as far away from her as possible. Not a word was spoken between them all through breakfast, or all through the long drive to Leeds. Anne supposed perhaps Cathy was just nervous to be returning close to home for the first time since they’d come back, but she’d been chattering nervously to the other queens all morning (she and Anna were now debating the merits of the hurdy-gurdy as an instrument, for Christ’s sake). Anne turned up the volume of her headphones to drown it all out, hoping this would have some effect on the heaviness in her heart.

The whirring of the greenery and buildings outside came to a sudden slow, and then finally, a stop. Anne pulled out an earbud to get an idea of what was going on.

“...completely sure? It’s really no trouble, Parr, we can drive you out to York”.

“That’s alright, Jane, the train will be fine. If you lot come with me, I’ll just chicken out and turn us back around”.

“If you’re definitely sure, then. Good luck with your grandmother!”

Anne’s eyes widened. Grandmother... She suddenly remembered how last week, in the middle of French Film Friday, Cath had paused Amelie to ask whether Anne thought anyone else from past times might’ve been brought back to life. “We’d better hope not, otherwise, we might get run off the stage by a country band made up of Prince Albert’s five daughters,” she’d joked.

Stupid. She mentally slapped herself on the wrist. Some kind of friend you are.

Thoughts bubbled up in Anne’s mind more quickly than she could process them - I’ll go with her, I’ll apologize, I’ll—

By the time she was on her feet, Catherine’s blue sweater had disappeared into the crowd outside the train station.

...

Cath tightly gripped the crumpled sheet of lined yellow paper as she walked. She glanced again at the words printed in her own flowery scrawl: 456 Ravensworth St, York. They had not changed since the last time she’d looked (which had been about 54 seconds ago). She knew she had about a minute and a half to compose herself. God, why was she so nervous to meet a woman she’d never even known?

She supposed that was what made it so strange, though. Most girls didn’t get to come back from the dead and meet their long-lost grandmothers who had also supposedly come back from the dead. She felt her ribcage rise as she drew in cold air through her lips. Ravensworth Street. There was no turning back now.

She surveyed the houses on the right side of the street, attempting to estimate which one would be 456. Her eyes fell upon beautiful brick buildings, perfectly trimmed hedges, and-

“Anne???”

Cath rubbed her eyes with her fists, but when she stopped, Anne was still perched on the stone wall of a lawn about four houses down.

Without thinking, Cath broke out into a jog. She stopped in front of the tall iron gate.

“What the hell are you doing here? I said I was fine on my own”.

“I know you are. You’ve always been fine without anyone”.

The words stung, and Cath shifted her weight uncomfortably.

“How did you even beat me here?”

Anne shrugged nonchalantly. “Trains are slow, Cleves drives fast”.

Cath’s jaw dropped a little. Jane never let Cleves drive - the queens had decided she was a hazard to public safety.

“Look, you say the word and I’ll go back to the hotel, I promise. I just thought... I came here because... I know that this is a big deal for you, and I know you don’t need me, but I wanted you to know that you don’t have to do this alone if you don’t want to”.

Anne looked at Cath’s face for any hint of what she might be thinking, but found she could not read the intense gaze, furrowed brow, or parted lips.

“You know what, I’m sorry. Clearly this is personal for you, and I’ll go”.

Anne gathered her bulky messenger bag under her arm and pulled herself up off the wall.

“Wait. Anne”.

She waited for Cath to say more, but Cath simply held out a slender hand. A wave of relief washed over Anne. She took Cath’s hand, and pulled open the gate with her other.

...

“A frog? Truly, Grandmother?”

“I swear it on my life! Oh, the whole castle could hear Uncle Richard hollering. Then, he ran about the halls in just his nightclothes! Lady Anne and I were absolutely beside ourselves”.

“That’s absolutely brilliant, Lady Fitzhugh! I might have to try it out myself on a certain Spanish queen”. Anne waggled her eyebrows mischievously at Cath, who exaggerated an eye roll and then chuckled and smiled brightly.

“Please, dear, Elizabeth is just fine. Any friend of my granddaughter’s is a friend of mine”.

Anne grinned, and she realized she felt lighter than she had in a while. Her own grandmothers had been distant, much too busy conniving and calculating to pay her much mind.

“We appear to be out of tea cakes”.

“Appearances aren’t everything, darling. In the kitchen, cooling on the bottom rack of the oven”.

Cath rose from her seat and disappeared from the room in search of the pastries.

Anne struggled ungracefully with the too-large bite of ham sandwich in her mouth. When she had finally swallowed it, she turned to Lady Fitzhugh.

“Thank you again for allowing me to stay for lunch. I know you were only expecting one guest, and we didn’t mean to put you out. Or rather I didn’t mean to, Cathy had nothing to do with it, honest. Anyways, I really appreciate it”.

“Oh hush, it was no trouble at all. Do you know how often an old bag of bones like myself receives visitors? You’ve been nothing but a pleasure, dear. Besides, anyone who loves Catherine the way you do is welcome in my home any time”.

“Oh, I don’t - err - I mean, she’s not, uh, we’re not-”

“I know exactly what you are. You are her sun, and she is your moon. The Catherine that I watched over and protected from the beyond was wise and kind, but so tentative and full of doubt. But now, with you, she has an ease I’ve never seen in her. She seems... strong, and sure. Now, I can’t speak to who you might have been, but I can see the way you look at her. Like all your life, you’ve been running at breakneck speed, and you’ve finally found a place you can rest”.

For once, Anne had no words.

“I know my granddaughter. You may make her more spontaneous, but she still overthinks everything. She always comes around in the end, though. Until she does, you just keep standing by her, and she’ll stand by you. None of the rest of it matters in the end, you’ll see”.

Lady Fitzhugh smiled reassuringly. Anne suddenly felt warm, her clothing too bulky. Pulling at her sweater, she whispered, “Thank you”.

“Found them! Grandmother, do you have the recipe for these?”

“I do! Remind me and I’ll write it out for you before you leave”.

“Thank you! What were you two talking about then?”

“Nothing, dear”. Lady Fitzhugh winked at Anne. “Just the moon”.

...

“Alright, so we’ve seen the river where you and your sister used to skip rocks, the tree where you broke your arm climbing with your brother, and the tower where you studied French. Next up on the Cath’s Classics tour is...? Where are we, then?”

A ribbon of crystal blue water lazily burbled beneath the warped wood under their feet. Sunlight fell golden on dappled leaves that hid the two of them from the outside world.

“This is where I used to sit and write. It was my favorite spot - the only place that was just mine”.

Cath‘s legs felt heavy as they dangled from the edge of the bridge. Anne looked around and then lowered herself awkwardly down next to where Cath sat.

“Until now”.

“Mmm. Until now”.

The two of them sat there in silence. Catherine looked at their images reflected in the water, edges blurred, bending and blending together.

“Why did you come today, Anne?”

“I told you. I thought you might’ve been nervous, and-”

“I mean, why do you keep coming back for me? I’m always messing up, pulling away, doing the stupidest things. All the queens know it, I can tell. It’s like I’m broken or something, and I just... don’t know how to be happy. You’re not like that. You’re... magnetic, and people like you, and you’re... good, just way too good for me. So why did you come?”

Cath was finally able to bring herself to look at Anne’s face. When she did, she was confused by the deep frown and hurt eyes she found. She thought she’d said nice things...

“Is that what you think, Cath? That you’re too broken for me? I’m the broken one. God, I’m so scared of being abandoned that I cling too much, or I self-sabotage when someone gets close. I am constantly trying too damn hard to be the thing that everybody wants while simultaneously keeping them all at arm’s length. Except for when I’m with you”. She reached out her hand and swept her thumb across Cath’s cheekbone. “Being with you feels like getting home and putting on sweatpants after a two show day”.

Cath furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Err - what I mean is, when I’m with you, I don’t have to try so hard. It just feels comfortable. I think you might be the only one who knows who I am. Look, I know that these feelings are confusing for you, and that they go against everything you’ve ever believed. But you can have all the time in the world to figure it all out, because I’m not going anywhere”.

The space between their bodies diminished, and Anne kissed Cath’s forehead gently.

“All I want to do is be with you”.

.....

A/N: I LOVE YOU ALL I’m sorry this update took SO long, this summer has been a certified Mess. But here she ism and she’s long to make up for it - I hope you enjoyed! One part and an epilogue left - almost time to wrap this motha up!

Tags (copied from the last update in case you still wanted!): @mimymomo @supernova-nightmare@allthequeensdeservedmore@demidoubter @alexs-galaxies @sweet-sappphic @sarahzarahh @musical93 @six-aimie @imborrrrrrrr

#the sun and her moon #nic's fics #six the musical

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alphabees-writes · 4 years

Text

Glee - S1 E1 (Pilot)

Is it a smart idea to rewatch glee again? No.

Am I going to do it anyway? You bet your sweet bippy I am!

Am I going to liveblog my garbage monkey brain thoughts along the way even though nobody asked for it? Hell yeah.

Here goes!

Wow. The first frame of this entire show is literally of a woman who looks like she’s about 10 years above the natural lifespan of a Cheerio. Then again, I’m sure Sue’s not above holding back her best recruits for multiple years because Ohio high schools are apparently just Like That™

I also never notice this opening song was a remix of Keep Me Hangin On, wow. That’s actually kind of interesting foreshadowing of sorts, like, kind of smart. I’m glad I’m watching the part of Glee that was kind of smart.

This scene also doesn’t feature any of the Unholy Trinity as far as I can see. Are they a JV squad? Am I putting too much thought into this?

Sign #1 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Really, my guy? Driving around with your muffler dragging on the ground so bad it’s making sparks? That’s not very Road Safety of you. Fuck off.

Sign #2 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: Wow, there’s going to be a lot of these, huh? Anyway, anybody with working eyes would clearly see how scared Kurt is right now. “Making some new friends Kurt?” Fuck off.

KURT. FIRST SIGHTING OF THE BOY. What a delight. But also, not a delight, because he’s being bullied and he deserves better. Look at his outfit. Iconic from day fucking one.

Finn, you’re a himbo. What’re you doing with these assholes?

Puck’s first line in the whole series is “It’s hammer time!” What a fucking dork? Who made this boy popular.

DO MORE THAN TAKE HIS COAT, FINN. LET HIM GOOOOO!!!

I paused while they were tossing Kurt in the dumpster and, wow, got the most hilarious frame where the guy who isn’t Puck is getting a meticulously polished boot to the face. Netflix let me take screenshots, you coward.

The first shot of Quinn... My wlw bones are shaking.

Why would they use that photo for Lillian Adler...? WHO WAS BORN IN 1937, MIGHT I ADD. THAT’S NOT A REAL YEAR.

It’s weird to see Mr Schue actually speaking competent Spanish. Why did they veto that later? The ONE likeable thing about him was his competence as a school teacher, and they really threw it out the window huh?

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE MEMBERS OF SANDY RYERSON’S GLEE CLUB??? This kid seems to really like singing. Also, welcome to the beginning of Ryerson being annoying as all hell.

Oh my gosh, the background choir stuff. This show really had style back in the day!!!

R A C H E L B E R R Y Y O U R M A K E U P ! ! !

Ken Tanaka walked so incels could run.

Jane Lynch you beauty. You absolutely impeccable beauty.

“Since when are cheerleaders performers?” Uh... Emma...? I get that Sue’s going ham on her budget but, like, be nice to the students? They perform their butts off!

Sue really just BRAGGED about having an iPhone. I was 9 when this came out. Why do I feel old...

Sign #3 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: He hears his coworker, presumably of several years, just got fired and doesn’t even ask why. He just jumps on the glee club like a frog on hot asphalt.

He really wants to Make The Glee Club Great Again, huh?

MySpace was really a thing, huh? And why does this grown-ass male teacher know so much about the students having them?

I know nothing about actual American schools, but I do know that they sure as shit don’t work like this. Why does a club have to win EVERY competition to be considered an asset?

Mr Shoe really lying awake at night half-naked next to his wife thinking about the glee club already? Yeah sounds about right. Also, of course you’d think up Nude Erections for a name, you asshole. Put some clothes on.

R E S P E C T MERCEDES YES!!!

Brad the piano player was really here from day ONE... Icon.

Cellophane, Mr Cellophane... Yes Kurt bby you killed it.

Chris Colfer looks so YOUNG here!!!

The hair fix... I C O N I C !

Tina really wrote her stutter down, huh? And nobody ever saw through it? Amazing.

The goth Tina look, too... Perfect... Never change...

Say what you want about Rachel Berry being generally insufferable, but I really fucking feel it when she sings On My Own. The monologue kind of kills The Drama of it, but they really solidly established her character by layering them. She really is a gold star right now.

The first-ever on-screen slushie!

The way she walks down that hall. My God you can just see how terrible she is to be around.

Never forget Rachel staring at photos of her with two men who turned out to not be her dads. Who are they? What are their stories? We’ll never know.

God, I love this stupid scene of Quinn, Santana, and a bunch of Cheerios cartoonishly typing hate comments on Rachel’s MySpace video and laughing like knock-off Disney villains.

I like watching season 1 Artie because season 1 Artie was a good character. Mostly. And he KILLED Sit Down, You’re Rocking The Boat. Rachel wasn’t asking for a male lead who could keep up with her vocally, she was being straight up ableist and that’s a fact. I love Cory, but Kevin McHale was always a better singer.

Mercedes picking up and spinning Rachel for this little routine is something I never really appreciated before, it’s cute even though they don’t like each other yet!

I really don’t get why Rachel says they suck. Yeah, sure, she’s gunning for a solo, but the vocals were solid there. The choreo was just a little janky, possibly because it’s their first EVER rehearsal?

“There is NOTHING ironic about show choir!” Incredible.

How long did it take Mr Shoe to find Rachel out on the bleachers? Did he search the whole school first?

ARTIE! CAN! KEEP! UP! WITH! YOU! VOCALLY!

I never understood Rachel quitting so soon. How long was she in the old glee club for? Surely they were never popular either?

Ah, the first “My hands are tied” for the series. Mr Figgins is a garbage principal.

Not going to advise the principal against referring to Artie as a cripple, William Shoestir? Alright.

How did the Schuester marriage last as long as it has? Do Will and Terri’s insufferable personalities just cancel one another out?

Sandy Ryerson really just openly brags about cheating the system for medical marijuana and dealing it?

Matt Morrison 100% has lip fillers. Nobody’s smile curls like that naturally.

“Terri and I are trying to get pregnant” What a weird way to phrase it. What is it, a race? Who’s going to get knocked up first!

A FIFTH OF BEETHOVEN, HOW I’VE MISSED YOU... The sound design of this show at this point is just... *Chef hand kiss*

“What you’re doing right now is called blurring the lines” Oh just wait until season 4, Sue... Just you wait.

WHY is Mr Schuester so ridiculously sweaty? I didn’t need to think about that?

EVERYONE on the football team is 30.

William Schuester you can’t just watCH TEENAGE STUDENTS SING IN THE SHOWER YOU ARE A TEACHER WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR LICENSE?!

Hearing Cory sing this always makes me emotional. What a talent!

Sign #4 That Mr Schuester Is An Asshole: I don’t think I need to say why using the weed to blackmail Finn is a shitty thing to do, do I?

“I’ll pee in a cup! ...I’ll pee...” I love Cory’s delivery.

PRIORITY #1: HELP THE KIDS Oh season 1... I love you so.

Mr Schue you WISH you were anything like Finn Hudson. You never will be.

Ah... Finn’s first monologue. He’s such a sweetheart. AND SO IS CAROLE. Carole is a queen I will stan forever. YOU THROW THAT MILK BB!!!

All Finn wants to do is make his mom proud. What a sweetheart. Mr Schue you do NOT deserve him.

These POV shots really enhance things, why the fuck did they stop using them?

Subtly having Kurt look at Finn in the same shot as Rachel was a nice touch indeed!

RACHEL WAS REALLY DOWN WITH ROLLING ARTIE RIGHT OFF THE STAGE HUH?

Terri’s a straight up hoarder, huh? Like a raccoon but instead of collecting edible garbage, it’s monogrammed garbage.

Surely you can’t just... BECOME an accountant, right? You need some serious qualifications for that right?

Also say what you want about how insufferable Terri is but her actress is ridiculously talented and absolutely steals every scene she’s in.

Now the background choir is doing Soul Bossa Nova and I am L I V I N G why didn’t they keep that motif!!! It was so ICONIC!

I don’t need my prostate removed. RIP Carole Hudson but I’m different :/

NO MEANS NO, KEN! TAKE THE L AND MOVE ON! Way to take out the fact that a girl won’t date you on everybody else around you! Toxic bastard. The absolute stench of melodrama on this bastard is noxious.

I was going to ask why Rachel didn’t know about Finn and Quinn if they’d already been together for 4 months, but then I remembered gossiping requires friends...

“Terri rides me. Hard. And I’ve always appreciated it!” Why don’t we talk about how this line sounds more. Why doesn’t Emma bat an eye at it oh my god

HERE COMES VOCAL ADRENALINE!!! And Jesse St. James is nowhere to be seen. How convenient. Also, they’re all 30. I’m sensing a pattern.

Sorry VA, all songs popularised my Amy Winehouse legally belong to Santana Lopez

Puck, if you were stupid enough to fall for the prostate excuse, that’s on you. Or maybe it’s on the education system...

You can do better that Mr Schue, kids. Don’t mourn him.

Ok, what the fuck is this scene where he’s filling out the job app to become an accountant? There’s a dude in the row in front off him just throwing crisps around? What is this place?? Why are you here sir???

“Accounting is sexy” shut up you horrible married man

The Cheerios sure did have straight ponytails for like, one episode, huh?

Finn is such a good boy. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is, and saving Artie from that portapotty is his first step to figuring it out.

This shot of Finn just wheeling Artie out of there... Ugh. My HEART.

KURT WHAT ARE THOSE LAYERS? SWEATER SHIRT SWEATER? HELLO???

Pee balloons. Nailing the lawn furniture to the roof. Finn, you’re better than that!!! Stop your dudebros.

They really had Artie be a guitar player, and a pretty good one at that, but they never mentioned it again? Artie had such potential SMH. (Also, Netflix subtitles are telling me it’s Arty, but I categorically refuse to spell it that way.)

Whyyyyy didn’t he go to KURT for the costumes as well? Look at his outfit, Finn. He clearly wants in on that job.

Will Schuester really is just desperately clinging to his glory days in high school. I’d feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a creep about it.

Emma, meaningfully: Do you know who that is? That’s you, Will... [FRANTIC DISCO MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND]

I find it hilarious how the audio of Don’t Stop Believin’ just DOES NOT match the characters except for the solos... Also wow, autotune city. Am I awful for genuinely not liking this cover?

I like watching them perform it though. Kurt’s adorable little shimmy... Rachel and Tina smiling at each other like that... Everybody having a blast... I’m here for it

LOOK AT MY BABIES TILTING THOSE MIC STANDS...

Ok the way Rachel and Finn look at each other here is making me FEEL

I know Puck’s about to join anyway but WHY is he there watching... Just to have a mysterious bad boy moment? Lol you dramatic bastard

Please let them win nationals without you, Will.

So, yeah! There’s that! Those are my thoughts and feelings, basic though they may be. Episode one is fantastic, the kids are fantastic, and William Schuester can suck a toe.

#Glee #Glee seasson 1 #Rosie watches things and then says things about the thing

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deniigi · 5 years

Note

Any advice on how to stay focused? Whenever I study I get distracted every few minutes and ended up doing something else much longer than studying. This also counts as work as well and really dont want to get in trouble like this

Ooh. Okay, so this might be a hit-or-miss kind of answer, friend. What works for me might not work for you. I’ll give you as many things as I can which help me get/stay on track, but you’ll probably just have to try a load of things to figure out what works best for you!

—–

Motivation/Interest:

So I suppose the first thing I’ve got to say is that if you’re having a hard time focusing, you either might not be in the right head-space to start focusing or not be stimulated enough or in the right ways by the work you’re trying to do. That’s not really anyone’s fault, but knowing that you’re about to sit down and be still and focus for a long period of time can be challenging in terms of getting yourself to stay on task or hell, even start a task.

One of the ways I combat this is by multitasking. Like, I find that I can do something better if I’m doing two things at once. Usually, that’s something like listening to some kind of instrumental music to keep my mood up when I’m researching or writing academic work, but sometimes, when I’m having a fucking rough go of it, I’ll get some knitting or drawing or something and I’ll use a screenreader to read my articles to me. This way, it feels less like work and more like I’m just listening to a podcast.

If you’re studying for something that requires you to spit facts back at it (like, idk, chemistry or highschool exams or smth) then studying in groups where you can just have a conversation about the material might be helpful in terms of making the work feel less like work.

Power Hours:

I have power hours. I work best between 1pm and 5pm. After 6 or 7 in the evening, my attention and writing quality and just generally my critical thinking skills drop the fuck off. My quality of work goes down by like 50% at least.

My colleague, on the other hand, can only work from 8am to 3pm. My partner works best almost exclusively from 11pm to 2am.

I feel like we’ve all got this period of time when we’re able to focus better than we do in the space around it. Figuring out your own power hours might help you plan your day around your work. You might just be forcing yourself to do things earlier or later than your brain wants, so maybe try moving your schedule around a bit if you can.

Timer:

For certain tasks, I give myself a time limit because I know that I have a tendency to go ham on tasks that don’t require it or not start tasks if I think they don’t have an urgency to them.

This helps me moderate the amount of time I’m spending on a single task and it also makes me go ‘oh, well, thirty minutes to answer emails. Pft. I can do that. That’s no problem. There’s only 4 emails.’ and then just like that the emails are out of the way and I’ve actually got more time in my day.

So yeah, a timer might help you break tasks up into more manageable chunks. Don’t be too strict with yourself if you use one, though. You’re human, the timer is not.

Reward System:

I reward myself for every bit of work that I successfully complete. I am essentially a complicated dog. I do the trick, I get the treat. Once I am done with the treat, I am ready to do another trick.

Treats for me are things like making a cup of tea, poking around the internet, watching a funny video, etc. etc.

If I do a really big thing which requires intense focus for many hours, I’ll reward myself with something a little bigger. I.e. A nice dinner. A trinket or a walk or a bit of shopping or smth at the end of the day/week.

All work should be rewarded, even in small increments throughout the day, even when you’re the one doing the rewarding. Be kind to yourself!

Additionally, treats give you a goal to work towards! (i.e. I will do one hour of reading, then I can have!! A snack!! I am excited for the snack! Let’s do this reading!!)

(Also don’t deny yourself things as a punishment for not completing tasks. Fuck that. Nah. Positive reinforcement is almost always a better teacher than punishment.)

Avoiding Overload:

You might be getting distracted because you have a thousand things you have to do and you’re thinking about them while you’re trying to do that one thing. You might also be experiencing some executive dysfunction, anxiety, depression, etc which might be eating into your drive to focus on a task.

There are loads of layered reasons why focusing/doing work is hard sometimes and even often.

When I get to this point, I break down tasks. I try not to give myself more than 3 tasks to do per day because I find that I can usually manage 3 tasks, even on a bad day. This way, I don’t feel so overloaded and I feel like I’m making progress, even when things are looming on the horizon.

Like, okay, you can panic-study or cram for a test, or you can re-read your notes one day, flick through the lecture notes the next day, and then plan out an essay you might write the next day and none of that should take more than 30 min to an hour, so by the time the test rolls around, you can be chill in the knowledge that you have studied, you just haven’t crammed.

I realize that this involves some planning and time-management skills that we aren’t really encouraged culturally to learn (and for whatever reason, a lot of people think it’s cool to procrastinate and cram-study or write), but when it comes to like, being kind to yourself and giving yourself the time you need to complete a larger task and actually learn from that experience, it really is an essential skill to learn.

Taking Breaks:

I take a lot of breaks. I take a break at least every hour. Usually every 40-50 min when I’m working. Otherwise I’ll burn myself out and I won’t be able to prolong my researching/studying. This acts as a reset and a treat (see above. I am still a complicated dog), so that you can process the material that you’re thinking about. For this, I wouldn’t go more than 10-20 min, depending on the task you just completed (the bigger the task, the longer the break.)

But yeah. Work doesn’t have to be continuous. If continuous work doesn’t work for your brain, don’t force it to. It’s just gonna leave you frustrated and unmotivated.

—–

So yeah, anon. This is what I’ve got. I’m sure others have some good recs too.

Mostly, the way I approach focusing and productivity is by trying to be as empathetic and kind to myself as I can be within the confines of the task at hand. I don’t really ascribe to ideas about working yourself to the bone or forcing yourself to do something your body and brain don’t want to do.

It’s all about finding the rhythms and contexts that suit you. So like, try:

listening to certain types of music during a task

changing your method of study (i.e. listening to the material instead of reading it, playing games, making maps, pictures, etc)

making a list of 3 tasks you will complete in the day/study session

giving yourself little things and breaks to work towards

moving yourself to a new place to change your environment (perhaps go to the library or to a cafe or something and study there if you have a hard time focusing at home)

maybe even find something to fidget with in your hands

Anyways, I hope this gives you something to work with and I encourage folks to leave other strategies in the comments!

#writing advice #long post #if lack of focus happens to you consistently anon #you might also take it up with your doc!#while I'm not saying that all lack of focus stems from mental health issues or neurodivergency if these things are underlying your struggles #then you can and should absolutely get specialized help for them!

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welcometothepenumbra · 5 years

Text

SECOND CITADEL – THE SPIRAL SAGE (PART ONE)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

The junction lies ahead, so if you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

We are now passing through the shores of the Terminus.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Our next stop?

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES.

The Spiral Sage.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: SWAMP AMBIANCE.

MUSIC: STARTS.

RILLA: Research log. It has been two days since the knight Sir Caroline and I met in the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms. We are no closer to finding Lord… lizard’s Keep than when we started. (SIGHS) And yet, we walk for hours each day. My injury has gotten considerably worse in the time since, as—

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

SIR CAROLINE: (DISTANT) Herbalist! You will stop that this instant!

RILLA: I want this entered as evidence when we return to the Citadel. If this thug isn’t discharged—

CAROLINE: Give me that!

RILLA: (YELLING) End of log!

SOUND: SPLASH. RECORDER CLICKS OFF.

CAROLINE: So this is what I get for showing you kindness, hm?

RILLA: If I don’t have crutches, I can’t walk!

CAROLINE: Then perhaps you oughtn’t break them so often.

RILLA: Okay, just… there are so many things wrong with that. First off—

CAROLINE: Oh, spare me.

RILLA: If you actually let me rest for a day to build them, like I told you I needed, I might be able to make something that would last more than a few hours in a swamp! And second, the sticks you’re bringing me are trash! I can hardly support my weight on—

CAROLINE: Then grit your teeth and do it anyway, because these are the only sticks you’ll get until you find us that lizard.

SOUND: BRANCH SNAP.

(GRUNTS) You said you knew where the lizard lives in this swamp. Yet we’ve walked nearly from one end of it to the other by now and I’ve seen neither hide nor scale of him.

RILLA: I’m not a tracker, Sir Caroline. Maybe we should just go back to the Citadel and—

CAROLINE: I’ve told you this line won’t work with me.

RILLA: —and tell them what we know! You really want to fight a monster war alone? You don’t have any, like, friends or anything?

CAROLINE: Are friends the only thing you Northerners can talk about?

RILLA: Well, it’s better than having none!

CAROLINE: Enough.

RILLA: (GASPS)

SOUND: DISTANT FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

CAROLINE: I have seen not one manipulative monster in days, herbalist. I have a duty.

MUSIC: ENDS.

I’m quite good at it. And if I don’t find a monster to slay soon, perhaps I’ll just have to—

SOUND: TREE CREAKING.

RILLA: Sir Caroline! Move!

CAROLINE: What—

RILLA: (GRUNTS)

CAROLINE: (GASPS)

SOUND: TREE FALLS.

VOICE 1: (GROANS)

VOICE 2: (LAUGHING)

VOICE 1: Hey wise guy, what the hell was that?

VOICE 2: Maybe you should watch where you’re goin’, dude.

RILLA: (WHISPERING) Do you think they see us?

CAROLINE: (QUIETLY) No. And if you want to keep it that way, shut up.

VOICE 2: Come on, man, let’s go!

SOUND: PUNCH, THUD. RATTLING.

VOICE 1: Oof! Ohhhhhhhh, I don’t feel so—

SOUND: CRUNCH.

(SQUEALS)

VOICE 2: Porcus? Uh-oh.

VOICE 1 [PORCUS]: Owww, oww, oww! Aw, ya busted my ham-hocks, Trotter! Ya broke every bone in my body, ya skinny little—

SOUND: MORE CRUNCHES.

(SQUEALS)

VOICE 2 [TROTTER]: Okay, okay, alright, just… hang on, bro, we’ll be back at the fort in no time, and… f-for now just think happy thoughts, like, how those bug-ladies are gonna cry when they find out we took their—

SOUND: PUNCH.

(GASPS)

SOUND: PUNCH.

What the hell, Porcus?!

PORCUS: Whassamatter? Big pig fall down go boom? (LAUGH-SNORT) Look who’s master prankster now!

TROTTER: But I heard you break your—

PORCUS: Those were human bones, dummy! (LAUGHS)

RILLA: (GASPS)

SOUND: CRUNCHING.

TROTTER: Dude, my nosh! What gives?

PORCUS: Mine now! (CHOMPS)

(GARBLED, MOUTH FULL) Besides, you need to put on a few tons, and ya ain’t gonna do that on bones. You’re gettin’ skinny, Trotter.

TROTTER: This bod is chiseled, dude! Don’t get all beefy just ‘cause you’re jealous.

PORCUS: Beef ain’t the problem! Peak performance means pork belly! You’ve got no fat on you!

TROTTER: Peak performance, huh? (GRUNTS)

SOUND: CLANG.

PORCUS: (GRUNTS)

SOUND: THUNK.

Take one more step and I’ll pound you to bacon bits!

TROTTER: Try me, brah!

PORCUS & TROTTER: (SQUEALS)

SOUND: CONCH SHELL BLOWS.

PORCUS: Moron! We’re gonna miss the trial ‘cause’a you!

TROTTER: Hey man, you got all aggro, so—

PORCUS: Just shut up and let’s go! I wanna see that lizard get what’s comin’ to him.

RILLA & CAROLINE: (IN UNISON) Lizard?!

TROTTER: (CHUCKLES) This is gonna be so choice, dude. See him try and wiggle his four twiggy arms outta this one!

PORCUS & TROTTER: (GUFFAWS, SNORTS)

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING.

CAROLINE: And with four arms… no more whining. We’re following those pigs, so get up and—

SOUND: SPLASHING FOOTSTEPS.

There she goes. Hmm.

I thought you said this lizard was in the Swamp of Titan’s Blooms.

RILLA: He was.

CAROLINE: Well, those hogs are headed due north, towards scrubland and sand. What lies north of the swamp?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. SWAMP AMBIANCE FADES.

RILLA: No clue.

CAROLINE: No clue? Aren’t you from here?

RILLA: Biologist; not a cartographer.

It could be… the northern edge of the world.

CAROLINE: I suppose the distance would make sense.

Loose sand, less noticeable life… a desert?

RILLA: I don’t think so. Damien told me so many stories about it a long time ago, but… he must have gotten bored of them, because I haven’t heard any of those stories in a while. He goes through phases like that.

CAROLINE: Then I suppose “my heart shall burst without my fiancée” and “oh mummy the scaly little lizard’s gone and cast a spell on me” are just phases, then?

RILLA: No, the heart bursting is pretty common, but…

A spell? Damien really said he cast a spell?

CAROLINE: Who knows what that man says? Half of it’s metaphor and the other half is bad metaphor.

RILLA: But—

SOUND: CONCH BLOWS.

Huh?

PORCUS: (DISTANT) Damn it, Trotter, if you don’t hurry up we’re gonna miss the verdict!

TROTTER: (DISTANT) The courthouse is right there, dude! Chill out!

CAROLINE: The pigs are just through this brush. Stand back; I’ll clear us a path.

SOUND: METAL CLANGS, LEAVES RUSTLING.

(GRUNTS)

RILLA: Courthouse?

CAROLINE: And… there!

SOUND: RUSHING WATER.

RILLA: Saints above!

CAROLINE: Beach. So that frothing water out in that sea must be… the edge of the world.

RILLA: The Terminus. An endlessly-replenishing ocean… that ends in a gigantic waterfall off the side of the world. (QUIETLY) Saints. It’s… hard to look away from, isn’t it?

CAROLINE: Stop it. This is indecent. The Southern Edge in the Frosts has mountains. At least then you don’t have to see it.

RILLA: Yeah, that sounds… better.

SOUND: CONCH BLOWS.

VOICE 3 (FROM SPEAKER): Attention, please, attention! The Judge has finished his deliberations! The trial of Lord Arum will resume in five minutes’ time, with the verdict. Please do not be late, thank you!

RILLA: The trial of… we have to get in there.

CAROLINE: Not just yet.

This lizard really lights a fire under you, doesn’t he? Why, exactly, do you need to see him so badly? He just kidnapped you.

RILLA: I… I just… I need to find out if he really cast a spell on Damien. I need to find out what happened between them, because—

I just do, okay?

CAROLINE: (SNORTS) And how do you plan to ask him? Walk right up, knock on the door, and request a moment of his time?

RILLA: No. …That shell doesn’t even have a door.

CAROLINE: What shell?

RILLA: (SIGHS) The one those pigs walked into, obviously! Now let’s—

CAROLINE: You mean the courthouse?

RILLA: It’s a gigantic sea shell. A wentletrap, probably; you can tell by how tall and thin it is, and the spiral striations—

CAROLINE: I don’t care about the striations, that is clearly a building! A tall tower! It has a skylight!

RILLA: Yeah, well, that’s because… I mean, obviously…

(SIGHS) Are we just going to stand here asking questions, or are we going?

CAROLINE: Putting yourself on the line might work when you’re testing skin cream and cough syrup, herbalist, but with monsters we need strategy. Some… means to stay hidden. To observe, then strike. Aha!

RILLA: You’re not going to—

CAROLINE: We are!

SOUND: RIPPING/CRACKING, GRUNTS.

Help me with this.

RILLA: But it’s so… pink.

CAROLINE: You will help me turn this into a disguise or I will leave you outside.

Alright, then. Let’s get to work.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: CONCH SHELL BLOWS. CROWD MURMURING.

CAROLINE: Do you have your petals in place? If you give away my flawless camoflage, I’ll—

RILLA: Sir Caroline. You cut two neck holes in a big pink flower. We look ridiculous.

CAROLINE: As do they. Your point?

RILLA: I—

CAROLINE: I don’t care. Just follow my lead and act like this monster would.

RILLA: Constantly embarassed?

CAROLINE: We’re entering in three… two… go!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

RILLA: Saints, this is… a lot of monsters.

CAROLINE: Hundreds of them. So many trophies for the taking. (LAUGHS) Where do you think you’re going? (GRUNTS)

VOICE 4: Oww!

RILLA: I’m trying to get a better look.

CAROLINE: By wading into the crowd and cutting off our only exit? I don’t think so.

VOICE 4: Excuse me…!

RILLA: Sir Caroline, I can’t see anything.

CAROLINE: Well, then, here’s a description for you: a circular room with a lot of monsters in it, a dais with a garish metal podium, and overly-busy tapestries on the walls. Everything clashes and it’s awful, the end, now be quiet.

RILLA: Can we just move? I can’t see the trial!

CAROLINE: And I can’t care. We will not draw attention to ourselves.

VOICE 4: Excuse me.

RILLA: Maybe we’d draw a lot less attention if we weren’t bright pink.

CAROLINE: If you are so insecure in your femininity that a little pink makes you—

VOICE 4: Excuse me!

CAROLINE: What! What is so important that you have to butt into our business, you—

…I have no idea what you’re supposed to be.

VOICE 4: You are stepping on my foot.

CAROLINE: That’s a foot?!

RILLA: I’m sorry about that. Two heads means a… split personality. She’s the rude one.

CAROLINE: And she’s the stupid one.

VOICE 3: Monster Court is now in session! Silence, please, silence!

CAROLINE: Now do you mind? I’m trying to watch the trial.

VOICE 3: We return now to the sentencing of Lord Arum, here accused of “breach of contract,” “destruction of things that belonged to him but really sort of belonged to all of us when you really think about it,” and “criticism.” Lord Arum!

LORD ARUM: (SIGHS) Present.

RILLA: (GASPS)

VOICE 3: And all attend to Judge Helicoid!

SOUND: THREE QUICK CLAPS. STRETCHING.

JUDGE HELICOID: The universe… speaks through MEEEE!

SOUND: CROWD OOHS. BUBBLING.

JUDGE: And also: I am present.

VOICE 3: And I, the Bailiff-golem, am present. The universe now presiding, Judge Helicoid now transmitting, si-lence!

JUDGE: Thank you, Bailiff.

CAROLINE: Is that the judge?!

SOUND: SLIME GOOPING, SQUISHING.

RILLA: Can you at least tell me what’s happening? I can only see the judge’s couch… that big slimy strip?

VOICE 5: (GIGGLES) That’s not his couch, babe. That’s the Judge.

RILLA: Who are you?

JUDGE: Loooord Arum. This court is not a place for personal bias, and so my opinion cannot matter in this case. And yet. I must say that I find your conduct… disgusting.

VOICE 5: (LAUGHS) You can’t see it, sweets, but that was funny because he’s a snail.

RILLA: And you’re a human.

JUDGE: You have destroyed, I say, destroyed the Moonlit Hermit, and thereby your ability to fulfill your contract. Repeatedly, you’ve shown that you care not at all for our Law; and I say to you, sir, that I find you repellent.

RILLA: They have laws?

VOICE 5: He said law. Just one: full freedom for all, and everyone gets to do whatever they want.

RILLA: So their only law is… no laws.

VOICE 5: Call me when you find a system that makes more sense. Or… any sense.

RILLA: Then why would they need a court?

VOICE 5: What do you think happens when one monster prevents another from doing what they want? They need a performance, to make it all look fair, before they side with the more powerful of the two.

JUDGE: And all this time, Lord Arum, you have stood there, in silence, making a mockery, I say, a mockery of this court; and also making me – me! – feel very self-conscious!

Do you have anything to say for yourself, Lord Arum?

RILLA: (AFTER A PAUSE, QUIETLY) Come on, Arum… what are you doing?

JUDGE: Very well, then. Bailiff.

VOICE 3 [BAILIFF]: We move on to Judgement! And then… Relocation.

RILLA: “Judgment?” “Relocation?” What does any of that— ow!

CAROLINE: Stay quiet!

RILLA: You made her hit me.

VOICE 5: (CHUCKLING) Oh, wow: you’re really cute, aren’t you?

JUDGE: And now… Judgment! (HUMS)

(CHANTING) O listen, now, by this shell’s winding whorls, by the slime upon my skin—

SOUND: BUBBLING, GRADUALLY GETTING LOUDER.

—O universe, I speak to youuuuu! This creature has wandered from his place, and so show him, universe, where he belongs! Ooooohhh! Ooooohhh! JUDGMENT!

(SNORTS, SPITS)

RILLA: Ugh.

VOICE 5: Oh, sweets, it gets so much worse. Listen to the bubbles.

RILLA: The bubbles?

CAROLINE: Stop talking to yourself!

JUDGE: (DEEP BREATH, THEN HISSING) Judgemennnnt…

RILLA: (GASPS)

CAROLINE: Ugh!

JUDGE: (HISSING/GROWLING) This lizard’s lost his line. We would return him where he list, could we. But his ambition is lost; his heart’s in others, now. You ask his course? You ask his place? O Helicoid. O trusted child. Lord Arum has neither.

SOUND: CROWD GASPS.

VOICE 5: Oh. Well!

BAILIFF: Shhhh!!!

JUDGE: (HISSING/GROWLING) A creature with no place in this world has but one fate. Fort Terminus calls, O lizard-Lord. Your weight unbalances; so from the scale you must be tossed entire.

ARUM: (GRUNTS)

RILLA: Was that… his sentence?

SOUND: BUBBLING FADES.

VOICE 5: I-I’d rather not say.

RILLA: Why?

JUDGE: Well, then. I have, um… hmm. Yes. Well. (CLEARS THROAT) Lord Arum. You understand the fate the universe has demanded?

ARUM: I do.

JUDGE: I hope you understand that… we do not enjoy this. But if your very existence impinges upon our freedoms, well—

ARUM: I said I understood, tktktktktktktktk.

JUDGE: Ahh. Do you have any… final statements?

ARUM: Let’s just get this over with.

JUDGE: Quite. Bailiff, if you would unlock the path to… well, you know.

BAILIFF: Yes, your Horror.

SOUND: BUBBLES, SLITHERING.

JUDGE: Now. A moment of silent thanks to the universe.

RILLA: Why don’t you want to say?

VOICE 5: Because. I don’t like to make a pretty lady cry.

RILLA: Was it… a death sentence?

VOICE 5: If the convicted has been a very good bat or ghoul, perhaps. But nobody knows what happens after they… (SHUDDERS)

RILLA: Then what’s going to happen to him?

CAROLINE: The creatures are staring, herbalist! What are you doing?

VOICE 5: It’s terrible! Are you certain you want to know?

RILLA: Please. I have to!

CAROLINE: Shut up!

VOICE 5: I have goosebumps just thinking about it.

RILLA: Just tell me!

CAROLINE: Who must you insist on yammering to?

SOUND: RUSTLING, YELPS.

VOICE 4: I say, excuse me!

RILLA: Can you back off? I’m just talking to…

…she’s gone.

CAROLINE: You were talking. To yourself?

VOICE 4: First you step on my foot, and now you talk and jostle ever so! Such rudeness as I have never seen!

CAROLINE: If you don’t shut up you’ll beg me to go back to rudeness, you hideous… thing! And as for you, herbalist—

Why has it gone so quiet?

RILLA: Uhh…

JUDGE: May we continue?

VOICE 4: Yes, Judge Helicoid! Deepest apologies, Judge Helicoid!

JUDGE: Very well.

Now. Lord Arum!

(CLEARS THROAT) Loooooord Arummmmmmmmm!

Oh, d– really, now, the– the least you could do is look at me when I’m speaking to you.

ARUM: W-w-what? …O-oh, apologies, your Horror. I was just looking at that… noise.

On second thought, most horrible Judge Helicoid, I think I would like to have those last words after all.

JUDGE: What? But– you– already said… and I– I’d already prepared my statement, and—

ARUM: I have done monsterkind some service, your Horror. Whatever threat to individual freedoms I may pose now, I think the perspective of the monster responsible for the weapon that will undo the humans’ Citadel should prove useful for the individual interests of the monsters in attendance.

JUDGE: Yes. Well… even so, my freedoms—

ARUM: And, to deny those present words that might interest them would constitute censorship, your Horror. Which is one of the great sins, as you know.

SOUND: CROWD MURMURING.

JUDGE: Well. You’re very talkative now, aren’t you? During your trial you couldn’t even muster up a grovel.

Go on; go on.

ARUM: Thank you, your Horror.

Assembled beasts. It is true that I destroyed the Moonlit Hermit. And it is true that I was under contract to use that same flower to birth weapons for use against the human infection that persists in these Northern Wilds. To these broken promises I admit full fault; and they alone are certainly enough to have me sent to Fort Terminus.

And yet. I urge you, as free-thinking monsters, to remember that this is not all I’ve done. My actions will live on after me, and I hope you will evaluate them individually; regardless of what you may think of me, tktktktktktktktk.

JUDGE: Very pretty, Lord Arum. Now—

ARUM: And what actions are those? Well! Let’s make a list of them, shall we?

JUDGE: There’s really no need; we already—

ARUM: First! I found the Moonlit Hermit, and though the Senate did vote that I should create tools against the humans, they did not specify how. Given time, I could still make weapons… though certainly not as quickly as my initial prototypes via—

JUDGE: Yes yes yes; we’ve discussed the Janus Beast and… that loud, amphibious thing with the voice. Failures both, Lord Arum. Quickly, please.

CAROLINE: I knew it! The lizard’s the source of those manipulative monsters!

RILLA: Arum… why?

ARUM: And second: one of my experiments has been accepted by the Senate as their plan of attack against the humans. It is the most powerful of my creations, and as we all know, the Senate is planning on using it as soon as it leaves its cocoon, and that very moment, the Citadel will be taken. Which will be in just a few days. So if it was going to be stopped, it would have to be before it leaves its cocoon, because—

JUDGE: Irrelevant. The grubs you presented to the Senate had a significant design flaw; and though it has been solved, you did not solve it. This is a poor defense, my boy, and a confusing one, given as it is after the verdict—

ARUM: And finally, this:

I granted… two of the most beautiful blooms in the world their freedom – the freedom to do what they most wished, no matter the pain or consequences to me. It is not even half- forgiveness for what I’ve done, but… I did what good deeds I could when I saw the opportunity. That is all.

JUDGE: Two blooms?! You– had… did you have two Moonlit Hermits, Lord Arum?

ARUM: No. It was just… a metaphor.

JUDGE: Well, what did it mean?

ARUM: I choose not to say, tktktktktktktktk.

JUDGE: Well! I choose to say that I found your closing statement began with promise, and then meandered and lingered until not a one of us could follow it in the slightest, and I choose to recommend that you tighten your focus, lad. Good! Now that that’s out of the way, I shall make my closing statement. Listen closely, my boy, and I will show you how it’s done. (CLEARS THROAT, SNORTS) Looooord Arummmmmm—

BAILIFF: The path has been opened, your Horror! It is time now for the repugnant reptile to—

JUDGE: Well! I suppose nobody’s going to let me have my big finish, are they?

BAILIFF: Um… uh, but, you asked me to…

JUDGE: Oh, don’t give me that snotty face, Bailiff—

BAILIFF: With all due respect, your Circuitousness, I am made of your mucous.

JUDGE: Just… cease this immediately! I’m trying to make my concluding statement, and not one of you is paying attention! So be quiet! And listen! (CLEARS THROAT, SNORTS & HOCKS & SPITS) Lord Arum, I cast you out unto Fort Terminus, where… that is to say, the universe has decided that… (GRUMBLES) The moment’s just gone, isn’t it?

ARUM: It seems to be, tktktktk.

JUDGE: Then just get out of here so they can throw you off the edge of the world. Dismissed.

SOUND: THREE QUICK CLAPS. CROWD MURMURS.

Porcus and Trotter! You may lead the prisoner away.

TROTTER: Not us, man!

PORCUS: We’re off-duty! It’s in our contract!

JUDGE: (GROWLS) Fine. Bailiff. Duplicate and then lead Lord Arum away.

BAILIFF: Yes, your Horror! (STRAINING)

SOUND: STRETCHING, POP.

BAILIFF (DUPLICATED): Yes, your Horror!

SOUND: BUBBLES, SLITHERING.

RILLA: No… Arum!

CAROLINE: If you don’t stop gibbering, herbalist—

VOICE 4: Do be quiet! You’ll get us in trouble again!

CAROLINE: You. Listen.

SOUND: BLADE UNSHEATHING.

This knife of mine is very, very, very sharp: honed just for shearing skins like yours. And unless you want to find out how well I’ve sharpened it, you will mind. Your. Business.

VOICE 4: (STAMMERING)

CAROLINE: Herbalist, I’ll want a full report on whatever you think you saw when we leave here. But first we must wait for our exit. Hm?

RILLA: Sure.

JUDGE: Yes! Well! That trial was certainly memorable, though I thought that the accused did smack a bit of selflessness toward the end. Urghhh! That always leaves such a taste! But, at any rate, the business is done. Who’s next, Bailiff?

BAILIFF: Ehm… well, you see, most Horrible Judge Helicoid, looking at the crimes brought to us before sunup, if I may tally the list in full, let’s see, ah, there’s one, two, four, nine, three…

None, your Circuitousness.

JUDGE: None! Good, good. Let’s get this None character up here and hear their story, shall we? None! I say, None! Old beast, step forward!

BAILIFF: Oh, ehm… no, your Horror; I’m afraid that I mean, um… we’ve no more trials for today.

SOUND: CROUD GASPS, MURMURS.

JUDGE: (CHUCKLES) Well, but of course that’s absurd, Bailiff! Quite absurd. The Spiral Court does not conclude until the sun sets; it is the will of the universe.

BAILIFF: But even so, if there are none accused—

SOUND: BUBBLING.

JUDGE: I did not misspeak, Bailiff. The Spiral Court is not dismissed until the universe wills it. Through me! At my bedtime.

SOUND: BUBBLES STOP.

BAILIFF: (NERVOUS LAUGHTER) Lardlings and fenfolk, boils and globs, the Spiral Court will now have an open call for grievance, guidance, and… uh…

Would any beast present like to accuse another beast, also present, of… anything? Please?

VOICE 4: (GASPS)

CAROLINE: Say a single word, beast, and your stomach will be my sheath.

RILLA: It… might be a little too late for that. They’re all kind of… looking at us.

VOICE 4: I would like to make an accusation!

CAROLINE: (HISSING) Tattle-tale!

SOUND: STAB.

VOICE 4: (PAINED) And now I would like to make two accusations!

JUDGE: Seize that fabulous ogre immediately!

SOUND: RUSTLING.

CAROLINE: Let go of me! Let go of me or I’ll tear your grisly appendages off, you—

RILLA: Sir Caroline, you have to stop struggling! The disguise—

SOUND: FABRIC RIPS, THUDS. CROWD GASPS.

BAILIFF: Ohhhh, that’s horrible, ohhhh, I can’t look. I think I’ll be sick, my Judge.

JUDGE: Yes. The sight of humans makes me quite ill as well. (CHUCKLING)

BAILIFF: Humans?!

RILLA: Uh-oh.

CAROLINE: Indeed.

JUDGE: Bring them forward immediately. I dare say the universe will have… quite a bit to say about these creatures’ proper place.

SOUND: FIVE CLAPS.

Spiral Court is now in session!

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast.

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This tale, the Spiral Sage, was told by the following people: Melissa Ennulat as Rilla, Leslie Drescher as Sir Caroline, Noah Simes as Lord Arum, Glen Moore as Judge Helicoid, Stewart Evan Smith as Porcus, Michael Underhill as Trotter, Kate Jones as the Bailiff, Melissa DeJesus as the unknown voice in the crowd, and Joshua Ilon, Kat Buckingham, and Simon Moody as the ensemble.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert. If you wish to know more about our ever-expanding, infinitely-creative team of artists, musicians, editors, designers, and managers, you can read about them in the show notes of this episode.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#second citadel

5 notes · View notes

arsonforcharlie · 5 years

Photo

tonight was the fuck squad critmit (it’s like christmas but christianity isn’t a thing in eurolia, but i wanted to use christmas shorthand- WORLDBUILDING) special, because the main plot was not going anywhere nearly consequence-free enough for the tone we wanted to nail down. it featured presents for the squad- little brooches based on magic items everyone’s character has that came with little notes from the shop owner where they got the item. (from the left, rhonia’s magic lunchbox, the bag of trading, sergei’s impervious rod with the lightup orb attached, the diadem of brothority, and maddela’s serpent fang dagger)

we also had a lot of cheese and caramel-filled snickerdoodles and chocolate and wine to the point where i made an impromptu decision to run the session theatre of the mind because we absolutely weren’t going to clear off the battle mat. (you can almost see it under the second cheese board up there. that wasn’t even all the cheese.) tonight’s adventure involved a lot of homebrewing because i couldn’t find stats for pretty much anything i wanted, and also i wrote a knock off night before christmas that i read in my best reading-to-wee-chiddlers-by-the-fire voice from this expertly-crafted prop book in between segments. they seemed to have a good time, fortunately! god i love my friends. recap and full poems under the cut

Twas the night before Critmit, and all through the inn While Jasper was putting the trash in the bin From his holiday party, an annual bash Where all of our heroes got totally smashed. He wiped up the spilled beer and swept up the glass From the breaking of windows that had just come to pass. The fuck squad was nestled all snug in their beds While visions of beautiful dresses and jewels, or hedonistic orgies, or Reaper in a bit of leather and not much else, or huge plates of mac and cheese, or hedonistic orgies again but this time a little bit closer to the ground danced in their heads. Alone or with partners, they started to snooze And settled their brains in to sleep off the booze. But then, just as slumber began to take hold, They awoke out of doors, dressed, armed, startled, and cold. The snowdrift they lay in was not one they knew And the landscape was foreign, cold, barren, and blue. A cottage ahead was the only respite From the miserable weather on this harsh winter’s night.

partway through my first reading of the poem i realized a button of my shirt was just straight up undone and busted out with “oh my shirt just popped the FUCK open” so that really set the tone for the night

(directly after i finished the descriptive verse) Sergei: “Then you see him, Shia Laboeuf!”

frankly i’m surprised we went this long without any shia laboeuf references

the fuck squad go into the cottage to warm up, and inside find an old dwarf in a red and white robe with a long white beard, drinking from a mug of hot cocoa by the fire and checking over a list. he introduces himself as klaus, and tells the fuck squad that he needs help. rhonia immediately asks “DO WE NEED TO SAVE CRITMIT” and frankly i think we could all use that sort of initiative. he says yeah, he needs help, usually he brings presents to all the chiddlers of the world-

rhonia: “WHAT????” “chiddler. it’s slang. bobbie uses it. go away.”

- but unfortunately, this year, the mean old Grunch has stolen his sleigh and his reindeer, so he can’t give out presents! the Grunch put some sort of spell on it so he couldn’t bring it back to his house with a snap of his fingers, but if the fuck squad could bring it back, he’d definitely put them on the nice list- and that’s something a few of them deffo need. he also condones a little bit of accidental murder if they need to.

sergei: “i’ll take care of the reindeer!” saida: “I’ll take care of the murder!” rhonia: “If the reindeer die I’ll turn them into skeletons and bring them back!” everyone: “NO!”

they take fur coats that are hung by the door and set off along the road towards the eggnog sea

it’s a sea made of eggnog. maddela fills her flask. rhonia starts drinking just, like, with her hands. meanwhile, sergei, saida, and yoni begin asking me where the sewage goes. i, of course, do not have a satisfactory answer because why the fuck would i, it’s a fantasy dreamscape, so that ended poorly

Saida: “RHONIA DRANK POOP! Shit-slurper.” “you know, it’s great how i don’t even need to write down your names when i’m taking these notes because each of you are so damn identifiable.”

they’re interrupted by five odd creatures, shaped vaguely like humanoids but made of an odd hard biscuity substance with what looks like icing outlining their facial features, who demand to know who they are and where they’re going. when they say they’re going to go stop the grunch, the gingerbread guards draw their weapons. before anyone can try and calm the situation, maddela just leans forward and tries to take a bite out of one of the guards. (she does later successfully get a chomp out of one.)

(i mention something about one of the gingerbread men having a hole in them after they were stabbed) sergei: “heh it’s a glory hole” “IT’S NOT A GLORY HOLE” yoni: “it’s the Eurolia version of american pie!”

frankly i’m just happy yoni remembered the bad continent name i made up pretty much on the spot so i could justify having a fake fantasy eurovision

Saida: “if any of you fuck a figgy pudding i’m leaving” Sergei: “Don’t worry, I generally try not to fuck food.” “Not since the incident.”

Saida: “That doesn’t count, everybody fucks a little food when they’re thirteen!”

saida uses the memory gauntlets on one of the gingerbread guards, another thing that i was not prepared for. despite getting a lot of suggestions that i dismissed as horrifying (the beard suggested going back to the intolerable temperatures of being baked to life, rhonia suggested when he got his eyes piped on, that sort of thing) she instead saw this gingerbread man hugging his twin sons, tiny tim and tiny jim, and telling them that he was happy they’d be able to go to college because he was working as a guard. apparently that was worse. whatever.

me, out of hand, discussing rhonia’s armor of bones, “You could make a full body bone strapon.” rhonia: “COULD I????”

doesn’t say she can’t

the beard, interjecting: “Just curious, is the gingerbread man, like,a DILFY gingerbread man?”

saida, returning to the important question of whether rhonia drank poop: “What if they poop royal icing? Because if they poop royal icing that means they can use it todraw little features on each other like lil gingerbread scat enthusiasts?” “SO YOU KEEP WALKING ALONG THE ROAD”

yoni puts a bit of gingerbread into the bag of trading, and when i roll on the table, i get the “bottle of ale or wine” result, so i rule she gets some rum so they drink that with the egg nog.

saida: “I’ve had dreams where we were all together. In Todd Howard’s house. Which was also a social science facility.”

“the road veers away from the coast of the Eggnog Sea, towards several rounded mountains on the horizon.” saida “AYYYYYYY TIDDAYS”

it’s not tiddays, it’s the sugarplum mountains, but that sure doesn’t stop them from making a bunch of lewd comments about the geology

“the road leads to a field, with a weird-looking snowdrift across the middle, that looks almost like one you’d see growing against a wall.” sergei: “it’s not vaginal, is it?”

still don’t know where that one came from

“fast and the furious, vaginal drift”

there are a few snowmen past the wall, and they begin throwing snowballs at the fuck squad, who join in the snowball fight eagerly.

maddela: “can i put rocks in the snowball?” saida: “wow, you were a little shit as a kid, weren’t you?”

but maddela meant a specific rock, because she had a thunderstone. she missed horribly with it, but i commend the effort.

there was a surprisingly long discussion about what food would be best to throw at these snowmen before they found out that they couldn’t throw food past this wall of force.

“alright, sergei, you’re up, what are you doing?” sergei: “i’m doing a pressed ham!”

this is a new term for me, but apparently it’s when you moon someone and press your whole ass up against the window.

why

like why in general but why in particular would you do that with a weird magical barrier

anyway he does it and takes 6 cold damage directly to his ass

“alright, so this snowman’s aiming right for your asshole i guess.” sergei: “what? he can’t see my asshole!” “I assumed you spread your cheeks.” sergei: “why would I do that?” “instinct.” sergei: “fair.”

“okay, let’s say if i roll a crit he hits you right on the asshole.” sergei: “do your worst!” and that is when i rolled my first and only nat20 of the night.

sergei: “i just took like sixteen damage to my ass, i’m not wagging my dick at them.”

they defeat the snowmen (which was indeed an encounter that i think i inadvertently stole the idea for from one of the TAZ liveshows but i realized after i statted it out so i used it) and move on without any more discussion of that

the road takes them up Mount Killjoy, where the Grunch lives in his cave. in the cave, they find a snow globe with a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer in it.

they try to take it, but the Grunch comes out with his dog mark and tells them they can’t do that. before he can explain why, a bolt of shadow comes from the entrance to the cave and destroys the snow globe, knocking it out of sergei’s hand

A dwarf walked on in tracking fresh fallen snow- The same dwarf that they met only hours ago. The miniature reindeer, before the squad’s eyes, Now freed from the globe grew to regular size. More rapid than Sergei, his coursers they came And he cackled, and giggled, and called them by name. “Now, Gnasher! Now, Ripper! Now Grinder and Pain! On, Killer! On, Chiller! On Scratch and Elaine! We have nightmares to cause, and a Critmit to steal! And soon these poor suckers won’t know what is real!” His face it was shifted, past our comprehension, The unnatural show too unnerving to mention. His flesh flopping flatly like meat from a deli With his midsection roiling from chest to his belly. “Ho ho!” said the monster in the Grunch’s house, “Your mind is your prison! I’m Sanity Klaus!”

did i make this whole adventure based around that one pun? yes, yes i did. i’m a serious dungeon master.

maddela: “are the reindeer in a, uh, 20 foot cluster with nobody else around?” “that’s real specific and makes me think you already have a plan.”

“yeah, you can’t use that without hitting sergei.” saida: “well you can do that, you’ve done that once and it’s fine!”

rhonia: “I will also let you know that I have 12 hit points right now.” yoni: “I don’t care, I want to hit things”

they fight with sanity klaus and his eight reindeer, who mostly bite, and also possess a power to turn their noses into flaming hot coals. everyone is surprisingly competent at fighting when they’re in a dream and not scared of using up resources, though, and they defeat him with very few injuries except rhonia being aged up through the use of Sands of Time

where’s that gif from the remake of jamie lee curtis holding her face and going “i’m like the cryptkeeper!” because i imagine that’s rhonia when she discovers she’s 30

maddela: “They have free will! They can do what they want!” “And what they want is to bite.”

the grunch thanks them for helping him defeat sanity klaus. it turns out, on festive nights like this, it’s easier for people in the plane of dreams to cross over to the material plane. usually the grunch does it to deliver presents every critmit, and spends most of the rest of the year working to keep sanity klaus in check, but this year he got the bright idea to get someone else in to free his reindeer and try and kill the grunch for him so he can cross to the material plane and work to spread madness there

so, the fuck squad saved critmit, and they’re definitely on the nice list despite all the innocent creatures they killed

yoni flapdragon puts the base of the snowglobe into the bag of trading, and gets a huge diamond, just, like, as big as both fists. just then, the grunch claps and they all wake up.

As the fuck squad awakened that bright Critmit morn, They were healed up, restored, bit hung over, but warm When they went down for breakfast, to all their surprise Our friend Jasper had glee in his smile and his eyes He held up a sack, that merry old bloke, Labelled “Gold to replace windows that the fuck squad broke.” “Someone left me this bag, down there, under that pine, And there are also some gifts down there that are not mine!” A teddy for Sergei, one that might fit a bear And a headdress for Maddela to go in her hair Rhonia got food and a pillow for naps, And Saida got a lavalliere- that’s four elf claps! For Yoni, a collar of intricate make With amethyst stones, that would fit her wee drake. As they opened their presents, they heard in their minds A voice that the waking world rarely would find. The Grunch calling out, his voice merry and bright “Happy Critmit to all, and to all a good night!”

#the fuck squad #fuck squad recaps #murray critmit to you and yours

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spaceorphan18 · 6 years

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Finding Kurt Hummel: The Back-Up Plan

Masterpost

5x18: The Back-Up Plan

And we’re continuing on with another great New York Arc episode. Kurt, however, is not in this episode as much as I remembered -- though I suppose it’s quality over quantity. I’m also slightly eye-rolly with the June stuff since it ultimately doesn’t really go anywhere. But these last few episodes of season 5 are a lot of fun. So, here we go....

June Dolloway

Okay - had to get a side shot for all of you guys to appreciate the entire outfit here. There’s a reason he’s holding his jacket -- those are some very tight pants there.

Alright - so I’m going to be honest about something. I’m not a big fan of this scene. Really, its...just a bad scene. The writing is horrible -- and it feels like Chris is having an awkward time saying it. Meanwhile, Darren feels like he’s just reciting lines. I’m not going to speculate on production values here - there are just very few times when things don’t seem to work between Kurt and Blaine (Chris and Darren) and this is one of them. (Though - I mainly blame the weird writing.)

And really, it’s the opening few beats. And Kurt’s ridiculous expository monologue about June where he sounds like Ryan Murphy and not Kurt. When they get to normal chatting, things come together after that. I don’t know...

Anyway - (I can’t still this scene, Kurt won’t stand still) - the gist is that socialite June Dolloway is around and Kurt’s going to sing for her, and enlists Blaine to help. Because they’re getting married and should do everything together.

What?

This is one of those weird show things where their idea of marriage is being joined at the hip. C’mon, show, what are you doing? At least they get points for remembering Klaine is engaged.

And for it being an outside scene. One nice aspect of the NYC arc is that they were able to open it up more, and it felt like a real world instead of everything happening on one school set.

Kurt’s happy at the end of this scene. Let’s let that be the take away from this one.

Moral Integrity

Kurt’s getting ready for his evening of singing in front of June Dolloway. But is this scene about Kurt? Nope! This scene is about Rachel.

I mean, it’s not unreasonable for Rachel to take a night off. It’s really not - that is why they have understudies. Her producer is kind of a dick about it. But -- yeah, it’s been a month and Rachel’s already getting bored of her dream job? Seriously?

Anyway - Rachel tries to validate her reasons for going off to Hollywood to book a TV show - and Kurt’s playing the role he always play -- moral compass, good angel, Jiminy Cricket - whatever you get the idea. He’s as irritated as the rest of us at her fickleness -- and points out that lying to her producer about auditioning for a TV pilot is kind of a dick move.

Kurt is so done with Rachel at this point. I’m now back to wondering why they are friends because every scene they have is again about Rachel, and Kurt’s beyond annoyed. I suppose this might be some set up for Old Dogs, New Tricks, but idk...

Story of My Life

I’m kind of laughing that they named the dance hall after June -- because NYADA apparently only has one room - and it’s the dance hall. Man.

Anyway - look at these cuties in complementary outfits. Kurt’s jazzed to meet June, but I’m still not entirely sure why.

Alright - let’s break this down a little, because I have some things to say.

So - this scene is supposed to be reminiscent of when they did Animal way back in season 2. Kurt’s an awkward little goober while Blaine is suave and charming. On one level, I get it. June’s a celebrity, and when Kurt tries too hard, he ends up falling on his face time and time again. (It’s also supposed to be funny - but I find Kurt’s actions cringe worthy, and I don’t come back to this performance - ever.)

At the same time, Kurt’s not 16 anymore, and has had all this training at NYADA -- that’s got to count for something. On top of that, I’m getting tired of a narrative that says because Kurt’s not charming in the way Blaine is that he’s not able to be professional about -- whatever. It kind of goes back to the dialogue of early season 3, but not necessarily about passing or not passing but about how good a performer you are.

And -- my thing is -- Kurt’s voice is incredible in this number, and until they start the ridiculous choreography, Kurt’s actually pretty wonderful. So, I wish they hadn’t hammed it up, tbh, because the June being dismissive of Kurt would be more because of those early season 3 passing/not passing conversations instead of Kurt just failing at his performance.

(I mean - how would have Kurt been picked in the first place if he wasn’t good at performance?)

Anyway - the scene just doesn’t work for me, though I get it’s necessity due to plot reasons.

There isn’t much more I’d like to comment on the song either. Other than the lines about ‘her’ not feeling it in her bones being a clue about June’s feelings towards Kurt, I think this is the most impersonal duet they ever do.

I may be alone in this opinion - idk, I haven’t discussed it with anyone -- but I think the whole shifty eye thing June does to confuse who she’s talking to is a weird way of doing it. It just makes Shirley MacClaine look awkward.

I do appreciate Blaine’s honest-to-god support of Kurt when they both think it’s about Kurt, though. And excited Kurt remains a goober. I say you lucked out though, kid, June is kind of the worst and you’re better off not being her lump of coal - as Blaine’s going to find out.

Old Marrieds

This is, perhaps, my favorite scene in the episode - and one of the best Klaine scenes we ever get. Because unlike that awful first scene, this is really where the actors shine, and Kurt and Blaine feel like a couple who’s been together for a very long time. There’s a nice sense of familiarity and connection in the scene that does make them feel like they’ve been married for twenty-five years. I love it. I wish they had more scenes like this together in the second half of the series.

So, Blaine’s getting ready for his evening with June - and Kurt’s helping him get ready. There’s a slight tension here, as Blaine’s concerned about Kurt and his well being. And I love that Kurt’s pretty honest about it. He’s disappointed, and slightly jealous, but has no resentment towards Blaine about it. He’s being supportive, and cares about Blaine’s well being, too. Kurt’s often touted as a selfish character - but it’s moment like these that I’d argue he’s really, really not.

I kind of love that Kurt’s back to being pragmatic about June and the situation in whole. It’s a good opportunity for Blaine to move forward in his career, but she’s not a friend - and no, she really doesn’t have his best interest at heart, and Kurt’s probably more aware of that than Blaine.

I kind of love the other little touches in this scene -- Kurt doesn’t want Blaine to worry about him, reminds him that they’re in this together - so even if Kurt’s not there -- he’s still there spiritually, calls him handsome, and gives him a nothing kiss (which is fantastic! because we don’t get nothing kisses between the two of them -- something that’s a nice touch that establishes, uh, yeah, these two are intimate with each other on a regular basis, but don’t need to be swallowing each other whole every time they touch lips).

It’s a great scene.

And it ends with this little moment of sadness for Kurt. Yeah - he is proud of Blaine, he’s sincere in his words. But kind of like with the whole Tony/West Side Story thing - Kurt’s struggle with making it in the real world is a lot harder than Blaine’s (though Blaine definitely has some of his own issues to work through). And this little moment acknowledges that. It’s a nice touch.

While Kurt’s not in any of the Blaine/June scenes, Blaine does talk about Kurt quite a bit. And one thing that most definitely comes up is the show’s weird dichotomy that you can either have love or a career. They pulled this with Finchel back in season 3 (though I think it makes more sense then). I think it’s fine here as a bit of drama, I can see someone like June wanting to mold Blaine into something of her own - and while being completely dismissive of Kurt based on one awkward performance, if they had any extended interaction - I could see her not liking him because he’s too headstrong to let June be in control.

While I don’t think it’s out of nowhere that someone ‘in charge’ would ask Blaine to break it off with Kurt because reasons, this is going to stop being an external conflict and more internal when Blaine lies about the whole thing. Idk - maybe it might have been interesting to see how they deal with Blaine getting a break but not wanting Kurt - but the two of them figuring out how to navigate it together. I get why they went the route they did -- still, the whole June thing seems a little, idk, lacking at the end of the day.

Helping Rachel

I don’t know why - but they’re (idk who they are in this scenario) really bad with the engagement ring continuity. Two close ups of Kurt talking to Rachel, and in one of them, there’s not a ring. Step it up guys, really.

Anyway - Rachel’s stuck in LA and can’t get back for her show, and the understudy fell down stairs or something, so... now it’s Kurt’s issue? Ug.

So - Kurt frantically tries to reach Mercedes and Santana, who are busy being awesome friends. Kurt ends up finding them at the diner - and says that they should do a bomb threat, or bedbug scare, or claim Barbra’s doing a free show in Central Park to stop the show -- which, agreed, are all horrible ideas. Though Chris’s comedy is top notch in this scene. Again, I don’t know why Kurt is so stressed out about it -- why not let Rachel have some consequences for her actions for once. But -- Maybe cause Mercedes’s good friend juice is wearing on her, Santana says she’ll step up and play Fanny for a night.

Couch Time

I kind of like that they show Kurt and Blaine at the brownstone instead of the loft -- nice to show that they hang out in both places instead of just the loft. Tbh, I think Blaine’s place looks way more comfortable, and has way less Rachel in it.

But -- as Kurt says, he and Blaine haven’t been spending a lot of time together lately cause Blaine’s spending all of this time with June lately. Kurt’s interested in the details (though - god, all the name dropping again, this doesn’t really sound like Kurt, but some middle-aged dude who cares about these people), but the point is Kurt wants some alone Blaine time, and not just because gossip.

It’s also brought up, again, that a win for one of them is a win for both of them. While I do think there’s some value in being happy for your partner, I think the whole joined at the hip angle is weird in general. This show is just...weird when it comes to relationships of any kind some times.

Kurt is genuinely happy to hear that Blaine’s getting a showcase, and would have been 100% supportive fiance if it rested there (and he is a few episodes from now.) But Blaine lies, I think cause he wants to spare Kurt’s feelings? Cause he doesn’t want Kurt to go nuclear on June? (I would have loved to have seen that!) Blaine’s own insecurities about the whole thing? Plot?

The point is - Blaine says Kurt has a part when he doesn’t -- which means instead of just being normally ecstatic, Kurt’s over the moon ecstatic. And Blaine finds himself in a self-made pickle.

As an aside, I also kinda love that Kurt does have some boundaries. He is not up for any kind of weird cougar-ish behavior June might be trying out on Blaine. You can do a lot of things, Blaine, but the only sexy times you’ll be having is with me. (And Blaine is totally cool with that.)

And even though Blaine’s already feeling guilty about the whole lie thing - I’m pretty sure they’re gonna skip the movie and go straight to sexy times. I mean, Mercedes and Sam have already used the couch for sexy times. I think Kurt and Blaine should get a chance, too. :)

And that’s it! Yeah - not a whole lot of Kurt in this one. But, I mean, at least there are some really great moments in here.

#finding kh #kurt hummel

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blazingtheway · 3 years

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Those who know you, see it all – Leah Solo

❝ 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗧𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗺𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂. ❞ - 𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚 𝘽𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙩𝙩 - 𝙃𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙮 I’d walked into my Ma’s house earlier not expecting to meet anyone. I should have known better. The Elders were all sat around her living room with some ladies from the Rez committee too. ‘How can we make up the rest of the shortfall this year? It’s been hard making things work on the tight budget we have as it is.’ One of the women said as she sipped on her mug of coffee. ‘It’s true, year by year the costs are going up and the money we raise isn’t meeting our requirements.’ The other added. #Billy sat in his chair to the side, biting into a freshly baked muffin as he listened. He glanced towards the door where I stood with my arms crossed over my chest from time to time. ‘We have some events still to come, and we have the government grant request for this year still pending. That should be enough to see us through the year.’ Ma said as she walked around to the coffee table refilling her own cup. I frowned a little, biting the inside of my cheeks as I stood listening to them. ‘Do you have something to say Lealea?’ #Billy asked without even needing to look cup from his muffin. “Me? Why would I have something to add?” I asked staying where I stood. All I had wanted this morning was to see Ma, have some breakfast and be on my way. And now I was stood here listening to how money was tight once again for the committee. ‘Oh, I swear I could hear your mind working over time there.’ The old man wasn’t as slow as he liked to act in front of these women. Even if they were eyeing him up like he was a T-bone steak. “Is that so?” I half smirked at him. ‘Usdi, if you have something…’ Ma smiled full on her motherly supportive smile at me. The one that I could never hide away from. I shifted my feet, crossing one ankle over the other. My eyes were trained on a painting on the far wall that my Ma loved. The colours all worked into one another, and there was always a pull for me to look at it when I needed to think. “The thing that gets to me…” I began. “Is the fact that we end up here each and every year.” ‘Of course, we do, it’s because we need to spend money to make things better.’ The woman with the mug in her hands said, giving me a look that I knew too well. She was one of the gossip queens of the tribe, and she never had anything nice to say about the girl who was; 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴.’ I rolled my eyes, shifting my body weight to stand upright. My height was enough to shut most people up. And add to the fact that they never saw me smile or say more than what was necessary, gave them all enough reasons to stay away from me. ‘Go on Lealea, I am listening.’ #Billy said, shutting the woman up, making her flush in her cheeks. “As I was saying… The committee ends up in the same place each year. And Yes…” I continued before I could be disturbed once again. “I know that this is not a business, and the sole job of this committee is to spend money to make things better for the tribe. But why is it not a business? All the ladies and some of the men dedicate their time and efforts for free and willingly. But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something with that. The Rez could do with a store or a market stall, you all make and give away your talents for free.” I pointed to the muffins everyone was eating. “Ma, you bake those every day and hand them out to everyone. You could give them to the Rez store to sell to the tourists and the townies. You never take money for them anyway, so that now becomes an income for the committee.” Reaching out to the side I picked up a small wolf. “Billy, you carved this. What is stopping you from giving them to the store too?” Everyone looked to each other, Ma’s face was full of glee and pride. ‘It’s going to take money to set up a store. Money, we don’t have.’ The other woman said. “If you start small, a market stall with little outgoings, and then when profit is reached, we turn it into a full on building. That will work.

How much does it cost to hire a booth in the weekly market? And then you need the truck to move goods about?” ‘I am happy to give my time to doing that part.’ One of the men sat beside Billy on a chair said. “Great, and then Ma…” I looked over to her. “You and Ms. C had that brilliant idea about a car wash. Which Seth, Mac and I have agreed to host at the #HWH. We will pay for a BBQ and drinks. All the money goes to the committee. That in itself will help to pay towards things.” I saw how the two other women glanced at each other. I didn’t know if it was because of what I was saying, or if it was the mention of Ms.C. but I was praying to the Spirits that they would say something right now. I would rip their heads off for every word said. ‘No, you will not, we are better than them. They go low, and we always go high.’ My wolf whispered to me. ‘Tiff has it all planned, she has everything lined up and we were hoping now that the weather is getting better, we could do it soon.’ Ma said and I nodded my head. ‘This is her treatment week, so I plan on being there with her. We will talk and discuss the finer points and get back to you and the boys.’ “She’s done an amazing job, without ever asking for thanks or pushing her work in other people’s faces for praise.” I said pointedly looking at the gossip queen. #Billy sat trying to hide his chuckle, but it didn’t work. ‘This is all food for thought ladies. Leah is a good business woman, and she has the insight to help you. If you do not let your pride, get in the way of doing good for our tribe that is.’ #Billy finally said. I turned and left them all to talk. My stomach needed to be fed. And I didn’t need to see their faces reacting to #Billy’s comments. Making my way into the Kitchen, I took out the leftover ham that Ma always roasted on a Sunday and started to make myself a sandwich. The sound of #Billy’s wheelchair rolling over the floor announced his arrival. ‘Those were some good ideas; I’m shocked that we didn’t think of them before. And you handled the ladies well too.’ He said coming to a stop. “It was nothing, I’ve dealt with worse.” I told him. My eyes remaining on the counter and the sandwich I was in the middle of making. ‘Hmm. This life is tough for most Lealea, but you are tougher.’ He rolled to my side and moved to face me. I turned my hands so that the scars weren’t visible to him. ‘Some of the boys were saying that they heard something happening in the forest the other night. That a tree had gone down.’ He said it off handed, but I knew him. Nothing was off handed for Billy Black. ‘They said that nothing else was hurt or damaged. Just a tree…’ 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵. I thought to myself. “I see… Do you want a sandwich” I asked. I could feel his eyes on me. ‘Sure, sure. Who could say no to Sue’s ham?’ he wheeled himself to the kitchen table. ‘Oh, how are your new doors? Joe from the hardware store was saying you had been in.’ I rolled my eyes. “Can’t a person do anything on this Rez without word getting back to you?” Plating up the food I moved to sit down setting his plate before him, moving my hands fast but not fast enough from the way his eyebrows quirked. “As you know everything and everyone. I have two good doors up for sale, if you know anyone who needs them.” I had to change all three of the doors in my house, so that they were the same. And it was time to update them anyway. At least that was my story, and I was sticking to it. Also, I may as well try to see some money back from the changes I had made. But the truth was I would just hand then over if someone really needed them. ‘Two?’ #Billy picked up half of the sandwich and looked at it. Paying a little too much attention to the bread and the ham. ‘Joe said that you bought three doors from him.’ He took a bite and chewed on it for a moment. ‘I’ll ask around. I’m sure we can find a good home for 𝘛𝘸𝘰 doors.’ I didn’t say a word, it was my way around things. They all knew I didn’t lie, but that didn’t mean I had to give them the full story

of everything or anything in my life.

#LeahClearwater #Leah #HotHeadSheWolf #SpiritsHotHead #Twilight #TwilightRP #TwiRP #AUStories

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uk-news-talking-politics · 4 years

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Brexit 2020: Everything you need to know about Boris Johnson's trade deal nightmare

By Ian Dunt

Cool, so everything's sorted right? Brexit is getting done, everything's going back to normal and I never have to talk about trade again.

Oh yeah, no sorry. That's all a lie. We are about to enter the most perilous system-level recalibration of an advanced economy in trading history.

What.

Yeah, all that nightmare of the last four years was the easy part. Now we have to figure out our future trading relationship with the EU.

I saw Boris Johnson on the telly the other day.

Really? That never happens anymore.

No, it was crazy. He just popped up. It was like a Big Foot sighting. Anyway, he seemed to suggest it was all really easy. We'd get it done in a year and then be free to do whatever we want.

Yeah, that's the official narrative. But the reality is very different.

Are you suggesting that the government is making a sustained attempt to deceive the public in order to hide the fact that they have an impossible set of negotiating goals and no competence to deliver them?

Yes, I know. It's hard to believe.

I know what happens now. You start talking about fisheries and regulatory alignment and customs procedures and then I gradually lose the will to live and have to order extremely expensive whisky.

That's right, that's how this works. So here's the thing. The government wants to get the Brexit deal negotiated, ratified and implemented in eleven months, before December 31st. They were entitled to an extension but have decided not to take it. That means the deal is going to have to be proper bare-bones - a completely stripped-down set of negotiating goals.

Like what?

Tariffs, basically. Nothing else. Just eliminate the tariffs.

What are tariffs again?

They're taxes on goods crossing borders. The thing is, most tariffs are already very low. Decades of worldwide tariff-reduction rounds have hammered them down in pretty much every area but agriculture. So it's a very modest bar to set. It also means that services - which are kind of key to our economy - are completely forgotten about. And it does nothing about the real problem areas of trade - alignment, customs checks and rules of origin.

Yeah, that's it. That's where I switch off. I swear these words are like hypnotic suggestions to close down brain function.

Bear with me, they're all pretty simple when you break them down. And the implications of them can smash local economies, which then has a massive political impact. Will people blame Brexit? The government? Or the EU? Remainers? Immigrants? The knock-on effect of these decisions will define our politics for years to come. Which is troubling, because it's not clear the government has any idea what it's doing.

How so?

Take the distinction between goods and services. Sounds simple right? Goods are things and services are, well, services - legal, financial, hairdressing, whatever. But actually that's a crude distinction that doesn't reflect the reality of how businesses work. Car companies, for instance, sell cars. But many of them also often offer the financing for the car, which allows the person buying it to pay in monthly installments. So in that capacity they're actually functioning as a mini-bank. And banking is…

A service.

Exactly. The same is true for loads of companies, like IBM, say, or Hewlett Packard. They sell things. But they also sell services. So even at this very basic level, going for a goods-only deal already has a massive knock-on effect on businesses. If they want to keep on selling the services in Europe, they have to internally restructure to get into the right regulatory regime. Sometimes that'll be big news - they'll close an office or factory. Sometimes it'll be a case of moving staff around or bulking up whatever office they have on the continent to get recognition there, and it'll slip under the radar. But the long-term danger is that all the high-knowledge, proper value-added activity goes to Europe.

Grim.

Yep. And things get uglier when you look at regulations.

Yeah I heard about this. What are they exactly?

Regulations are one of the key aspects of international trade. Countries have different regulatory regimes. So when they trade, people have to show that they are satisfying the requirements of the country the good ends up in. That entails a lot of time and paperwork. Until now, Britain has been part of Europe's regulations regime. Now it wants to completely detach itself. But we're so deeply ingrained in continental trading networks that we can't afford either time or paperwork.

How come?

Basically because of our reliance on a manufacturing system called Just-In-Time. Manufacturing depends on this to keep costs down. It means that you avoid holding a lot of stock. Instead, you get the parts you need, literally, just in time. And we are absolutely locked into this. So for instance BMW makes the engines for its Mini model at Hams Hall just outside Birmingham. But the engine blocks come from France to the UK, where they're drilled and processed, then go to Cologne in Germany for more engineering, then back to the UK for final assembly. GKN in Birmingham also makes the drive line for many cars - this is what transmits power from the engine to the wheels. But it uses components from Spain, Italy, France, Germany and the UK. Millions of components come across the Channel every day to arrive just as they're needed.

Is this primarily a car thing?

No, it goes across the board, in Britain's most successful manufacturing sectors. Take aviation. Nearly 80% of aerospace components manufactured in the UK are exported. And the important part there is in the word 'components'. That's what we do. We don't make the whole plane. As a country, we specialise in wings, landing gear, engines and avionic systems - the electrical equipment in the cockpit. All of that is regulated by the European Aviation Safety Authority (Easa). Everything you see on a plane in Europe, numbering over 5,000 different parts, has been vouched for by them, down to the little trolley serving you drinks when you ask for your fourth rum and Coke and the air steward starts to look at you suspiciously. Oh, and his training is overseen by them too, as is the pilot's, and that of the engineers.

It's the godfather of aviation regulation.

That's right. The industry is clear: it needs to hold Easa tight. And not just Easa. It also wants a close relationship with Reach - Europe's chemical safety regulation system - because they use those chemicals in the manufacturing process. There is zero reason to deviate from this regulatory framework. There are literally no upsides. The UK is not going to start setting international standards for aviation on its own. The trend in the global industry is towards alignment, because everyone wants the same things - a safe product, with fuel efficiency, which is clean and quiet and cheap to run, and which can be traded in a complex supply chain with a minimum of friction.

Can you stay in Easa from outside the EU though?

Sure. It's an EU body, but it has various agreements with non-EU countries. Or you can just align and basically mimic whatever it does. And why not? The industry will make products to those specifications anyway, simply to trade them easily.

So surely that's what we'd do. It sounds insane to do anything else.

Yes it would be insane, wouldn't it? But apparently that's what's going to happen.

You're not serious.

Who knows. Theresa May's administration had pretty much decided to stay in the system. The political declaration for the future relationship she signed with the EU said the UK would "explore the possibility of cooperation" with Easa and then added: "In this context, the United Kingdom will consider aligning with Union rules in relevant areas." But then things got a bit weird. Johnson updated the political declaration when he got his deal and he made some small but quite striking changes.

Like?

Well the line on 'exploring possibilities' stayed, but the following sentence, on alignment, was deleted. That raised a lot of alarm. And then the chancellor, Sajid Javid, told the Financial Times this weekend that "there will not be alignment, we will not be a ruletaker". So right now, if we're to take the government's word for it, no - we're going to pull away, for no reason at all, and at enormous cost. Or they could be lying to sound tough and Brexity. Or they could think it's a negotiating gambit with the EU. Who knows?

OK. So you've now been talking about regulations for what feels like several days. Is that it?

No I'm afraid not. The government also wants out of the customs union. That means it's also a customs problem. Manufacturers will have to fill out two sets of forms - one for regulations, one for customs. In the case of agriculture, they'll also have to satisfy health checks - these are called sanitary and phytosanitary measures. And that takes place on or near the border.

Please tell me this section is over. Hell, please tell me it's all over and the final days are upon us. Anything to escape this relentless carnival of doom.

The worst bit is yet to come, I'm afraid. It's called rules of origin and it is horrible. It's a kind of bureaucracy that kicks in when you have a trade agreement.

How does that make sense? Surely trade agreements are suppose to reduce bureaucracy.

Yep, but they need an insurance policy. So imagine the UK and EU do a trade agreement eliminating tariffs. And then the UK does a separate agreement with the US eliminating tariffs.

Sounds ideal.

Quite. But the EU and US don't have a trade deal eliminating tariffs. So now there is an incentive for the US to ship goods to the UK for entry into the EU as a way of sidestepping the taxes on their exports to Europe, but without having to make any of the concessions a trade deal would involve. Rules of origin checks are how you get around that problem.

How do they work?

The purpose of the rules is to find out where something was made. But the way of doing that changes depending on what kind of good it is. There's different rules in different sectors. Sometimes they measure a country's economic contribution to the product, such as its capital or the labour or intellectual input. There's also different grades of change in the product. You often have to show that the product has transformed from one customs category to another in a substantial way.

Did something terrible happen to you when you were a child?

Hey I didn't make the rules. But they do make sense. And this, arguably more than regulations or customs, is going to be one of the defining issues impacting on Britain in the years to come. Actually, it's already happening.

How so?

The EU and South Africa, for instance, have a deal on rules of origin allowing components from the other side to count towards the 'local content' tally. But when the UK leaves, its components will automatically be excluded from the total. So last July BMW redirected engine production from the UK to Germany for South African production. That could be the start of a trend.

How big a problem is this?

Very big. British car production leans heavily on parts and processes in the EU and Turkey. If those are excluded from the calculations, they wouldn't satisfy the rules of origin requirements. And even working it out is a nightmare - a horrible tangled web of multiple supply chains, with their own separate supply chains for component parts, and then multiple layers of subcontractors and goods going back and forth. And it's not just goods like cars and planes either. The same goes for food. Chickens reared in the UK often go off to the Netherlands for slaughter then come back and are turned into ready meals. So how much work went into the chicken to make it British? And what happens when it's put on a frozen supermarket pizza?

Civilised people don't put chicken on pizza.

That's where you're wrong. Chicken is a perfectly respectable pizza topping. But even if the chicken is British, what about the dough, the tomato sauce and all the other stuff? It's a nightmare. Just working this stuff out will put a massive new burden on British producers, who never had to do any of it before. And that assumes they can even pass the test and get the product to a level where it has enough domestic components to satisfy the rules.

Is there any way out of this?

In terms of the faff of it, no. But there is a way to make the test easier to pass. We need the rules of origin to have something called a cumulation provision.That means some inputs from outside the UK count towards domestic content. There are two main ways to do that: bilateral or diagonal. Bilateral would mean stuff done in the EU and UK would count. Diagonal includes the UK and EU and extends it to other countries who have trade deals with both of us. That would fix the South Africa problem BMW had. But even there they have different levels. We would want something called 'full cumulation', meaning that no matter how small the work done in different countries, it counts.

So it's a no-brainer, right? You go for full cumulation diagonal rules of origin. Oh and look at that. You have made the most unspeakable words come out of my mouth.

Yep, you totally would. But that's in the EU's gift. It gives them significant leverage over us. And honestly, listening to the weirdly bullying rhetoric coming from the UK government, it's not clear Downing Street realises that.

Election went to their head.

There's a lot that's gone to their head.

OK so I think I get this. It's ultimately pretty simple right? The Brits want the Brexit talks done in one year so they've reduced their negotiating goal to tariff elimination and that is going to hurt us.

Not all of us equally. Small firms will be hit harder than large firms and poorer areas will be hit harder than richer areas.

But of course, because the reality of the world is inversely proportional to any sense of moral justice.

Pretty much. Small firms selling less than £250,000 of merchandise to the EU, of which there are tens of thousands, will be forced into filling out all sorts of forms they've never had any contact with before. That'll be a much bigger burden on them than it will the big firms selling over that amount, or who already trade with the rest of the world. And the cost of adopting the new system might outweigh the benefit of exporting the goods in the first place.

Why does this mostly affect poorer areas?

Well there's a cruel irony to the effects of a hard Brexit: It won't really hurt Remain-voting areas but it's likely to seriously damage Brexit-supporting areas.

This is insane.

Yes, it is. The kinds of industries which could get really pummelled - automobile, aerospace and that - are mainly based in the Midlands and the North. Remain-voting London, on the other hand, is less exposed to European markets. It's economy is already hyper-globalised, arguably more so than any other city in the world. Decision-makers in the capital are often on the phone to Namibia, Honduras or Belize. But the decision-makers in Hull are more likely to be on the phone to Denmark and Germany.

Gotcha.

There's another problem too.

Oh cool, another one, yeah why not.

Tariffs aren't the only ask. Britain has also got a negotiating goal on fishing.

Fishing? Really? Surely that's a tiny dot in the economy. And given that they've given up services you wouldn't expect them to get too het up about.

True. But it matters to the communities who do it and it has a political importance that far exceeds its economic impact. Britain also has a watertight legal case for its demand. Basically, sovereign coastal states have a 200 mile limit out to sea in which they can fish, under the UN Law of the Sea Convention.

Cool name for an international convention.

Isn't it. The whole thing is very Aquaman.

I always preferred Namor.

Everyone sensible does. He has those little wings on his ankles which let him fly. That is so preposterous and wonderful at the same time. Imagine what it looks like to see him fly with the little wing thingies on his ankles.

You were talking about fisheries policy.

Ah yes. So the British position is simple. We are now going to be a sovereign coastal state. We want our 200 mile limit. We'll decide what goes on there. The EU position is very different. It wants everything to stay the same as it is right now.

And what is the status quo for fishing exactly?

Basically anything outside of 12 miles from a member state is a common area. The stocks of individual fish species are then divided up between countries in set quotas to prevent overfishing. So Britain might have a 15% share of a particular stock, for instance. Those quotas are set. They do not change. But each year scientists provide advice on the total allowable catch. If it was 100,000 tonnes, Britain would get 15,000 tonnes that year. And that's how they divide up the stock.

So they want that to stick.

Yeah. But Britain, on the other hand, will probably want something like what Norway has. Each year, in the autumn, Norway gets together with the Europeans and sorts out some annual fish arrangements. It's fraught and tense, but it has a lot of power in the talks. They haggle over how much of a quota it gets on certain stocks. And unlike in the EU, that quota can change. Sometimes, if no agreement can be reached, Norway just says you can't fish in their waters at all. Britain would love to operate just like that.

Why can't it? You said the law is on the UK side.

It is, but the leverage isn't.

Recurring theme.

Quite. We can take control of our waters and block anyone fishing within 200 miles of them if we want, but there's a problem: we don't eat our own fish. Eighty per cent of what we catch goes to the EU. The fish we actually eat - good old British fish and chips - mostly comes from Norway and Iceland.

Ok, but so what?

So the European threat is simple. If we don't do what they want they'll put tariffs on fish. That would absolutely hammer our fishing industry. The tariffs are high in this area and it would apply on almost everything it sells.

OK so what about some sort of compromise? Maybe the UK could stay in the EU system but they agree to rejig the quotas a bit to placate us.

Tempting, but the trouble is that would involve opening up the whole quota debate across the EU again. It would be like opening Pandora's Fish Box. They won't do that.

So we're faced with two sides with really quite distant goals in a highly emotional area of trade.

Yep. Which is why it's instructive to look at how they plan to talk about this. Britain wants to talk about fish separately to everything else. But the Europeans aren't having any of that. They want to bring the issue into the general trade discussion. And that'll be the attitude throughout - the British trying to silo off individual topics so they can't be used as leverage against each other and the Europeans making it more comprehensive.

What is it the Europeans actually want?

I thought you'd never ask. It's quite simple. They don't want Britain to undercut them. And that's not just about price - it's about regulations, subsidies and taxes.

What do you mean?

Well take Ireland. It basically functions as a kind of tax haven. This distorts the market and leads a bunch of major international companies to set up base there, where they pay hardly any tax. Countries like France hate that. Now, they might not be able to fully control tax policy, but they will want to make damn sure the same thing doesn't happen with Britain.

This is the Singapore of Europe thing right?

Right. Britain will be experiencing two things simultaneously after the end of the transition period. First, a degree of damage to its trading status, the exact extent of which depends on how the trade talks go. And second, some freedom it did not have before. So where does that lead you? Well you're still a big country which can encourage companies to set up with you because of your infrastructure, language, culture and all that. So why not slash corporate taxes to the bone, lower regulations and subsidise business? Make yourself as low standard and attractive as possible. The Europeans want firm commitments to stop this happening.

How do you know?

When the new European Commission president Ursula von der Leyen came to London recently her priorities were clear: "Zero tariffs, zero quotas, zero dumping." That's an interesting set of priorities. Used in this context, 'zero dumping' sounds like code for UK firms undercutting European ones.

Like how?

Well environmental regulations for one. The EU is about to bring in a massive new green initiative, including carbon tax and carbon VAT tax. It doesn't want that undermined by Britain basically exporting lots of dirty carbon to the EU. Same with what's called 'social dumping' - unfair labour practices like easy firing laws. And the same with subsidies - throwing cash at an industry so it can outperform its competitors overseas. This is disciplined at the WTO, but China does very well operating in the grey area of the rules. Britain could try and do the same.

This is really their main priority?

Pretty much. Britain isn't their biggest concern globally - the US and China are - but it is a big meaty economy, which can heavily undercut them, right on their doorstep. Lowering environmental or labour or subsidy standards would allow this, and might tempt firms over from the rest of the world to invest in the UK rather than the EU - or, hell, even get firms in the EU to move. Taken together, this is called the 'level playing field' debate. And it is central to the European negotiating aim.

So this is where one of the main battles will be?

Yep. And it has a knock-on effect on the timetable. Johnson is desperate to get this all done in eleven months. But the level playing field issue has a procedural impact which could make that impossible.

How so?

It's because of how the EU works. It's split up into different competencies. Some things member states have pretty much to themselves, like criminal justice. Some things are mixed competencies, like the environment. And some things are exclusive competencies of the EU, like trade. If the talks with the UK were completely focused on trade, the European Commission could insist that it has exclusive competence. That would be great news for the UK. It would mean that only the Council, where national leaders meet, and the parliament, where MEPs vote, needed to sign off on the deal. But if the deal expands to include things like the environment - and the level playing field issue does exactly that - then it becomes a mixed agreement. And that means you need each and every member state to ratify it according to their domestic political arrangements.

Christ alive. So every national parliament would need to OK it?

Yeah and not just them. In some cases, their constitutional arrangements mean even regional parliaments, like the one in Wallonia in Belgium, would also need to ratify. When Canada did a trade deal with the EU, Wallonia actually refused and for a brief moment it looked like the whole thing would fall down.

Damn.

And actually it goes further than that. A non-mixed agreement would be decided by a qualified vote in the Council. That's important, because it means you don't have to keep them all on board - just most of them. But if it has to be decided by every individual state, you need something for everyone in there, and nothing too terrible for anyone either. The whole thing becomes a lot more complicated and hard to negotiate.

Can the UK prevent this?

It's unlikely. Nearly everyone believes this is a mixed agreement. Member states want to maintain EU unity, but they all have different interests with the UK. They'll want to be able to have an impact on negotiations.

So that it then? There's no way Johnson can get his deal ratified in time?

Yes and no. There is still a get-out clause. The UK and EU can take the trade aspects and provisionally apply them in areas where the EU has exclusive competence. Then the deal goes out for ratification to national parliaments, for however long that takes. And then when they've agreed, it's all put back together and gets properly ratified. There's a bit of wriggle room, basically.

OK.

The trouble is what happens if a member state says no. That happens. The Netherlands rejected the EU's association agreement with Ukraine after a referendum. Greece decided it wanted protection for Ouzo in the South African talks. And if that happens, you have to reopen the agreement and work it all through again to try and find a compromise. Basically, you are sucked into the domestic and regional politics of 27 other member states. And there's no predicting which way that will go.

God.

Yeah. And then there's the thing we haven't mentioned, which is an absolute monster of administrative confusion and grim political consequences.

I can't believe this isn't over yet and you are still talking. Have I died and gone to the Bad Place?

We're all in the Bad Place. You must surely know that now.

Yeah, good point. OK, hit me.

Northern Ireland.

Christ, I'd forgotten about that.

So has the British government. This week, the Stormont Assembly voted unanimously - all parties and not a single vote against - to withhold consent from Johnson's Brexit deal. But even without their consent, it is going to be imposed on them. And it is an absolute godawful mess.

Why?

The deal Johnson did with the EU on Northern Ireland says that it stays in the UK customs territory but follows EU customs rules. It's not clear that he understood the implications of this. It means that a British trader selling into Northern Ireland would need to prove the goods are going to stay there, or pay the EU tariff.

Doesn't sound so bad.

But think about how weird it is. All around the world, goods arriving at a customs border are asked questions about the past - what is it, where was it made, how was it made? But now they are going to be asked questions about their future - where will it end up? And that is fundamentally unknowable. How do you prove it stayed in Northern Ireland? Let's say it's by a receipt on sale. How do you prove that the person you sold it to isn't then selling it into the EU? And this isn't just for final goods. It's also for goods for processing. So you need to know about the supply chain of the people you sell to as well.

I see the problem.

We don't even really have much data to prepare us for this because we don't track British trade to Northern Ireland, for the simple reason that it was always treated as domestic. The kind of information you'd usually have to prepare for a free trade agreement simply doesn't exist.

This is horrible.

It gets much worse. How is Northern Ireland supposed to prepare for this? If the British government succeeds in securing zero tariffs across the board, then life gets marginally easier, although you'd still need to deal with regulatory checks. But if it doesn't, we won't know what the outstanding tariffs will be until close to the deadline. And the Northern Irish system needs to be up and running at the end of transition on December 31st, with all the infrastructure and monitoring that entails. Put simply: It can't be done.

What's Johnson's plan?

He doesn't have one, or at least he hasn't revealed it. Probably the former. He still insist trade will be frictionless, even though this simply cannot be true by virtue of the deal he himself signed. The government also insists that "largely electronic" processes - the high-tech-solutions band back together again for a reunion tour - will solve everything. And then, even if everything works out in the best possible way and all the highest aspirations of the high-tech solutions come to pass, there is still a ghastly problem we have to face.

Alright, I'm strapped in. What is it?

Rules of origin.

No, come on. Not again man. Don't do this to me. We've done that.

Yeah, but it applies here too. The Northern Ireland arrangement is permanent. It stays in place even if the UK and EU have a trade agreement. And that means it has to function as if it's in the EU customs union. And that means…

Rules of origin between Britain and Northern Ireland.

Exactly. Those laborious, nightmarish requirements, carved right into UK territory.

Do they have to do these checks at the border?

No. You can do it away from the border. But the impact on businesses will be huge. Exporters from Britain, who are used to sending things to Northern Ireland as if it were the same country, will suddenly face the full bureaucratic horror show of rules of origin. They will need to decide if they want to go to all the work of figuring out where all their inputs come from, and where their suppliers source their inputs, and where their supplier's suppliers source their inputs. Or whether it is cheaper to simply stop exporting to Northern Ireland. Which many of them are very likely to do.

What's the political consequence of this?

It shows that Johnson's promise of frictionless trade between Britain and Northern Ireland is an outright lie. In fact, his deal creates a permanent border within the UK. It will never go away. It is set in stone. And the worst part, the really immoral part, is that this is happening without the consent of the people it is being imposed on. How that plays out, against the background of Irish politics and the prospect of sudden infrastructure and monitoring arrangements, and impossible timetables, is anyone's guess. But one thing is clear: No responsible person would have done this.

OK. Please tell me this is over now.

Yes. But also, it's only just beginning.

Just on the off chance that I fell asleep through any of that, can you give me a quick executive summary.

Sure. Johnson has set himself an arbitrary one-year deadline for a trade talk with the EU. The consequence of this is that the deal is bare bones, excluding services or - probably, if they're not lying - alignment on goods. Unless he changes course, this will be highly damaging to UK industry, especially those based in the Midlands and the North. He also wants control of fisheries. The EU want fisheries to stay as they were and a set of level playing field provisions to stop the UK undercutting them in future. They will try to secure these outcomes by keeping all the issues in play at the same time, so they can leverage them against each other. Whatever happens, the UK must deal with rules of origin requirements, which are extremely painful and will have potentially ruinous results between Britain and Northern Ireland.

Can you make it shorter than that?

The government either does not know what it is doing or is not prepared to reveal what it is doing. We are heading towards a truly disastrous set of outcomes unless that changes.

Thank you. And also please never talk to me again.

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rvb-junior · 7 years

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Anonymous ask: do you have any pets? What are their names? Why do you keep them? What got you into keeping them? Do you have any future pet plans? 💖💖

Ok anon do u really wanna get into this convo? Itll take a while.

Okay so im at college so rn the only pets with me are my fishb a male halfmoon plakat named Cosmos Florence the second, a nerite snail named Nertb and a black mystery named Onyx. I keep them because god man i just. I just love em so much ya know? Its like. I have this little ball of hate and rage in my dorm who has such a beautiful personality and then to complement that i have these chill snaild who r just trying really hard. Back home we have even more pets and oh man oh man i love them?? They are what love and joy looks like?? We have my dogs, cat, turtle, lizards, birds, hairless guinea pigs, fish, and chickens.

The chickens are named Short Bread and Oreo bevause of how they looked when they were younger. Oreo is a little spunkyer that Short bread while i think short bread is a little…. Confused? Yeah just generally confused by everything.

We have Mr. T, our full grown, healthy red ear slider who lives in a small pond in the back yard with a few feeder fish he never ate. Those fish have grown to be his pals and he just. Hase never eaten them.

Then we have the birds, Able, who likes to tell at you if u look at her to long. Her hobbys are chewing through toys as she is hanging from them and being suprised when she falls. We then have Birbank, named after the airport my dad found him at, who lives very closely with his bf Ruby. Birbank is a grey and white cockatiel and Ruby is a green Indian Ringneck. They had being more than 2 feet apart for longer than 2 seconds and often u will find Ruby yelling when Birbank flys somewhere he cant go (ruby doesnt know how to fly) and birbank screaming when he realises the mistake he made. Ruby likes to give people kisses and is a lover, not a fighter. Birbank likes to hiss at peanuts and ignore everything besides Ruby. Next we have our Canary, Mango whos fav food is blue berrys and kale. He likes to sing when he hears trumpets and my flute. He has a club foot so when we adopted him the bird rescue we got him from was relived because no one else would take him. He is the most graceful flying bird i have ever seen! Finally we have the zebra finch named Shimmy. When we first adopted him he had a super bad plucking problem and was almost completly bald but hes doing much better now, aggressivly peeping when he hears the canary.

Okay now we have 2 lizards, a leopard gecko named Romeo and a crested gecko named Gargoyle. Romeo is a sweet boi with a chubby tail who loves his crickets fast and his meal worms slow. He has one of those reptile hammocks but he prefers climding his cave more. Gargoyle is a sweet girl who will only eat her food when it starts to harden again for some reason. We dont know why but she does and shes kinda a butt. But ya gotta love her!

Our cat’s name is Figaro and she’s currently bald. She had to get shaved, the vet said shes getting up in her years so when she stopped grooming for a month and got matts in her long fur they said she had basicly cat arthritis. Shes doing good and her hobbies are (well atleast when i was home) meowing in my mouth at 3 am to tell me she ate all her food and wanted more.

Wr have 5 dogs so just get ready for that. All our dogs but 1 is a rescue. Coal is a chow/black lab mix. She was adopted as a pup from a local animal rescue and she kniws the mist tricks. Shes a good girl who likes hugs, treats, and when u massage her face. Her favorite toy is a yellow stick that she will bring to you when asked. Shes the second youngest! Lily is the youngest, i sometiems call her satan but only because she is a trickster! You will turn around and shell be on the table eating food, stealing anything from coal, and trying to think up world domination. She and Coal are super close, when we got her Coal went all MaMa dog and now they are inseparable. What makes it better is that Lily is a half Chihuahua/Pomeranian mix so shes tiny next to Coal. Our third youngest is Scarlet, wr think shes the product of a long hair Chihuahua and a deer head Chihuahua. Shes a primadonna who enjoys her alone time and pets. She also like to be held, mainly like a baby so u can hold her and tub her tum. She also REALLY LIKES CAR RIDES like man even going to the vet shes jazzed. Second oldest is Vinnie, a pug my bro ham adopted. Hes super sweet and good he likes face squishes and whrn he naps his tail uncurles. He stands very proper like hes a gentleman and likes to sit on ur feat. He has a grain allergy so he eats special grain free food. Next we have the oldest of our dogs MY SWEET BABY GIRL GIGI. shes my sun and moon. We got gigi when i was 8 and when i was 10 my sister went to college, leaving her for me to takr care of. And well, shes literally the most important thing in the world to me. My sister got her from a breader (which i dont like cus dogs in shelters need homes) but shes a Brussels Griffon so the breader croped her ears and tail. I DO NOT CONDONE THE PRACTICE OF CROPPING AND PART OF A DOG UNLESS SUGGESTED BY A VET, SOME DOGS GET THEIR TAILS CROPPED BECAUS ETHEY BREAK BONES IN THEM AND THAT IS THE ONLY CROPPING I CONDONE. Her ears were cropped lopsidedb and improperly which brought many problems to her later on. She developed many ear infections that have caused her to scratch her ears until they bleed, has had medication for 3 different ear infections, and has almost no ear canal left. Her vet has told us she is almost deef. Also as she got older she got chronic dry eye and takes medicated eye drops for it but shes fine as long as she has those. She needs loud or sharp sounds to get her attention so i trained her to respond to clapping, whistling (which i do very loudly) and snapping fingers. She is a sweet heartb adn a super velcro dog! I cried for three days after i had to go to college and they drive her up to visit me. When im home she goes looking for me if im out of site for 2 minutes, will wait at the bathroom door for me, stare up the stairs when i go to shower, and press her face against closed doors she knows i went through. Whne she does the last thing i have to drum my fingers on the door so she knows to move back before i open it. I miss her horribly and i skype her almost every day, she gets super excited! The first few days i was gone she actually wouldnt stop barking at night. Shes also a cuddle baby and she doesnt sleep unless she is touching me ao it was probably rough for her. I miss her but ill be able to see her in october when i go to my sisters wedding.

The fish! Okay so my mother has a 75 gallon gold fish aquarium and a 30 gallon in the garage with nithing in it yet (shes thinking tetras). The gold fish tank has 2 butter fly tails and some bristle nose plecos. It also has many a snail rn! A friend of ours dismantled a large aquarium of his own ( he is going through a very hard time financially and im hoping everything works out for him) and gave us the plecos and snails. The snails are 3 rabbit snailsb one nerite (he gave us 2 but the other is with my betta) a few black mysteries, and a golden apple who i named Big Mama.

Lemme tell u about big mama real fast. I call her this because, first of all shes a full grown golden appleb second of all because shes a mama. He had a live planted tank thich included a moss ball he has been taking care of for 5 year, its the size of my head and when we put it in the 75 gallon it because the main pice of the tank. What we found out later was that Big Mama had made her family in ut and we have abou 20 BABY GOLDEN APPLES IN THERE ALONE!! He also gave us an anibius fern which i put in my betta’s tank and after getting to college and living hear for a few weeks i found out there were eggs on it because I KNOW HAVE MANY A BABY GOLDEN APPLE. these ones tho r much smaller than the moss ball ones, mine being hatchlings and those being the size of a finger nail. But anyway they have grown large enough where i can tell they r not pest snails and i will be rehoming them to other fish keepers in my dorms once they get a little bigger.

My mom has 3 hairless guinea pigs. Did you know that at petco people tend to walk in and drop off pets they “just dont want any more”? Well it hapoens a lot and my mom fell in love with them instantly. We have Billy, the oldest, Piggy, the middle in age, and sweet baby Bear who is small and young. They are all good boys and are doing very well so far in their new home! My mom had already owned billy and was looking into getting him friends, (guinea pigs live friends! They actually should be kept in atleast pairs but we were not aware at first, now we know better) all three of them are being slowly introduced! Bear and Piggy already live together but we dont want to rush this process and put billy right into the mix, that would probably be the worst think. They are slowly beibg acclimated to eachother.

I guess you could say i love pets because they are sweet and wonderful. I keep most of them because i know i can care for them, that i have the space, and the resources. I have the time and the will to foster a loving home for all my pets, and so does my family. Animals are a big part of my life and i love all of them with all my heart.

My future plans? Well nothing soon! Im in a dorm so Cosmos and his snail friends are all ivr got planed rn. But i hope to, onece in the distante future, get a tank with a school of danionella dracula in it, they are tiny fishb only getting half an inch in side. But id need a good tank for them since they school about 12 and id like to do the whome thing live plants (i also want one of those rimless aquatiums hnnnnnnnngh) i hope to upgrade cosmos to a larger aquarium b currently hes in a 2.5 which is enough for a betta, sure, but id rather he be in a 5 gallon. But really? I just wanna go home n be with GiGi more than anything.

Thank you for the ask!

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