#I just wanted to test if it was possible to grind really far in union levels without acknowledging main story

[windblume-violet]

Honestly... I could probably get to Union Level 30 on world exploration alone and avoid doing CH1 Act V for a while, but. I'm annoyed the last two quests I need to get a sigil are locked behind the main story SO. I guess I'm continuing :'))

[rocorambles]

Ruined Innocence

Pairing: Fallen Angel!Daichi x Angel!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Manipulation, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Tentacles-ish, Forced Bondage, Corruption Kink, Dacryphilia

Summary: Not everyone is what they appear to be and you learn that the hard way.

A/N: This is for @seijorhi 's Deal with the Devil Collab! Masterlist can be found here.

You don’t love the way older angels endearingly pinch your cheeks and fondly ruffle the top of your head, sending you off on your way as they go about their chores. But you love the freedom to explore that comes with your new wings and you flit around heaven, adventuring out to the corners of the beautiful realm, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide in wonder as you see visions and scenes you wouldn’t even have been able to imagine back when you were a human.

Most angels congregate with each other, floating and meandering together as they perform their heavenly duties, content with harmony and unity. But maybe because your newly purified soul is still finding its way, you feel antsy, a very human adventurous streak still driving you as you sniff out remote and quiet corners, eager to see what’s around every corner.

There’s not a hint of wariness or sense of danger as you trek around, squealing as you continue testing your wings. Maybe it’s naivety, but who can blame you? You’re in heaven. Why would you ever think anything or anyone would harm you here?

Little do you know the archangels whisper to each other, sentries standing guard at every known opening between realms as the threat of warfare and espionage increases between heaven and hell after a devastating betrayal by one of God’s own most trusted archangels.

Sawamura Daichi.

It’s a name and a face that God has striked from heaven’s history, wiping the minds of anyone outside his inner circle clear of to maintain peace among the realm. And it works. Maybe too well.

A handsome brunette amusedly smiles at the lack of fear and recognition in your face as you cheerfully greet him, not a care in the world as you perk up and fly over to him, curious about the strange angel you’ve never met before.

Daichi had only meant to sneak in and out, hopefully spy and return back to hell with any secret information he could get out of his old fellow archangels. But like an attuned predator, his attention had snapped at the pretty little fawn he had seen playing in the outskirts of heaven, so vulnerable, so far from the rest of your feathery flock. And his mouth had salivated, something dark and yearning inside of him as he imagined how delicious corrupting your soft and sweet soul would be.

There’s no lack of powerful, beautiful, sensual female entities in hell willing to warm his bed. Daichi knows from firsthand experience, rarely spending a night alone. Even eternity is too short not to indulge in the sins of the flesh. But a part of him misses the docile submissive natures of angels, the thrill of power he feels knowing how easily his more angelic partners would listen and obey to his every whim and fancy. Playing with your food is all fun and games, but Daichi’s always found the actual act of devouring to be the best part of any meal. And you look absolutely mouth watering.

It doesn’t concern you that you’ve never seen this handsome angel before. Heaven is vast and as a novice angel, you’re sure there’s plenty of feathery companions you haven’t met yet. You’re more pleasantly surprised by the fact that there even is another angel in your secluded nook of the realm. And you’re quick to get comfortable with Daichi (although you blush when he so quickly tells you to call him by his first name).

He’s kind and funny. You can tell he’s actually listening to your every word and not just politely nodding like most of the other older angels you’ve met so far. He has a certain vibrancy to him that you can’t pinpoint, something so much more raw and vivid than what you’re used to from the more austere and demure palette of the rest of heaven.

But you startle when Daichi suddenly reaches out and slowly trails his fingers along the soft velvety plush of your wings, eliciting a startled gasp from you and a strange stirring feeling inside of you.

“They’re so pure and white.”

You try to laugh off the way your heart is pounding, the way your body wants to instinctively lean in closer to his warm touch as he continues languidly stroking your wings.

“Don’t be silly, Daichi. I’m sure your wings are just as pure and white, just like everyone else in this realm.”

You’re confused by his silent smile as he continues lacing his fingers between your downy feathers, but you don’t think to question it, not when it feels so right to just melt in the soothing feeling.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you startle awake when someone nudges you, face heating in embarrassment when you realize you’ve fallen asleep quite literally in Daichi’s arms. But you shyly smile when he waves off your profuse apologies, playfully whispering that you can make it up to him by keeping your meeting with him a secret so he doesn’t get in trouble for slacking off on work to hang out with you.

Your lips are sealed and in return for your slightly naughty deal, your heart warms and your eyes sparkle when he somehow finds you almost every day. You’re tempted to make a game of it, wondering if you made more of an effort to hide if he’d still find you. But somehow deep inside you know he would, that it wouldn’t deter him at all. And that thought alone brings a smile to yourself.

Is this what having a soulmate feels like? Do angels even have soulmates?

You know marriage is still a thing in this realm and you can feel yourself falling more and more head over heels for Daichi, letting yourself dream and think of what life would be like married to him, by his side for all of eternity. It would be a wondrous thing. A life full of adventures, laughter, kindness, and warmth. A life where you know you could always depend on him and trust him.

So when he kisses you one day, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you in close, you don’t resist. Instead you sigh in bliss as you feel your lips meld against each other. He’s so gentle, so careful as he deepens your connection, coaxing you into following his lead as he maneuvers the two of you on the wispy cloud cocoon beneath your feet.

You feel so loved, so taken care of as he murmurs sweet praises in your ear about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how sweet you taste. But when you find yourself horizontal beneath him, scandalously molded to his body, hesitation and apprehension have you reluctantly separating your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

His hand cups your cheek, brown eyes staring down at you in concern and you feel more at ease as you nuzzle against his palm, gently pecking the center of it, ignorant of the way brown eyes darken at the action.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Can we- Can we slow down a bit? I love you, but we shouldn’t go any further until God blesses our relationship and we’re married. Right?”

It’s adorable how you know what’s right by heavenly standards, what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Yet there’s still a questioning lilt in your voice as you look at him for guidance, ready to take his lead and listen to whatever he says. You really are precious, aren’t you?

“We’ll be together forever. So what’s the harm in indulging ourselves now if we know that we’ll be bound for eternity anyway? Consider it a little sneak peek. Surely God will be forgiving if we go straight to him after this and ask him to bless our union.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He internally smirks at how your eyes light up when he expresses his desire to be with you. To his defense, it’s not a lie. He truly does want you with him forever, although he doubts it’s in the way you’re thinking. He’s no mind reader, but he can imagine the scenes of soft radiant glowing days and peaceful strolls hand in hand that race through your mind when you think of love. Unfortunately for you, the reality you’re being sucked into is much darker and much more stationary. (He sincerely hopes you appreciate the costs and efforts he’s gone through to spruce up his bedroom and bed as much as possible for your long-term stay considering it’s the only place he intends for you to see for at least a few centuries.)

This time you welcome him when he swoops down to capture your lips once more, your arms gently wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him down even closer to you. You bare your neck, easily following his silent commands as he trails kisses down from the corner of your lips to the side of your neck, gasping and arching into him when his tongue swipes a hot wet line at the junction of your shoulder.

You’re nervous as he coaxes you out of your delicate clothing and his cock twitches in interest at how you try to instinctively shield your body from his eyes, your arms crossing your chest, thighs clenching together. So different from the shameless females down below and he enjoys how it feels like he’s unwrapping an exclusive present as he eases your body, comfortingly kissing you as he guides your hands above your head and nudges your legs apart until he’s in between them.

You moan, writhing underneath him in a way that makes him groan as he sucks one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers. And he can’t resist how right it feels to grind and rut his clothed cock against your bare core, chuckling at how you whine and get flustered as he whispers to you about how wet you are, how much of a mess you’re making of his clothing.

You’re so sensitive, so reactive. He wonders if you could cum just like this, nipples toyed with and humping like wild beasts. You certainly look like you’re almost there and a mean smile splays across his face when he wonders what God would think if he saw his baby angel now, a lewd blissful expression blatant on your face, wanton moans filling the air. But time is limited especially when he’s not on his own turf and as much as he’d like to ruin you over and over again right here, right now, he knows he needs to deal the final blow.

He’s quick to shed his own clothing, firmly wrapping your spread legs around him as he finally sinks his cock inch by inch inside of you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your tight wet walls wrap around him, eagerly sucking him in and clenching around him. It’s like you were made for him, made for this. And his eyes ravenously watch as you mindlessly blabber on and on about feeling full, feeling good.

He doesn’t usually like noisy bed mates, but you might be the one exception and he revels in your wails and broken cries as he begins to move his hips back and forth, observing how his fat cock obscenely stretches your pretty folds as he thrusts in and out. It’s impressive how you’re still hanging by a single fraying strand of consciousness when even seasoned succubi have succumbed into mindless pleasure-addicted messes from his cock. And he gifts the slipping clarity of your mind that recognizes him and calls his name over and over again with skillful circles around your clit, relentless until you’re thrashing and convulsing, practically screaming as you fall over the edge, pussy milking him and begging for his essence.

Who is he to deny you what your body wants? What your body needs? What he himself wants and needs?

So he finally lets himself go, sealing the deal with his own release, eyes twinkling in crazed amusement as his own wings finally flair out, revealing themselves to you for the first time as his body lances with pleasure. A sound halfway between a laugh and a groan escapes him as fear has you tightening around him and if he thought you looked beautiful before, you’re absolutely stunning now, shock and disbelief slicing across your perfect angelic face when you fully grasp the importance of his pitch black wings that shadow the both of you.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me.”

There’s no point in pretending to be gentle now and he forcefully pins your body down, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, biting on your lower lip and lapping at the blood that drips from your now marred face. Delicious. So fucking exquisite.

It’s tempting to continue and as he pulls away to regard you, he can feel arousal swirling inside of him at the sight of glistening tears streaming down your face. But he’s curious about your reaction, eager to hear what you have to say about this utter betrayal.

“A fallen angel…I slept with a fallen angel. How am I ever going to face God now?”

You’re not even looking at him anywhere, eyes glazed over as you mumble to yourself, mind still trying to process everything. And as pretty as you are with agony and sickening realization settling into your features, he scowls at the mention of God, irritation swelling inside of him at how fast you are to think of Him over Daichi, the fallen angel literally still inside of you.

He’s swift in his punishment, reminding you exactly where you are and who you’re with right now as he sharply juts his hips in a way that forces a surprised shriek from you as his cock rubs against your still sensitive walls.

“God isn’t your problem anymore, love. Look at your wings.”

Every part of you still in denial screams at you not to listen, to pretend none of this has happened, is happening. You want to believe God can make this right, that he’ll surely forgive you. But as if you’re in one of those inevitable horror films you used to watch as a human, your head slowly turns to the side, body going rigid when you see the expanse of ebony feathers where heavenly white used to be.

Now this reaction is much more satisfying and Daichi inhales your fear, a cold smile on his face as he watches you flail, wings wildly flapping as you try to somehow shake off the color, praying that it’s all a lie, that it’s not entirely irreversible. But he pins your wrists above your head when you attempt to painfully pluck out your own offensive feathers, peppering humiliatingly affectionate kisses all over your face to placate you.

“Please stop. Isn’t this enough? You got what you wanted. Tricked the silly angel. Made me an exile, a monster. There’s no place for me in heaven anymore. So just leave me alone. Please.”

You shudder at the dark laugh that seems to echo in your ears with his face right besides yours, cringing when you feel his wings droop down to rest against your own in an action far too intimate for what the two of you are.

“It’s not enough, darling. It’ll never be enough. But you’re right about one thing. You’re no longer welcomed in heaven, so let me bring you to your new home.”

You barely have time to understand the meaning of his words before you’re being whisked away, strong arms holding you tightly to a broad chest, the air around you growing darker, heavier, warmer. And then suddenly everything is still and you gasp as you’re thrown onto a silky plush surface, scrambling to sit up only to freeze in terror as you take in the grand and imposing bedroom you’re in, cold realization of exactly whose bed you’re currently on and what realm you’re in sinking in.

“No no no no no...At least let me go to Earth!”

You make to lunge off the bed, but an eerily familiar body forces you back down, once comforting brown eyes now only making anxiety churn alarmingly inside of you.

“I know it’s hard to believe me after all the lies, but I wasn’t lying about one thing. I do intend to be with you forever, so get comfortable, angel.”

You recoil at the mocking sneer associated with the pet name, the ironic use of the word disintegrating any fight left in you when the true hopelessness of your situation makes itself known. And Daichi watches in satisfaction at how you don’t even twitch as black shadows coil around your wrist and ankles, pulling you into a spread-eagled position, leaving your beautiful naked figure on full display for him.

But as despondent as you are mentally and emotionally, your body is already well on its way to adjusting and molding to his desires and he hungrily eyes the way it betrays you, arching and silently begging for more as additional shadow tendrils snake their way on and around every inch of you, some tendrils beginning to make their way in your gaping mouth, your still cum-filled hole, and oh...maybe he should have warned you that he planned on training all your holes, but he does so love the way your eyes blow wide open when a curios tendril wiggles its way into your puckered hole.

“Consider this your new full-time job, angel. Can’t have you living here rent-free after all. Now be good while I’m away and try not to be so loud. Wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you and decide they want a taste of a new fallen angel. I guarantee you no one else down here in hell is going to be as patient and kind as I am. Welcome to your new forever home.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you’d be able to utter anything remotely intelligible around your screams and moans and the tendrils fucking your mouth. And as he makes his way to another meeting with Satan, he proudly flaunts his pitch black wings, a thoughtful smile on his face as he thinks of all the plans he has for you.

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 14

Read on ff.net

Read on AO3

Zelda and the others were transfixed as they looked up at the spirit of Calamity Ganon writhing around the castle. The anguish of all Hyrule hung stagnant in the air along with the ambient gurgling sound of malice.

"It's here…" Impa was the first one who managed to speak. "The Calamity has already begun…" She said, at a loss.

"No, No…." Zelda gasped when she noticed malice enter one of the nearby Guardians and became animate. It made a horrible mechanical sound as it turned its 'eye' towards the princess, a red laser appearing on Zelda's chest. Link immediately sprang into action, deflecting the Guardian's blast back at it in a brilliant flash of light.

"Calamity Ganon is taking control of the Guardians!" Zelda lamented. "It's going to turn them all against us!"

"It can do that?" Said Revali in surprise, realization starting to dawn on the Rito champion, as well as the three others. The Calamity was far more cunning than any of them had imagined.

"There are still more on the castle grounds. It's too dangerous. Everyone, protect the princess as we make our retreat!" Impa called.

"But…"

With that, Link grabbed Zelda's hand, pulling her roughly behind him as he ran down the brick path away from the Castle, which didn't go unnoticed by Astor, feeling an intense wave of sullenness he couldn't shake. They disappeared down the path and the Champions and Sheikah aide followed, no one paying him any mind in the frenzy the Calamity had created.

Astor remained, feeling out of sorts and alone, but determined to fully embrace his new destiny. Hyrule really was on its knees… Especially Zelda, who was being crushed under the weight of her duty. How had he ever been so blinded by Calamity Ganon to want this? To want to harm her? He had almost killed her for the sake of Calamity Ganon… HER! He was barely aware that his fists were clenched, wanting to make her his and spare her all this pain and suffering. The back of his neck was becoming sore as he glared up at the beast he'd once dedicated his life to serving. Calamity Ganon opened its maw to a right angle, and a thunderous roar of rage issued forth as if demanding the prophet make a blood sacrifice of himself to atone for his disloyalty.

Astor smiled up at the beast spitefully.

I wasted so many years of my life on you…. But serving you led me to her… I must thank you… I'm going to live on and create a legacy for myself, and you… You're going to be sealed away… Forever perhaps.

Astor's smile faded as he noticed King Rhoam emerge from the castle's sanctum.

"You're coming with me…" Rhoam said in a stern, matter-of-fact way., The King wielded a huge claymore single-handedly, flanked by three knight attendants.

Astor scowled at the older man, raising his hand to summon his orb, but then thought better of it, giving only a huff of defiance.

"I'm glad I have your cooperation, Astor," Rhoam said, coming close as he brandished his claymore in a vaguely threatening way. The sword was almost as big as he was.

Confident that Astor would not run or fight back, Rhoam nodded to his attendants. "Alright men, retreat!"

"Yes, Sire!" The three knight attendants said in unison. They were looking around wildly, in horror at the destruction the Guardians were bringing and a bit miffed that their king had apparently decided to take a prisoner at the worst time possible.

The five quickly, but carefully made their way down the path, Rhoam staggering a Guardian that blocked their path with a single swing of his sword. Astor could almost feel the brunt of that swing.

"Astor, I'm afraid we're going to get to know each other whether you like it or not. Had the Calamity not happened when it did, you would be in lockup now. However, since my castle is currently overrun with Guardians and all manner of Ganon's monsters, I will be keeping an eye on you myself. Suffice to say, I am not in a good mood."

Astor kept his gaze forward as they moved forward. The king's tone did not bode well for him. It wasn't lost on him that he was in a precarious situation. Still, this could be amusing.

"I know I'd rather not," King Rhoam continued, "but given that I fear you are encroaching on my daughter's divine duties, I must go above and beyond to perform mine as her father and as king." Rhoam noticed Astor's attention was elsewhere. "Look at your king when he's talking to you, you piece of filth!" Rhoam raised his voice, finding the younger man infuriating, despite knowing so little about him. The prophet had already left the worst impression on him, not that he stood a chance in hell of making a good first impression all things considered. Why would Zelda consort with this man, let alone trust him? He was scrawny, deathly pale, and dressed in rags. Everything about Astor was… off-putting. How had he and Zelda even met? Was the young knight he'd appointed to Zelda slacking off?

Astor turned his attention to the older man slowly, giving him a look of intense spite. He then saw the king's eyes widen, looking at something beyond him. Astor turned to come face to face with a Guardian's laser trained on him.

Rhoam and his men stood back, apparently obliging the Guardian to make short work of Astor.

The Guardian's laser rested on Astor for a moment, moving over the malice eye on his circlet before fading and readjusting to focus on the king.

Rhoam wasted no time in raising his claymore and bringing it down on the Guardian, giving a grunt of effort. Bolts and gears flew out of the busted machine, littering the brick pathway.

"Why did the Guardian disregard you?" Rhoam mused aloud. "How disappointing..."

"Thank you for looking out for me, Rhoam. Such a caring king and father, too… You're going to make a fine grandfather someday..." Astor said darkly, facetiously.

"How dare you!" Rhoam bellowed, giving the young man a ruthless slap across the face, causing Astor to stagger and fall. Astor simply returned a perverse smile despite the stinging sensation on his cheek. Astor began to laugh, chuckling at first and then breaking into an intense round of laughter, his yellow eyes going wide in a way that unsettled the old king - as if seeing beyond. "Yes, my children. Go harass King Rhoam and do not disappoint me!"

Rhoam was fuming. Astor was either very insane or intentionally provoking him, perhaps both. Either that or he had injured the prophet's mind when he struck him. Astor's antics were making it very difficult for the king to maintain his composure.

"You're very fortunate I am not a crass man, or I'd tell you what I think you deserve… Now tell me, how well do you know my daughter?"

"Well enough to know she is terribly lonely." Astor replied. "She despises you."

"What nonsense… Everything I've done has been for her! She was supposed to be Hyrule's pride, but it seems that the gossipmongers' words are coming true... Look around you. Hyrule is on fire. What sort of future does she have? 'Heir to a throne of nothing' if she does not awaken that power very soon. I can tell you're a lousy prophet by that alone."

"Bold words from a king who does not carry the blood of the Goddess."

"I may not carry the blood of the goddess, but I am still the rightful king of Hyrule in my late queen's stead. I was born into a noble family and my union with her was arranged by the former king and queen. The only thing I'm going to be arranging for you is an execution. Know your place, Prophet."

"An execution?" Astor almost laughed. He couldn't imagine what Rhoam's reaction might be when he learned he had formerly been trying to bring about Calamity Ganon's revival. "On what grounds?"

"Interfering with the Princess awakening her power to seal Calamity Ganon away for one. Also because it would bring me personal satisfaction. Now, get up, before I change my mind and grind my boot into your head. You're slowing down our escape."

Slowly Astor got up, dusting himself off, raising his chin to the older man in a testing manner.

"Wipe that smirk off your face. Move!" Rhoam said, giving Astor a shove with the side of his claymore.

oOo

Zelda looked back over her shoulder, her hair whipping in the wind as she ran. "Wait… Where are Astor and my father? We can't leave them behind…!"

Nobody seemed to acknowledge her question or nobody heard.

They ran through the chaotic town streets, witnessing horrifying scenes as the Guardians wrought havoc upon Hyrule's capital. Guardians were climbing the walls of houses and shops alike, some not being able to bear the weight of the mechanical wonders and the rooftops beginning to crumble.

They finally reached the main gate, crossing the threshold into Hyrule Field, as the Guardians had completely overtaken the castle and even the surrounding town. They stopped to look back, now a safe distance away. Zelda's eyes widened in horror when she realized more Guardians were appearing, being methodically ejected from the five columns that had suddenly risen out of the ground to surround Hyrule Castle. The same columns she had tried so hard to locate just days ago.

"Where did he go…?" Zelda said out of breath and sick at heart, but trying not to break down again. Hadn't she already cried all the tears she thought she had at the realization of her failure? She knew the Calamity was eventual, but experiencing it was beyond her worst nightmares.

"Little bird… How do you know he wasn't the one to summon the Calamity himself just by being present?" Said Urbosa.

"T-that can't be… " Zelda said, exasperated, not even willing to entertain the idea.

"His Majesty is missing as well… Did he remain behind on purpose?" Impa mused.

"The two are probably still bickering for all we know…" Revali quipped. "Hylian males…"

It would have been a humorous mental image in any other circumstances: Astor and her father too entrenched in their argument to notice as Guardians flooded into the Sanctum, but Zelda was vaguely aware that Astor had at least left the sanctum when the Calamity appeared.

Zelda turned her gaze elsewhere. Watching Castle Town burn was too much to bear. She happened to catch Link's eye, the boy wearing a severe expression.

You're fated to unlock your power because of him.

Zelda looked away from him and then at the back of her hand, giving an inaudible sigh, doubts about so many things clouding her mind.

This didn't go unnoticed by Urbosa, who came to stand behind Zelda, placing her hands on the princess's shoulders. "Don't give up! It's not too late."

"I know… We can't let the Calamity win. No matter what…" Zelda said, sounding downtrodden, but resolute.

"All is not lost. As long as I live I will fight. Just as you must." Impa reassured Zelda.

All the champions agreed one by one.

The group lifted their heads when they sensed others making their escape into Hyrule Field and out of Castle Town. Zelda's breath caught in her throat when she saw Astor standing in the shadow of her father's sword. He was unbound, yet it was clear from their expressions that he wasn't standing there on his own volition. Astor held her briefly in his gaze and then looked away, in shame. His face was more bruised than before.

"Champions, go to your Divine Beasts!" King Rhoam called in an official tone. "Astor will be coming with me, lest he interfere any further. Link… You are the knight to Princess Zelda. I trust you understand your duty." Rhoam said, shooting a disapproving look at Zelda.

There was a flicker in Zelda's eyes as they began to sting. "Where are you taking him?!"

Suddenly their hands held her back before she could rush forward. Zelda cried out for Astor as Rhoam and his attendants turned to leave, giving Astor another shove in the direction they were going.

A million horrible possibilities rushed through her mind. She was under no delusion that her father would deal with Astor kindly, especially if he were to ascertain Astor's former ties to the Calamity.

"What are they going to do to him?! Please, Someone, do something... Don't let them take him away!" Zelda implored pitifully, despairing because she knew none of them were going to defy her Father. Zelda dropped her head. "He's all… He's all I have…"

It was very soft, but everyone heard. Her pleas sounded all too familiar.. Rhoam halted, just for a moment to look back in irritation instead of pity as he had when she was young.

"Dammit, Zelda, show some self-control!" Rhoam said, angrily. "Your whining didn't work back then, what makes you think it will work now?"

Zelda looked hurt by his response, her shoulders shaking. Rhoam wondered if she remembered when he had confiscated the little Guardian she had named Terrako in a bid to get her to focus on her training. A decision that regrettably hadn't borne any fruit. Rhoam had almost cursed the late queen. Damn her for instilling such a love for Sheikah technology and relics in her daughter, which only proved to be a distraction for Zelda in awakening her divine power. That had been the most grievous flaw Rhoam saw in his wife.

Astor knew this was his moment to act. While the king was distracted, Astor phased past Rhoam like a restless spirit, knocking Rhoam off balance for a moment.

Zelda looked up and exhaled in surprise.

Astor came to a stop in front of Zelda, making a show of pulling her close. She clutched tightly to his robes, and for a moment everything else ceased. She was his and he was hers. She would have given much to live in that moment forever, relieved tears cascading down her cheeks.

"Her Highness is mine now. Have fun fighting the Calamity, Rhoam. You don't deserve her."

"Hylia on her throne! Stop him!" Rhoam ordered his knight attendants.

The men hesitated, fearful of the prophet's magical abilities. And in the blink of an eye, Astor raised his orb high, vanishing with Zelda in tow. Those that remained looked on in silent disbelief.

A short distance away, the scene was reflected in the 'eye' of Harbinger Ganon. Ganon knew it was winning, though that did not satisfy the being's intense all-encompassing rage. Its plans had still been disrupted. The weak-minded, disaffected Hylian man it had chosen to do its bidding in this age had somehow seen beyond the illusion of importance and power it had engineered for him. High above, the spirit of Calamity Ganon gave a shattering roar of detest for the goddess it knew was at work. And because of that vile goddess, the foolish bag of flesh was stepping out on him, even after all the power it had bestowed upon him. Ganon would simply take the man's ability to wield malice away. It would make sure the seer suffered tenfold for betraying him and choosing the girl who bore the goddess's blood. That pathetic mortal was supposed to remain loyal until his dying breath at its hand, for Ganon hated all life and showed no partiality even towards those who swore allegiance to it. It had been over ten millennia since Ganon had been mortal, and any memory of its past humanity or semblance of understanding human emotions had long perished. Calamity Ganon's inhuman hatred burned against the Hylian seer, rivaling its hatred for the hero and the young woman who bore the blood of the goddess. And so, the corrupted Guardian began to plot.

[omgjasminesimone]

The Hot Exchange Student Part 2

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Previous Part: Part 1

Next Part: Part 3

Author’s Note: Happy RoDAW Logan Day! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! (Hopefully the tags work)

Summary: Logan is an exchange student from Detroit a few weeks into his exchange program in L.A. He’s adjusting pretty well. He’s even going to parties and sideshows with a cute girl who’s technically his host sister, but their feelings are quickly becoming far from familial.  

Word Count: 3,400

“Soak it all in.” Riya commands, smiling at Ellie as the four of them enter Brent’s mansion.

“And I thought your house was nice.” Logan says after glancing around at the sheer size of the place.

“The Vandermeers are loaded. Brent is probably the richest kid at school.” Darius explains to the group newcomer.

“So, what do you think of your first high school party Ellie?” Riya prompts when Ellie does nothing except look around the room with a wide-eyed stare for several long moments.

Ellie’s turns her stare to her friends. “This is absolute chaos! I can’t hear myself think! How does Brent even know this many people? Are they drinking alcohol out of those red cups?” Ellie’s stream of consciousness flies out with no filter.

Logan smiles fondly at her. “I like how you say exactly what you’re thinking. It’s refreshing.”

“Speaking of refreshing…” Ingrid sidles up to Logan, brushing against him flirtatiously. She’s holding two red solo cups. She offers Logan one. “Jungle juice?”

“Sure, thanks.” Logan responds, sipping on the alcoholic mixture.

Ingrid trails her now free hand down his toned arm to his hand. Ellie grits her teeth and looks at her rival murderously. “I’m the Mar Vista Prep Unofficial Welcoming Committee, let me show you around, introduce you to some people.”

Ingrid doesn’t wait for a response before pulling Logan away.

“Has she always been that aggressive?” Darius asks when the two are out of earshot.

Ellie tears her gaze away from Logan as Ingrid introduces him to Brent and the rest of the popular kids. “Let’s check out the food. Or the corner.” Ellie suggests.

“No way Ellie. We’ve never been able to drag you out with us before. You’re getting the full high school party experience.” Riya insists, tugging Ellie over to the jungle juice.

Darius pours glasses for the three while Ellie looks around worriedly, almost convinced her dad is going to burst through the door in full uniform to break up the underage drinking. “Relax Ellie.” Darius says, handing her a cup.

“Easy for you to say. I don’t think your dad owns a breathalyzer.” Ellie retorts, but she takes a sip anyway. She’s never had alcohol before, and she kind of just wants to know what all the fuss is about. Hmm…this is actually pretty good. It mostly takes like juice, but there’s definitely an added alcoholic tang.

Before she knows it, Ellie has finished her second cup of the concoction. And her alcohol tolerance must be pretty low, because she’s definitely feeling it. After all, sober Ellie would have never allowed Riya and Darius to drag her to the dance floor, sober Ellie would have been worried about looking stupid in front of everybody. Tipsy Ellie is more fun.

Ellie sways to the loud R&B song blaring out of Brent’s expensive sound system, sipping on a beer now since she figured she should try other types of alcohol. She doesn’t like it, but at least she’s drinking it slowly since the taste is terrible. Ellie spins, and when she looks up her gaze locks with Logan’s. He’s dancing with some redhead, but his eyes remain locked on her.

Riya pushes her towards him. “Go, cut in.”

“But-“ Ellie tries to interject.

“Go.” Riya says insistently, pushing a little more firmly this time. “Logan is staring at you. He clearly wants you to.”

Sober Ellie would have protested more, but tipsy Ellie decides maybe he does want her to, especially if she’s reading that hungry gaze correctly. Ellie taps the girl’s shoulder. When she turns around, Ellie realizes her name is Lisa and she’s in their Spanish class. “Can I cut in?”

Lisa looks like she’s going to say no, but Logan grips Ellie’s hand and pulls her to him. Sober Ellie would be blushing furiously, but tipsy Ellie just drapes her arms over his shoulders, almost like she’s done this before. Logan’s smile widens, and he pulls her as close as he physically can with his hands on her waist, leaving them thigh to thigh.

Oh. There’s the heat of the full body blush he’s so good at getting out of her. For a moment, she had thought tipsy Ellie was immune. “I’ve barely seen you all night. What kind of host are you, leaving me all alone?” Logan teases.

“You weren’t alone. Ingrid was hanging all over you.” Ellie reminds him. Ellie had watched them while she drank, ate, danced, mingled with Tim, or was it Josh?

Logan tilts her chin up so she’s looking at him. “Are you jealous? I kinda like when you’re jealous.” Some of her hair has escaped her ponytail, so he tucks it behind her ear. And when he does, she spots his watch.

“Oh my God Logan, it’s 11:00!” Ellie exclaims, pulling herself out of his arms. He doesn’t seem to understand her alarm, so she clarifies. “Our curfew! It was 10:30! And I’m still kinda drunk and my dad will definitely notice, and Riya probably can’t even drive right now! I just saw her down a beer, and-“

“Hey.” Logan interrupts, rubbing her bare arms comfortingly. “Breathe.” Ellie does what he says, and immediately feels a little better. “It’s just curfew.” Logan adds flippantly.

“My dad takes curfew very seriously. We’re going to be grounded for the rest of the time you’re here.”

Logan smirks. “No one has ever tried to ground me before. This should be interesting.”

Ellie frowns, he’s never been grounded? What’s the deal with his parents? But there’s no time to get into that now. Logan takes her hand and winds his way through the crowd to where Riya and Darius are drunkenly grinding on each other. It seems they were just keeping it G-rated before for her benefit, their perennial third wheel.

Logan clears his throat, and the pair reluctantly pull apart. “Can either of you drive right now? Ellie missed her curfew.”

They both shake their heads no emphatically. “I can drive then. I stopped drinking a while ago. Do you trust me with your car, Riya?” Logan asks.

“Well, I’ve only known you for two weeks, but so far you seem pretty trustworthy. And I really want to go home and go to bed, so here’s the keys!” Riya drunkenly tosses the keys high, but Logan manages to catch them anyway.

Logan drops Darius off first, and then parks the car in Riya’s driveway.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just drive to Ellie’s? I can come pick up my car tomorrow.” Riya offers.

“I don’t know how I would explain that to my dad without letting him know about the underage drinking. Besides we still have time to catch the last bus.” Ellie replies.

“If you’re sure. Night guys! Thanks for driving Logan!” Riya drunkenly stumbles into her house, and Ellie and Logan set off for the bus stop.

“Why don’t you have your license?” Logan asks. He’s been wondering for a while, she can’t possibly enjoy riding the school bus. He sure doesn’t like it.

“My dad says driving is too dangerous. He sees a lot of crazy stuff out on the streets.”

“And the fact that it’s almost midnight and we’re walking through downtown Los Angeles to the bus stop isn’t dangerous?”

“Well, to be fair my dad never wanted us out this late.”

“He’s really controlling.” Logan notes.

Ellie frowns, automatically defending her father. “He’s very protective.”

Logan sighs, letting it go since they’re obviously not going to agree. “Well, you told me what your dad thinks. What about you? Do you want to learn how to drive? Because I could teach you.” He offers.

“You could?” Ellie has been wanting to get her license since she turned 16 several months ago, despite her father’s objections.

Logan smiles at the hopeful look in her eyes. “Sure, everyone should know how to drive. We need a car though. My cousin Vaughn lives in LA. I bet he could get me a good deal on something used.  He travels a lot for work and he’s currently out of town, but when he’s back we should see what he can do.”

“Looking forward to it.” Ellie responds, eyes widening when she sees their bus coming from around the corner. They’re still a little far off from the bus stop. “Run!” She instructs, waving down the bus.

…

..

.

“The European Union was formed by the….” Ellie tries to think of the answer without flipping over her yellow flashcard, looking to the ceiling as if she’ll find the answer there. “…Maastricht Treaty!” She recalls, smiling when she flips the flashcard to check and discovers she’s right. “WWII started on…..”

Logan knocks cheerily on her door, opening it when she gives him permission. He flops down on her bed, narrowly avoiding her open textbooks. “Vaughn invited me to a sideshow in West LA. Want to come with?”

Ellie frowns, she has a test on Monday. Plus, they’re grounded.

When they got back from the party two weeks ago, her dad hadn’t been home. He was working an overnight shift, but he’d left a note saying he wanted to speak with both of them in the morning. He had gone on and on about how disappointed he was, and then grounded them for three weeks.

“What’s a sideshow?” She asks instead of reminding him they’re not supposed to go out. Her dad is working another overnight tonight, so he’ll be none the wiser. Plus, Logan hasn’t really respected the grounding thus far anyway, coming and going as he pleases. Her dad is getting really irritated with him.

“People bring out their cars, show off a little, race, there’s food, drinks, it’s basically a party.” Logan explains, hands behind his head. His shirt is riding up, exposing that sliver of skin between his jeans and his t-shirt that she finds so enticing. She forces her eyes back up to his face.

“And I’ll get to meet Vaughn?” Vaughn is the only family Logan has ever talked to her about. He’s always very tight lipped about Detroit when she asks questions.

Logan smiles. “You would, and he’s a trip. You don’t want to miss that Ellie.”

“I think my dad changed the code to the alarm. He’s trying to make you respect your grounding.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I can’t be grounded, I’m a guest. Are the windows alarmed?” Ellie shakes her head no, and Logan grins, hopping off her bed and opening her window. “Then window escape it is troublemaker.”

..

The sideshow is different than anything Ellie has ever experienced. She feels very out of place in her Langston sweater and jeans. Logan is definitely in his element though, and people keep calling out to him and greeting him.

“How do you know all these people? You’ve only been in LA for a month, yet somehow you’re way more popular than I am.” Ellie teases.

“That’s not hard to accomplish, since you do things like respect that you’re grounded and never leave the house, while I’ve been exploring all the L.A. car scene has to offer.” Logan teases back, taking her hand and tugging her towards the food trucks.

“Vaughn!” Logan exclaims when they reach a food truck covered in street art and lights. The owner of the food truck steps out, and hugs Logan tightly.

“Logan! It’s been a minute!” Vaughn says when he releases his longtime friend. He notices Ellie. “And you must be Ellie. Logan rarely brings girls around, so you must be special. What’s going on with you two?”

Ellie blushes and Logan rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Nothing. She’s technically my host sister, so that would be inappropriate according to the program rules.” He nudges Ellie. “And your dad. Did I tell you he took me out to dinner when you were at Riya’s and basically told me not to touch you? He was pretty threatening.”

Ellie’s jaw drops in mortification. “He didn’t!”

Vaughn laughs. “You’ve never been popular with parents Logan. You’ve got to stop playing this whole bad boy persona.”

“Who says I’m playing?” Logan retorts.

“So you guys are cousins? Does that mean you have more family here in LA Logan?” Ellie asks.

“We’re not really cousins, but we’re close. Been through a lot together back home in Detroit.” Vaughn clarifies. “Well that’s enough sentimental stuff. You guys have to try my new wings! They’re going to be a top seller.”

They spend a few more minutes chatting with Vaughn before taking their wings to go, exploring more of the sideshow.

An hour later, Logan is admiring a Lamborghini while Ellie admires Logan when shouts suddenly fill the air. Ellie just makes out the sound of Vaughn’s voice over all the yelling.

“Come on Salazar, that wasn’t fair and you know it!” Vaughn exclaims, following after a tall man who looks to be in his mid 20s.

Logan quickly takes off after them, and Ellie follows behind him.

“Logan!” Vaughn says, some relief in his voice. “This is really bad.”

“What happened Vaughn?” Logan asks.

Salazar smirks, leaning against a 2005 Devore GT. “Your boy is calling foul because he bet his truck on a race, and lost.”

Logan turns to Vaughn. “Why would you do that?!”

“Fuck, I’m screwed! That thing is my livelihood man. I’m so stupid.” Vaughn knocks himself in the head a couple of times before Logan reaches out to stop him.

A crowd has started to gather around, joining Salazar and his goons in laughing at Vaughn’s expense. Logan’s face darkens as he gets angry. He turns to Salazar and gets right into his face. “You feel like a big man, beating a food truck? Too scared to race against anything less than 8 tons?”

Salazar scoffs. “What, you want to go double or nothing for your friend here? What are you driving?”

Logan seems to deflate a little, before glancing at Salazar’s Devore GT. “Let me race in your car. When I win, I get the Devore and Vaughn’s truck back. Unless you’re afraid of getting your ass kicked by a kid driving your own car.”

“Why would I do that? You don’t have anything I want, and I already have your friend’s food truck.” Salazar taunts.

“I don’t know boss, we could use a new guy to try to smuggle drugs through LAX. Trevor got locked up, he’s looking at 8 years minimum.” One of the goons chimes in.

“Logan, no.” Ellie immediately protests, gripping his arm and attempting to pull him away from Salazar.

“Ellie, it’s fine. I won’t lose.” Logan promises, shaking her off.

Salazar thinks it over. “Well, I do have three Devores. And it’s getting so hard to find people dumb enough to smuggle.” Salazar shakes Logan’s hand. “You’ve got a deal kid.”

“Logan, don’t.” Vaughn tries to interject, but Logan ignores him, heading over to the driver’s side door of the Devore GT. “I can’t let you do this cuz, please.” Vaughn tries again.

Logan smiles. “You can’t stop me either, so relax and enjoy the fireworks.” Logan opens the door and gets into the car, the keys are inside, so he revs the engine.

Ellie crouches by the driver’s side window, imploring Logan to look at her. “Please don’t do this. You could get serious time for smuggling Logan. And I don’t think Salazar and his goons are going to race fair, you could get hurt.”

“They probably won’t, but Vaughn is the only one who has always been there for me. I can’t let him lose his truck when I know I can win. Hey, why don’t you come with me? You can be an extra set of eyes, keep me safe out there. And Ellie, it’s quite the adrenaline rush. There’s very little else like it.”

Ellie bites her lip nervously. If her dad knew she was even considering this, he would ship her off to a nunnery, and it would probably be for her own good. But one more look into Logan’s penetrating brown eyes and she finds herself hopping into the passenger seat.

Logan smiles at her, squeezing her hand briefly before grabbing the gear shift and putting the car in drive. They roll up to the starting line and wait. “Seatbelts.” Ellie reminds Logan, buckling her own. He smirks at her and mirrors her action. A scantily clad girl steps out in front of the cars, a racing flag raised in her hand. “Now that we’re about to have a car, we can get started on your driving lessons.” Logan says before slamming on the accelerator as the flag goes down.

Ellie is thrown back into her seat at the speed. She glances side to side and doesn’t see anyone, Logan has taken the early lead. The crowd’s cheers die out as they race out of view of the crowd, entering an alley.

Salazar and his goons take this as their chance, attempting to ram Logan. “Incoming on the left!” Ellie warns, and Logan manages to avoid the collision at the last second.

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.” Logan admits with a smile, eyes still focused on the road. Ellie’s heart beats quickly, both from the adrenaline of the race and that damn smile. She didn’t know it was possible, but somehow he’s even hotter when he drives.

With Ellie’s help, Logan manages to cross the finish line in first place, just ahead of Salazar.

“You were incredible.” Logan praises as he parks the car in the middle of the cheering crowd. Vaughn’s cheers are the loudest and most jovial. Logan pulls Ellie from her seat and into his lap, hugging her tightly. “Thank you for helping me.”  

Ellie pulls back slightly to look at him, and slowly, their lips get closer and closer to each other’s. Just before their lips can meet, the door is suddenly open, light streaming into the dark vehicle.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Vaughn exclaims, pulling them both out of the car and hugging them tightly.

Logan laughs, clapping Vaughn on the back. “Don’t do something that stupid ever again.” Logan warns.

“Right back at you.” Vaughn retorts, ruffling Logan’s hair fondly.

Mutters rise up from the crowd as a man walks through, the crowds parting reminiscent to when Moses parted the Red Sea. Their respect, or maybe it’s fear, of this man is obvious.

He’s tall, has long black hair, and is covered in tattoos. “I haven’t seen you around before.” He announces when he makes it to Logan.

“I’m new in town. Name’s Logan.”

The man sticks out his hand for a handshake. “I’m Teppei Kaneko. That was some impressive driving Logan. I might have some work for you, if you’re interested.”

“What Kaneko? You said me and my boys were going to be getting that work.” Salazar angrily interjects, slamming his car door and stalking over.

“You lost to a kid driving your car Salazar. That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence that you’re the best man to bring into my operation.” Kaneko retorts, looking at Salazar derisively.

“He got lucky. It’s beginner’s luck.” Salazar insists.

“Well, maybe that’s something I can use then. You can go Salazar. Don’t bother showing up to the garage tomorrow. You’re no longer needed.” Kaneko says dismissively.

Logan is looking at Kaneko as they continue to talk, but Ellie catches the throat slicing motion Salazar makes in Logan’s direction before he gets into his car and drives away.

…

..

.

They park the Devore around the block from the house, since Detective Wheeler would definitely not be a fan of how they obtained it. Or of Ellie learning to drive. Logan took her to a parking lot on the way home and taught her the basics. He insists she’s a natural, that she’ll be ready for her test in no time.

Ellie gasps when they walk around the corner and she sees her father’s patrol car parked in the driveway. “Oh no, he’s home early.” Ellie mutters, speeding up her pace back to the house.

“Well, at least we don’t have to try to sneak back in through the window now troublemaker.” Logan jokes.

Ellie glares at him before opening the door.

Detective Wheeler is waiting on the couch. He looks very angry. “Ellie. Logan. Have a seat.”

…

..

.

Taglist:  @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @choicelogansbitch @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @professorortegasstudent @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @hazah @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @cora-nova @justdani14 @lady-dianelewis @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune 

[uk-news-talking-politics]

Peak uncertainty: This is what covid might do to our politics

By Chaminda Jayanetti

Just because something should happen, doesn't mean it will.

Many articles speculating on how Britain will look different after coronavirus mistake what the writer thinks should happen with what probably will, trusting in the logic of the moment when politics often obeys anything but.

Others focus on the party political fallout, which is the most unpredictable aspect of all. Coronavirus may determine the next election - or it may play no role in it at all.

But to really get an idea of how Britain could look on the other side, we need to get away from the big picture discussion and dig deep into policy areas.

Who cares?

The centrality of the NHS is now guaranteed no matter who is in charge. The Tories had already pledged increased funding, and the need for spare capacity in the event of pandemics may force a rethink of service redesigns and efficiency measures that aimed to minimise 'waste'.

Bigger questions surround the adult care system. No-one can now ignore the funding cuts and staff shortages that have left the care sector so depleted. If elderly and disabled people find themselves dying untreated in care homes in large numbers, this might - and should - become a point of national shame over the coming weeks.

The Tories' direction of travel is towards a social insurance system, whereby people pay in to a fund during their working lives that gives them access to care provision when they need it. But those who are retired or have lifelong care needs won't be able to pay into an insurance scheme before receiving care. These immediate care needs will need direct public funding, not long-term insurance.

Labour under Jeremy Corbyn took a different tack: universal free personal care for the over-65s, with an ambition to extend this to all working age adults. This is simpler and more inclusive than our current means tested mess, but it doesn't come cheap: Labour's manifesto estimated the cost as £11bn a year by 2023/24.

Keir Starmer will be under pressure from some to stick with their existing policy, and from others to engage with social insurance proposals. Keeping Labour MPs united behind whatever strategy he adopts won't be easy.

But it's plausible the Tories will also be pulled in another direction - towards voluntarism. The party's social and fiscal conservatives - uneasy bedfellows in recent years - could use the increased community cooperation seen amid the pandemic as evidence that volunteers and family members can take on more of the care burden, while still improving pay and conditions for care staff.

Expect to see rhetoric that the pandemic has 'unleashed' Britain's 'community spirit', which should be 'channelled' after the crisis by relying on family and neighbours to 'look in' on people in need - the soft-soap version of women doing unpaid care work in lieu of public services. The current trend in care provision is towards making use of what 'assets' people already have, including friends and family - an approach that can be used for good or ill. The temptation for the government to lean on unpaid volunteers instead of the taxpayer is not hard to imagine.

The care system was the biggest public service challenge facing the government before coronavirus. Now that's been magnified tenfold. It could become one of the big battlegrounds of post-pandemic politics, between competing visions of society based on universalism, managed markets, and voluntarism.

Bob Crow was right

Before his death in 2014, Bob Crow was one of the most demonised figures in Britain. His readiness to threaten to shut down rail networks as head of the RMT union made him a bête noire for commuters, causing considerable disruption.

Crow was a rarity in post-Thatcher Britain - a union leader who was ready to use strike action as a sword, not just a shield. Whereas most unions only went on strike in defence of existing jobs, pay and conditions, Crow levered the criticality of the role of his members to transform their economic position.

He was accused of holding passengers and politicians to ransom, but his argument was a simple one: the disruption caused by his members going on strike showed how important their role was, and they should be paid more - much more - to reflect this.

It has taken the worst pandemic in more than a century for many people to realise this point. Pay does not necessarily reflect the importance of a worker's role - in fact, very often it does nothing of the sort. Pay reflects many factors: supply and demand of labour, required skills and levels of education, the strength or weakness of collective bargaining, the resources of the employer, and the profit-making productivity of the role. The social necessity of the role comes below pretty much all of them.

There may well be a post-pandemic cross-party consensus for a higher minimum wage and more protection from exploitation - action on zero hours contracts, for example - to protect low-paid workers from poverty.

But Crow didn't want his members to be low paid at all. He wanted to transform their economic station. We keep hearing about essential workers in cleaning, portering, social care and customer service. Will this be rewarded with more middle class pay and conditions?

There are reasons to be doubtful. There will likely be broad acceptance of the importance of care workers, who are a very visible part of the fight against coronavirus. But that does not mean politicians will be ready to fork out for transformative pay rises. Will Starmer accept billions of pounds of extra spending on top of the £11bn Labour has already earmarked for social care, let alone the Tories?

And where is the industrial, political or public pressure going to come from to secure such pay rises for the often migrant workers in portering and cleaning? We don't want to accept it, but many workers on middle incomes would sneer at the idea of porters and cleaners being paid the same as them.

The safety net

The benefit system has taken a battering over the last decade. Now the economic shutdown is driving more than a million people to seek refuge in the rubble left behind.

The government has responded by performing emergency repairs -  raising benefit payments and scrapping job search requirements in a desperate attempt to stop the newly unemployed middle classes struggling in the way the unemployed poor were expected to.

Things could play out from here in a number of ways. If Universal Credit functions to a level the government can live with, they will declare the system a success, leaving Starmer in a politically difficult position. Will he keep Labour's pledge to axe what will have become an established system, or switch to reforming it, thus angering his left flank. Labour may try and build a minimum income guarantee using the framework of this system. Or they may 'abolish' Universal Credit by tweaking it and changing its name.

If Universal Credit simply topples over - unable to process claims properly, or pay out the right sums of money - the government might be forced to give up its costly and chaotic flagship scheme.

What then? Labour would push for a more generous system with far fewer conditions and sanctions. The Tories would be truly hamstrung, having in this scenario wasted a decade on a failed system.

Public opinion would not necessarily favour a more generous, less judgemental approach. The declared end of the pandemic, and the gradual return to some kind of economic normality, would likely bring back demands that the unemployed get back to work, and that they be cattle-prodded into doing so. Laid off workers do not carry the same image as health and care workers in this pandemic - and doubtless right wing ideologues will start shouting about the deficit the first chance they get.

But if the economic recovery is insipid, with little job creation, enduring high unemployment, and a stop-start lockdown as the virus returns, both parties could be drawn to more universal systems - a minimum income guarantee set at a liveable level, or even a Universal Basic Income.

The government toyed with introducing UBI last month, but it would face wide opposition from Tory MPs unhappy at its cost. Claire Ainsley, who is expected to be unveiled as Starmer's policy chief, is also a sceptic. It is expensive, blunt and largely untested. But if jobs don't reappear as the pandemic passes, the 'on yer bike' mentality that has underpinned the benefit system for decades will itself be left redundant.

A costly affair

Britain is running up huge deficits as sectors of the economy grind to a halt. How will all this be paid for? Starmer is calling for higher taxes on the rich, but that alone is unlikely to be sufficient, especially if corporate profits remain depressed for years. Everyone is going to have to pay more.

Could the Tories go in for funding cuts? Perhaps - but likely not at the scale we've seen. The big targets after 2010 were local government and welfare. The former can't be cut further without it collapsing. The Tories may winnow away at the latter. Foreign aid could take a hit. But the party would have to tear up its electoral strategy of higher spending on schools, hospitals and police to recreate full-blown Osbornomics.

Labour, and possibly even the Tories, may look to wealth taxes to help bring down the deficit. Taxing people's wealth would be a major shift in Britain's approach, and could finally tackle one of the key sources of economic inequality.

But there's a problem. The richest hold most of their wealth as financial assets, meaning they can easily move it to offshore tax havens. Fixed assets, like houses, tend to benefit the middle classes. Taxing property wealth could hit Tory homeowners while barely affecting hedge fund billionaires. Targeting the latter would require a Tory government to clamp down hard on tax havens.

Conservative MPs are likely to be split on middle class tax rises and spending cuts. If the Tories go after tax havens and impose a progressive wealth tax, it would be one of the most dramatic changes the pandemic brings about. The curtailment of the free movement of capital would be a paradigm-shifting development, and an extraordinary one for a Conservative government.

What does need to happen is for governments to spend on preventative services - such as social care - in the knowledge that this will cut required spending down the line. Only when that happens will Britain's fiscal politics finally grow up.

But on a variety of fronts, the British are going to have to decide what it is we are willing to pay for. If we want functioning public services and low deficits, we'll have to pay more tax. If we want properly paid frontline public servants, we'll have to pay more tax still. If we want to end poverty pay, we may have to pay more for goods. If we want to protect the high street, or British producers, we may have to pay more in digital sales taxes or import tariffs.

Cakeism has run out of road.

The known unknowns

If Britain does head down the path of higher taxes, more generous benefits and greater public provision, our politics and economy will start to look more European - either universalist northern European, or rather more patriarchal southern European.

But the irony is, we'll be firmly outside Europe. Nothing that is happening right now will be fostering a European identity among voters. And if the government decides to take radical action on the economy, that could mean Britain fundamentally diverges from EU rules, keeping us on a separate path into the future.

All this is predicated on coronavirus being conclusively 'defeated', and a one-off in its mortality, geographical spread and disruption. Those are the prerequisites for things eventually returning to some recognisable norm.

If, however, pandemics of this scale become even semi-regular, shutting down national economies for months at a time, everything changes. Rents become unpayable, debts unaffordable, jobs untenable, the economy itself unsustainable. When Rupert Harrison, George Osborne's former adviser, is openly suggesting debt forgiveness, we are in very new territory.

Most people will want life to get back to normal as soon as possible. But if normal never comes, anything goes. And even the most radical ideas we've discussed would be on the moderate end of what could happen then.

[zeroviraluniverse-blog]

Playing chicken with the Channel Tunnel

Visit Now - http://zeroviral.com/playing-chicken-with-the-channel-tunnel/

Playing chicken with the Channel Tunnel

Faisal Islam, Political Editor

It takes 24 minutes to turn around a Eurotunnel freight train full of imports from Europe at the terminal near Folkestone, before it leaves full of lorries heading for the Continent – six trains an hour 24 hours a day, 7 days a week – a quarter of all our trade with Europe, or £100bn’s worth.

It is less a train station, and more a rolling motorway, with customs having been cleared on entry on the Calais side, the lorries and their cargo zoom off the freight trains and straight on to a spur road of the M20.

And then within minutes a fresh load of lorries load up with car parts from Oxford, fruit and veg from Gloucestershire, and my personal favourite – fish from Scotland exported to France via the Channel Tunnel.

Image: The Eurotunnel is a ‘rolling motorway’ of goods and people between the UK and Europe

This is the frictionless trade border with Europe in action – 99% of traffic is completely unchecked, as it is tariff free and up until now produced to the same standards within the European Union and its single market and customs union.

But leaving all three will have consequences to this, one of the infrastructural wonders of the world. The Channel Tunnel was born within months of the EU single market, with both projects championed by Margaret Thatcher.

Can things possibly stay the same, even if tariff-free goods trade can continue, if the UK is a “third country” by EU standards?

John Keefe is a director of Get Link, the recently rebranded name for the owners of Eurotunnel.

“Fresh vegetables, fish from Scotland, car parts, processed food, powdered pharmaceuticals – nothing here is checked. It is absolutely frictionless now. It’s like moving something from Manchester to London, there’s no check on the motorway, that’s how it works today,” he explains to me walking down the platform next to one of freight trains.

Depending on the customs trade deal, somewhere and somehow there might have to be checks for plants, tariffs, for rules of origin on manufacturing parts. So what does he understand by the Government’s mantra of “as frictionless as possible”?

“The ‘as possible’ has to go. The only way to run this is frictionlessly”.

It boils down to a rather cosmic game of chicken, Channel Tunnel chicken

Faisal Islam, Political Editor

Sky News has revealed that the Government had obliged key border operators to sign non-disclosure agreements over the shape of the post-Brexit border.

Number 10 and HMRC acknowledged this fact after our story. The Opposition suggested that it was “disturbing evidence” from a “Government obsessed with secrecy” that was “trying to hide the fact that they have no plausible plan for protecting British trade and manufacturing”.

HMRC said such non-disclosure agreements were “standard practice”. The Chair of the Public Accounts Committee Meg Hillier said they were “extremely unusual” because they were being forced on private companies being consulted on policy options, rather than the more usual purpose of use with a commercial contractor.

The agreements concern information shared with the Border Planning Group (BPG), a cross Whitehall Committee of senior officials.

This is public but its proceedings are private. An informed source told Sky News: “Early last year this group sought and received ministerial permission to talk to various businesses on projected Brexit impacts under a variety of scenarios, including WTO [No Deal].

“It was a data-gathering exercise that informed government scenario planning. The businesses signed NDAs and the anonymised results of the exercise were presented to BPG”.

Video: Tusk says the EU does not want to build a wall around Britain

The scenarios described to Sky News have been broadly interpreted by the industry as “hard Brexit”, “soft Brexit” and “no deal”. It is the last scenario that has raised the most eyebrows in industry.

“This is what we call the ‘Throw Open the Borders option,'” said one operator. The scenario involves the UK on day one of Brexit unilaterally deciding not to enforce customs checks, and other border checks, and presuming that a reciprocal approach will be taken by the European Union, and thus at least temporarily maintaining a non-negotiated form of frictionless trade in goods.

Indeed, although a number of involved operators confirmed this approach as a scenario being discussed by the Government, the Treasury appears to have broadly confirmed it to MPs earlier this month.

The Treasury minute in response to the Public Accounts Committee’s excoriating recent report on Brexit border preparations says that “the Border Planning Group has reviewed all border locations (ports, airports and the Channel Tunnel) to understand the implications at these locations of controls and checks; and concluded that there are a number of locations, especially ‘roll on – roll off’ ports (for example, Dover), where significant extra controls and checks would be difficult to accommodate without affecting the flow of traffic and people”.

This is a highly significant admission from the Government of the logistical impossibility of border checks at crossings designed from inception to operate without any. Put simply, there is no space.

The Government’s stated alternative? Pragmatism.

Everybody involved in negotiating Brexit should be made to stand on the platform of the Eurotunnel terminal

Peter MacSwiney, Chairman of ASM UK Ltd

“Therefore, the Government is taking a pragmatic approach to border controls to ensure the flow of traffic at the border, and to implement controls and checks as they can be accommodated,” it wrote earlier this month.

Mrs Hillier is unimpressed: “We were pretty staggered when we were told that behaviours wouldn’t change much the day after Brexit and they might have to reduce checks to keep traffic moving.

“If you have a two-minute delay on every freight vehicle, that could be a 17-mile tailback on both sides of Channel.

“If solving this means throwing open the borders to all players… it is staggering after all the Government’s constant talk of controlling borders – we are faced with a situation which could be fairly open borders and chaos on day one”.

But the really important thing here is the response of the EU, and the presumption that France or Belgium or Ireland would not enforce EU law, tariffs, standards checks and its customs code on a, by then, “third country” United Kingdom on its side of the border.

“Disruption in Europe trying to get to Britain is just as much of a problem as disruption here. If we have massive queues at Calais of the goods we rely on coming in, then that’s going to be disastrous and the EU is going to enforce the rules it has. It has to, that’s the way it works,” says Christopher Snelling of the Freight Transport Association.

Meg Hillier adds: “The idea we are hoping to become a backdoor for illegal products going into Europe, is not going to be reality.

“There’s got to be some wake-up call here – we’ve looked at even the new computer system that’s supposed to be in place a year from now – it’s not even got to the testing point.”

Even if there is a deal, outside customs union and single market regulations, checks will be required, somewhere.

The current customs checking facility that serves both the Channel Tunnel and the Port of Dover is a few miles away up the M20 at Stop 24. It has just 82 lorry parking spaces, to serve checks on lorries with cargo heading beyond European Union destinations to or from Turkey and Morocco.

As time ticks down the private sector has to make its own decisions amid the uncertainty. Mr Snelling said that 12-month contracts are now stretching past Brexit Day.

“What some are starting to find is they’re having to set two different prices: one for now while we are still in the EU and then a higher price once you are out of the EU because of uncertainty.

“Until a transition deal is nailed down and is legal and members can rely on this, then people have to price for the possibility there will be no transition and put procedures in place.

“Without a deal any goods going through will have to have checks, anything that is food or livestock or medicine will have even more checks on standards and health and all of that will be massively disruptive to businesses and consumers in Britain.”

Image: An aerial view of the Eurotunnel in France

And the lack of concrete credible border plans is beginning to change minds, including of Peter MacSwiney, the chair of a key Brexit customs consultative committee, himself no great fan of the EU.

If these options don’t work, he says, “the ports will come to a grinding halt”.

Is this not just more scaremongering? “We’re always warned we shouldn’t use words like ‘disaster’ with politicians,” he says ominously. Mr MacSwiney was asked, subsequent to the Sky News interview, to sign a non-disclosure agreement by Government – he refused citing “too much Brexit secrecy”.

Incidentally, he voted Leave in the referendum. “I did, but I didn’t vote for what it appears we are going to get now, though”.

A Government spokesperson said: “We want to have a customs arrangement that ensures trade with the EU is as frictionless as possible, and we have set out our two preferred models in our Customs Future Partnership paper.

“In relation to Northern Ireland and Ireland, both the UK and the EU have also been clear there will not be any physical border infrastructure.

“It is in everyone’s interests to secure a good deal for both sides and we think that is by far and away the highest probability, but we have a duty to plan for the alternative. That is common sense.”

Everybody involved in negotiating Brexit should be made to stand on the platform of the Eurotunnel terminal.

Here is where the claims of “they need us more than we need them” about imports of car parts and of prosecco can be seen in context.

It boils down to a rather cosmic game of chicken, Channel Tunnel chicken. Essentially “they” need the Channel Tunnel to move as freely for EU exports into the UK as the UK needs it the other way round.

This perhaps underestimates the political impact of the combination of export difficulties and a slowing up of the imports of consumer goods too.

:: Boris Johnson floats idea of Channel ‘bridge’ at UK-France summit

Video: Theresa May delivers her ‘hard facts’ Brexit speech

Is part of the UK Government negotiating position to dare the EU to apply its own trade laws, while the UK unilaterally chooses not to apply its own and waves trade through, essentially unchecked?

Border operators and manufacturers are beginning to take this prospect seriously, even though neither side of the Brexit negotiation wants it.

For what it’s worth, all believe that Europe would not reciprocate, and would apply legally necessary customs checks with the UK immediately.

The crippling effect of this on cross-border trade would surely mean that negotiations would start within months or weeks, I suggest. “Hours,” says one key logistics operator.

It is frankly amazing to hear such things being contemplated, even privately. No wonder the Government is rather liberally handing out non-disclosure agreements.

Put simply though – something is amiss. The money is not being spent, the planning permissions are not being sought, nor the customs officers being trained, let alone shovels in the ground to build the new facilities inescapably required by the Government’s decision to leave the single market and customs union.

Instead, the Government is signing secrecy agreements about unilateral plans widely dismissed by the people who actually operate the frictionless border.

With 12 months to go, and transition not a legal certainty, something has got to give, and soon.