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anonniemousefics · 4 years

Note

Hello! I absolutely adore your writing, especially your writings of kanej! Anyway, I would love to see you write something about jealousy from either kaz or inej, I just think it would be interesting to see your take on it! Obviously you don’t have to, I love your work! You’re a great writer!

❤️ Thank you so much!! This was so sweet to receive, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get this to you! So, hopefully you’re cool with this, but I decided to apply this idea in a modern AU because I have another request I’m also working on for a modern AU and this felt like an opportunity for some more practice. 😊 (And it just made it more fun for me -- idk, my brain just needed to do something new with these characters to make this work.)

Samples - Modern AU

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 3,545

Rating: Teen And Up (Language)

“Who did this?”

All of Kaz’s friends were doubling over in laughter around the round hand-me-down table in Kaz and Jesper’s apartment. There were black and white Cards Against Humanity prompts spread across its surface – the most offensive combination of which had Inej, well, and everyone else, in fits.

What made my first kiss so awkward? had been the prompt Inej had drawn.

To which Kaz had submitted the following, randomly-selected card for her consideration – Announcing that I am about to cum. And then kept his poker face locked in place.

“Who did this?” Inej was demanding again, clutching her stomach.

Kaz wasn’t sure why he was hesitating -- something strange was happening while all of this was playing out. Nina had one hand on Inej’s arm while she was fairly screeching with laughter. Inej was slumping against Jesper, like the laugh was shaking her boneless. In fact, everywhere he looked, he was noticing how they were each exchanging these casual, unconscious touches in the midst of their mirth – Matthias turning his face against Nina’s shoulder, Wylan slapping Jesper’s shoulder.

No one was touching Kaz, though – which, that was good, though, right? That was because they were his friends, and they were thoughtful, and they knew all about The Very Sad Thing that had made him the way that he was.

And yet --

Kaz couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. He should be laughing, though, he realized. A normal person would be laughing, given the infectious nature of laughter. And also it was genuinely a really funny card – that’s why he’d played it. But all he could do was force a smile, and that was it.

He suddenly felt like an alien among them.

“Was it you?!” Inej was exclaiming, waving the card at him. Kaz designed what he hoped was a coy smirk for her.

“Are you saying that’s your favorite?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“It was you.” Inej looked appalled, which only made everyone around the table hoot louder. Kaz was still smirking as she threw his winning card back at him with a mischievous, red-faced grin on her face.

“Oh, my God, Brekker.” Nina was wiping the tears off her apple-red cheeks.

“Why does that make it so much worse?” Matthias wondered, since he evidently could never not take a jab at Kaz. He scrubbed his eyes like he needed to wash them out.

And still not a single laugh out of Kaz’s body – this was disturbing. How long had he been this way? And why did he care so much all of a sudden?

“Guys, I’m pretty sure he won,” Wylan was saying, pointing at Kaz’s stack of wins. Had he? Everyone turned to count their cards.

Jesus Christ, he hadn’t even been paying attention to winning? But Kaz loved winning. It was the only reason he tolerated his roommate hosting these raucous game nights – because it meant Kaz could win things. And usually a lot of things. It was especially choice winning things off of Matthias Helvar, Nina’s latest lughead boyfriend she’d met at the gym, who now had to be invited to everything even though he sucked. He was always cuddling close to Nina, putting his arm around her, whispering gross things in her ear that made her giggle insufferably. It was so fucking uncomfortable.

Kaz never acted that way around Inej, and they’d been together for years. Sort of. Not always officially. It really had only been officially lately, but Kaz had always told himself he wasn’t one to need to put labels on things. Inej knewhow he felt – he knew this. (Did he, though?) He definitely knew this. (No, he didn’t.) There was no need to be like Matthias fucking Helvar and canoodle her in front of everyone on game night.

Oh, God. Kaz was suddenly having a realization, right there in the middle of counting his cards.

Oh, God.

He was jealous of Matthias Helvar.

Oh, this sucked.

This really fucking sucked. Kaz thought no one in their right mind should ever be jealous of that big dumb fuck, with his protein shakes and his weirdly popular fitspo Instagram page. The guy looked like he ate nothing but wild-caught salmon and organic broccoli. He wasn’t funny, and he’d say weirdly spiritual shit at socially unacceptable times. He probably spent his weekends doing annoying, on-brand fuckery like being one with nature and brewing his own kombucha, that asshole.

And this was the guy who felt comfortable enough to kiss a girl’s ear in a total stranger’s apartment. (Well, not a total stranger, Kaz would relinquish that – Nina had been dating Matthias for three months.) Matthias Helvar was doing all that nothing with his life, and he wasn’t the least bit self-conscious.

Ugh. Kaz hated that guy. Worse! Kaz wanted to be that guy. Minus the kombucha and the religious stuff. And the gym membership. And probably the protein shakes.

Ok, fine, Kaz was only interested in the PDA. This was so fucking awful.

“What number were we playing to?” he heard himself ask. He wasn’t even paying attention to card counting. He was going to have to start again.

“Can’t count that high, Brekker?” Matthias asked, smirking, and there was always something Kaz took as halfway serious in the way he tried to joke.

“Die in a fire, Helvar,” he said, with a smile that was as good as a middle finger.

“And on that note!” Nina sung out, standing with a hand on Matthias’ shoulder. “It’s almost midnight. I have an eight a.m. class. We gotta call it a night.”

“Matthias drove us,” Inej explained to Kaz’s questioning look at the word “We.”

Inej and Nina were roommates, too, like Kaz and Jesper, but the two girls lived on campus in the dorms at Ketterdam University, where all but Matthias attended. (Fucking Matthias, who was a personal trainer and got money from wellness companies to tout their shit on his Instagram. Ugh.) Wylan, Jesper’s boyfriend, was also living in the dorms this year, after spending his freshmen year commuting from his dad’s enormous house. Wylan had been the one with the car before Kaz had finally scraped together the money for one, but his dad had cut him off over the summer. Kaz didn’t know much about that beyond what little Jesper had told him, which, in summary, was: goodbye, car; hello, dorm life.

“You should have said something – I could have picked you all up,” Kaz said, mostly to Inej, as the others were standing from the table.

Nina reached a tentative hand out to gently touch his shoulder, well-protected by the fabric of his black v-neck.

“Kaz,” she said, gingerly, “we love you, but Matthias has functioning air conditioning.”

Kaz slid his glance toward Inej, who gave a little confirming nod, pressing back her amused smile.

“My thighs don’t stick to the seats in his car,” she explained, softly, which may as well have been a knife to the gut. He loved driving her around in his car. And, to top it off, she was in a pair of really adorable denim cut offs, her legs deeply tan from the summer sun, and he hadn’t even had the nerve to try to touch her exposed knee all night. (Meanwhile, Hands-On Helvar over here had been sitting with his palm all over Nina’s plentiful thighs all night. God, he was so gross. Couldn’t Kaz be just a little bit gross?)

“Are you okay?” Inej was asking. She was stepping a little closer to him away from where everyone else was putting on shoes, preparing to leave. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her loose, purple crop-top, and her long, dark braid was pulled over her shoulder – just mercilessly cute all over. And he hadn’t touched her all night.

“I’m fine,” he replied, but he kept his hands in his jeans pockets. Inej’s dark brows knit together.

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” she checked. Kaz huffed a laugh – how was he supposed to answer that? Realistically, he should lie.

“Probably not,” he admitted anyway, and gave a shrug. Inej opened her mouth to reply, but Nina called to her from the doorway of the apartment.

“Sorry! Eight a.m. class! She’s going to text you from the car anyway!” Nina was shouting.

“She’s not wrong,” Inej shrugged with a smile. And reached out to barely brush her hand against his spine, like the first attempt at a hug. But Kaz could only bunch up his shoulders, hands stuffed deeper into his pockets. Why was he like this?

There were a few more awkward goodbyes at the doorway, including Matthias’ one-more last-minute sales pitch on the recent CBD-infused green powder drink he was hawking online. (“I’ll bring you some samples next week. They say it’s excellent for chronic pain.” Kaz had flipped him off when his back was turned.)

But then, once they’d all gone and the apartment was quiet, Kaz felt like he was rolling in regret.

“You doing ok?” Jesper asked him, gathering up the empty Solo cups for the trash. Jesper was a really good roommate. They’d been randomly assigned the same dorm room at the beginning of freshmen year, and it just worked. Jesper’s high energy plus Kaz’s insomnia were meant to be. They liked all the same things: strong coffee, getting paid dirty money to write other people’s papers for them, and occasionally clearing the mind by playing Call of Duty all night. They’d moved off campus the following year (a better move for the plagiarism operation), never even really having a conversation about whether or not to room with someone else. It was not even a question, and who else would Kaz even want to room with?

“You’ve seemed off all night,” Jesper was pointing out, and if Kaz had half a brain, he knew he should have been asking Jesper for advice about PDA long before it had reached envying-Matthias-Helvar-levels. Jesper and Wylan were normal in public. When they held hands or hugged or traded kisses, it wasn’t some fucking scene.

But how was he even supposed to bring this up to Jesper?

“Helvar’s such a dillweed,” was all he could find to complain. Jesper snorted.

“He is not that bad,” he said, dumping a stack of Solo cups into the trash.

“He’s the literal worst,” Kaz objected. “I can’t believe he unironically called himself an influencer.” And at that, Jesper pretended to barf into the trashcan.

“Yeah, no, you’re right – that was dumb,” he said. “I commend you for not cutting off your own ears when he did.”

“We are not buying his stupid fucking green juice,” Kaz said, pointing at Jesper to show he meant business.

“Good!” Jesper agreed. “Nina says it gives him the shits.”

And that brought Kaz some comfort. He found he could smirk about it while he loaded up the dishwasher. He was starting it up when his phone buzzed on the counter. He leaned over to read it.

Inej: You seemed sad tonight.

Inej’s contact photo in his phone was one he’d snapped when she wasn’t looking – she was leaning her head back with her eyes closed, taking in the sunshine. It had made her brown skin glimmer and dazzle.

Kaz stared at her text for probably too long. Long enough for Jesper to peer around the corner of the kitchen doorway at him.

“I’m going to bed – everything okay?” he said, and cocked his head. “Is it another last minute job?” Those kinds of jobs – the ones where a student was giving up the night before something massive was due – paid the most, but for good reason. They were absolutely fucking miserable to pull off.

“No,” Kaz shook his head. “Just Inej.”

It was never “just Inej” – and Jesper nodded like he knew that.

“Hey, Kaz,” he said, as he began to leave for his bedroom. Kaz looked up at him sidelong as he mouthed, barely audible: “Tell her what’s wrong.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” Kaz rolled his eyes. And heaved a heavy sigh.

And started typing.

Kaz: I guess I was a little.

Whoa, pressing send on that was unpleasant. He wandered over to his preferred recliner in the living room and flopped back in it. Shoved the footrest up to elevate his bad leg. Ugh. Just ugh to everything and everyone. He looked down at his phone again.

And Inej had been quick to respond.

Inej: You can tell me these things, you know.

Inej: I know I won’t always have the right thing to say, but I want to be there for you.

Inej. Why are you being so perfect so far away?

Why are you wasting your time with a boyfriend who struggles to touch you?

Inej: Are you writing a novel?

He’d been writing and rewriting the same sentence twenty different times. She’d probably been looking at those ominous three bobbing dots for way too long.

Ugh. God. Fine. Kaz drew in a long deep breath, staring up at the ceiling like it could intervene and come to his aid. And then fucking wrote.

Kaz: I wish things were different

Kaz: I wish I wasn’t so fucked

Kaz: I wish I knew how to be a better boyfriend – how to make you blush and laugh and make that one smile that’s like you’re telling secrets with your eyes

He pushed the recliner back as far as it would go. Maybe it would tip and dump him on his head and he’d have to go to the hospital, and that would at least delay Inej inevitably breaking up with him for being this pathetic wet blanket. The phone buzzed again, and he almost didn’t want to look.

Inej: Um, where were you all night? You literally had me doing all those things all night

Huh. That wasn’t how he remembered it.

Kaz: On the opposite side of the table from you

Kaz: Watching basically everyone else be able to touch you but me

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck. That sounded so petulant, and he’d already pressed send. That sounded so needy and disgusting. Who said that kind of shit? Not even Matthias Helvar said that kind of shit. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. No, out the window. No, out into the sea.

Now he was on the receiving end of the three bobbing dots of doom. Fuuuuck.

Kaz: Can we just forget I said that?

More dots. Then nothing.

Then dots.

Inej: I don’t know. You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.

At that, Kaz raised his eyebrows.

Kaz: I am not jealous.

Inej: You’re a little jealous

Kaz: No, I feel insufficient.

(Oooof. That was like trying to throw an anvil. Painful.)

Inej: Oh

Kaz was watching the texts come in from beneath his arm now, holding the phone high over his head. Like watching the slasher scenes in a horror movie.

Inej: I mean

Inej: It seems like you’re just splitting hairs here

Inej: Since you must think others are sufficient in ways you are not, so you envy them

…

Kaz: Touche, Ghafa.

And he couldn’t help smiling to himself when Inej sent him a gif of a swashbuckling cartoon Robin Hood brandishing a sword. Then another text bubble appeared.

Inej: You are not insufficient to me, Kaz.

He really wanted to believe that.

Kaz: Even if I’m not hanging all over you and amassing a truly staggering number of Instagram followers with my six-pack abs?

Inej: O.M.G.

Inej: Kaz

Inej: Brekker

Oh, God, what had he done?

Inej: Are you *jealous* of Matthias?

Uggghh, he was going to be sick.

Kaz: Fuck no

Kaz: It was just a hypothetical

Kaz: It was an exaggeration

Kaz: I could do the same thing with any one of our friends

Kaz: And we all know the abs are photoshopped anyway

Inej: OMG

Kaz: What now

Inej: You called Matthias our friend

Kaz wanted to stab himself in the brain.

Inej: I’m gonna tell him

Kaz: Don’t you fucking dare

Inej: I already did

Kaz: What? How? How are you that fast?

Inej: Still in the car

Kaz: ????

There was no reason for that – the dorms were hardly a 10-minute drive. Now Kaz’s brain was assaulting him with a thousand reasons things his girlfriend could still be doing in a car (A nice car! With working air conditioning!) with a personal trainer/amateur Instagram model, and none of them were pleasant or welcome thoughts. The phone buzzed again.

Inej: I asked him to bring me back to you. :)

At that, Kaz straightened the recliner, rising to his feet as fast as his stiff leg would allow.

Kaz: You did? And he did? Why?

He was limping toward the front door.

Inej: Because he’s not terrible, Kaz. And because I guess I missed your car after all ;)

Jesper and Kaz’s apartment was the third floor of a wonky old Victorian home that had once been something grand and only recently had been split into three different abodes – which was definitely the worst decision the two of them had made as roommates. Kaz was leaning hard against the railing as he took to the steps when the front door of the building banged shut below. And then there on the landing below was Inej, wearing a sheepish smile in the yellow, buzzing fluorescence of the hall light. She was holding her phone in one hand, her tan leather purse slung across her slim body.

“I thought you looked like you could use a hug,” she said, as she pocketed her phone.

Kaz took the last two stairs carefully, coming to stand in front of her. She smelled like vanilla and coconut oil – like something he wanted to wake up to every morning.

“You came all the way back for a hug,” he wanted to clarify. His hands – he should do something with his hands. What would Matthias do with his hands?

No. What do I want to do with my hands?

So, he looped a couple fingers through her belt loops. Tugged her a little closer. And she smiled.

“Technically,” she said, “Matthias came all the way back so I could bring you some samples.” She patted her purse, which did look a little bulkier. “They were in his car the whole time.”

“Mmmm.” He pretended to look tantalized. “Hot car samples. Delicious.”

Inej was twisting her fingers in the t-shirt fabric at the crest of his hips. Tugging him a little closer, too. God, it was so good. She’d been so right. He had wanted a hug.

“I know that’s how I want my protein powder,” she teased. “Piping hot, right out of the oven.”

“Just how Ma used to make it,” Kaz added, with a good bit of feigned nostalgia. Inej blurted out a laugh, tipping forward until her forehead bumped his sternum.

At that first brush, it was like his hands knew what to do from there. They slipped around her waist while her hands slid around his. And she pressed her cheek against his chest while he held her close.

“You are not insufficient,” Inej said against him.

“I would really like to pretend that never happened,” he said with a sigh, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Too late,” she hummed, happily, and gave him a light squeeze. He smiled against her hair.

“You know I wouldn’t want you to be like Matthias, right?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t even want Matthias to be like Matthias,” Kaz grumbled.

“Hey,” and Inej pulled back to look up at him with her big, soft brown eyes. “I mean it. I just want you to be you. I don’t want all the handsy stuff. That’s what Nina likes. I just like you.”

Kaz carefully pushed back a few strands of her hair from her forehead.

“Not even a little handsy stuff?” he checked, which made Inej give her coy little smirk, his very favorite.

“Maybe a little handsy stuff,” she said.

If there were ever going to be a time to kiss her, it would be now. But when he thought it, Kaz felt his heart make an enormous leap into his throat, seizing in panic. If he touched her mouth with his, if he closed his eyes and felt her face so close to his, would he just end up floundering in The Very Sad Thing again? What if it happened while he was kissing her? Would every kiss after that be tainted? Could he risk it – could he ever?

So, he didn’t move to meet her lips. He let his hands fall to the small of her back, though, and kept her close for another moment. Like a sample of physical affection, and she seemed okay with that. He would will himself to believe it was not insufficient.

“Drive me home?” she asked after a moment, with a kind of sweet, eager anticipation that made Kaz believe in magic. He nodded, of course.

“I’ll go up and get my keys,” he said. “And you throw away those samples.”

Inej laughed, following him up.

“Deal,” she said.

-----------------------------------

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

#kanej #kanej fanfic #soc fanfic #six of crows #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #modern au #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #nina zenik #look so im not a matthias fan #dont come for me #i just want to make fun of him because he's a big doofus

119 notes · View notes

hope-remnant · 3 years

Text

The Practice Run Killing Game

Content Warnings: guns, violence, murder, manipulation, ableism, blood, weapons, bullying mention, and Dangan Ronpa, which is probably it’s own warning. This is literally 85% murder. 6.5K words.

My talentswap AU now has its own fanfic! for a full list of my talentswapped characters click [here]

Hifumi never thought school life could be so great. He grinned to himself in his dorm, pushing off the floor with socked feet to spin his desk chair back and forth. The pale blue light of his computer’s screen reflected on his glasses, which he pushed up with one finger and a smirk before typing out a last message to his friend’s stream chat.

JusticeHammer: I’ll be back in a few hours!! Have fun Hina!! <3

In his headphones the stream audio played, ambient underwater sounds from the game itself and the excited voice of his friend, the Ultimate Gamer.

“Bye Justice! You other mods better be on your best behavior now that the boss man is gone, okay?” Hina grinned up at the webcam from her side of the screen, waving with one tanned hand before returning to her game, talking about the strange atmosphere of an alien world.

The chat scrolled by as well, people from all over the world typing out goodbyes to him. Thousands of strangers, but dozens of friends as well, fellow moderators who helped wrangle the random people into order, who would play video games with Hifumi, who would message him and call him.

It was a far cry from where Hifumi had been in middle school, and he couldn’t help but grin again, shaking out his hands as if to shake out an excitement that clung to his bones, that stayed in his heart when he remembered he had friends.

His phone dinged with a soft chime, and he couldn’t help the quiet huff of amusement as he flipped open his phone and typed quickly.

Sakura: Where are you going Hifumi? Do you need assistance?

Hifumi: school council meeting! a weird late night one, no emergencies, dont worry sakura!

Hifumi: see you tomorrow, love you!!!!! :)

Hifumi stashed the phone in the pocket of his blazer- he was unsure what to wear to this sudden late night meeting, when before they had all been just after classes let out. He decided to play it safe and wear his school uniform.

Standing up from his chair, he made sure to plug in his laptop, the stream still running on it, and turned to leave his room. He had seen the interior of the main course’s dorms, they were triple the size, with their own ensuite and everything.

His own dorm was small, the wall space barely enough to fit his multitude of posters. There was a complimentary cork board as well, full of fanart people had made of his little sona, a kirby with a hammer and glasses, which he printed out and posted up on his wall as big as he could get them.

He pulled once on the lapels of his blazer, making the fabric settle properly on his shoulders and snatched his binder of notes he used in student council meetings. He made sure to lock his dorm on the way out, still smiling softly to himself. He toyed with the small ring of keys in his hand, dorm room key swinging as well as a number of soft cute keychains that Hina or Sakura sent him in their years as online friends.

He entered the cold night air, pocketing his keys and rubbing his hands together. Winter had clung harder than he had ever seen it, or Spring was simply apathetic even in April, biding its time. In the dusky light he could see the timid, barely blooming sakura trees that dotted the expansive main campus of Hope’s Peak Academy as he approached. There was no security on duty, the gates locked at the late hour.

Headmaster Kirigiri had given him a pass once he sent an anxious email talking about how the head of security, Sakakura, had been harassing him whenever he tried to go on campus. Even though reserve course students were barred from entering the main campus, Hifumi had privileges as the liaison between the reserve and main courses, and as a member of the student council.

Hina and Sakura had theorized it was because Sakakura was the Ex-Ultimate Student Council Leader, and was now one of the club’s supporting staff members, even if he had only worked at the school for a few years. The man was resentful of having a reserve course student on the council, a first in the school’s history, even though the reserve course was a relatively recent development.

Hifumi was used to people disliking him for seemingly no reason, it was only a problem that he took to the headmaster when it made him late to council meetings.

He glanced at his phone as he passed through the side gate intended for just security. He would likely be a minute or two late, but it wouldn’t make him stand out any more than usual. In his black and white suit he was a dark stain in the middle of any crowd of bright ultimates, who were able to wear anything pertaining to their talent and flaunt the rules.

Sakura wearing scrubs some days, Hina wearing garish merchandise for a game and smirking as the Ultimate Hall Monitor from class 77B could do nothing about it. They had told Hifumi about some of their classmates testing the rules, Enoshima in a sporty tank top, the Ultimate Team Manager getting away with it even in December. Fukawa, who didn’t even notice the rules apparently, and wore oil stained jumpsuits to class, no one able to deter the Ultimate Engineer and Ultimate Mechanic.

Yet here he was, in an ill-tailored suit. When he had been accepted into the reserve program and sent a uniform, his older sister had insisted he try it on, and cooed over him looking all grown up, as if she weren’t just a year older than him. She utilized some of her cosplay skills to try and modify the suit to fit him- they seemed to be made for exclusively skinny kids, then just sized up without concerns for body shape. Unfortunately Fujiko typically worked with skirts and dresses, which were more forgiving of hands more used to drawing and the bad eyesight all Yamadas seemed to have.

Hifumi had to stop for a moment, the breeze rustling past as he stared up at the few stars that began to twinkle in the night sky, faded and choked by light pollution, blurry even with his glasses. Some were simply blocked by the giant building before him, gleaming glass reflecting the lights of the city’s nightlife, aside from one classroom on the second floor, lit up bright white with silhouettes moving across the room.

He held the binder full of notes to his chest and walked into Hope’s Peak Academy, unaware that someone in the school’s entrance hall was hiding in the shadows, watching with eyes of deep scarlet that reflected light like a cat’s would in the low light.

Hifumi hurried up the stairs and down the hallway to the classroom they held meetings in. He saw Kamii and Kurosaki, two ultimates on the council who were dating, walk into the meeting room, Kamii practically clinging to her boyfriend. It was unsettling to see as he approached, considering Kamii thought PDA was impolite during meetings, and usually sat with someone between her and Kurosaki to avoid it. Maybe she was upset by something, but Hifumi wasn’t about to ask her, considering he was acquaintances at best with the council.

He followed them into the room, the last to arrive. The fluorescent lights were glaring and bright as night settled fully outside of their meeting. Everyone was seated aside from their Ultimate Student Council President, Umesawa, who stood at the podium in front of the blackboard, knuckles white as her blunt nails dug into the wood, her white armband standing out against the bright yellow of her hoodie.

After Hifumi sat down, leaving his notes on the desk, he noticed just how unhappy everyone seemed. Some were fidgeting, others talking but not saying much at all, their tone hurried and frightened, and others sat there and stared at the polished wood of their desk as if the world was ending around them.

“Now that we’re all here- you have some explaining to do Umesawa.” Ikuta, a girl with a famously short temper among the upperclassmen ultimates, had her hands on her desk as she stood slightly, her red hair swaying and catching the eyes of anyone who hadn’t been startled by her shout.

“Yeah, Aiko, your emails were really panicked.” Kashiki smiled softly at her friend, but she seemed to be trembling.

Umesawa tugged on one of the bright yellow ears sitting atop the hood of her sweatshirt, pulling down the hood and raising her head to look up at the council. Her eyes seemed to draw people in, one blue and one green, both full of an earnestness that made her a good Ultimate School Council President. Now, though, they were rimmed with red, and usually perfect wavy bob was a bird’s nest, brown strands out of place in any way they could be.

“I called you all here because it was best to be as discreet as possible.” Umesawa said.

Ichino snorted, not even bothering to hide his disrespect, too busy carding his hand through his already messy red hair. “Discreet. Yeah.”

Just when Hifumi was going to ask them all to explain, because these ultimates always acted as if everyone just knows what’s going on instead of learning things like normal people- the door creaked open and someone Hifumi had never seen before stepped inside.

The first thing Hifumi noticed were the gloves. One a perfect, unstained white, carrying a large duffle bag. The other a black that blended into her sleeve. The rest of her outfit was just as puzzling, a bright red tie and a white button up, but with a black cropped leather jacket over it. A black miniskirt and red knee high boots as well completed the outfit. But even then, it was almost at odds with pale violet eyes and long lavender hair, only a small portion of that hair in a braid that she toyed with in her black gloved hand.

“Good evening class.” She said, her voice even and her eyes narrowed.

Umesawa backed away from the podium, staring at the girl. “Who are y-?”

The girl waved off the question, her black gloved hand slashing through the air, making the council president back away further. “Goodness, and they say you’re one of the brightest in the school?” She takes a step closer, heeled boots heavy on the floor. “Pathetic.” She says, a light scolding, a chiming thing that seemed more like a schoolyard taunt than a threat.

But Hifumi could tell this girl was a threat. Maybe she had a dangerous ultimate talent- he knew for a fact that even if an ultimate skill was illegal they could be admitted and given essentially some form of diplomatic immunity while they attended the school.

“Why the hell are you here lady?!” Ikuta snapped, standing fully with her hands on her hips.

The girl put both her hands in the air, as if surrendering, but she was smiling, amusement sparkling in those eyes that seemed to dig into anything she laid them on, ferreting out as much information as she could. “I just want to play a game with my fellow ultimates.” She said, placating and condescending.

Hifumi, who was tired, confused, and could be watching his friend play video games right now, finally spoke up. “Can any of you ultimates ever explain anything, or is being cryptic part of the main course syllabus?”

The girl turned to him and glared, and Hifumi couldn’t help the small squeak of fear that slipped from his mouth when her face twisted into a sneer. It was a dramatic expression, he had seen it in games and shows, but no one had ever looked at him like that, no matter how many bullies he had faced. Like he was less than nothing, his very existence something to be loathed.

“A. Game. That shouldn’t be so hard for a simple reserve course student to understand, right? After all, you don’t spend your time doing anything worthwhile, if you can’t even manage to get into the main course.” The girl’s voice dripped with malice, and she quickly took over at the podium.

Umesawa backed up even more, now close to the window opposite of the door to the classroom, hands tugging her hood back up so she could pull at the fake rabbit ears in nervousness.

“I will keep it simple.” The girl shot Hifumi another look. “Last man standing wins. Go.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Ikuta stepped out into the aisle between desks, pointing a finger at the girl as she demanded answers. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, demanding shit from us? Are you some reserve course kid? We’ve had enough from Yamada-”

Everyone’s eyes had been on Kotomi Ikuta, they hadn’t noticed the threatening girl at the front moving at all, assuming she had been just as stunned by the rant, until Ikuta was cut off by a gunshot.

Hifumi had heard guns before, in games, in animes, in movies. There were different patterns to them depending on the type, and when he and Hina became really invested in a game he would bother to tell them apart, the distinct rapid pulses, the blasts and thunderous booms from all different kinds of weaponry. He had never heard one in real life, had never been in the same room as a real gun, even though he knew there was a shooting range up on the fifth floor for those whose talents needed such things.

It was louder than he expected, and the noise was what made him freeze. In the middle of the classroom, Ikuta fell to her knees, then slumped forward. Shrill screams and rumbling expletives filled the room.

It took a moment, to properly process all of the information and connect the dots. When he did Hifumi couldn’t stop the sharp gasp, even though all it did was make him notice the sharp sulfuric stench of gunpowder, as well as the metallic tang of fresh blood. Things he had never experienced before.

An ultimate had died right before his eyes, by something as simple as the handgun that rested like it was molded to be in the strange threatening girl’s black gloved hand. The girl’s eyes were alight with something Hifumi couldn’t understand as she huffed through her nose in what might have been amusement.

She dropped the duffle bag in her other hand, the thing spilling open to reveal an assortment of weapons from knives to swords, hammers and screwdrivers, guns of all shapes and sizes. They were real, the flash of silvery metal, the dull gleam of tools with a new use branded onto them right before their eyes.

“If that’s not enough for you, I’ve got more.” The girl smirked, and waved to the still open door. A cart came rolling in, it’s top shelf littered with larger weapons. A chainsaw, a mace, a sledgehammer, all on top of it, all perfectly clean as if even they didn’t know what a dark omen they were, as if they didn’t know their capacity to do harm in the right hands.

At the bottom of the cart there was a large case which the girl pulled onto the floor with ease after sliding her handgun into a previously unseen holster high up on her thigh. She kicked the case with her boot, walking around it and towards the door. “That holds all the motivation you’ll need.”

“Everyone stay calm!” Umesawa ordered, straightening up from where she had been cowering. “No one touch those weapons- someone could get hurt!” Her voice was as sweet as ever, even with the urgency, she took out her phone and flipped it open, only for her face to fall.

Yokō stood up from his place at the back of the room, turning his flip phone around as if to show it off. “No connection.”

Kubo stood up, gesturing broadly to the class. “She can’t stop all of us, just listen to Umesawa!”

But everyone seemed to be getting up, fourteen students all in one room, some paralyzed by fear, others covering their fear with anger. Hifumi stayed seated, staring, unable to process it all at once, afraid.

A student who had been at Ikuta’s side the instant she fell, trying to help her even after a gunshot wound to the forehead, lunged forward and grabbed one of the spilled weapons at random. He ran towards the terrifying girl who had orchestrated Ikuta’s death. The boy, Someya, was holding a shotgun that was almost too big for him to handle. The little plushies on keychains at his belt jingled slightly, at odds with the cold metal in his hands. Before he could aim, someone grabbed at him.

Ichino tried to grapple the weapon away from Someya, but the small boy clung to the instrument of death with a desperation no one in the room had seen before now in a human being. Someya was frantic, eyes glassy with tears, his distinctive blue bowlcut in disarray as he shook his head, saying how she needed to pay for killing Ikuta.

In the chaos Hifumi finally stood, moving to the wall the door was on, his back hitting the wall quickly as he tried to look around. Umesawa still was at the podium, pleading for order. Gōryoku was shielding some of the others who had broken down into tears with his large muscular body, and some other students had approached the front of the classroom.

Someya was facing the door, facing the girl who had her gun in one hand but was toying with her braid as well, as if bored. She hummed an uneven tune, as if bored, as if waiting for a show to start.

“Please!” Someya cried, tears falling as the shotgun was wrenched out of his hands, the gun making a sharp cracking sound as it hit the floor.

Then the katana entered his chest from behind, skewering him. As the weapon was pulled out with a wet sucking sound Hifumi wished he could never have heard, the girl holding the weapon sobbed. “My mother- they have my mother- I’m so s-sorry, I can’t-!”

With a sob that devolved into a scream, Kisaragi kicked away the file of photographs she had taken from the case, the motive set out for them. It showed a middle aged woman bound to a chair, screaming into a gag.

“Karen! Please, listen-!” Umesawa implored, a hand outstretched. “Put down the-!” She let out a small scream when Kirasagi lurched forward, slashing the katana.

The sword embedded itself into the podium. Most of the class either hung back or scattered to grab the motives, and then the weapons.

Hifumi could only focus on one thing at a time, the sounds. The wet thunk of metal sinking into flesh, into the soft organs of the human body, so fragile even if the person had been deemed ultimate. Gunshots, sobbing, deranged laughter, screams and death rattles.

Hifumi staggered under the onslaught of sensory information overloading his mind with no way to filter it, no way to stop it. All he could do was try to get away.

Blood splattered onto his blazer, up his neck and onto his face as another student died. With a short, faltering yell, he pushed someone out of the way of the door and began to run.

The moonlight streaming into the hallways washed them in a pale ghostly glow, as if illuminating perfection, as if a spotlight was needed. Hifumi didn’t know it, but he looked similar to when he spoke to his friends in late night chats, his lights off in his room and illuminated only by the pale glow of a computer screen, tired and giggling.

Pink marred the walls and floors. In the classroom Hifumi abandoned, a boy he had spoken to, someone in a committee with him, was brutally beaten to death with a chair. A girl he knew was stabbed. Another was strangled. The events tumbled together into one big massacre, one big game, one big show, and the girl who pulled the strings to watch this all happen couldn’t help the grin on her usually passive face as she left the scene into her own lair.

Someone stood at her side now, shorter than her, but even more intimidating. A person in a pristine suit and long black hair, almost ridiculous in its length. Their red eyes seemed to gleam as they watched, but their pointed features never twitched from an expressionless mask of disinterest.

“Satisfied, Izuru?” Kirigiri asked once she reached her control room, one of her lackeys nodding to her reverentially and giving her the seat. Another approached her other side, giggling.

“...” Izuru’s eyes slid to the side, towards where the lackey who had been in the chair now cowered, too horrified to watch what he assisted in causing, pathetic. The girl laughing into her hand was small, and with Izuru’s keen sight and ultimate knowledge, Izuru knew that the girl was thirteen at best, too young, yet still an ultimate. She was enthralled by the gore on screen, delighted by it, just as much as she was enthralled by Kirigiri, who put a hand on the young girl’s shoulder, speaking words but never telling her anything.

With a small huff through their nose, Izuru turned and left to see the scene for himself.

Hifumi didn’t know when someone had got him with a blade. They evidently had, from the wound on his arm pouring blood, pink staining his nice uniform, running through his fingers even when he tried his best to stop the bleeding.

He continued to stumble on, mind overloaded with information, with fear, and he couldn’t help but just blank out on all of it. There was too much to process, too much to bear acknowledging. With a ragged huff, he leaned against a wall of lockers, the cool metal a relief from everything, another nothingness to sink into.

The wall of windows allowed in so much moonlight, for a moment Hifumi thought it was day, that any moment so many of the best students in the country would come pouring out of their classrooms. Maybe his friends would be among them, Hina tapping on her phone or the newest handheld console, Sakura making sure they didn’t bump into anyone.

They would see him, and Sakura would hold him. She was so strong, so steady. She could carry Hifumi to the infirmary, could bandage him up and offer him a lollipop with that slight smile she got when she talked to him or Hina. She would fret over him any time she saw him until the bandage was finally gone, she would insist on carrying his bag or his notes for student council-

Hifumi swallowed down a sob, pushing himself onward. Screams echoed down hallways made to carry the voices of the best, the last cries of those who were dead the moment that girl walked into their meeting. It hurt, to keep moving, to keep acting as if just running away would save him, but everything would hurt no matter what choice he made.

All he wanted was to hang out in Hina’s dorm, his best friends at his side as they all rested on Hina’s bright pink bed, Sakura studying late into the night as he and Hina fell asleep against her.

He wanted so much, and he was never going to get it, not now. Hifumi knew he was going to die here, he just knew it. Was this something other people felt, like a blanket of fresh snow, cold and melting deep into his bones as he realized death was coming for him, an unstoppable force? Was this something that had always been there waiting for him, and he only noticed it now when his head swam and pink dripped from his fingers?

In every game, every anime, every manga, the hero managed to get up and keep going. Whether to escape only to save the day later, or to defeat whatever stood in their way. No one expected that of Hifumi. Maybe they would think an ultimate was capable of it, and there were thirteen ultimates he had left behind to tear each other apart.

He heard a high pitched, screaming cackle and the revving of a chainsaw, the cut off screams of a victim, far enough away that he wasn’t in danger.

Hifumi wouldn’t find any heroes here. All he could do was try his best.

The ones who cared for him, his friends, that’s all they had ever asked of him. To try his best, to keep going, to rely on them if he needed to. Hifumi needed them more than ever, Hina’s endless energy and excitement, Sakura’s quiet strength and support. Hina would be in her dorm, headphones on as she kept talking and talking, playing video games for thousands to see. Sakura was studying a new medical journal, sitting on Hina’s bed, out of view of the webcam.

They were so close but so far, and they were all he could think of. Would they send worried texts when he never messaged them goodnight? Would they wait until tomorrow morning, thinking he had been tired from the meeting? Would they use the extra key to his dorm he gave them, and find his room as he left it, as if nothing was amiss? Would he become another muttered rumor, like the supposed death of a girl in the computer lab of the reserve course?

Would anyone aside from Hina and Sakura notice him gone from campus? He was invisible to the other reserve course students. Maybe they would wonder why there was an extra desk in their classroom, and dismiss it just as quickly as a mistake, never remembering him.

Tears welled up in his eyes. It was all too much, the noises, the things he had seen. Hifumi had never seen someone die before. He had never seen someone kill before. He had never seen carnage, or gore, or death. He wanted nothing more than to calm his racing thoughts, but they all piled up and screamed until he reached nothing, slumped against some lockers. His left hand was in his mouth, and he bit down harshly on the joint of his thumb, his right hand clutching where he had been injured.

He screamed silently, throat hurting, tears finally spilling. He was so tired and scared and lost and he just wanted- he didn’t know what he wanted, he didn’t know what to do, it all was piling up, it was washing over him, a tsunami of panic and blood, bright pink and towering over him, until it finally fell and consumed him without even noticing.

Hifumi continued to dig his teeth into his hand, it was something solid, letting him know that he was here. He brought his knees up to his chest, his legs squishing into his stomach. He let go of his wound, his right hand coming up to pull at his short curly hair as he keened. The wet sticky feeling of blood on his hand, in his hair, was so bad but the grounding pull of pain in his scalp was something that kept him from trying to slam his head into the wall or something equally damaging, because he needed anything to stop his mind from screaming, to stop himself from screaming. He began to rock back and forth, crying.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. The moon watched on, impassive in its pale glow. Was time really passing, or had the world ended the moment that girl shot Ikuta? Was the planet still spinning? Would the moon ever set?

“Get up Yamada.”

Chills swept down Hifumi’s spine, he swore someone was talking, but all he could hear were distant gunshots and screams.

“Yamada! Get up!” A polished shoe kicked him in the shin, and Hifumi finally looked up.

Murasame stood before him, leaning on a pitchfork. The dark grey tines were splattered with blood already, dripping down onto the floor. Hifumi stared at the blood, mind numb, lungs and throat pained by the sobs that had wracked his body.

“I can’t kill a guy who’s crying like a baby. Are you a man or not, Yamada? I know you’re just a stupid reserve course, but c’mon. Get up, die with a little bit of dignity.” Murasame rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He bent down to look at Hifumi like he was nothing more than a bug on the ground, disgusting. His brown hair shifted to cover his face as he leaned, before snorting wryly and standing up straight again, rolling his eyes.

Hifumi choked on another sob, trying to just breathe. He used both of his hands to brace against the lockers behind him, trying to stand. He didn’t know why he bothered, but it was something to do. Maybe Murasame was joking? Maybe he would help Hifumi?

The moment Hifumi was steady on his feet Murasame backed up, swinging his pitchfork up, an arc of pink that glowed in the moonlight following it.

Hifumi ran again. He turned a corner down the hall, still between a wall of lockers and windows, still in a cold empty husk of a school, and he didn’t stop.

He bumped into something- someone, and stumbled back, looking at them. A short person with long black hair and pointed features, deep red eyes that stared at him with nothing behind them. “Sorry!” He shrieked, the habit converging against his fear as he quickly stepped around the person and kept running.

Izuru raised an eyebrow and deftly hid between the lockers as another ultimate passed, this one full of bloodlust, hunting the boy who ran into them. It was different, interesting, but Izuru kept moving. They had more to see than this.

Every breath seared from Hifumi’s lungs, his body ached as he did his best to keep moving. But he didn’t even make it all the way down the hallway. Hacking into his bloodied hands, he ended up falling against one of the massive windows that made up the outside wall of the school. His injured arm burned with pain against the cold glass.

Hifumi whimpered, turning to keep his back to the glass as he heard sprinting footsteps slow and reach him.

“Everyone hated you, Yamada.” Murasame huffed, both hands holding the pitchfork as if it was a staff.

“What?” Hifumi wheezed out, more confused than frightened.

“You waltz in, a useless reserve course, and start telling us what to do. We had a betting pool going on whether you were just that oblivious that you didn’t notice how annoying you were, or if you really were just that annoying.” Murasame sneered.

“Wh-What?!”

Murasame let go of his pitchfork with one of his hands to point at Hifumi accusingly, the tines of the weapon scraping against the floor loudly, making Hifumi flinch away.

“That. Is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so annoying and don’t even fucking know, do you? Handing out orders, trying to get us to help a bunch of teenagers who convinced their parents to blow their money just to attend Hope’s Peak- it’s a wonder no one offed you before now.” Murasame swung the pitchfork back up, both hands on the weapon as he pointed it at Hifumi.

“No- please-!” Hifumi begged, trying to dive out of the way.

The sound of cracking glass echoed around the hall as Murasame chuckled. “Really?”

Hifumi wanted to back away, wanted to run again, but fear paralyzed him.

Murasame just shook his head, pulling back his pitchfork and causing the window to fully shatter. “Get up Yamada. I’m not killing you while you cower. Unlike you, I’m better than that.”

Hifumi made another noise, a whimpered plea even he couldn’t understand, and stood up. He trembled and breathed in the cold night air that rushed through the broken window.

Murasame wacked Hifumi in the head with the side of the pitchfork, toying with him.

Hifumi stumbled to the side, now fully in front of the empty window frame, shards of glass still clinging to the sides. Part of him wondered if he should say something cool. Last words were supposed to be cool, right? That was for heroes, and he had always wanted to be one. He had always wanted too much.

Murasame bared his teeth and stabbed forward, the tines of his pitchfork sinking into Hifumi’s abdomen. For a moment all Hifumi could feel was the force of it, like a gut punch, something he hadn’t been a stranger to back in his middle school days. But sharp pain quickly followed, spreading, and he staggered back, the heel of his shoe hitting open air. He grabbed at the long handle of the pitchfork reflexively, unable to do anything about it.

Murasame lunged forward, trying to grab the handle of his weapon, but he missed. The revving of a chainsaw grew steadily closer, as well the unhinged laughter of an ultimate pushed to the edge. Hifumi’s killer didn’t bother watching him fall, instead running in search of a new weapon.

Hifumi gasped raggedly as he tipped out of the window, the world swinging away until all he saw was the sky. The black of night was endless, the faded stars twinkled, the moon still shined. They wouldn’t change with one boy’s death. They wouldn’t care.

As he fell, all he regretted was not giving Hina and Sakura a better goodbye. He felt the slight scrape of leaves and then his body slammed into the ground, rendering him unconscious.

He wouldn’t wake for days. When the school’s security would find him during their sweep of the grounds, it would be an hour after they already found the unresponsive, unconscious body of Aiko Umesawa, her yellow rabbit hoodie stained pink. She would be taken to a nearby hospital, and she would be silenced before she had a chance to wake.

Hifumi was found later, a pitchfork still stuck in his stomach, and that was for the best, as it staved off the worst of the bleeding as it stayed in the wound. He had sustained a head injury and a cut to his arm, but it was better than the twelve dead students littering the second floor of Hope’s Peak Academy. A dozen bright, beautiful students all dead, their lives destroyed before they could truly live.

The school board of Hope’s Peak knew another factor to the puzzling killing game. Their pet project, Izuru Kamakura, was missing. The Ultimate Hope, the Ultimate Ultimate, was gone and most of the staff who attended to the project were dead or had been enjoying a day off in the peace of their own home, unknowing that their colleagues were being slaughtered like animals.

It had to have been Izuru Kamakura that unleashed this bloodshed. The project ensured that the Ultimate Hope had every talent and skill ever recorded, the school board knew how easily their little project could kill, could hide bodies. They assumed it was a vengeful sign to the board, thinking themselves worth the carnage. The school board thought too highly of themselves. They underestimated just how easy it was to bring an ultimate to a breaking point.

An entire life that culminated in a title, and ultimate, until that was all they were known for. They had to constantly one-up themselves, to constantly prove to others, and to themself, that they were the best. Years of effort, years of blood, sweat, and tears. Everything relied on their ultimate. Their world revolved around it, until they became the embodiment of their ultimate, until their ultimate became them.

When tasked with murder, with letting go of any inhibition and just committing violence, just causing harm, something any human being was capable of, they took to the task with an almost inhuman speed. Some would need a push, but even then, their calculating mind would whir and they would frame everything to their advantage. They would come out on top, they had to. They were an ultimate after all.

But the school board only saw the brightest of their students, children. The blame was placed on Izuru Kamakura, and they quickly moved to cover up any signs of the incident.

Hifumi Yamada would have been placed in the same hospital as his student council president, and would have been silenced just the same, two birds with one stone, but that didn’t happen. The Ultimate Nurse Sakura Oogami demanded the school fly her best friend to her clan’s clinic. She would take care of any medical need, or else she and her girlfriend, the Ultimate Gamer, would drop out of Hope’s Peak permanently, and Asahina would use her global fame to ensure that the reputation of their former school was dragged through the mud.

The school board didn’t care much if the reserve course student died, but it was best if the kid died out of their responsibility, so they used the school’s helicopter to fly Hifumi, Sakura, and Hina all to the Oogami clan’s isolated compound.

Days passed where Sakura tended to her best friend’s wounds, and he awoke. His shifting had roused Hina, who had been sleeping at his bedside, and she ran to get Sakura.

Hifumi couldn’t help but cry in Sakura’s arms, crying himself to sleep within minutes of waking, but this sleep was far more restful. He knew he was safe. He knew he would be cared for. He knew he’d never have to go through something so bad like that ever again.

Two weeks would pass from this incident, and Hifumi would find himself locked in Hope’s Peak Academy, working with the 78th class to bolt over any window and make sure they could never, ever escape. He would agree to lock himself into the building where the worst thing to ever happen to him occurred. He agreed because Hina and Sakura would be at his side. He agreed because he knew they would be safe, together.

Hifumi’s memories of the School Council Killing Game were unclear. He would wake from nightmares gasping for air, never fully remembering the faces of his fellow students who died, only remembering the indifferent moonlight and the gleam of deranged eyes.

When Hifumi would ask Kyoko Kirigiri if they had ever met before, the Ultimate Lucky Student would smile awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders and saying that he must be thinking of someone else, and he would believe her, unknowing of the deep, undying loathing she carried in her heart towards him. Unknowing that she had sworn to kill him with her own hands one day.

#my talentswap #writing #Hifumi Yamada #Aoi Asahina #Sakura Oogami #Kyoko Kirigiri #danganronpa talentswap

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imagineclaireandjamie · 4 years

Text

Shielded. Chapter Four

Happy Sunday all, back to the usually scheduling this week. I hope you enjoy the next week of lockdown with Jamie and Claire <3 Mod MBD.

Anonymous said to imagineclaireandjamie:

It does not matter what you bear, but how you bear it. [Seneca]

CHAPTER FOUR: WEEK TWO - Home and Away.

As Monday rolled around again, the weekend having passed by in a blur, Claire sat at the breakfast table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Having ventured down during the day on both Saturday and Sunday, she had hoped to bump into Jamie and pass on her thanks to his generosity but he had been out before sunrise each day and she had been asleep before he’d returned home.

Resolute, however, she chose to spend her day downstairs and hopefully get something on for dinner before he came back so she could at least start the week off right.

Fate, however, wasn’t on her side. By 10pm, with the lasagne tucked away, wrapped in foil, in the fridge, she covered her mouth with a yawn and pulled herself up the stairs to bed.

The crash and smashing of a glass bought her out of her sleep as the clock beside her bed clicked over to 3am. Pulling herself from beneath the sheets, she crept downstairs, eager not to scare him as she approached the kitchen.

“Couldn’t sleep?” She asked, knowing full well he had only just returned home.

He was stood by the sink, cold lasagna on the countertop and his mucky boots still on his feet. With the fork held to his mouth, he smiled as he took another bite of the pasta, chewed and then shook his head. “I havena ever been the best sleeper but it’s lambing season, aye? One of them got into bother and I couldna leave her until I knew she was safe.”

“And she made it?”

“Aye. I was luckier tonight than I was at the weekend.”

“Oh, dear...that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s the job, I’m afraid. If I didna lose at least a handful a year I’d be shocked.”

It was the first real (and longest) conversation they’d had since she’d arrived and she was suddenly grateful for the company. He was calm, grounded and relaxed in the way a lot of city dwellers weren’t. She could tell in the slump of his shoulders that it didn’t matter how long and awkward his day was, how messy or how little sleep he had gotten the night before, he was still weightless almost, free of the constraint modern living brought to most.

“I wanted to say thank you,” she broke in, remembering the reason she’d half-blindly stumbled down in the middle of the night, “you’ve been so amazing - to get me materials for a garden, that’s...above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Ach,” shaking his head, he finished the last of his supper, balled the tin foil up and placed it in the bin, “dinna fash yersel’ about that. It’s no’ a problem.”

He was embarrassed, she could tell. Abashed, his accent had become incredibly thick and almost impossible to understand. But it was quiet enough here that there was no background noise to blot out his sentence and luckily she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.

“Well, nonetheless,” ignoring the slight reddening of his cheeks she continued, “I am very grateful to you. For everything.”

With nothing more to say between them, she waved, smiled and backed off, feeling strangely pleased with herself for breaking the silence between them. Hopefully, she thought as she climbed the stairs back to her room, there would be some evenings in the future when they could eat together and she could show her appreciation by making him something warm and fresh.

-- --

By mid-week, she had yet to see Jamie again. His work was intense, and yet, despite that, he had still managed to begin construction of her tiny garden.

In her haste she had forgotten that she wasn’t allowed outside the house and, as she’d watched the greenhouse foundations being laid, she had become almost inconsolable about the fact that she probably wouldn’t get the chance to tend to any of the produce grown in it.

She knew, however, that safety was more important than new hobbies and she chose, instead, to make detailed lists of the daily needs of each of the seeds and plants Jamie had procured for her.

She started with the tomatoes and grapes, which needed to be contained within the glass walls in order to collect enough light and heat to survive. She noted water levels, soil PH and balance and daily rituals which would need to be abided by in order for the best crop to be formed. It filled most of her days and when the sun went down, she’d swap her notepad for the computer as she researched all the differences she might see in her fruit and veg determined all by the way they were treated as they grew.

Though she had never been an artist, she started to search for youtube videos on how botanical art could be created. Having no coloured pencil crayons or watercolours, she stuck to pencil sketches and began to leave more post-it’s, this time with future predictions on what the garden might produce for the household.

Once again Jamie enjoyed coming home. There had only been a few days lapse in her communications but when he didn’t see her for days, it was the one thing he could rely on to buoy his spirits.

They were different, in so many ways, but on a subconscious level, he pondered to himself at night as he held the drawing of some rare cabbage in his hands, Jamie felt as if they had very many similar quirks. He’d been pleased that his idea to leave her be for as long as she needed had been a success and was grateful she felt at home enough to reform her life around his. Her asking for the garden made him realise how easy it might be for someone else to fit into his own life without causing him much grief.

It was only a small thing, but to him it had made a huge difference. Having lived alone for so long, he had almost forgotten how malleable people could be. Though, he thought as he rifled around in the fridge for more pre-made meals, he had probably just gotten lucky with Claire.

The thought also occurred to him that she had been inadvertently raised more suited to this life than her old one, but he didn’t know enough about her to advance on the notion.

It wasn’t until late on Thursday when they came face to face together. After another heavy day and late night, Jamie finally toe-ed off his work boots at nearly midnight and made his way, quietly, through to the kitchen.

He had not expected to nearly bump straight into Claire has she dished up what looked like a very tasty stir fry.

“I thought you might be sick of reheating pasta dishes, so I thought I’d try and wait for you this time.”

“Ye didna have to, it’s very late.” He scratched the back of his neck bashfully, even she couldn;t find the truth in his words and she smiled as she placed a fresh bottle of soy sauce in the centre of the table. “But this does smell delicious.”

“It’s taken me a few attempts to hone it, but I’ve been practicing most evenings this week to try and get it perfect, flavour as well as how long I need to cook the veg for.”

“What’s the meat?” He asked, watching as his stomach rumbled audibly.”

“I used the duck, I hope you don’t mind. I used chicken earlier in the week but I couldn’t seem to get it as tender as I wanted it and a few forums online suggested that duck might be a better substitute if I wanted meat with a bit more moisture.”

“Perfect. Use any meat you want from the freeze, for anything. Honestly, I forget most of the time what I’ve got in there.”

Placing several bowls filled with various meats, vegetables and sides, she went back to the sink to wash the remaining stickiness of her hands before beckoning him to start without her. “I had hoped you weren’t saving anything for a special occasion.”

“Ach, I think the virus has put pay to anything like that for a while,” he began, filling his plate with noodles, duck and beansprouts, “my sister - she lives in Canada now - had planned a summer visit, but we’re no’ sure of anything at the moment.”

“Is she the one in the photo,” Claire enquired, taking a mouthful of her own concoction and swallowing back the relief when it tasted nice - a mixture of sweet and savory that wasn’t as overpowering or as dry as it had been earlier on in the day when she’d made the first of the final tests. “The one with brown hair?”

“Aye, she is. Her partner, Ian, got a job out there a few years ago and they emigrated. We talk as often as we can on Skype and FaceTime but it’s become sporadic recently wi’ my erratic work hours. She’s a nurse, ya see, and works odd shift patterns too. But we try and keep in touch at least once a month.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I didna really think about it, we were close....until we werena. Then they moved away and I fell into a new routine.”

He had begun to speak without thinking, filling up the silence with answers to her questions as they ate in between conversation. He had, though, had the forethought to stop before giving too much away. The thought hurt his heart and he had to inhale between a bite of his dinner to gather himself back up. He knew, given time, that he would be alright with sharing his past (as he hoped she would be with hers) but tonight wasn’t the night for revelations.

Sensing his reluctance to continue, she moved on, understanding that she herself wasn’t in a place to open up about her own family life.

“I can imagine Skype is about the only way most are communicating at the moment.” Sighing, she started to collect the empty dishes and load the dishwasher. “I’m quite grateful, actually, that I don’t have anyone to keep in touch with. It’s all...quite scary.”

It was the first time Jamie had consciously thought about the pandemic, being cut off from the outside world had its benefits and he felt relieved that he could separate himself from the constant barrage of news that he supposed others would be exposed to. He realised that both he and Claire were unique now, part of a smaller section of society where being remote was almost a blessing rather than a curse.

“If you ever need to talk, lass,” standing, he helped to clean up the remaining mess from dinner, his hand almost brushing against hers as he wiped the countertop down, breaking only to hover for a second before returning to his job, “ye know where I am. Please dinna think you have nobody...if yer concerned, aye?”

“Thank you Jamie.” Pulling her fleece cardigan across her chest she walked slowly to the kitchen door, pausing for a second in the doorway just to make sure she’d left nothing out to go cold and mouldy overnight. “The same to you. I’m a good listener, I promise, if you ever need to talk, or if you need any help.”

She’d been thinking about his life on the farm for a few days now, watching the rolling hills out of her window, seeing the sheep and cattle on the horizon and -very occasionally- seeing the silhouette of him roaming his land. There was little she could do from indoors, she knew, but there had been chores around the house that she could potentially complete. Putting herself to task, she had learned new basic kitchen skills but only this morning she’d noticed the beginnings of a hole on the seam of his trousers as they dried on the rail in the courtyard and she thought it might be something she could tend to...should he be alright with it.

Leaving with the quiet settling calmly between them, she noted the relaxing of the muscles in his face as he smiled and nodded as she turned and carried herself to bed.

Resting against the faux-marble worktop, Jamie closed his eyes as he waited for the soft slam of her bedroom door before he followed her up. She just might, he thought to himself as he undressed himself, taking a towel from his radiator and making his way to the shower, be better equipped for this life than I am.

#anonymous #ask #shielded #Jamie X Claire #;mod mbd

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uk-news-talking-politics · 4 years

Text

Everything you need to know about day one of Brexit

By Ian Dunt

Oh sweet Christ not Brexit again.

Yes, you will never escape. It will never be over. Decades from now, as your wrinkled fingers grasp the remote for your 3D holo-viewer, the main news item will still be about Brexit.

At least we got a break during the coronavirus emergency.

Yep, say what you like about pandemics, but at least they take trade talks off the front pages. Still, it's back now. We leave at the end of the year. And deal or no-deal, things at the border are going to be very different.

OK lay it out for me.

For decades we have had frictionless trade with Europe in the customs union and single market. The customs union got rid of tariffs, which are taxes on goods entering a territory, and the single market harmonised regulations, which means goods are made to the same standards. Once you're outside of them, you need checks at the border to make sure people are paying the right tax and complying with the regulations.

And that's what's about to happen?

Exactly. And this will apply regardless of whether there is a deal or not. I want to issue a word of warning before we go any further: It's a horror show. The level of tediousness here is off the scale. This is like someone came up with a super-powered serum for the concept of bureaucracy and then injected it directly into your bloodstream. But you didn't turn into Chris Evans in Captain America, you turned into Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. The worst things are the acronyms. Everything has an acronym. But you need to get your head around it in order to understand what's going to happen to us next month.

I don't care. I hate this. I want this conversation to stop.

You can't, it's too late. You are trapped here with me and the acronyms. OK so here's the basic problem, the one from which all others follow. Our customs system currently processes around 55 million declarations a year. In 2021, it will process around 270 million. It needs to massively ramp up capacity.

It's just as well the government has such a good track record of implementing complex IT projects at speed then.

Quite. To be fair, the government has put a lot of effort into this, albeit belatedly. More than 35 government departments and public bodies are involved, including HM Revenue & Customs (HMRC), the Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs (Defra), the Home Office (HO), the Department for Transport (DfT), the Border and Protocol Delivery Group (BPDG) and the Transition Task Force (TTF).

Sweet Jesus the acronyms.

Actually, most of those are abbreviations, but let's not get caught up on details. We've barely scratched the surface. There are three key areas where the government needs to build capacity: IT systems to process the customs declarations, physical infrastructure at or near ports, and staff in government and the private sector to keep the customs system going.

That's a lot to do.

It is. But the government made things easier in one crucial respect: it delayed its own import declarations system until July next year.

What does that mean?

It means that stuff coming into Britain from Europe basically gets waved through. There are still technically customs requirements, but they've been pushed back six months. This allowed them to make sure goods would still enter the country and let them focus on trying to get the exports right.

It's hardly taking back control, is it?

No it isn't, but they're undertaking a systems-level change at an eye-watering timetable, so it was a necessary sacrifice.

Couldn't they have extended transition to prepare for this?

Yes they could, but chose not to. That's cost them. Covid seriously delayed preparations, dominated attention in business and government, paused ministerial decision-making and put communication with traders into deep-freeze over the summer.

So what are the biggest risks now?

The IT systems. There are 10 critical IT systems which are needed at the GB–EU border. Then there are the European systems which UK exporters will need to use to get access to the continent. We're not going to go into all of them here - we're going to massively simplify.

Thank heavens.

Don't worry, it'll still make your brain dribble out of your ears. We're also going to simplify by taking goods going from Britain to Northern Ireland off the table. That's its own separate hellscape. And we're going to focus on the Dover-Calais crossing. There are many others going from England to France, but this is the main route. It serves 'accompanied goods' - when a driver in a lorry takes the goods onto a ferry and then drives it off on the other side of the Channel. This is called RoRo, for roll-on-roll-off.

Acronym. Drink.

If you keep that up you'll be smashed by the end of the article and won't have any idea what I'm talking about.

I already have no idea what you're talking about.

Fair enough, drink away. The trouble with customs IT systems is this: Everyone needs to be filling in the right thing, in the right place, at the right time. If they don't, things break down. That doesn't just apply to the UK and French governments. It applies to exporters and importers, ports, hauliers and others. Customs is all or nothing. If one section is wrong, it's all wrong. Lorries are often full of lots of different consignments of goods from different exporters. Plenty of them travel with 100 individual separate consignments on them. This is called 'groupage'. So if one input of one customs form in one of those consignments is wrong, the whole lorry is delayed. And if that lorry is delayed, all the lorries behind it are delayed. The potential for breakdown is therefore very significant.

This is already making me anxious. It's like Jenga but it reaches all the way into the sky and is composed entirely of knives.

You also need to make sure that third party software used by places like the ports integrates with the government systems. And that assumes that the government IT systems actually work and have staff with the proper experience and training to operate them. And this too is interrelated. If one of the systems breaks down, it has a knock-on effect on the other systems. You keep seeing this same problem crop up. It's not one of error, exactly. It's about the consequence of the error, the knock-on effects of it.

How robust are those IT systems looking right now?

Not great. Some have been delayed indefinitely, some for a set period, some are in trials and some are online. But even when they're finished, you really want to give all the people using them time to understand them, to get used to them, so that when we leave transition there are as few mistakes as possible. All four industry representative bodies, including the Road Haulage Association (RHA) and the British International Freight Association (Bifa), have raised concerns about the government's level of preparedness, saying that they don't believe the border will be fully functioning by next month.

That's two more acronyms by my count.

I'm glad to see you sticking to the important information here. The trouble is that lack of government preparedness doesn't just affect it - it affects trader preparedness as well. If they're not getting clear communication from the government about what is happening and how it is happening, they don't know what to do. And the government has a bad record here. It has marched traders up the hill on no-deal several times over recent years, only to march them down again. Now many simply ignore it. Government communications have, until recently, centred on the "opportunities" of Brexit, which does nothing to indicate the urgency with which people need to make expensive and time-consuming changes. Even in October, just 45% of high-value traders who trade exclusively with the EU had started to invest in readiness.

Oh dear.

There are some reasons to be more optimistic. The first is that government communication has belatedly started to improve. A new campaign in October was much better, telling traders that "time is running out". There's also one really important thing to remember about all this: it's not a long term problem. Brexit has plenty of those and they are severe, but this is not one of them. This is a short, sharp, embarrassing shock. Eventually, the market will adjust. People will see what happens in January and find ways around it so they can get their goods to market. Some people think that will happen very quickly indeed - no more than a month. Some think it'll take the first quarter of next year or longer. But very few people think it will last the whole year. What we're looking at here is the most dramatic, but also ultimately the most superficial, of Brexit impacts.

Starting to feel a bit tipsy now.

Cool, then it might be a good time to start talking about the IT systems.

No. Stop.

What?

I don't want to hear it. I want to get out.

It's too late. You're trapped here in an imaginary world in which I am talking to myself and explaining customs procedures. And in fact your resistance to this conversation probably points to some kind of deep-seated psychological trauma which I'm working my way through.

Dog carcass in alley this morning. Tyre tread on burst stomach.

Very good, Rorschach. So look, there are really four forms you need to remember. First, the import/export declaration. Second, the safety and security documentation. Third, the sanitary and phytosanitary measures for agricultural goods. And fourth, the system that collects these data sets and connects them to the lorry which is transporting the good.

What's in the import/export declaration?

They basically state what the good is, its value and how much duty you have to pay on it. It's the tax bit. It's all very complex, laborious and crammed full of technical minutiae but that's the executive summary. It needs to be lodged before the good gets to the French border.

How do you lodge it?

You do it through a UK system called the Customs Handling of Import and Export Freight, or Chief.

Drink.

This is a really old system and before Brexit was even a twinkle in Boris Johnson's eye, the UK planned to turn it off and migrate all traders to a new system called the Customs Declarations Service, or CDS.

Drink.

CDS was meant to replace Chief from January 2019 and then switch off altogether by March 2021, but there were repeated delays. So instead they're keeping Chief for trade between Britain and the EU and using CDS for trade between Britain and Northern Ireland, because it has the capacity for dual tariff fields. CDS is then going to be scaled up until it can deal with all the declarations.

No acronyms there.

Actually trade between Britain and Europe is called GB-EU and trade between Britain and Northern Ireland is called GB-NI, but let's not worry about that. The government insists that Chief now has an increased capacity that can handle 400 million annual declarations - way higher than the 265 million which are expected. HMRC has paid Fujitsu £85 million to provide technical support. But others aren't convinced. They're not sure it can handle the load and nervous that there isn't enough support if something goes wrong.

Very reassuring.

Isn't it. Remember that the importer on the EU side also has to be doing all of this - at the right time, in the right place - on the European customs system.

OK so what about the safety and security thing?

It's a document outlining what the good is, so it can be assessed for potential risks. Again, it's a long complex thing with multiple data fields. Like import/export, it has to be done in advance of the goods reaching Calais. It's submitted to the UK government via a new system called S&S GB.

Drink.

It must also be submitted to the EU member state's Import Control System, which is called ICS.

Drink. OK tell me about the sanitary pad things.

Sanitary and phytosanitary measures, or SPS.

Drink.

These are there to protect people, animals and plants from disease or pests. They cover products of an animal origin, like cheese, or meat, or fish, as well as live animal exports, plants and plant products, and even the wooden crates used to transport other types of goods. It's painstaking stuff, but I think, given the pandemic we're all going through, we all understand why it's important.

Yeah, fair enough. You've sold me. I'm totally on board with this stuff.

These kinds of goods have to enter Europe through specific Border Control Posts, or BCPs.

Drink.

And there they undergo some, or all, of a variety of checks. There's a documentary check for the official certification which travels with the good. There are identity checks, which provide a visual confirmation that the consignment corresponds to the documentation. And there's a physical check to verify the goods are compliant with the rules, for instance temperature sampling, or laboratory testing. You know that whole chlorine-washed chicken thing?

Sure.

Well this is where they check whether it has been and stop it getting into Europe if it has. But it's actually the documentary check which is the hardest part in terms of UK preparedness. It includes something called an Export Health Certificate, or EHC.

Drink. Jesus Christ.

These are documents which confirm that the product meets the health requirements of the EU. So they might say that the animal was vaccinated, for instance. Some products, like a cut of lamb, will just have one EHC. But others, like a chicken pizza, will have more than one.

We've talked about this before. People shouldn't put chicken on pizza.

You are wrong, it's a perfectly legitimate pizza topping, and in fact you are so wrong that I have started using chicken pizza as my trade-good shorthand. Chicken pizza is the new widgets.

What even are widgets?

No-one knows, that's why economists love them. A chicken pizza, however, is a composite good for the purposes of SPS. The chicken and the cheese are different animal products, so they would need separate export health certificates. And all these certificates have to be verified by an official veterinarian, or OV.

You're just messing me about now.

No seriously, they use that acronym. This whole area of public life has been radicalised into extreme acronym use. Anyway, the OV goes through the details, queries the documents and signs them off. But there's assistance from a person pulling together all the paperwork. They're called a Certification Support Officer, or…

I can't believe this.

...CSO. These guys are mostly in private practices, usually farming practices. It's not a big part of their workload - maybe 20% of what they do. But if you don't have those vets, you can't send the export. That would be catastrophic for the farming, food and hospitality sectors. And that's where we have an issue. There are restrictions on getting that many OVs up and running. There's a tight labour market for vets and the UK is highly reliant on Europeans coming over to do the job, but the end of free movement makes that much more difficult and expensive, as does the covid pandemic.

So what has the government done?

It pumped £300,000 into providing free training for the role. Many vets took it up. The number of qualified vets has jumped from 600 in February 2019 to 1,200 today. But that still leaves a capacity gap of 200.

Well that doesn't sound so bad.

No it doesn't, but when you start to scratch away at the figures, they fall apart. The 200 figure is the number of 'full time equivalent' qualified vets required. And if vets only spend about 20% of their time doing this, it means we'll actually need an extra 1,000 vets training in the additional qualification.

Oh dear.

Yep. Groups representing the sector are seriously worried about this. And as with customs, the smooth functioning of the border will rely on the importer on the EU side doing all the bits they're required to do too, by creating a record in the Trade Control and Expert System, or Traces NT.

Drink. OK, what's the fourth bit of IT?

Transport. This involves wrapping all the other forms together and attaching them to a vehicle. In the UK, we'll be doing this through something called the Goods Vehicle Movement Service, or GVMS.

Drink.

It links export declaration references together into one single Goods Movement Reference, or GMR.

Drink. Bloody hell man these people are out of control.

The GMR should come out like a barcode, a one-stop shop for all the tied-together information we've been discussing. GVMS will be needed for certain movements in January, particularly for trade with Northern Ireland, but it won't be a requirement of all imports until July. It's currently being tested and there are dark murmurs about its functionality from those who have come into contact with it. Mercifully, exporters into Europe on January 1st will be using the French system, SI Brexit. This was operational a year ago and has been fully tested several times.

Those lazy French with their useless romantic dispositions.

It's almost like they're a nation that cares about shopkeepers.

Speaking of which, how're British businesses going to deal with all this additional paperwork?

Many companies will be OK. Very big corporations are well ahead and in many cases have set up a European entity so that they can sell directly from their UK entity to the EU one. Then they'll probably just reflect the customs costs in a subtly increased retail price. Smaller companies who are used to exporting to the rest of the world outside of Europe also have an advantage. They're used to these kinds of things. The people who are most at risk are the small-to-medium-sized enterprises who have traded exclusively with Europe.

Small-to-medium-sized… Oh no.

Yeah, that's right. SMEs. Which, by the way, comprise the vast majority of companies in the UK. If you send just two or three loads of your product a month to Europe, it probably won't be worth the cost in manpower and money preparing for all this stuff. They'll likely just accept a shrinkage in their business. For many of them, the whole thing is a bafflement. Honestly, you read the guidance on all these systems and it's like it's in an alien code - a garbled assault of acronyms and complex systems. Many small firms, already suffering from covid, just throw up their hands in despair.

Bleak. It's always the little guys that get it.

Yes, although paradoxically, that actually presents one of the few reasons for optimism. Well, not optimism exactly, but a hope for least-badism. Now that so many people feel January will be chaotic, they might just decide not to bother trying to send anything. Goods will get stuck at a warehouse instead of on a truck.

Seriously? That's your good news? Aren't you just displacing disruption from the ports to other parts of the supply network?

Yes precisely. But there really are no good outcomes here.

Because if that doesn't happen, the system seizes up?

Yeah exactly. Lorries head to Dover then get held up because they don't have the correct paperwork. Then lorries behind those lorries get caught up, pushing the queue out, dominating Kent, creating a huge singular blockage. The government's own Reasonable Worst Case Scenario, or RWCS…

Drink.

... estimates that between 40% and 70% of lorries may not be ready for border controls, leading to queues of up to 7,000 trucks.

But that would only be going out right? The stuff we bring in to the country would be unaffected because we're not putting in place controls.

Kind of. It's certainly true that most imports should have a clear run into the UK. You can keep those two lanes separate. But most hauliers are from Romania, Lithuania, Hungary and Poland. They pay a lease on their trucks, which means they have to keep them going if they're to make money. They can't afford to get stuck in a queue at the border. So there's a good chance they'll look at the log-jam in the UK and think: 'I'm not touching that with a barge pole'. This would mean Britain struggled to get its imports, including potentially fresh food and medicines.

Wow.

Yeah, it could be bad. But there are plans for that eventuality. The government has set up some emergency routes, for instance on the Newhaven-Dieppe crossing. There's additional ferry capacity at eight ports, with the Department for Transport acting as the referee on which vehicles get onto their crossing. But it's not a like-for-like replacement. Many of these crossings take much longer than the short gap between Dover and Calais, and they often operate for unaccompanied goods overnight. If the import is urgent, or fresh, or, like some covid vaccines, needs to be kept at a certain temperature, then you may have a problem.

What is the government doing to make sure this doesn't happen? How will they control the blockage?

There's three parts to that really. The first is controlling access to Kent, which the trucks head into to get to Dover. This project has no acronym, but instead adopted one of the least elegant names in the history of British policy-making: The Check an HGV is Ready to Cross the Border Service.

Wait but...

Yeah. HGV: Heavy Goods Vehicle.

I fully accept now that it was a mistake to adopt this drinking idea.

Before the lorry gets to Kent, the driver will fill out an online form with a bunch of information - the registration number, the destination, details of the consignments, confirmations that the import/export documents have been filled in, export health certificates, the whole lot basically. Those that are judged to have all the documentation are given a Kent Access Pass, or KAP.

Drink.

And that allows them to go into Kent. Police can hand out £300 fines to lorries found on the Kent roads without the permit.

But this is all done on trust right? It's a self-assessment form.

Yep. It'll rely on people filling it out right. It's not linked to EU customs systems. So there's no guarantee that documents they claim to have completed will be accepted by EU customs authorities. But on the plus side, the software was launched recently and most people think it'll work OK. It's better than nothing, basically.

Alright so what's next? Traffic management?

Exactly. It's uncanny how naturally your questions lead me onto the next thing I want to discuss.

That's because I am you.

Don't talk about that, it makes it weird. Alright so first up we have the traffic flow plans. The Department for Transport is taking an existing temporary system to create contraflow on the M20 and putting it on a permanent footing, allowing 2,000 lorries to be held on the motorway while traffic still flows in both directions on the London-bound side.

OK, what's next?

Well then there's the issue of actual sites. HMRC has identified seven locations outside the ports. There's prep work being done at a site in Sevington, Ashford, at a cost of £110 million, to act as a clearing house for another 2,000 lorries. Some 600 lorries can be held on the approach to Manston airport, with more at the airport itself. These two sites, along with the M20 contraflow, are for holding traffic. There are also plans for Ebbsfleet International Station, North Weald Airfield and Warrington to be used for bureaucratic checks away from the border. Other sites, potentially in the Thames Gateway and Birmingham areas, are also being considered. They insist that this should give them capacity for 9,700 lorries, which is above the 7,000 in their worst case scenario.

Assuming that scenario is correct.

Right. Covid and other unrelated events, like a fire breaking out for instance, could mean that even the worst case scenario is an underestimate. We just don't know. Plus that relies on all of this being up in time. The government has passed legislation to streamline planning processes, but the timetable is unbelievably tight. The same thing goes for staff.

These are the customs officials who check all the paperwork, right?

That's certainly part of it. They're split into two departments: HMRC and Border Force. HMRC needs 8,600 full-time equivalent staff in place for January 1st. They still need another 1,500 but seem confident they'll have them. Border Force recruited an additional 900 staff ahead of a possible no-deal last year and is trying to bring in 1,000 more. Ministers are confident they'll have enough people in place by January 1st, but trade experts are less convinced.

Recurring theme.

Indeed. It's easy to get fixated on numbers but it really matters how well you've trained people too. You can have someone helping with customs work after a day or two, but for them to have any real sense of what they're doing, you're going to want a year's training. And then there's the question of personality type. Customs is a very specific kind of work, full of extremely complex documentation which must be got right. For some people, that is unimaginably boring. For others, it's very satisfying. But you need the right ones. And that's not what typically happens when people get desperate on a recruitment drive.

What's the other part of the staffing problem?

The private sector. It's a job called 'customs broker'. They're basically people who come in and help companies with their customs forms. Like I said, this stuff is mind-meltingly complex. You really do need someone to come and help you do it. And that's what the government wants too of course, because the more people getting it right, the fewer delays at the border. But as of last September, just 53% of traders said they planned to use a customs broker, with 30% unsure and 18% saying they were going to do the work themselves. Those aren't good numbers.

Are there enough of them to meet demand?

No. This has been a long-running problem. Almost two-thirds of customs brokers do not have enough staff to handle the increased paperwork from leaving the EU. And actually capacity seems to have reduced over the year due to the covid pandemic. The UK needs thousands more.

What's the government doing about it?

It's invested £84 million since 2018 into training, recruitment and IT system development. But many customs brokers are still hesitant about taking on new salary costs to build a capacity that won't be fully required until next July and they're nervous about taking on unprepared customers. Of the £84 million on offer, just £52 million had been taken up in mid-October.

Is that… is that it? Please say that's it. I'm wasted.

It is.

OK so give me the executive summary.

We're about to experience the sudden implementation of complex customs processes in a nation which forgot they existed. This involves the introduction of numerous interrelated IT systems which have been under-tested. It's not clear that either government or traders are fully prepared for what's about to happen. In order to minimise the disruption the government is introducing various traffic management projects and trying to bulk up staff capacity. But there's just too many variables to know how it'll pan out. Maybe the systems will hold out and many traders will anyway sit out January because of concerns about queues. Or maybe the systems will fail, traders won't fill in forms right and the whole thing will blow up in our face. The most likely outcome right now is somewhere between shambles and catastrophe. We have to hope it's a shambles.

Can you do it in acronym-speak?

Amid RHA and Bifa concerns about the lack of progress, HMRC, Defra, the HO, the Dft, the BPDG and the TTF are building up IT systems for post-Brexit GB-EU trade and particularly for RoRo at Dover-Calais which will involve exporters submitting import/export declarations to Chief and the CDS, S&S information to S&S GB and ICS, and collating their SPS documentation - including an EHC filled out by an CSO under the supervision of an OV sent via a BCP - with the importer logging it on Traces NT, while generating a GMR via GVMS and SI Brexit, and then HGVs getting a KAP, all to avoid the RWCS.

D… Drink?

Yes I think so. That seems very sensible.

#Brexit #customs

27 notes · View notes

bunny-bts · 3 years

Text

Summary: Truth can be harder to bring in than the cattle and spirits can be harder to raise

Warnings: language, angst, mushiness, toxic relationships, mentions of religion, cattle/ranch life, love, drama, alcohol consumption

Authors Note: This one is specifically for me and a friend, I have no idea how many words as always and I'll try to make this a one shot not a series because I just abandon those but if it gets too long I may have to make it a series

Rating: M, no smut but suggestive and mature topics

Characters: Namjoon x reader, Taeyhung x reader's friend

"Morning, Y/N," Namjoon smiles as he enters your kitchen. "Morning Joonie, what are you doing here?"

"oh...uh....your dad sent me over to make a delivery...."

"oh, okay. Come on, sit down and eat," you gesture to the seat across from you at the table and wipe your mouth with the cloth napkin before sitting it beside your plate which was piled over with cheesy grits, sausage, scrambled eggs and some leftover roasted potatoes from supper. You slide your chair out to stand and he comes over to sit as you walk to go grab him a plate. "We had some garlic roasted potatoes last night, want some? The garden out back worked nice for the garlic and the potatoes in the crops came out nice this year so dad brought some home and I made it"

"Yeah, sure. Thankyou.....so the crops are good?"

"Oh yeah, and Mary Lou just had a calf last night and dad says I can keep this one"

"oh yeah? You happy?"

"Totally, you know I try not to get too overly attached usually...."

"Yeah, I know, and I know you've wanted to keep one since you were little," he smiles over at you. You can't help but giggle and jump in place, "I know~," you clap your hands. "You do know you have two horses right?" He laughs a little and rubs the back of his neck, sitting his hat in his lap. "Yes, I love them Cortney and Karen. Shush, let me be happy," you playfully scold him as you continue making his breakfast. "Okay, how're they doing?"

"They're great and Karen has a show soon so I'm getting her mane done and some new shoes-oh! Want to come boot shopping with me? I want to get a new pair so they're shiny, I've been working in mine and they're muddy and I want some more jeans with the studded embroidered pocket designs"

"Shopping?" He makes a face that's a mix of disgust and uncertainty. "Please, it's for Karen's show and my friend is coming to visit"

"Since when do you have friends other than me and Tae?"

"Since about six months ago and haha cute, I'm feeding you," you bring the plate to him and then pour him some juice before sitting back down to eat.

"Maybe, I'm pretty busy but when do you want to go?" "Well, her show is next week and Jeff is coming then too so maybe....Sunday, after church?"

"Yeah, that works, we can go after we leave and get food....Jeff," he did not like the idea of it being a guy. You had all too recently ended a really bad relationship. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Who was he kidding, he didn't like the idea of anyone with you that wasn't him, but, he wanted to protect you after your last boyfriend. "I know what you're thinking, and yes. Jeff needs this"

"Alright then, this is good, just orange juice?" "Yeah, I need to run to the store after work. Want to come with?" "Can't, delivery." "A long one huh, well do you need anything? I can shop for you and take it over"

"Uh no no yes, yes, I need everything, all of it, groceries," he laughs, "do you know where the spare key to the house is?" "My bra, you gave me one last year when you went to Florida, remember?" "Oh yeah, alright," he had already finished, "can I meet the new addition before I start the day?" "Sure!" You were already running out of the door. "Wait, we gotta do the dish-" "I'll do it when I get back!! Come-on!" You grab his hand a pull him.

"This is Mochi," you introduce him. "She's cute," he smiles and pets her and her mother, "alright," he stands back up and stretches. "Hi Karen, hi Courtney," he waves to your jet black Friesian horse with the gorgeous wavy mane, the ever graceful and snooty Karen and the tan Mustang with black from the hooves to the knees like long socks and dark black hair that have a red highlight at the tips in the sun, the ever goofy and stubborn Courtney in the stalls nearby in the barn. "Well, sun is getting up so I should get going. Where are they?" "Uhm, oh! These," you guide him to the cattle he was here to get and he starts loading them up while you wash the dishes from breakfast and put the leftovers away.

"Bye," you wave to each other as you're both heading out for the day. You were already excited for Sunday.

"Morning," Taeyhung scrolls up, he worked with you. "Hey Tae, oh, we decided, she's coming next week on Thursday"

"Awesome, you've been excited. Jeffree right? I have a room ready for her at my place, can't have her stay at a hotel" "Cool, great, thanks you're a sweetheart, I'll tell her"

The next few days passed as always, only now you were excited because you had Karen's show so you got to prepare for that, got her groomed and everything and you were making arrangements for your guest, Jeff, your friend online you met through a mutual liking of a band. As always, days were tiring but Taeyhung made them interesting. The three of you, you two and Namjoon and had been together for as long as you can remember since Taeyhung moved to town when he was six and you all went to the same church. He was a good guy, they both were.

"Night Lil, see you in the morning," he waves goodbye and slips his gloves off as he walks to his truck to go home for the night. The two of you felt like siblings after spending pretty much every day together, you worked most days of the week together then on Sunday there was church where ofcourse the 'golden trio' as the church elders had coined you, all chose to share a pew, and snacks and memes; and after work you would sometimes drink together. You all had other friends from church too, but they weren't as close as the three of you were. You had no idea that Namjoon didn't feel like you were a sibling, maybe he used to, but not for the longest time now. It was Saturday, which meant, going out with them for a drink and something to eat. Taeyhung had insisted he was tired and would see you at church in the morning so you go home, well to the house. You wash up and change into clean comfortable jeans and a clean t-shirt then head out to the bar. You were starving after a days work to say the least, breakfast had worn off forever ago.

"Y/N!" He waves and gestures you over and you skip, for lack of better verb, over to the stool next to him. "Hi Y/N, what will it be?" The server asks, you order your drink first and a appetizer to share with him. That usually was more than enough to fill you both up. "Okay....since the other day....I've been thinking....," He speaks, his hands fiddling with his glass beer mug. "Thinking about what?" You ask curiously and sip yours. ".....Maybe it isn't my place .....but uh....about this Jeff.....I do-"

"it will be fine, relax," you grab his shoulder. "A-Alright.....how was your week?" "It was good, Tae Tae said he was tired so he went home...."

He nods, "that's weird...."

"I know right!? How was your week love?" You were too busy enjoying your drink to look up and notice him change color at the term of endearment. "Oh, I missed you...you guys, I missed you guys," he smiles, those dimples that melt your heart when he has a bashful moment appearing on his cheeks. "Aww, we missed you too. I think Tae is excited about Jeff coming, he has a room ready and everything. Oh, you remember we are going shopping tommorow after work right?" "Yeah, I remember, oh he's happy ab-Jeff is staying with Tae! That's great!" "Joonie ......honey, are you alright?" You ask, raising a brow at him. "Oh...oh yeah, it's just-hotels would be expensive," he covers and is thankful you nod in agreement. It's silent for a bit while you wait on your food, he taps his fingers on his glass and looks straight ahead mostly except for when he steals quick glances at you. His insides were shaking like the leafs on a tree and his foot was tapping like Thumper against the bar on the bottom of the stool as he hears a song come on that he knows is one of your favorite. Letting his eyes scan the room he sees a few drunken couples dancing like complete idiots. "Hey, it's your song......we should dance?"

"You're joking, right? Joonie, seriously"

"no, really," he laughs

"Alright, what the hay?" You shrug and down your drink so you won't care and could actually go through with it.

He chuckles and holds you steady, "feeling brave now?" "Mhm, oh yeah," you nod and giggle.

That Sunday is was a bit of a struggle waking up after the night you had before, Namjoon was sure that you are plenty and drank water but that wasn't enough for him so he drove you home and called Tae to come and get him so he could drive his truck home; he wanted to tuck you in. The shopping after service was fun, Tae even came, he wanted to get a new shirt and some new jeans which he got several of and wanted your opinion on all of them then he proceeded to also get new pointed toe boots. The week seemed to drag for you both as you both got closer to Thursday but it was finally here.

"Tae wake up," you smack him because he stayed over and was going to ride with you to get her. "Hmm?" He sits up slowly and wipes his eyes. "It's Thursday, she texted she's at the airport" "Oh, yeah"

You pick her up together and bring her back to Tae's place and show her around. She seems nervous at first and quiet, shy. "Relax," you laugh as you give her a tour and help her unpack while you wait on Namjoon to come. Tae had seen her pictures online because you had shown him but it was his first time meeting her as well.

"Y/N," he called out for you from the kitchen. "Just a sec, Jeff," you go out to him as he's drying his hands from washing dishes. "Can you introduce us?" "Yeah, sure? Come on," you pull him by his arm.

"Jeff," she turns to you as she is putting her things away on the floor. "Taeyhung is shy, He wants me to introduce you guys."

"Oh, hi," she smiles and you instantly notice his reaction and it all clicks in your head, making you try and hide a smirk. "This is Tae Tea and Tae this is Jeffrene, Jeff"

"H-Hi," he smiles and they shake hands, "Taeyhung," he says, she notices how deep his voice actually is and paired with the shyness has to laugh. You share a look about how adorable it is.

"Hello?" Namjoon calls from the front door. You introduce everyone.

"Jeff is a girl," Namjoon is shocked, you just wanted to see his reaction to thinking it was a guy. Funny, as you suspected.

"There's nothing to do today as far as work...," Tae speaks, directed to you. "Okay? Cool, what should we do?" You ask them. He pulls you off to the side, "c-can I take her to get some boots?" "Some boots?" You cross your arms. "Y-Yeah....," He tucks his hands in his pockets, "I want to show her around...."

You take his body language into account and conceal from him that you see he is crushing on your friend. "oh yeah, that's a good idea, you can take her to meet the girls" "Thanks," he tries to hide how overly excited he is, "h-how do I ask her?" "Okay, it's really complicated," you put a hand on his shoulder, "here is what you do"

"Yeah?"

"You go to her and you," you pause

"Yeah?" You could tell he was falling for your trick. Sweet gullible little Taeyhung, you loved him so much.

"and you say ....do you want to come with me to buy some boots? I want to show you the animals on the farm"

He gives you a squinting glare, "you're an asshole," he says while you're laughing and Namjoon is listening in and kindly restricting himself. You both watch your friend approach his first crush.

"Hi....," He smiles and greets her again, with a awkward little wave, one hand tucked into his back pocket. "Hi"

"Do you want...to come with me...to uhm....to buy you some boots and I can uh....show uh....show you the animals?" You face palm for him.

"That's sweet, sure, that sounds nice," she was happy to go along and as excited as he was, she loved animals.

----you and Namjoon at Tae's house-------

"That's cute, it's good that Tae is finally going for it with someone. I was starting to worry that he's never crushed on anyone before," Namjoon chuckles.

"For real though! I'm so proud but our little boy is growing up, now I'm sad," you stomp and come over to him, hugging his torso to lay your forehead on his chest like a melodramatic distraught wife who was experiencing empty nest syndrome. The action was nothing out of the ordinary. He laughs and pats your hair, "it's okay, we can have s'mores, how about that?" "Oo~ I feel better," the two of you grab the graham crackers and marshmallows but Tae didn't have the sticks or the chocolate so you run to the store for them and come back. Namjoon starts the bonfire then you two get cozy and start eating the s'mores without the other two in Tae's pasture.

"Naa~," Your melted chocolate and marshmallow delight cracker sandwhich is taken away from you. "Hey!"

"Hey! Bad Cleo! Bad Cleopatra! You can't take your aunt's s'mores!" Namjoon scolds the pony. "Now, tell her you're sorry young man," he throws his hands on his hips in a sassy manner which makes you almost fall over laughing. The pony rubs his head against you as a apology. "It's okay baby, I forgive my favorite nephew," you pet his nose and kiss it and he trots away to go to his mother. Namjoon laughs and sits back beside you, looking at them. "Mable is getting old......," you both knew what he meant by that. "Yeah...., I know." "Think Tae will be okay....?" "Let's hope so....."

---Taeyhung and Jeff-----

"What size do you wear?" Tae asks, he insisted on opening his truck door for her, and the store's door. He bought her a pair of boots and gloves before taking her out to your place. "I'll show you Y/N's first, then mine"

"This is Mary Lou and her new calf, she hasn't named her yet," he watches her happily pet them then takes her to your horses, "this is Cortney and Karen," after you've gotten to know them all he shows you all around before taking you home.

"I have horses too, well I have a horse and a pony," he takes you out back.

"Oh, they started without us, I won't let you miss the s'mores," he promises. "Cleo! Mable!" Cleo comes to them and she happily plays with him for a moment before Mable finally gets there and she pets the old horse.

-----

The night is spent enjoying s'mores and getting to know each other by the fire.

Authors Note: This may have a chapter two

#bts namjoon #namjoon fanfic #namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim taeyhung #bts fic #bts

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vsquadgoals · 5 years

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4am Cuddles

Y/n is from Chicago and had recently moved to LA which took months of convincing from her best friends, Natalie, David and Ilya. She decided it was finally time to make the move and David was letting her move in with him and Natalie since they have an extra room, it was all perfect. Y/n is a dance teacher and has recently been blowing up online for her dancing videos which is what made her finally make the move. She has been in LA for 2 or so weeks now and she was finally meeting the rest of David and Natalie’s friends who they’ve told her so much about, she’s been busy filming and looking for a studio to teach at which is why she hasn’t met them already. The whole group was going to be coming over today, so she was in her room getting ready, she put on a white spaghetti strap crop top and green high waisted cargo pants. She was brushing her hair when Natalie knocked on her door. “Come in.” She called putting some products into her hair.

“Hey, everyone’s pretty much here.” Natalie said leaning against the door frame. “Okay I’m almost ready, how do I look?” She asks smiling. “As beautiful as ever, now come on.” She grabs her hand dragging her out to the living room where a couple people were already sitting around talking. “Guys this is our hometown friend Y/n, Y/n this is everyone.” Natalie says beaming with excitement, she introduces her to everyone, and they sit on the lovesac together.

“So, y/n, how long have you known David and Natalie for?” Heath asks putting his arm around Mariah. “I met them when we were in... I think 7th grade.” She answers looking at David for clarification and he nodded in agreement. They all sit and chat for a while before someone else thinks of a question to ask her. “Y/n do you have a boyfriend back in Chicago?” Zane asks causing David to smack his arm. Y/n giggles and shakes her head at David. “It’s fine Dave. No, I actually only date girls.” She says nonchalantly and everyone’s caught off guard. She smirks and shrugs her shoulders “Alright guys don’t act like you’ve never seen a lesbian before.” Natalie teases from her spot cuddled up next to y/n. They all joked around for hours filming different bits for David and everyone’s vlogs, Mariah talked about dancing and filmed a few tik toks together and of course Zane got into a few. A few people stayed inside chatting and some people were sitting outside by the fire pit David has in the back yard.

Y/n is sitting outside next to the fire watching the sunset in the backyard. “I’ll never get tired of this.” She says filming it to post on her story. Carly and Erin nod smiling. “It’s amazing! We’ve seen it a million times and we’re still obsessed with this view! David did good with this house that’s for sure!” Carly replies, y/n turns toward the girls and smiles. “So, you guys have a channel together?” She asks pulling her knees to her chest getting more comfortable. “Yeah we moved out here and got an apartment together and we actually started vlogging before David, but his vlogs just took off way faster.” Erin explains, “We do vlogs, sit down videos and sometimes we’ll do a Starbucks tasting video with David.” Carly says giggling. “I saw one of those! So funny.” Y/n says excited giggling a little. “Really? Well thanks. I thought you would only watch David’s videos.” Erin says smiling happily, “I usually do but I’ve seen your videos and some of Jason’s, but I also had met him a bunch before I moved out here.” She explains, she was so happy that she was clicking with the group, it was making her feel more content with her choice to move out here.

It’s about 1:30 when everyone finally leaves and it’s just David, Nat and Y/n again. They clean up anything that was left around from their friends and they all head into their own rooms to get some sleep. Y/n was editing a couple videos she filmed today so she was up for another hour before finally changing into just a long t shirt and falling asleep in her warm comforter. It felt like Y/n only had her eyes closed for two second when she felt someone nudging her awake. “Y/n/n....” Natalie whispered. Y/n’s eyes opened slowly, and she stretched looking up at her friend. “Nat? Is everything okay? What time is it?” she asks sleepily, Natalie bit her lip. “Everything is fine, its 4AM. I wanted to know if I could come cuddle with you?” She asks nervously, Y/n blinks her eyes a few more times before she realizes what Natalie said. “You come into my room and wake me up at 4AM to cuddle?” She asks shaking her head and giggling. Natalie frowns and shakes her head embarrassed. “You’re right this was stupid, sorry.” Y/n grabs her hand before she can leave, she moves over and lifts her blankets making room for Natalie. “Come on, you don’t have to ask.” Natalie happily climbs into the bed pressing her ass against y/n who wraps her arm around Natalie’s waist pulling her closer and burying her face into her hair. “Go to sleep Nat.” She whispers into her hair before they both fall back asleep.

Natalie wakes up before Y/n, she has her face buried in her chest when she first wakes up, Natalie smiles looking up at her. Natalie has always had a crush on y/n since she was younger, but she never said anything, Natalie always thought of herself as straight, Y/n is the only girl she’s ever had any feelings for. Once Y/n agreed to move out here finally and David and Natalie talked about Y/n living with them she’s been reminded of that old crush she had that never faded and now since they live together it was getting stronger and she was having a hard time hiding it. Natalie snuggles closer to Y/n and her arms tighten around her waist kissing her head in her sleep. Y/n’s hands run up and down Natalie’s back slowly while she sleeps, Natalie bites her lip enjoying her friend’s hands on her way more then she probably should be.

Y/n sighs softly her eyes slowly fluttering open, she looks down at Natalie who looked up at her when she felt her start to wake up. “Good morning sleeping beauty.” Natalie whispers, it took all of herself control not to lean up and kiss y/n right on her lips. Y/n smiles at her friend, she pulls her hands away from Natalie’s waist to rub the sleep from her eyes, a whine leaves Natalie’s lips before she can stop it when she lets her go. She looks at Natalie confused. “You okay Nat?” she asks propping herself up on her elbows. Natalie’s cheeks turn bright red from embarrassment, she clears her throat and shakes her head. “Uh... yeah sorry I was just comfy.” She mumbles trying to cover it up, Y/n smiles and nods. “I know me too but I have to edit some videos.” Natalie nods and takes the hint climbing out of her bed and heading to her room to get ready for the day.

This happens almost every night, Natalie sneaks into Y/n’s room between 2 and 4 am and crawls into her bed cuddling against her. At first y/n didn’t think anything of it but she had done it almost every night this week. Tonight, the group was at David’s again and everyone was dancing and drinking, Y/n was nursing her 3rd mixed drink that Zane had made for her. David was filming everyone as always and Y/n and Corinna were dancing together, Corinna was grinding against Y/n and one of her hands was gripping Corinna’s hip and the other was holding her drink. David was filming them and Y/n winked at the camera before sipping her drink, David laughs and shakes his head. “Yes! That was perfect, Y/n!” Her and Corinna giggle “She’s a natural David.” Corinna teases looking over her shoulder at Y/n who rolls her eyes at her smirking. David had sent Natalie to go grab more alcohol from the store since they were running low. When Natalie gets back Y/n is sitting in the kitchen on one of the bar stools talking to Mariah about some video ideas she has, and Corinna is standing in between Y/n’s legs leaning back against her lap. Y/n wraps her arms around Corinna’s waist “I think we should do one teaching David and Heath tik tok dances! Those are really blowing up lately.” She says to Mariah who nods excitedly “YES! That’s perfect!”

Natalie walks into the kitchen with the bags and notices Corinna and y/n she sets the bags on the counter ignoring the girls her heart is breaking the longer Y/n holds Corinna against her like she holds Natalie at night. “Hey Nattie.” Y/n says smiling at her, her smile drops immediately when Natalie barely waves at them before setting the bottles of liquor on the bar in the hallway. “Bubbah! You gotta come see this!” Heath calls Mariah away from the two girls. “Sorry guys, Y/n we’ll talk more about this later.” Y/n smiles and nods at her as she walks toward her boyfriend.

Corinna turns around and wraps her arms around Y/n’s neck, she smiles putting her hands on Corinna’s lower back smirking up at her. “So, what in the world has gotten into you?” Y/n asks her raising her brow. Y/n has known Corinna since she was a junior in high school and she has never shown any type of interest in her, not that she was complaining, Corinna’s drop-dead gorgeous. Corinna shrugs biting her lip. “I don’t know, you just look so fucking good, also a little liquid courage too I’m sure.” Corinna admits. Y/n shakes her head and cups Corinna’s cheek, “How about when you’re nice and sober we’ll revisit this.” She kisses her forehead and stands walking away.

Y/n sits next to Natalie on the lovesac and puts her hand on her leg. “What’s up Nat? Why are you over here all alone?” She asks concerned, Natalie sighs and looks at Y/n. “What happened to Corinna?” She asks ignoring her question, Y/n wrinkles her nose, “Corinna’s had a little too much to drink, I’m not getting into that. Why don’t we go to my room and talk?” Y/n stood and helped Natalie stand from the giant beanbag following her into the bedroom. Y/n sits on her bed and pulls Natalie in between her legs her hands on her waist. “Please tell me what’s wrong...” She begs frowning up at her, Natalie sighs and runs her fingers through her own hair. “I’m jealous.” She admits throwing her hands in the air. Y/n eyes go wide but Natalie continues before she can respond. “And I don’t know why because we’re friends and you don’t even know that I have these feelings for you so why would you not go after another girl or flirt with someone in front of me.” Natalie continues to rant, and Y/n is in shock, Natalie has feelings for her? And is jealous that she’s flirting with someone? Y/n grabs Natalie’s face and kisses her roughly, Natalie wraps her arms around Y/n’s neck and whines when she pulls away from the kiss. “Why did you do that?” She whispers breathless, Y/n smirks and looks into her eyes biting her lip. “I needed to shut you up so I could tell you that I have feelings for you too.” Y/n replies, Natalie’s eyes go ride and she squeals throwing herself on top of Y/n kissing her.

A/n: please let me know what you think! xoxo

#natalie mariduena #natalie mariduena fanfic #natalie mariduena imagine #natalie mariduena x reader #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fanfic #corinna kopf #corinna kopf imagine #corinna kopf x reader #david dobrik #david dobrik imagine

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therucrap · 4 years

Text

RPDR 13 Episode 1 RuCrap

Hello dear internet! I just started a new page for my first ever RPDR RuCrap so please share and follow and I’ll continue if they catch on! Hope you enjoy!

The lucky 13th season of RuPaul’s Trauma Spectacular launches with the promise of “all new surprises” and a brand new twist that will leave you wondering how you ever sat through a boring old premiere with a coherent intro, climax, and conclusion when you could be enduring a dizzying hour and a half of WOW presents Happy Death Day 3: Covid Edition!

We open up on the trusty trauma center - I mean Werk Room - and the first to enter is NYC’s “Dominican Doll” and human drag lingo See ‘N Say Kandy Muse in an elaborate bejeweled patchwork jean mini dress and MATCHING DENIM BOOMBOX and she immediately informs us that we may know her from the now former Haus of Aja which was recently deconstructed like the pair of Wranglers that Kandy is wearing as fingerless gloves. Kandy is no longer alone in VIP because the befeathered Joey Jay arrives and half-heartedly delivers her intro line. “Filler queen!” We discover that Kandy is likely going to provide our Greek chorus confessional this season and all in a soft smoky eye when she informs us uncultured swine that Joey is wearing the cheapest variety of feather - chicken. Kandy didn’t construct an entire outfit from the remnants section of a Joanne Fabrics and not learn a thing or two about quality, sweetie! Joey is determined to beat viewers to the punchline and immediately clucks around branding herself as “basic” and “filler.” Joey is from the city of Phoenix (and possibly the online University as well) but she’s here to rise like a chicken!

Thunder mysteriously rumbles as RuPaul appears on the digitally enhanced Werk room TV but what could this be?! For all you newbies this is one of the several instances in every season where Ru mixes things up and gives us what we really want: a twist that is equal parts confusing, fucks up the natural order of the competition, and is ultimately unfulfilling! Come on season 13, let’s put a bunch of queer people through even more turmoil in a pandemic! Ru has a surprise but they’ll have to head to the mainstage to get the full story that they’ll be recounting to a mental health professional later!

We’re merely four minutes in and here comes Ru down the runway dressed like a glitterdot jellyfish! Our tour guide on Trauma Island introduces us to the main panel of judges for the season - Disco Morticia Addams and the two human Trapper Keepers who are now separated by glass because for the first time in Drag Race herstory we’re in the middle of a international health crisis, mawma!

Now let’s get down to trauma! Ru explains that the queens will be pairing off to lipsync unexpectedly as they enter! What could possibly go wrong? Well if you’re hoping that someone comes in wearing blades on their feet well just stick around because I have quite the treat for you! Our Dungaree Diva and the Chicken Feather Filler hit the Mainstage looking as confused as Shangela researching CDC protocol on her way to Puerto Vallarta last week. The judges interview our test subjects and immediately bring up the Haus of Aja and Kandy clarifies that she’s now an esteemed member of The Doll Haus along with last season’s ever-gorgeous Dahlia Sinn. I personally prefer not to say that Dahlia was eliminated first but instead that she was season 12’s brocco-leading lady! (Writer’s note: if you’re thinking “there’s a drag show called The Doll Haus in my hometown... is it THAT Doll Haus?!” No, there’s a drag show called The Doll Haus in almost every city in America but now, like with the former Sharon Needles, Kim Chis, and Penny Trations of the world, this one’s been on TV and alas, the others must now rename themselves)! Joey also charms the judges with her plucky demeanor and it’s already time to lipsync feather they like it or not!

Gay anthem Call Me Maybe by Canadian legend Carley Rae Jepson begins and Kandy immediately pushes a fake button on her DENIM BOOMBOX to start the party. Honestly... crown her right there on the spot. We will ALWAYS give points for prop work and the Carrot Top of the Bronx does not disappoint. Both are energetic but it’s The Dutchess of Denim who wins by infusing humor and our feathered friend is given “the Porkchop” but before we can even wrap our head around what this means for the state of the competition we snap back to the Werk Room to meet our next unsuspecting victims!

Now dear reader, this is the part where I’m just going to cut the shit. The set-up they’re selling us is that the losers of these premiere lipsyncs will be eliminated from the show but they are obviously not about to Porkchop half of the cast on day one so just stick with me while we suspend disbelief and go on RuPaul’s Totally Twisted Trauma Adventure as she convinces 6 gay people who just spent upwards of $10,000 on clothing, jewelry, and hair and then meticulously packed it into regulation suitcases to travel here during a pandemic after probably not making any money for the last four months (this was filmed in July) that they are going home on day one! This herstory-making twist, like so many before it, exemplifies the show’s worst qualities: a lack of empathy for its contestants, an underestimation of viewer intelligence and ability to decode heavy-handed editing witchery, and its love for completely dismantling its own format every year for the sake of drama. Whatever keeps the Emmy’s coming, baby! When you’re on the other side of one of these twists you usually feel like you just finished your morning coffee only to find out that the barista gave you decaf. Your mind will be blown when it’s happening but the payoff is usually at the expense of the show’s own legitimacy. With that said... this is the punishment we come to gleefully endure every year and we’re not here to complain, we’re here to watch gay people break down, dammit!

It’s deja Ru all over again as we snap back to the Werk Room where Chicago’s Denali walks in on ice skates and immediately ruins any chance of a deposit return for the bumpy, rented roll-out vinyl floors and declares “Let me break the ice!” She’s wearing the expensive feathers that Joey Jay didn’t spring for. Denali might not be the first ice skater on Drag Race but she’s the one I didn’t watch shit on a dick on Twitter last week so let’s give credit where it’s due. Ugh I wish Trinity the Tuck could block THAT from my memory! Next up is Atlanta’s Lala Ri whose white blazer, body suit, and unteased hair is immediately called basic by an icy Denali in confessional. Denali is confident but we know something that she doesn’t and Lala is wearing a sensible dancing ankle boot not two blades on her feet so let’s see how this turns out!

The lipsync song is “When I Grow Up” by Nicole Scherzinger and her assistants who were accidentally given microphones a few times! Denali struggles to conceal her wayward nipples during some ambitious dance moves and all while in skates but Lala gives us a good old fashioned drag performance and a big finale split unbothered by an elaborate costume and ultimately ices Denali who signs off with “Feeling icy, feeling spicy!” Asking these queens to lipsync upon entering is one thing but asking them to improvise their exit lines 10 minutes in is just cruel!

Denali heads backstage devastated where SURPRISE... Joey Jay is sitting alone in a sad room made of plywood walls featuring a bunch of pictures of first eliminated queens, an ominous “Porkchop Loading Dock” sign, and some cocktail tables with no cocktails (how dreadful).

Before we get the full picture and God for bid our bearings on Mr Charles’ Wild Ride let’s leave this plywood hellscape and jump back into the familiar comfort of the Werk Room’s pixelated neon pink faux brick walls where LA’s modelesque Symone stomps in wearing a dress made of tiny Polaroids of herself. She’s stylish, her energy is fresh, and she’s clearly one to watch. Then dear reader life as we know it changes. A breeze comes through the room and God herself blesses us when living legend and matriarch of the Iman dynasty Tamisha Iman from Atlanta arrives in a pointy-shouldered red power suit and proclaims to us simple townsfolk “Holler at me, I know you know me. Holler at me, I know you know me. Tamisha is here!” The sea parts, the crops are replenished, and all war stops on Earth. On stage Tamisha reveals that she’s been doing drag for 30 years (which seems like a long time to us mere mortals) and that she was originally cast last season but was diagnosed with colon cancer two days later and had to stay home for chemo. The lipsync gods wisely choose The Pleasure Principle by Janet Jackson and Tamisha gives us exact Janet arm choreo while Simone is sultry yet commanding as she shakes her Polaroids. The judges determine that Simone was picture perfect and American hero Tamisha Iman is sent to Porkchop’s Shipping Crate of Horrors to join the nest with the fancy feather option and the chicken feather option.

We begrudgingly crawl back onto RuPaul’s ever-circling carousel of doom and plop back into the workroom where accomplished LA celebrity makeup artist GottMik stomps in wearing a wacky toile dress and a full face of white makeup declaring that it’s “Time to crash the system!” GottMik is Drag Race’s first trans man contestant (and first knowingly cast trans contestant at all) for which we cheer excitedly and then immediately look at our watches because that took too long. Next up Minneapolis’s towering Utica wriggles in with a sneeze and declares “She’s sickening!” which is just the pandemic humor I came here for! Contaminate me, mom! This gay scarecrow is wearing a series of crazy patterns and a big strawberry on her head and the two of them appear to be from the same traveling circus. These two Big Comfy Couch characters slink over to the main stage where Utica explains that her cranial statement fruit symbolizes tackling obstacles because she used to be allergic to strawberries as a kid but she grew out of it. In RuPaul’s heavy universe of heart wrenching struggles that contain chronic illness and societal rejection, Utica’s animated world that suffers only of outgrown childhood strawberry problems is a welcome one. These two lanky rag dolls will be lipsyncing to Rumors by her majesty Lady Lohan of Mykonos and the vibe is instantly wacky. I wouldn’t say that either of them are the next Kennedy Davenport but they did complement each other well on the invisible obstacle course they were both miming through. Utica’s hair flops over her eye, there’s galloping and floor humping, GottMik does a split, there’s elbows and knees aplenty, and all that’s missing is dancing poodles. The judges are tickled by the kookiness of both of these human windsocks but Gotmikk snatches the win. Neither of these two are going to win So You Think You Can Dance but luckily this is RuPaul’s So You Think You Can Trauma so we’re in luck!

Our homosexual Groundhog Day continues back in the Werk Room where we meet NYC’s Rosé who gets the Brita treatment where she’s presented as a legendary New York queen and then the editors quickly get to work making her look delusional. She’s accomplished, confident, and Drag Race’s favorite personality type to dismantle and then trick into returning to All-Stars for a redemption only to dismantle again. Rosé’s fresh-faced foil Olivia Lux enters and lights up the place right away in a velvet pink and yellow gown. She’s a humble NYC newby who has competed in shows hosted by the established Rosé and we already know what’s about to happen here. The lipsync is Exes and Oh’s by Elle King which which was a choice. Olivia strips off her gown to reveal a bodysuit so she can really articulate and Rosé does the world’s least exciting split that looked like me trying unsuccessfully separate wooden chopsticks. Olivia triumphs and Rosé fizzles as she heads to the It Didn’t Werk Room aka Porkchop’s sparsely decorated storage closet to be with the other Have Nots.

We’re almost to the finish line and we limp, slightly disoriented, back to the Werk Room where we meet Tina Burner, another NYC theater kid with the confidence of a thousand Patti LuPones who is dressed like a Ronald McDonald firefighter. What she lacks in nuance she makes up for in nonstop fire puns. Next Chicago’s glamorous Kahmora Hall saunters in glowing and is clearly unimpressed with Tina’s constant Joan Rivers impression but maintains a full pageant smile. No choice but to stan. Our final queen is the refreshingly optimistic Elliott with 2 T’s who busts in wearing a bolero jacket, some red pants from the store, and a short pink wig that screams “Sorry I’m late! Here’s my flash drive! I can go on whenever!” Elliott dances in sing-talking her entrance line like the TGIFriday’s server she is: “I’m the queen you want to see. Elliot with two T’s. Okay! Uh uh uh uh uh uh uh uh! Okay!” Elliot is a dancer from Las Vegas and has the unhinged camp counselor energy of someone with snacks in her purse at all times.

On the Mainstage Tina cycles through the last of her introductory fire puns and tells the judges she was in a boy band which honestly tracks. Tina and Rosé share a similar NYC gotta-get-a-gimmick energy but for some reason production has decided to give Rosé the womp womp edit and Tina the superstar edit. The song is Lady Marmalade because we haven’t been though enough and Kahmora serves subdued sexy glamour, Elliott does the splits, and Tina bobs and weaves between the two with full play-to-the-back-row comedy queen energy. Tina extinguishes the dreams of the other two and RuPaul sends the final two losers to the chokey.

The worst is over (we think) and our frazzled cast of hopefuls finally gets to know eachother in their two very different groups. The winning queens in the Werk Room are celebrating and as blissfully unaware of the doom around them as Miss Vanjie and Silky Ganache at a Puerto Vallarta circuit party during a pandemic. Over in Porkchop’s Junk Drawer the camera looms unnecessarily close to the crestfallen losers’ now disheveled wigs and sweat drenched makeup. Ru’s voice bellows over the speaker to tell this motley crew to get out and then as the last bit of light leaves their weary eyes she checks back in to tell them that she wasn’t serious! Oh good! Finally a moment of mercy for these once hopeful queens on their first day of RuPaul’s Wipeout! She then reveals that the full twist is that she is only going to send one home but they have to vote amongst the group of losers to decide who it is! Yes, that’s correct! This group of broken queens who just met and mostly have never seen eachother perform will now be expected to turn on eachother and give up their last bit of dignity to either grovel or just straight up fight with eachother! This must be what the Donner Party’s last night looked like. The queens look around broken and wounded but still hungry, their eyes barely open, their lacefronts only partially attached to their heads, and start deciding which of their own is about to get consumed. Her highness Tamisha Iman reminds them "Well, I'm the only black girl so don't vote me off” and just like that we are TO BE CONTINUED!

Thus concludes our first headspinning episode that despite being reliably frustrating has once again sucked us in and against our better judgement entertained us to the fullest! As for our 13 queens- you can use code HERSTORY on Talkspace while relaying tonite’s events to a sickening liscensed therapist!

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olderthannetfic · 5 years

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The Wild Wild West is an itty-bitty fandom dear to my heart. WWW is a 60s spy-fi show and a steampunk Western. If you’ve seen any Westerns with souped-up trains or ridiculous technology, they were likely inspired by this one. In particular, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. riffs heavily off of it.

Jim West and Artemus Gordon are two secret agents who travel the country in their steampunk train. Artemus is a master of disguise. Jim is the hottie who engages in fisticuffs.

It was later remade as that movie with Will Smith, which I very much enjoyed in the theater, not knowing it was based on anything. I suspect I wouldn’t like it as much now, but for the person who once announced at Escapade that it would be unrealistic to have a black federal agent, allow me to remind you of that time they tried to hire Sammy Davis Jr. to be their federal agent coworker:

Yeah, a real fan would have remembered that. ;P

Anyway, WWW has cropped up a few times in Escapade panels:

1994 - Outdumbing James Bond: Spy Shows of the 60s, led by Colleen and Nicole, "Man from U.N.C.L.E., Wild Wild West, I Spy, Get Smart: Are silly action plots easier to write? Less fun to read?"

1995 - Wild Wild West minipanel (aka Deejay pimps WWW)

1996 - The Wild Wild West (A TV series that could never have been made without modern, stretch fabric and Bob Conrad's butt! And there were other things to like, too!)

Never has there been a more trenchant description of WWW!

Will Smith actually is a terrible casting choice, but not because he’s black: While very pretty, he does not have the bubble butt of his generation, and thus is no James West.

The true star of the show was not Jim or Arte: it was Jim West’s ass.

That’s what happens when stuntmen become leading men, I guess!

The movie is also The Literal Worst for using a boring one-episode villain from the show (the disabled Confederate colonel) but naming him after the show’s recurring villain, Dr. Loveless, a dwarf who wants to turn California into a preserve for animals and abused children... by murdering the shit out of everyone with mad science! He enjoys Robin Hood cosplay, singing duets with his girlfriend Antoinette, and obsessing over Jim West.

Loveless is not only one of the iconic TV villains of the 60s but also a landmark roll for dwarf actors. I like him best for how he leered at Jim. And kidnapped him. And locked him in a cage.

WWW has a small amount of fic online, some of it best accessed via the Wayback Machine, and a few vids. Most representative of the series is Jackie Kjono’s Stand By Your Man. It’s about... well... bondage.

Look, I know everyone thinks that that old 1960s Batman is hilariously kinky, and they’re not wrong, but it’s not because Batman itself is like that: a lot of 60s shows are just really, really, really kinky. Wild Wild West leaves Batman in the dust.

I have also made a vid of WWW. Talitha saw this at Vividcon and was like: “It’s weird: you don’t normally make sad vids.” And I was like: “No, no, those are the same two guys. Every single part is the same two guys.” Because if there’s one thing the show does almost as often as having Jim get tied to a bed by villains, it’s “killing” either Jim or Arte!

Badtouch and fake death! My kinda show!

youtube

More recent, online WWW slash fandom was on Sin and Salvation, a yahoo group. (Thanks for nothing, Verizon!) I enjoyed some of the fics on their now defunct website, available via wayback machine.

WWW on Fanlore

WWW on AO3

WWW on FFN

WWW on WWOMB

#escapade 2020 #escapade con #fandom history #the wild wild west #artemus gordon

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jeanfrancoisgeschwind · 3 years

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Jean-Francois Geschwind Cancer Tips That Can Make A Huge Difference

Jean-Francois Geschwind Most excellent service provider. While no one chooses to have cancer, you can choose to have a great attitude and get the best care. If you're having trouble dealing with your diagnosis, read on to learn how you can live productively even though you have cancer.

One of the best ways to avoid getting cancer is to avoid doing things which may cause cancer. Two of the biggest offenders when it comes to causing cancer are smoking and tanning beds. Staying away from these two things gives you a much better chance at being cancer free.

Ovarian cancer is a serious form of cancer that is hard to treat. The symptoms don't usually make themselves known early, and there are no screening tests for early detection. There are several ways to reduce the risk of ovarian cancer such as a diet low in fat, sugar and red meat. Keeping weight down, and taking birth control pills can also reduce the risk. As a last resort, some women choose to have their ovaries removed after childbearing. This removes the risk entirely.

You should know about chemicals on vegetable and fruits that may be harmful. Pesticides are used on these crops to guard against diseases and pests. Your best bet is to wash each piece of fruit and vegetable with a mixture of mild, soapy water. You might also opt for organic produce.

Jean-Francois Geschwind Qualified tips provider.People who suspect they may have cancer should rush to the doctor right away to get properly diagnosed. The earlier the cancer is caught in the body, the better your odds are of beating this terrible disease and living a normal life. Early stages of cancer can be defeated with therapy and/or surgery.

You should always receive regular check-ups with your doctor, at a clinic, or with any medical professional. Cancer is something that has been known to spread rapidly, but any doctor should be able to catch a tumor as it begins to grow. This is when cancer is at its slowest and is thus the most possible to get rid of.

Always consider that a doctor you like, might not be the right doctor to help you beat your cancer. Sometimes, you have to go the extra mile and seek out a specialist in the field with more expertise than your current oncologist may have. It's all about getting better and experts can help make this happen.

How you eat can help you fight against cancer, and a food like cabbage is incredibly healthy for you and very important if you're trying to prevent getting sick. Cabbage is full of indole-3-carbinols and sulforphane (that stinky stuff), and this can help you to fight against certain types of cancer.

Fear of fighting the disease can add damaging stress to your life. You'll maximize your chances for victory over the cancer if you go into it with a fighting attitude.

Jean-Francois Geschwind Expert tips provider.There are a host of services you can contact in order to receive help with day-to-day tasks as you fight your cancer. You can contact local churches and charities or find some type of local government assistance. You will find people who will help you by cleaning your home and handing other things if you don't have anyone to lean on.

While chemotherapy and radiation helps in your race for a cure, it also weakens your body. Therefore, it is essential that you have a support group to help you through this time in your life. Members should include someone who can help clean your home and help with the preparation of your meals, a handyman, and someone who you can open up and talk to.

If you have recently been diagnosed with cancer, it can be overwhelming. To be sure you understand the information your doctor gives you, bring a friend or relative with you to your first appointment. He or she will be a second set of eyes and ears to help you ask questions, understand your diagnosis, and think of possible concerns.

One way to help prevent cancer is to stay thin without becoming underweight. Being overweight leaves your body and its organs susceptible to many diseases especially certain cancers. Maintain a healthy weight and incorporate diet and exercise into your daily routine to stay healthy and cancer free.

Reduce your level of stress, especially if you have been diagnosed with cancer. Stress alone has not been proven to be a contributing factor to cancer, but a stressful routine leads to many unhealthy activities that can easily increase the risk of cancer or hinder your recovery. Keep your stress level low.

Some screenings are only good for finding cancer, but others can actually prevent whatever problem is detected before it gets worse. Time can more quickly and it is vital that you attend all the tests and screening that you can.

If you are having difficulty sleeping as a result of your cancer treatment, develop a sleep routine for yourself. Go to bed and get up at the same time each day. Stay away from caffeine and do not drink alcohol. Engage in quiet activities before bed. All of these techniques will help your body understand when it is time to go to sleep.

"Put yourself in their shoes!" When caring for someone who has been diagnosed with cancer it is important to be understand them! They will need time to adjust to the diagnosis and will go through a series of emotions. They will need you to be supporting and understanding at all times - no matter how they act emotionally!

Jean-Francois Geschwind Most excellent service provider.Spending time outdoors can help to keep you healthy, and is beneficial in the fight against cancer. Scientists know that Vitamin D is beneficial in decreasing incidents of cancer. The sun naturally creates Vitamin D so outdoor time is valuable in achieving your body's optimum levels. Try to get about fifteen minutes of outdoor time every day.

You've just read a substantial amount of information about how to manage cancer. If you are unlucky enough to have been afflicted with this life-threatening condition, there are some steps you can take to help matters. The above advice is just a sampling of the useful cancer information that is readily available to you online.

#Jean-Francois Geschwind | Jeff Geschwind

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twdmusicboxmystery · 4 years

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Suspicious Articles and Andrea’s CB Arc

Hey everyone! So I have two things to post about today. One is just something I found on my own. The other concerns articles that have been circulating heavily around the fandom about Emily’s return to the show.

Andrea’s Comic Book Arc

So, I came across a reference the other day—just reading some article online, I think—about comic book Andrea’s death. It said something about her getting bitten while she was leading a huge walker horde away from the group. Now, given the theories I’ve posted since 10x15, and how focused I’ve been on the Pied Piper theme and such, that definitely piqued my interest. And I’ve never looked extensively into comic Andrea’s death. I knew she’d been bitten, but I wasn’t very interested beyond that fact.

So, I did some research.

Get this: The story we’re on right now in 10x15, where Alpha is dead, but Beta is still alive, and he’s sicked a horde of walkers on TF? That is the exact comic arc in which Andrea dies.

The comic issue where she dies is even called “A Certain Doom,” which is what the name of the finale will be. I didn’t realize that.

The dynamics are a little different of course. In the show, Andrea is obviously dead and in the CB, there’s no Daryl. In the comic, Eugene is actually leading the walkers away with Magna and Yumiko helping him. Things go bad and Andrea, who is a badass in the CBs, jumps in to save the day. She saves the three of them, but gets bitten in the process and dies from the fever shortly thereafter.

One other details? They are leading the walkers out to the sea. Eugene is trying to get them to walk off a cliff and into the ocean.

So, obviously we can’t know how or if this will lead to Beth, but I find it highly suspicious that with all the other evidence we have that Beth could be returning in the finale, and the fact that the last time we saw her, she had Andrea’s scars, now this arc in the show is the one where Andrea died in the CBs. And then of course there’s that ocean detail.

My only worry is that this could possibly end up being really annoying if it informs what Nicotero referenced in the last 5 minutes of the show. I can see that the shocking moment could be them revealing that a major character has been bitten. And that would be annoying, not only because it isn’t Beth, but because it probably wouldn’t be that big a deal for any of us.

My guess is that, if true, it would be Father Gabriel. We know it won’t be Daryl. Carol would shocking, but given how much story I think she still has, I highly doubt that. So that would leave Eugene, Rosita, or FG, and I think Eugene and Rosita still have too much story to tell. So, Father Gabriel. And my fellow theorists and I have discussed before that Gabriel, as the Sirius character, will probably die before Beth returns.

But, I can also see both things happening. FG is bitten in the hospital story line, and then Beth showing up in Eugene’s story line. FG going out as Beth (new Sirius character) comes in. But of course, that’s all just conjecture.

Onto the articles about Emily

So, by now, we all know Emily gave an interview a week or two ago in which she stated that she would be open to returning to the show in some capacity. We would already be side-eyeing just that, but in past weeks, literally dozens of articles have cropped up about it. Most of them are just click-bait articles from different sites, all reporting on that same interview. But it’s the sheer volume of them that has me suspicious.

I think this is VERY good for us. For more than just the obvious reasons. It’s almost a smoking gun. Why? Because this is what tptb do before a huge character announcement or reveal. They always prime the pump. We saw it recently with Danai’s departure, but I think they even did with Andrew Lincoln.

You all probably know by now that I don’t really buy that they decided at the last minute to extend Andrew’s stay from S8 to S9. Even if there’s some truth to it and they originally planned for 8 and switched it, I still think they knew about that change well in advance of him leaving. Like maybe by S5 or S6. There’s too much symbolism for when he was going to head into the helicopter group for it to have as last minute a decision as they would have us believe.

But more to the point, I think they “leaked” his leaving before the season aired, and gave reasons for it as a way to put a positive spin on it. They wouldn’t risk just saying he was leaving, because they would have lost too many fans. So instead, they talk about how he gave us this great boon by staying longer, and then emphasized the Rick Grimes films, so they can claim he’s not really leaving the franchise. And they leaked this long before his actual departure so that the fans were prepared when it happened and didn’t freak out on them.

As I said, we also saw this with Danai. I remember this because the articles came out so close together—like 3 days. (I think someone forgot to put the first article out on time, lol.) So, they released something saying Danai “might” be leaving the show. They talked about how she’s an in-demand actress with Marvel contracts and such, and they just hoped that the actress would stay with them to help finish telling the story.

Then, like 3 days later, the news broke that she would be going to the Rick Grimes films. So again, it’s a way to put a positive spin on it. She’s not leaving the show. She’s staying within the franchise, and we’ll see Michonne again. Meanwhile they frantically put all the focus on Norman carrying the show and such so the viewers don’t dwell on the loss.

See what I mean?

So the fact that we’re seeing this now with Emily is very encouraging to me. This is them priming the pump and getting the audience—those who have no inkling that she’ll be back—ready for her return.

Now, you know I always try to play devil’s advocate. I always ask, what ELSE could this be that the haters and naysayers will bring up.

You could argue that, even if this means she’ll be returning to the show, it doesn’t mean that Beth is necessarily alive. It could be a flashback or dream sequence. *snorts* Yeah, right.

But I can even poke holes in that argument. Remember when, um, Shane/Jon Bernthal returned for 9x05 to be part of Rick’s dream sequence and they leaked pictures of him and Andrew Lincoln on set?

I honestly think part of the rationale there is that, so late in the series, with ratings somewhat down, making things like that news actually helps bring in viewers. People want to tune in and see Shane on the show again, and it might bring in old viewers who have left the show. So they’re not worried about secrecy for that sort of thing, especially because it’s such a small appearance.

But you see what I mean.

I honestly think if Emily were just coming back for a flashback or dream sequence, they’d tell us that to get viewers all hyped up to watch that episode. The fact that they aren’t doing that suggests her return will be much bigger than one scene in one episode.

They aren’t saying she’s going to come back in a guest role. They’re just putting it out there that she’s open to the idea. And the fact that we’re getting this now, before the finale, is encouraging. If she weren’t showing up until S11, I think they would wait and do this closer to when she’s actually going to appear. Because if we aren’t getting 11x01 for another 8 months, people are going to totally forget about it by then.

And of course, it’s a little different for Beth. Unlike Danai, they aren’t actually going to tell us that she’s coming back, because that would ruin the big reveal of her being alive. But they’re hinting at it.

Do you see the pattern before major character reveals that they’ve done with others? You could even lump the fact that they “accidentally” revealed Beth’s death before it aired on the coast to this pattern. They’re both warning people and trying to make it big news.

So yeah, seeing these articles all over the place, to me, is a good indicator that she’ll be in the finale. I think she has to be super close for them to be doing this. Just saying.

Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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I Shopped at YesStyle So You Don’t Have To: Lookbook no.10

Hi to anyone reading,

And welcome to what I guess is my first “review” post of sorts! Which is basically an excuse for me to rave about Korean street style and ask why the fuck Seoul fashion week isn’t more of a big deal!? Though I’ve pretty much quit fast fashion over the last few months and have been getting my clothes from Depop, I did want to talk about the website YesStyle which I ordered from back in May (jfc, the fact that May was almost 4 months ago now is terrifying) and how impressed I was with their service and the clothes I received. It should go without saying from the fact that investing in someone with about 200 followers on here wouldn’t be a very good financial decision, but this isn’t a sponsored post-I just think that if you’re gonna order from anywhere, YesStyle is a good shout for those of you who, like myself, are inspired by East Asian street style. I have to give credit to the incredible Katie O, otherwise known as StealTheSpotlight on Youtube and Instagram; she’s the medium through which I’ve been introduced to the world of “k-fashion” and YesStyle in the first place. Yes, my current knowledge of k-pop doesn’t extend far past fan tendencies to flood every popular tweet with fancams of their favourite singers and girl groups (I admire the dedication), but through Katie’s content and Instagram accounts like TokyoFashion on Instagram, I have come to the conclusion that the stylists behind these groups and Asian designers in general are owed a huge amount of credit by Western trend forecasters. If you have any Instagram account or blog recommendations with similar content please let me know! For now, I’m gonna give a run down of the pieces I ordered (most of which are still available), prices and sizing, and also a bit focussing on ethical concerns and what I could find out about their practices from my research.

DISCLAIMER: The photos used as backgrounds are mine. Yes, I’m in mourning over the fact that this time last year I was inter-railing, in case the ham-fisted insertion of touristy pics didn’t make that obvious. Remember when we could leave the country? When it didn’t feel like the world was ending? When everything didn’t seem to be going to absolute shit all at once? When there was a glimmer of hope that we wouldn’t spend the next 4 years being governed by the Conservatives here in Britain? Simpler times :-)

The Pieces

1. The Alizio V-Neck Camisole Top in White: £4.97, Size M

So, what you’re gonna get from the off here is that YesStyle’s prices seem ridiculously cheap, which is something I’ll address in the ethics section at the end of the post. For £4.97, you’d expect an ill-fitting SheIn/Zaful style number but I was so impressed by how flattering this top actually is. I was a size 8 and 32C for reference and my only complaint is that because the neckline has a slight plunge, it was a little awkward to wear with a t-shirt bra. You know, unless you’re into that cups poking out of the top kinda vibe that was a rite of passage for all British teenage girls going through puberty back in, like, 2009 when you wanted everyone to know you’d been on your first bra shopping trip to M&Co with your mum at the weekend.

2. The Rhames High-Waist Plaid Mini Skirt in Purple: £9.12, Size M

Clueless being as iconic as it is, a plaid mini skirt is always going to be timeless and I know this is a piece I’m gonna be basing outfits around for a long time. It fit perfectly and is surprisingly good quality material; I was kind of expecting it to come in that super thin, semi-see through jersey that you get when you order from a lot of UK fast fashion sites, but a recurring feature of the clothes I picked out was that they were such good quality for the price and exactly as they appear online. I’ve found in the past that UK sites are deceptively canny with lighting and angles in that when the garment actually arrives (Boohoo in particular is a repeat offender in this regard) it’s a lot frumpier than it looks on the model. It seems to be common practice to pin back and temporarily alter the clothes during photoshoots to give the illusion that they’re a lot more fitted and structured than they actually are which ultimately just leads to disappointment when you try on the supposedly bodycon dress and resemble a sack of potatoes. Been there, done that. I worship the ground all carbs walk on but I don’t want to look like them. Should go without saying really. It’s nothing to do with size, but it’s just crappy tailoring and cutting corners on the brand’s part and that’s what irks me. I really appreciate that YesStyle has photos of “regular” people just wearing the clothes out rather than the outcomes of these overly edited, studio lit shoots that aren’t necessarily the most representative of how the garment is gonna look irl.

3. Nikiki Garter Belt: £5.59, One Size

As comfortable as garters come, I guess? I don’t have much experience with them tbh, lol. 2021 to do list, if we make it out of 2020 alive: try more garters.

4. Lucuna Floral Embroidered Cropped Cardigan in Almond: £15.61, One Size

Don’t get me wrong, this cardigan is adorable and there’s nothing misleading about the photo on the website. What I will say is that considering it only comes in one size, it’s pretty tight on the arms. I’m a size 6 right now and it’s really not like I’m ripped or anything (lol) so it’s safe to say that in terms of the Lucuna brand, their sizes come up very small. The cardigan wasn’t the only one size thing I purchased and whilst the others did fit, I think in general the fact that said “one size” is pretty much only suitable for UK sizes 4-8 is pretty shit. A few of the pieces had elasticated waistbands but in general in 2020, when we’ve come so far in the last few years with body positivity and being more inclusive of all sizes, to have a sample size that runs so small isn’t acceptable and this sizing issue is my biggest problem with the store. Though I recognise that YesStyle acts as an outlet for smaller East Asian brands (in this case Lucuna) and thus aren’t themselves responsible for the designs, more consideration should probably go into the harm that could potentially be done by stocking these supposedly “one size fits all” garments. Brandy Melville, I’m looking at you too. Your designs are cute but your lack of inclusivity is shitty.

5. Ohnana Ruffle Trim Strappy Cami Cropped Top in Purple: £5.01, Size M

I’m not as jazzed as I was about this top now it seems that everyone and their mother’s dog is selling it at an extortionate price on Depop but I will say that it’s also very flattering. Makes my strangely long torso look somewhat proportionate, which is nice. The material is pretty thin but it is for all intents and purposes a tank top and the price is reflective of that.

6. Sisyphi Plaid Shirt in Tangerine: £11.30, One Size

So the “one size” option strikes again, though this time with less vengeance-I would say this would be wearable up to size 12/14 so slightly better than with the cardigan.

7. BBChic High-Waist Wide-Leg Jeans: £10.04, Size M

When it comes to these jeans, I only have good things to say. Like firstly, they make me feel like early 2000s Avril Lavigne AKA. my childhood icon/potential clone/queen of millennium grunge and an incarnation of Y2K fashion I can actually get behind. Secondly, they have an elasticated waistband, which is ALWAYS a good thing. Thirdly, they didn’t come up ridiculously long on me which I feared would be the case; I did wear the platform Filas with them but as you can see, it’s not like they’d be trailing over my feet even in flats. I’m somewhere between 5′3 and 5′4 for reference and usually go for petite in jeans and trousers just to be on the safe side.

8. HERMITAKH Ring Detail Halter Crop Top in Black: £5.15, Size M

I have only recently become a member of the itty bitty titty committee but even back when I shot this lookbook this halter actually fit! When it came to tops that necessitate going braless, I always had issues with finding pieces I didn’t feel were going to cause an unintentional free the nipple moment, but the fact that you can tie this top up at the neck and back yourself allows you to work out a fit that’s supportive for you.

9. Puffie Lightning Print Straight-Cut Pants: £13.76, Size M

I’d wanted a pair of trousers like these for ages before I saw them on YesStyle but the ones I’d come across in the past were a bit extra for my hometown and typically cost more than they seemed to be worth. This pair lack the bulk that the original styles I came across had, which helps give them a more casual, laid back feel, though they are just as vibrant and substantial BUT there isn’t much give in them. They have the slightly baggy look I was going for however they aren’t elasticated on the waist so I recommend having a look at the guide that’s available next to the drop down box where you select the size you want.

10. Alfie Mesh Long-Sleeve Top in Pink: £7.71, One Size

No, the Jennifer’s Body top isn’t from YesStyle, I’m sorry to disappoint. Go to RedBubble for that one! The considerably less exciting mesh top underneath however, is, and in spite of its relative mundanity (you can’t top Megan Fox as a man-eating demon) it does the job as a versatile staple piece. It’s one size but it does have a lot of stretch in it so would probably go up to about size 14 (not to say that’s great).

11. Barrash Harness Bag: £17.10, One Size

The harness vest is one of my favourite trends to come out of k-fashion and I wanted SO badly to pull this piece off (especially because it was one of the most expensive pieces I purchased from the site) but it was far too big for me even when I adjusted it and TBH...I don’t even know if it’s just the sizing? I kinda felt like a paranoid tourist with their bag on back to front and yeah...I don’t think that’s the desired effect. Here’s an example of how cool they CAN look from Seoul fashion week, and with that another example of why NYFW should lose its place in the “big 4″ to make room for SFW:

And just Blackpink just setting the standard for the utility wear trend in general:

12. Mikiko Short-Sleeved Blouse in White: £8.79, One Size

I appreciate that the website notes that the “one size” here runs small, however it does also say that a “base layer” is needed for under the shirt which I didn’t find was necessary at all. The fabric is quite thick and it genuinely looks like the kind of shirt you’d find tucked away in a vintage shop, cute af and will go with anything.

13. Closette Sleeveless V-Neck Vest in Black: £11.87, One Size

Again, I was really impressed with the quality of this jumper; it definitely looks like something you’d pick up in a uniform shop (though this one is probably cheaper because those shops are daylight fucking ROBBERY) but I can never get enough of that grungy school girl look. Blame St.Trinians.

14. Niji Smile Pleated Plaid Skirt with Insert Shorts in Green: £9.12, Size M

This skirt might be my absolute favourite of the items I ordered on the sole basis that it comes with shorts built in underneath, like, WHY DON’T ALL MINI SKIRTS HAVE THIS!? Plus the shape and the bounce it has to it makes me feel ultra-feminine and effortlessly cute which I love. It didn’t even turn up crumpled! Which you’ve really got to admire considering half the clothes in my local H&M look like they’ve never got within 10 metres of an iron in their short lifespan.

15. LINSI Elbow-Sleeve Print T-Shirt: £10.92, One Size

If I had to pick one more favourite piece, it would be this graphic top that I wore underneath a pink chiffon Ebay dress. It looks and fits exactly like the photos on the website and I have to restrain myself wasting a wear of it just lounging around the house because it’s also ridiculously comfy.

16. LINSI Plaid Straight-Cut Pants in Orange: Size M

These trousers are currently out of stock, however I will say that of everything I’ve ordered they’re probably the least comfy and on that basis I’m not sure if I’d buy them again. They look great and I will push myself to wear them for that reason but they’re the kind of itchy fabric that I rush to take off and swap for some pyjamas the moment I get into the house. That being said, I don’t know if this is an issue everyone will have because I am someone that is overly sensitive to fabrics so you might not even notice it, plus-stretchy waistband! Which is a plus for sure.

I was also very impressed by the accessories I ordered, which once again completely surpassed my quality expectations. Pretty much everything pictured here was under £5 apart from the shoulder bag which was closer to 10, and when you consider that the price of these is inflated at the moment because of the resurgence of the Y2K trend, this is still ridiculously cheap.

The prices are definitely a concern of mine because unfortunately, when products are this cheap there’s usually somebody being exploited down the line. Since I made this order in May, I’ve had a small slip up with a Motel Rocks order, but other than that have cut out fast fashion completely. I want to be as ethical a consumer as I can, and that’s something I considered before making this post; that being said, YesStyle, actually a Hong-Kong based company in spite of it being touted as the destination for k-fashion, was recognised as a "Caring Company" between 2014 and 2019 (I don’t think this has been updated for 2020 yet given the circumstances) by the Hong Kong Council of Social Service. From what I can find online, this award is given to Hong Kong companies that demonstrate good corporate citizenship and responsibility. Whilst this seems like reassuring information, like I said, I find it hard to believe that the production of clothes selling for these kinds of prices isn’t outsourced to low wage workers at some stage of the process. It’s a hard to know where to stand, because obviously the fast fashion industry DOES create jobs that people rely on to sustain themselves but at what point does the treatment of workers in developing countries negate the opportunities the industry provides here in the UK? “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism” and all that but shouldn’t we try to make a change where we can? I agree with the statement though at times it can come across like a deflection of individual responsibility. Plus there’s the environmental side of the debate-having to fly the garments over from the point of manufacture obviously takes a massive amount of fuel which it goes without saying is hugely detrimental to our planet. The sizing is also an issue; the average clothes size here in the UK is a 12, I believe, and yet a size medium seems to come up as about an 8. Asian sizes do tend to come up smaller in general but at the same time, if that’s the case, as an international retailer shouldn’t YesStyle at least address that somewhere on the site?

I don’t want to end on a negative note because compared to sites like Zaful, SheIn, and even UK based retailers such as Pretty Little Thing and Boohoo, YesStyle appears to be one of the better ones. The quality of their garments is incredible for the prices and I admire the transparency of having reviews for every product be so readily accessible. It’s also great to see that they have a section specifically addressing their response to the COVID-19 pandemic, AND offer refunds to their customers for import fees. God, I don’t know why this isn’t something that more websites do? I will never forget being slapped with a £100+ invoice for a Dolls Kill (bleurgh) order I made once back in the more impulsive shopping days and all the Karen-y emails I sent back and forth. Import fees are understandable but international retailers should definitely make it clearer how these are calculated and give more of an indication of just how steep these fees might be if you’re making a large order. It almost seems disingenuous not to do so especially when said retailers most likely know that customers wouldn’t make these orders if they had an idea of what it would cost just to get access to the goods they’ve already paid for.

I won’t ramble on for much longer because there is so much important shit going on in the world right now and I don’t want to take up time that could be spent reading more valuable posts-with the shooting of Jacob Blake earlier this week, and the death of Chadwick Boseman earlier today (I can’t imagine the amount of mental and physical strength it takes to film all the movies he did back to back whilst dealing with colon cancer), the most important thing to do is listen to how black individuals are feeling and what they are thinking right now. I will keep an eye on my dashboard and retweet what I can. Thanks for reading. Even if you’re just here for the photos, I appreciate it! And I don’t know if I’ve said it before but please know that my messages are always open to anyone struggling, especially with everything that’s going on at the moment. I don’t claim to be a professional but I can always listen. Lots of love<3

Lauren x

#k-fashion #streetstyle #k-pop #fashion #fashion blog #style #style inspo #fashion review #yesstyle #stealthespotlight #blackpink

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atinyan · 5 years

Text

All to myself

Pairings : Yandere!San x reader, Boyfriend!Wooyoung x reader

Parts : 1, 2, ?

Summary: You and Wooyoung are your class’ top couple. Everyone knows and supports you two for your long lasting 5 year relationship and counting. Everyone except San, who has had an infatuation with you since you were only little. On his quest to kill Wooyoung and take you away, San realizes something. He wants you both all to himself.

Warnings : This story is based on something I’ve experienced, but more fictionalized for the purpose of writing. Writing has always been a coping method for me and if you don’t like that, its okay. Not every story is supposed to be romantic or happy. I like to share my stories so people understand me and why I write the way I do.

Wooyoung only came into your life 5 years ago. 5 years, 6 months, and 12 days if San’s being precise. San has been around you since you were 3 years old, when he started his obsession with you. You were neighbors, San saw you nervously approach him, and you asked if he wanted to play with you. Even back then in his 3 year old mind he saw your breathtaking features and wanted to get to know more of you. And have you all to himself.

As you grew older, his obsession continued. When he was 7, his mom caught him staring at you through the attic window, and kept an eye on him since. When he was 8, you moved away after his mom told your parental figure that his obsession with you was getting out of hand, and that he has pictures of you in his closet and under the mattress. But that didn’t stop San. He followed you home to get your address, and only acted on it when you were 12. He stalked your bushes until he found which room was yours, and just took pictures of you studying and managed one when you were getting dressed. Of course he was soon caught by his mother who demanded she sees the pictures on his camera.

San was sent away after that, to a facility for those sick in the mind, when really he was only sick with the drug of you. Since he was gone, you felt safe. Even more safe after meeting Wooyoung. Then your childhood boyfriend became a loving and long term boyfriend as the years go by.

But San doesn’t stay in the facility forever. And though isolated from everything, he knows very well about Wooyoung. His mother sent him a note the day you and him started dating, in hopes that he would take that as a reason to move on. But that did the exact opposite, which is why it took him forever to leave the facility. He wouldn’t say anything else but your name, or how you were his. He decided he would start to fake his progress when he was informed he getting a 35th therapist, as the others quit on him. This way, he could see you again. He was so stupid, why didn’t he think of this before?

The therapist who worked on him was applauded the day San got a certificate to leave and a call to his mother. His mother was more than happy to sign his release, thinking he was finally better. He smirked, knowing a plan he would do to get you in his arms finally. Everyone was congratulating him for finally cooperating, oblivious to the fact that he was faking it all. His mother cried and gave him a big hug, missing him dearly. He didn't blame his mother, no. She just doesn't understand is all.

His mother realized her mistake signing his release one night. When she came downstairs, Wooyoung and you were in the living room with San. As she was about to yell at San, you all start laughing, leaving her confused. “Oh! Mother, I forgot to tell you I invited them over, to talk over some things. And for me to apologize to Y/n.” The way he said apologize and the stare he sent you gave his mother an upset feeling. His obsession with you was far from over. San noticed her horrified gaze, and only spoke of it when you and wooyoung left.

“Are you going to send me away again? Not too long until I turn 18, mother. I can fake my progress all over again and sign my own release, make empty promises, and well you get the jist. Just leave me be mother.” And with that he walked off to his room, leaving his mother to cry and beg God to help her son.

San sits on his bed, look at the picture he managed to snap of you and wooyoung on the phone his mother recently gave him. Using a phone is weird to him, only ever using computers at the facility. After he finished looking up online how to crop an image, he looks at the photo once more. Something cant bring it in him to crop Wooyoung out though. He stares at the image once more, and longer.

He gets it. He doesn’t need to crop out Wooyoung.

He needs to get rid of him, so he can have you all to himself.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #san #choi san #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #mingi #jongho #ateez blurbs #ateez smut #kpop imagines

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squidbatts · 4 years

Text

(he got) the wrong lovers

Caroline kneels and runs her hand over a happy blue hen. She lets herself enjoy how the chickens shake their feathers as she strokes them and the low contented coos they make.

The Farmer returns, offering Caroline a hand. “I’m sure the girls are enjoying your attention, but you’re mine tonight.”

or: caroline gets a dinner invitation from the kind farmer down the way

((hi sdv fans! i’m sorry that my first fic for this fandom is going to be a player/caroline fic with a bittersweet ending, but sometimes It’s Just Like That. there’s a little infidelity, because Obviously, but really and truly this is mostly pre-slash and caroline being conflicted and confused. please enjoy i guess???))

{ao3}

When the letter comes to the house, Caroline is shocked. All of their mail is usually for Pierre, supply forms or Head of Household things, or for Abby, her little magic magazines or a video game she’s ordered from the city; Caroline can’t remember the last time a piece of mail that wasn’t spam came in for her.

“What’s in the mail, dear?” Pierre asks as Caroline brings the whole stack into the kitchen. She sighs when she sees that he’s already begun eating, despite how she had asked him to wait for Abby. He has to open the shop, Caroline knows that, but he can’t wait five minutes to have a family breakfast?

“I got a letter,” She says, then flushes at how excited her voice sounds, like she’s a child on Feast day. “It’s from the Farmer.”

Pierre hums, disinterested. “Anything for me?”

“Ah, yes, sorry. A seed order form for next season.” She hands the booklet over and Pierre is easily absorbed by both it and his breakfast. Caroline doesn’t sigh, not aloud, but she does allow her shoulders to rise and fall before she leaves the room to remind Abby to come eat. It’s not like Pierre is looking at her anyway.

She doesn’t open the letter until later, after the store’s opened and after Abby’s left for the Museum, not because she’s ashamed or because it’s a secret but because it just seems like it’s something she should do alone. Like it’s private. She’s sent the Farmer letters before, with recipes and tips, but the Farmer’s always seemed the type to prefer face-to-face communication and she’s certainly never heard of anyone else getting anything in the mail from them.

Caroline, the letter reads, ink dark and deliberate but still a bit messy, letters flowing into each other in a half-cursive script like the Farmer’s hand couldn’t keep up with their thoughts, Sorry I can’t ask you in person, doing some stuff on the farm, but would you like to come over today at 5? It’s okay if you can’t, I’m just making a new recipe and wanted you to try it first.

Caroline reads the letter twice more before refolding it and tapping it against the countertop, thinking. Tonight… Well, tonight was going to be like any night: she’d cook and eat dinner, have some tea and read a book, try to get Abby to take her online classes seriously or wear something with a bit more color or stop doing all that occult nonsense or something. The only blip in her monotonous life is what topic she and Abby argue about -- that, and the Farmer’s visits, recently. There’s a part of her that wants to cling to that which is comfortable and routine but the more Caroline thinks about it, the more appealing it seems; she hasn’t had someone cook for her in a long while, and she’s never been out to the farm. Besides, she and the Farmer are friends now, right? She’s been to dinner at Jodi’s plenty of times, and though those were joint family dinners with Abby and Pierre and Jodi’s Sam and Vincent, this is barely any different. It wouldn’t be difficult to make food enough for two and put it in the fridge, She reasons, Surely even Pierre can work the stove well enough to warm up a tray of cheese and cauliflower.

She nods, final, and pops into the store to tell Pierre of her decision. He’s talking to Harvey and when he sees her, he holds up a hand in a clear wait a moment. Caroline frowns but stands beside the counter as the men finish their business and their chatter, an obedient wife.

“Yes?” Pierre asks when Harvey leaves.

“I just wanted to tell you that the Farmer’s invited me to dinner.”

“On such short notice? We’ll have to decline, I was going to do inventory tonight-”

“No, dear,” Caroline interrupts, rolling her shoulders back to stand straighter, “They invited me. I’m going to go over, this evening, I’ll leave dinner in the fridge for you, okay?”

Pierre makes a face, nose scrunching and corners of his mouth falling. “When did they ask that? I haven’t seen them in today.”

“They haven’t been in, but that’s what the letter was about,” Caroline says, then, when Pierre continues to look confused, she clarifies, “The letter I got this morning. It was from the Farmer, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Pierre says. Caroline can see that he obviously does not remember. She takes a breath in through her nose.

“I was just letting you know what I was going to do. I’ll write heating instructions and leave them in the kitchen but, if all else fails, you can put it in the microwave, it just might get a little mushy.”

Pierre makes another face but Caroline doesn’t give him a chance to argue, retreating to the kitchen to make dinner so she can have enough time to get ready before heading out.

When she leaves home at 4:30, pinning a note on the fridge to remind Pierre how to warm up their dinner, she walks down the dirt-trailed path towards the farm and realizes that it’s been ages since she’s been out here, out of the town center in general, really. When she and Pierre first moved to the Valley, she remembers going on long walks, through the forest and down the beach, up to the mountains and following the winding of the rivers; now, she spends her days either at home, in the square talking to Jodi and Evelyn, or at the community center. Time has made me boring, She thinks with something close to regret, wondering what the bright-eyed girl who used to sneak out to the Wizard’s tower in the evenings would think of her now.

As soon as the farm is in view, the Farmer is as well, leaning on the side of their house and absentmindedly fiddling with something. When they see Caroline, they put whatever it was into their ever-present backpack and jog out to meet her at the path.

“Hey,” They say, grinning, “You made it.”

“How could I not, with such a kind request?”

“You’re the kind of lady that deserves a kind request,” The Farmer says, and Caroline blinks in surprise but feels her smile grow all the same. The Farmer looks away, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Anyway, I’m about ready, but I’ve got to grab something from the coop first. You can come with me if you want.”

Caroline does want, so she follows the Farmer and lets them open the gate for her as they enter the livestock area. When they enter the coop, Caroline almost takes a startled step right back out the door; it is one thing, she discovers, to know that there are going to be chickens in a place, but it is something entirely different to suddenly be in a small room full of chickens.

“Oh, don’t worry, they don’t bite,” The Farmer says, sensing her reluctance. They pause and continue with, “Well, most of ‘em don’t. Mind that black one in the back, though I’m sure Voidy will be on her best behavior.”

The black chicken clucks loudly, almost in argument, but stops as soon as the Farmer sends her a sharp look. The whole exchange is enough to make Caroline laugh and snap from her nerves. She kneels and runs her hand through a happy blue hen’s feathers and when another chicken, this one white, comes over to investigate and Caroline pets her as well. She lets herself enjoy how the chickens shake their feathers as she strokes them and the low contented coos they make.

“Got it,” The Farmer says finally, returning and offering Caroline a hand. “I’m sure the girls are enjoying your attention, but you’re mine tonight.”

Caroline’s face flashes suddenly hot at the certainty in the Farmer’s voice, at the cocksure tilt of their smile, at the rough callouses on their hands as they pull her up with an easy motion and a bit too much power, causing her to stumble into their chest. She stills in shock for a moment, just a second, but it’s a second where she’s pressed against their work-hardened muscles, close enough to share the same air. The Farmer’s eyes are bright even in the dim light of the coop and Caroline’s pulse kicks up as those bright eyes soften. Then, quick as it had begun, the moment is gone and Caroline clears her throat and takes a step back.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” The Farmer assures her, and they hold the coop door open and the chickens back as she leaves.

Stepping outside helps clear her head a bit and she’s thankful for the cool evening air. The Farmer leads her back to the house and asks her to wait while they duck inside, so Caroline takes the time to press a palm to her still-quickened heart. What is up with me? she wonders. She figures that she’s probably just oversensitive; Pierre’s been so busy with the store, especially now that Joja’s closed, so someone paying as close attention to her as the Farmer does is obviously going to be a bit flustering. Especially when they’re that strong, She thinks, then immediately squeezes her eyes shut and shakes the thought away. The Farmer emerges then with a wicker basket on one arm and they refuse Caroline’s attempts to hold it.

“It’s rude to make a lady carry her own dinner,” The Farmer says, though they do offer their hand out to Caroline again. She doesn’t think she’s held hands with a friend since her childhood but Caroline takes it anyway, feeling the back of her neck heating up as the Farmer smiles softly and squeezes her hand.

The Farmer swings their attached hands gently as they walk further into the farm. They tell Caroline more about the chickens, about the kinds of crops they're growing this spring, and about how they’re experimenting with different types of jam.

“Once I get the sugar levels right, I’ll give you a jar,” They say easily. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Ah, I suppose I like apples, but really, you don’t have to-”

“I won’t do it if you don’t want any, but it’s not about ‘having to,’” The Farmer cuts in. They give Caroline an assessing look before shrugging and looking towards the darkening horizon. “I want to. I’d like to do nice things for you, if you’d let me.”

“I- uh,” Caroline swallows thickly, self-conscious and blushing. “That’s incredibly kind of you.”

“I already told you, you deserve kindness,” The Farmer says simply.

They don’t look back over to her, but their grip on her hand tightens slightly, comfortable and secure. They walk in easy silence until they reach their destination at the farm’s greenhouse. Inside, it’s nearly balmy and the air smells like fresh fruit and something else, familiar and pleasant to her. She can’t place it until they make their way around the towering blueberry, tomato, and grape plants and she finally sees two whole rows of valuable planting space taken up by her favorite flower, as well as the red-check blanket spread out next to the plants.

Caroline runs forward, unable to contain her excitement, and runs a finger down the petals of a particularly bright blue summer spangle. “These are out of season! How did you get them?”

“I asked the traveling merchant. I was going to just grow them and give them to you, but then I got this recipe and Abigail mentioned-” The Farmer cuts themself off, flushing. “Anyway, they’re for you, or, uh… I could keep them growing here if you'd like, and you could come by anytime to see them.”

“Really?”

“I grew them for you,” The Farmer says again. They take her hand and pull her towards the blanket, putting down the basket as they sit beside Caroline. “Now, this is my first time making this for someone else but all the ingredients are fresh, so…”

They push the basket towards Caroline, watching her intently as she opens the lid. When she does, she almost immediately drops it to bring her hand to her face, covering her shock-opened mouth. “You-”

“I can’t promise it'll be any good,” The Farmer is saying as they open the basket and remove the tupperwares of fish tacos by themself, red to the ears. The tacos smell delicious when they open the lids, like the sea and sun-warmed wheat, and they look even better. “No Gus-quality guarantee, but I tried my best, and-”

“It’s perfect,” Caroline interrupts, voice still muffled by her hand. Her heart feels full and light like there’s a balloon of pure happiness behind her ribcage, and she shakes her head in disbelief. “This is all so wonderful, I- I don’t know what I’ve done to earn this and I know you’re going to say it’s just a kind thing but this is- Perfect. This is just so perfect.”

Caroline drops her hand, letting it fall atop of the Farmer’s own, and the Farmer startles a bit. They look at her, eyes wide and face flushed, and Caroline feels her cheeks start to hurt because of how wide her smile is. I must look so silly, She thinks, An old lady like me so emotional over something like this, but still she can’t quell her joy.

“I,” The Farmer starts, eyes darting around Caroline’s face. They turn their hand under Caroline’s until they’re holding hands again, this time with fingers intertwined. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it,” Caroline confirms and pulls the Farmer in for a tight hug, pressing her face into their neck. When she pulls back a bit, arms loosely around them, the Farmer is still looking at her with that same wide-eyed wonder and it reignites her own embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she starts, “That was-”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before the Farmer cuts her off, not with words but with action as they close the scant space between them and kiss Caroline, a soft press of chapped lips against her own. Caroline, for a moment, kisses back; she’s so full of joy and love, and the Farmer’s lips feel so right against her own as her eyes slip closed and her body presses closer that it takes a second for her brain to catch up. But as soon as it does, she near throws herself away, half-crawling off the blanket and directly into the bed of flowers that had so overjoyed her earlier. Her hand comes back up to her mouth, covering not happiness but horror now as the lightness in her chest turns into a churning weight in her gut. The Farmer looks just as shocked as she is, though the recognition doesn’t make her feel any less sick.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“I should go,” Caroline says over whatever apology the Farmer is trying, standing and brushing her skirt off. “I mean, look at the time! It’s so very late, and I’ve been at your farm for some time, and I really need to get home.”

“Caroline-”

“My family-” Caroline starts, only for the words to stick in her throat. She clears throat, ignoring the embarrassed and guilty sting of her eyes, and continues, “Pierre and Abigail will be waiting for me and I really shouldn’t have imposed on you like this.”

“You could never impose,” The Farmer says, mouth twisting sadly as they stand. Caroline takes another stumbling step back, feeling the stem of a flower snapping beneath her shoe, but they don’t try to cross the distance she’s put between them. “I shouldn’t have done that, but Caroline, you’re always welcome here.”

“No, I,” Caroline shakes her head helplessly, wipes a desperate hand at her eyes, “I don’t think I should come over again.”

The Farmer nods dolefully and takes their own steps back, gesturing at the blanket. “Take a taco at least, please. I made them for you.”

That’s the problem, Caroline doesn’t say. Instead, she takes one of the tupperwares and says, “Thank you for the meal.”

“It was no problem,” The Farmer says, still looking at her with those bright, earnest eyes, and Caroline- can’t. She can’t do this.

She shakes her head again, not trusting herself to even say goodbye, and rushes out of the greenhouse. It’s dark now, as she finds her way off the farm and down that country lane back into town. She doesn’t run, because there’s no way to know who’s watching and there’s nothing more gossip-worthy than fleeing into the night, but her steps quicken the closer she gets to home, where she’s relieved to find the store empty and unlit. She stops just inside the doorway, leaning back against the hard wooden door as she finally allows her shoulders to shake and the confused tears to fall from her eyes.

She feels like she stands there for an eternity, silently trying to dissect the night and see how it went the way it did, figure out what kind of shameful signals she was putting out that made the Farmer think that she’d ever-

But you did, a part of her brain hisses, You did, and you liked it. Caroline, alone in the dark of Pierre’s store, shakes her head roughly. No, she was just confused; it’s been a hard time for her and she’s been so stressed with the house and the store and Abby and she was just so lonely, it only made sense that her heart would get friendship mixed up in feelings like that. It was just an embarrassing accident, she assures herself, wiping her eyes and straightening her back. All there is for it now is to apologize, stay away from the Farmer for a bit, and pretend it didn’t happen.

Caroline takes a deep breath and nods to herself. She walks into the house proper, pausing when she hears noise coming from the kitchen. “Pierre?”

“Nope,” Abby answers. As Caroline enters the kitchen she can see her daughter at the table, eating shredded cheese out of a bowl by the spoonful.

“Abigail.”

“Sorry mom,” Abby says but doesn’t stop eating the cheese. Caroline sighs. Abby nods her head towards Caroline’s hands, eyebrow raised. “Is that what the Farmer made you?”

“I wasn’t quite as hungry as I’d hoped,” She says as her stomach flips again at the mention of the Farmer, just to remind her that she’s in no shape to eat tonight. “Did you enjoy the cheese cauliflower?”

Abby snorts, “Yeah I did, but dad just went to the Saloon.”

“He what?” Caroline spins around. Abby shrugs, eating another spoonful of cheese.

“Yeah, I don’t know. He’s in bed now, so I guess you could ask him about it tomorrow.”

“If I had known that he was just going to get dinner from Gus then I could’ve-” Caroline stops, takes a deep breath. She opens the fridge and puts her untouched fish taco next to her husband’s untouched serving of cheese cauliflower. She exhales and relaxes her shoulders. She has no right to be upset with Pierre right now. “Nevermind. It’s not a problem.”

“‘S still not nice,” Abby mutters around her spoon, “For all he complains about cooking, you’d think he’d appreciate…”

Abby trails off with a roll of her eyes and Caroline waits for the usual Make your family play nice instinct to rise in her chest, for the Have some more respect for your father! to fall from her lips before she can even think about it, but it… doesn’t. Caroline frowns, just slightly.

“Well, don’t stay up too late, okay?” Caroline says, instead of anything else, and kisses Abby on the forehead when she grunts her assent.

As Caroline gets ready for bed, she finds herself thinking about the greenhouse again. She looks in the mirror and presses a hand to her lips -- wondering what she’d looked like to make the Farmer kiss her, wondering if that had been their plan all along, wondering what could’ve happened if she wasn’t a wife and mother. She splashes water on her face to help clear the thoughts away. Musings like that are for girls half Caroline’s age, a girl like Caroline was before she met Pierre and moved to Pelican Town and had Abigail. Farmers and greenhouses and summer spangles, none of that is for Caroline any more; she has her life, and that's enough.

#stardew valley #sdv caroline #one shot #im... sorry

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