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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years ago

Note

“ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

“ hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. besides; shoulders are built to be cried on! “

With Sophie blaming herself for Kenric's death because if the black swan hadn't had created her then Oralie and Kenric would've stepped down together, and Oralie or Bronte telling her it wasn't her fault?

!!! A truly excellent prompt that I had a lot of fun exploring! Also a wonderful stepping stone into the councillors that I appreciate, so please enjoy!

we made our choices <- ao3 link

warnings: allusions to death, grief, crying, mention of eyelash tugging (no eyelashes pulled)

word count: 3.6k

Sophie paced across the pretty pink floral carpets, her feet wearing an eyesore of a path into the petals, biting her fingers to keep from pulling her lashes. She’d left a hair tie on her wrist, and now snapped it against her skin over and over again, giving herself something to do.

Oralie sat on the couch across the room, watching, waiting, but Sophie couldn’t sit, not now. Her mind buzzed with nervous energy, the need to do something, to prove that being the moonlark was worth it. What was the point of her if she didn’t fix anything?

“Sophie, are you going to explain--” her delicate voice rang out.

“Bronte’s not here yet. I’m waiting,” she interrupted, resisting the urge to bang her head against the walls and scream. What on earth was taking him so long? Couldn’t he take a break from running the world for a few moments when she asked?

Oralie sighed, settling herself in to wait as well, politely not commenting on how Sophie was very near to wearing a hole through her floors.

Round after round she paced, muscles growing tenser with each passing minute Bronte didn’t arrive. Was it so hard to get both her council contact points in the same room?

Finally, after a veritable eternity, a knock sounded against the door, freezing her in her tracks.

Fluid, Oralie rose from her position, the gauze of her baby pink lounging dress trailing after her as she crossed the room, passing through an open doorway to get to the front entrance of her home. She heard the door swing open, heard a second pair of shoes clacking against the floor, the ominous feeling of Bronte seeping into the air around him, and Sophie swore it darkened the whole building as their footsteps grew near.

“She hasn’t told me anything,” Oralie was saying as they reentered, Bronte’s shoes going quiet on the carpet, his mouth curling into a grimace at the overwhelming pink.

Sophie watched Oralie retake her seat on that couch, Bronte choosing a nearby padded chair, resigning himself to the color scheme. Should she sit, too? Her fingers pulled at the hair tie, needing an outlet. No, if she sat down, she’d have nowhere for her energy to go, and that would make it more difficult to get through this. And she had to get through this.

“Are you going to start this meeting or not? You’re the one who called it,” Bronte said after a moment, crossing his arms over his chest, a faint frown pulling at his lips, red marks visible where his circlet rested on his forehead.

She started. Where to start? “Right. Yes. You need to get rid of the match.”

Well. Maybe she shouldn’t have started there.

“What?” Oralie asked, head tilting to the side.

She held up both her hands, resuming her pacing. “Listen. It doesn’t work. It’s an awful system and all it does is hurt people--so many people. All these lives are--are ruined by this…” she trailed off looking for the words. “This stupid rule about who can be with who from millenia ago. It’s gotta be entirely out of date and there has to be a better way to do it--and you’re councillors, so you can change it. You can fix it.”

You can keep anyone else from being hurt by it, she didn’t say, eyes lingering on Oralie.

Bronte shook his head. “It’s not that simple. We’re two voices out of twelve. Is this because you’re unmatchable? I thought you were through with this and focusing on more prudent responsibilities.”

Sophie put her fingers to her temples. “This isn’t about me! I don’t--I don’t care that I’m unmatchable.” That…was mostly true. She didn’t want to think about it further. “But even if I don’t care, there are people that do and people who are getting screwed over by these matches. Everything your world has to do with dating and relationships is so…so…unfair,” she finished, unable to find a better word.

Oralie leaned forward, but her eyes were elsewhere, looking at a memory only she could see. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Sophie. I know that our world--it’s your world too, remember--has been far from fair. That is why we’re making changes and adapting. But I think, even as right as you may be, that reworking the match is going to take a lot more time and work than you think. Even if Bronte and I could, just the two of us, completely change the system, what would come next? What system would we have? How would people react? Things are rarely as simple as we want them to be.”

Sophie screwed up her face, only now realizing she’d paused her pacing again. Warmth bloomed in her face as they pointed out all the flaws in her demands she’d been trying so hard to ignore as she’d rushed to Oralie’s castle in Eternalia and demanded a meeting.

“So, what? Just because it’s hard you think we shouldn’t try? That we should give up before we’ve even started and let more and more people get fucked over by your system?” This was about the people. Everyone. This was about making the Lost Cities better. It wasn’t because of anything else. It wasn’t because that morning she’d heard--

“Neither of us said that,” Bronte said, looking way too calm for how her insides boiled.

Oralie had a crease between her brows as she leaned forward, fingers pressing together like she itched to reach out and run them along Sophie’s palm, read her like an open book. “What brought this on? You’ve never spoken to us so openly about the match before. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re lying. How are you? And be real with me, now; I can tell when you’re not being honest with me. You’ve got a tell.”

Sophie crossed her arms, mirroring Bronte, heart racing. “I don’t have a tell. I’m fine. I already told you this isn’t about me--”

“Maybe not,” Bronte conceded. “But you’re clearly worked up. We can’t work with you if you’re too emotional to think clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly. It’s clear that your system is bullshit!” Why weren’t they listening? Out of all the people on the council, Bronte and Oralie had been the two who were most receptive to her, who were most willing to listen--even if they annoyed her to no ends most of the time. Even if she had to fight back a lot. Why were they being so difficult now?

Oralie pointed at the ground. “You’ve worn a hole through my carpet. That’s not what someone thinking clearly would do.”

Sophie stared where she pointed, gritting her teeth at the groove she’d made, tempted to tear through it even more if it would get her point across.

Their dating system was bad. Their dating system relied on the match. That meant the match was bad. You should get rid of bad things. They should get rid of the match.

No matter that it didn’t really fix what was bugging her, not that it would change the rules for the councillors, not that it would do anything for Kenric--

“Sophie?” Oralie asked as she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, cursing herself for the way they burned. She wasn’t supposed to cry.

Physically, she heard Bronte sigh, but mentally she was holding tight to her sanity, as if pressing hard enough against her eyes would force all the emotions back inside and she wouldn’t have to deal with them. She’d never have to think about them again if they’d just listen to her.

“Sophie? What’s going on? Are you alright?” Oralie’s stupid, perfect, angelic voice was much closer now, and she flinched as her hand came to rest on her shoulder, offering a squeeze that Sophie started to pull away from.

Her voice refused to work, words sticking and catching in her throat, clogging her vocal cords.

“This isn’t about the match system, is it,” Bronte asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Her lips started to tremble, so she bit it, clamping down hard to keep it from moving. This was just a minor setback. If she could take a few seconds, a few breaths, just recollect her thoughts, then she could continue. It would be fine. Everything would be okay and she could fix it. She could fix everything. Wasn’t that what she was supposed to do?

Instead, a sob broke through her lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to turn away, but it was too late. Her breathing stuttered, lungs trying to get enough air through as her shoulders shook.

“Sophie.” Oralie grabbed her shoulder again, forcing her to stop as she tried to get away. “Please talk to us. We can’t help you if you’re…guilt?” she trailed off, fingers tightening where they brushed exposed skin, gentle against her shoulder.

Sophie refused to meet her eye.

“Guilt is a very dangerous emotion, Sophie. What on earth do you have to be guilty about?”

Tears raced down her cheeks as she rubbed at her face, lips trembling again as she pressed them together. “I’m--I’m not--”

“Whatever facade you had up is far from convincing at this point. Don’t try to lie to us again,” Bronte cut her off. He stood next to Oralie; when had he moved? She hadn’t noticed him getting closer.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to force her brain to calm itself down. “Your system…it’s so unfair. If it--if it was different…” she stopped with eyes wide, wiping at her face again, not caring about Oralie’s hand on her shoulder, reading her emotions.

“What? What would happen if it was different?”

“Kenric.”

Oralie’s face went white, her own lips pressing together as her free hand curled around herself.

“If there weren’t all these dumb rules trying to control people’s lives, then Kenric wouldn’t’ve--could’ve--” she exhaled a sharp breath, cursing everything in the world as she tried to dance around her point, tried to keep it close to her chest so she didn’t have to talk about it.

Oralie swallowed. “Kenric…we both made our choices, Sophie. And even if I wish things didn’t happen the way they did…we made our choices.”

“You made them because of me!” she exploded, splaying her arms wide, chest heaving, tears falling freely.

Bronte looked between them, confused.

“Wait, no--” she pressed her hands back over her mouth as if she could take the words back, backing away, Oralie’s hand falling from her shoulder, lingering in the air still reaching.

Oralie had closed her eyes, brows pinching together.

“I believe there is something going on here you have failed to make me aware of,” Bronte said, looking between the two of them with his arms crossed.

She shook her head. She may not have forgiven Oralie, but if she was removed from the council, if one of her biggest supporters was taken away and the world found out, if they had to go through another appointment it would create disruption, upheaval. The Neverseen could use that, and she couldn’t give them that opportunity. She’d never forgive herself if she did.

Trying to wave it away she rushed, “No, forget it, you’re right the system is really hard to fix and I’m being impatient and--”

“You don’t need to cover for me, Sophie.” Oralie offered a small smile. Tears had welled in her own eyes, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears.

Bronte’s eyebrows had raised, but he stayed silent, mouth curving into a frown as he waited.

“It’s not your fault that I stayed, or that Kenric stayed. Don’t put that on yourself. Whether you existed or not…my answer would’ve been the same. I wanted to help our world. I still do. And Kenric wanted the same. That’s why we chose to keep serving, not because of you. Kenric didn’t even know about you until we met you on your first day here.”

Bronte interrupted. “We all learned about her then, we all received the same report from Alden. Are you implying that you knew about her before then?”

“If you hadn’t gotten involved with me, then you and Kenric could’ve stepped down. Free of the responsibility. He would’ve had the life he wanted, safe. He wouldn’t have been there when Fintan…” The words were too hard to say, barely more than a whisper, so she let her eyes water as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“If you are a responsibility, then it is one I gladly bear; I don’t regret that part of my choice, Sophie.”

Bronte huffed a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Must I drag this information from you piece by piece? What are you talking about?”

Oralie gave him a rueful smile. “Maybe you’re always so grumpy because you’re so dense.” She straightened, running her hands along the folds of her gown to smooth them out. “I will have to own up to it eventually, though I do hope you understand why it must remain secret--and not for my own sake. I knew the consequences when Mr. Forkle reached out to me, a little over sixteen years ago now, hoping to create something new.”

Bronte’s eyes went wide, mouth falling open in the most expressive contortions of shock she’d ever seen on him. “You.”

Oralie nodded, and Bronte took a step back, gaze switching rapid fire between their faces, sizing them up and comparing the two. Sophie could imagine what he was seeing, the same blonde hair, though Sophie’s never fell in ringlets. The same pale skin, the same frame, maybe even similar bone structure and facial features she’d tried so hard to ignore since she’d found out.

“When the council finds out--”

“Which they won’t,” Oralie asserted, voice steady even as she wiped away further tears, tears Sophie had caused. “I can’t keep this secret forever, but I can keep it for now. You know what would happen if the world found out.”

Bronte swore under his breath, a hand rubbing against his forehead, trying to ease the marks his circlet left on his brow. Shockingly, he let that part of the conversation drop there, eyes finding Sophie again.

“You blame yourself,” he said simply.

Her eyes began watering again, heat rushing through her face as she hugged herself tighter, breath catching. “Seems pretty obvious to me. How could you not?”

Oralie shook her head, stepping forward like she’d reach out and touch her. “No, no, no. Sophie. It’s not you. I promise you that. I know you don’t trust me anymore, but it was not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine; he stayed because I stayed.”

“Did either of you kill Kenric?” Bronte asked bluntly. “Because it was Fintan at fault, not either of you.”

Sophie made a face. “But--”

“No buts.” He held out a hand firmly, stopping her. “Do not allow yourself to go down that path. Kenric chose to continue serving on his own. Neither of you should feel guilty about that, especially with how dangerous that emotion is. Is that why you were talking about the match? Trying to ease your own guilt.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “It was the closest I could get without actually…talking about it.” It wasn’t like she wasn’t concerned about the match. Her points had been exactly what she thought, and they did need to fix the system so it stopped screwing people over.

But it wasn’t what had really been on her mind.

Kenric had died because he’d stayed on the council, and he’d stayed on the council because he couldn’t be with Oralie any other way. She was determined to stay on. Because one day her world would be accommodating an abnormality and she wanted the power to protect her.

And even if she’d stepped down, there would’ve been a secret in their way.

A secret daughter. A moonlark.

How had she repaid him? By missing all the warning signs in Fintan’s head as she healed him, letting him be consumed when he could’ve stepped down decades ago alongside Oralie. They wouldn’t have had to worry about her at all, getting involved in the messes she kept making and trying to fix.

That’s what she was supposed to do, right? Fix things?

Then why was she so bad at it?

“Sophie? I need to know that you understand none of this has to do with you. None of it’s your fault. Please.” Oralie did reach for her then, grabbing her hand and squeezing tight, shivering as the chaotic mess of her emotions passed through her body.

Sophie tugged at an eyelash, hating how itchy they got when she cried. “I understand.”

Bronte looked at Oralie and Oralie frowned. “You don’t believe me, though.”

She gave a helpless shrug.

“Kenric wouldn’t want you blaming yourself,” Bronte told her, the gentlest she’d heard him all evening. “I may not have been…the most supportive, when he was around, but I do know that much. He’d hate to see you break over this.”

Her voice wobbled. “Why do you have to be so sappy, this isn’t fair, you’re supposed to be the mean one.”

Oralie let out a slight laugh, shoulder relaxing at whatever she felt, still holding on to her hand. “Don’t worry. His good mood won’t last long.”

“I’m not--forget it. Will you be alright, Sophie? You’re not going to let this break you?”

She wiped away a few remaining tears, though she knew there’d be more later. “I won’t let it break me, for Kenric. It’s not…it’s not my fault.”

“Good.”

Taking another breath, she repeated, “It’s not my fault.”

Oralie smiled. “Right. Don’t forget that. And if it ever starts to creep up on you again, let us know. Or at least me, I can’t speak for Bronte. But I will always make time when you need me, Sophie. I did today, and I’d do it again.”

“So did it,” Bronte added. “I was in the middle of a rather important meeting when you sent your demanding hails.”

Sophie cringed, pulled her hair around her face to hide herself. She’d really just marched in here demanding the two of them fix the entire match system themselves despite knowing that wasn’t how anything worked and being incredibly strung out after she’d overheard a…less than kind comment at Foxfire that morning.

“Sorry.”

Oralie tilted her head. “For what?”

She gestured at everything, the whole world, the path worn through the carpet, her blotchy and tear-stained face. “Interrupting. Throwing a fit. I know…I know the match change isn’t fair to put entirely on you. I just wish it was easier.”

“Hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? Humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. Besides; shoulders are built to be cried on!” Oralie’s eyes no longer watered, only a bit of redness revealing the tears they’d shared.

Bronte rolled his eyes at Oralie’s chipper optimism.

Sophie frowned. “You--we’re not human. And I haven’t actually cried on your shoulder.”

“Maybe not physically, but you let us comfort you in a moment of distress. And even if we aren’t human, I know you forget that.”

She didn’t have anything smart to say back to that, so she went quiet, trying not to pull out her eyelashes. She’d been good about that recently, and even as itchy as crying made them, she didn’t want to use that as an excuse to give in.

“You’re so determined…Kenric loved that about you,” Oralie said faintly, finally letting go of her hand.

“That,” Bronte said, “is something we can both agree on.”

Sophie felt her face warm, unsure whether to scowl at their antics or to start crying again at the thought of Kenric, of him loving something about her. Even after all the ways she’d failed him.

She shoved the thought away. It wouldn’t do her any good to dwell and blame herself, and Kenric would hate that. Instead, she could use all the complicated, unidentifiable feelings that bubbled up inside her at the mention of him to push herself forward.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her hair, getting it out of her face, no longer hiding behind it.

Grabbing that hair tie off her wrist, she pulled it back, securing it as that determination Kenric loved solidified into something, something buzzing and eager and oh so ready to get to work.

“Okay. Forget all that. We can’t undo what’s already happened, but that doesn’t mean just because it’s difficult to change we shouldn’t try.”

She could’ve sworn Bronte was smiling as she marched forward, claiming one of the free chairs, both councillors trailing behind her as they took up their original seats, following her lead.

“Let me try this again.” Her voice held steady, eyes dry as she sat up straight.

Bronte waved his arm to indicate she had the floor. “Alright, Sophie. You’ve called us here. Are you going to start this meeting or not?”

Sophie met both their eyes, unflinching, steady. “Yes, I am. We’ve got a lot of work to do, after all. The match system isn’t going to rework itself overnight.”

Oralie tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning forward, lips curving into a smile. “No, I suppose it won’t. It’s a good thing we have you, then, isn’t it.”

It was a very good thing they had her, because she was going to shake this system up, break it down to its very core. No one else could do that like her, after all.

It’s why she was there.

To make things better.

And she wasn’t going to let anything tell her no or hold her back.

Kenric would love that.

#kotlc #kotlc fanfic #quil's quill #quil's queries #nonsie #woe! sophie guilt be upon ye!#four prompts in and finally no one is physically unwell!#however they are still very much mentally unwell!#this was a delightful prompt to work on so thank you for the request!#twas very fun to work on :)

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verityblack · 10 months ago

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How to interact with a person when stuck at a social gathering and all the people you know have abandoned you.

Step 1: find someone wearing a cool outfit that could conceivably be friendly

Step 2: slowly and awkwardly approach that person and stand in their vicinity for a few moments silently to gauge their attention

Step 3: compliment their cool outfit

Step 4: ??????

Step 5: congratulations! You have completed a social interaction— follow the cool clothing person around for the rest of the night and all will be fine!

#very good advice #will never fail ever #I did this once and ended up going out to drinks with that persons friends after #twas fun #and kind of awkward #but cool #shit post #kinda #me #advice #social interaction #in only 5 steps #sometimes you get new places to shop at via this method #cuz cool clothes #means cool people (sometimes)#they have to also have friendly vibes under the cool clothes #or it won’t work #how to

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sl33pyperson · 2 years ago

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filled with too many thoughts and emotions

#paIisade releases right as i get to worrkkkk thats so meannnn #i saw carIy rae jepsen last night!! realised like 5 songs in i havent listened to anything since emotion but her songs are like. made in #a way where you know the chorus to everything halfway thru twas still very fun #absolutely ruined by drunk guy on the bus but like. hey didnt get drugged thats a good thing #SHE HAD A SWORD i think she just brings a sword with her bc it didnt look inflatable and when she put it down it was behind stage equipment #thats so funny like ‘carly we need to stop the gays trying to sneak in weapons. just take a toy sword yourself please”#speaking time #finishing work at a time whee i can get the bus home? yes please. i am vibratinggg gonna force my partner to listen to paIi with me

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 6 months ago

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Clownfall: the Election Cometh

It's a long one, lads. Buckle up, get comfy, but the circus is in town for its final run. Ambient music as you read can be found here or here, take your pick. Get popcorn. Get snacks and water and a blanket.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Wednesday 22nd May

7.12am

Household favourite and queen of our hearts Pippa Crerar of the Guardian (her who did the investigative journalism that revealed PartyGate to the world) reports that UK inflation fell to a mere, paltry 2.3% in April. The lowest level in three years! Huzzah! But … still smaller than the decline that was expected.

Nonetheless, Rishi Sunak and Jeremy Cunt whoops I'm so sorry I meant Cunt haha whoops said it again make a big fuss about how brilliant this news is, and how it shows that they are Good At Maffs after all that trouble with Liz Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng, who defined themselves as being Good At Maffs and then obliterated the economy in a single day. Remember that! Good times. But hey, look, THIS PM/Grand Vizier combo are great at this! Inflation has fallen! Stop looking at the predicted rate! A fall is still a fall!

Crerar wonders whether people will actually feel better off, though – prices and mortgage rates are still high, after all. Food for thought.

10.04am

Jeremy Hunt is asked on the Today programme whether Sunak will call a general election.

Now, the logic here is that the government is likely to do better in an election if the economy’s improving; which, SunakCunt are now shrieking from the rooftops. So, is now the time? It's a win, and they've had so few of those, but historically people really do like to fall for the right wing = better economy myth...

BUT – the Tories are doing so very badly in the polls. Journalists favour the idea of an autumn election. Tories do better when the weather’s bad, because fewer people go out and vote.

“Well that’s a matter for the prime minister, it’s not a matter for me,” says Cunt.

... Well. Not ruling it out, then? Diddorol.

10.30am

It's Wednesday, aka the date that Tory cabinet ministers have their weekly meeting. They are duly sent the agenda.

There is no mention at all of an election announcement, nor any plan for an election.

Fair enough! 'Twas an idle thought. Plus, it would actually be bad timing from a logistical perspective - David Cameron, Foreign Secretary and Bae of Pigs, is currently flying out to Albania for an important international meeting, and Jeremy Cunt is on TV all day today - ITV next.

12.18pm

Sunak is asked at Prime Minister’s Questions whether he’ll call a general election. He doesn’t rule it out.

12.56pm

Fun tweet alert!

2.31pm

Pippa Crerar asked Sunak’s press secretary whether he was calling an election. She refused to comment.

Surely it’s a terrible time to call an election! Everyone hates them! But suddenly …

A Cabinet meeting is scheduled for 4.15pm. David Hameron suddenly u-turns in Albania and comes straight back home, his meeting un-met. Jeremy Cunt cancels his ITV appearance. The afternoon meeting is cancelled. Number 10 stops responding to journalists. Manifesto work has stepped up. Sunak’s chief-of-staff is spotted wearing a suit and tie WHICH IS UNUSUAL. Senior ministers have spent the last few days doubling down on dividing lines. And Tory bosses had a meeting this week to discuss how much money they could spend before a summer election.

The UK press sense blood in the water.

3pm

Okay.

There’s something you need to understand:

People suspect Rishi Sunak doesn’t actually want to live in the UK. He’d prefer to be in California. He’s here because he’s an MP.

You need to know this to understand this truly historic incident.

Nadine Dorries has produced a good tweet.

...

No, we all need to sit with this one for a minute

(For the record... to us, that is an excellent joke. But I strongly suspect she wasn't joking and was trying to make a catty accusation instead, which coincidentally appeared like a roast.

Scientists are referring to this as Stopped Clock Syndrome.)

5.17pm

With great dignity, Rishi Sunak stands outside Number 10 and announces a general election on 4 July.

And by “great dignity”, I mean he’s soaked by rain, while “Things Can Only Get Better” plays in the background courtesy of an anti-Tory protestor with a big speaker and a dream; the song adopted by he Labour Party for the 1997 election, where Tony Blair famously won a landslide victory after 18 years of Tory rule. Eventually, the volume of it is raised so high Sunak is, on more than one level, drowned out.

5.37pm

According to Gabriel Pogrund of the Times, Labour can’t believe Number 10 allowed this to happen.

One Labour insider texts: “Umbrellas are woke”

6.06pm

Good tweet alert!

8pm

A later Guardian article reports that Sunak greeted around a hundred Tory activists – still wearing the same rain-soaked trousers from the announcement.

No word at all on why he doesn't have aides capable of fetching him dry trousers. Perhaps those, too, are woke.

8.14pm

A Sky News reporter is at Sunak’s campaign launch. But, bafflingly, he’s forcibly removed. Extraordinary scenes

Elanor's Pro Tip: Removing a journalist may not be the best PR move for the start of an election trail.

8.27pm

9.36pm

A GBNews reporter claims that some Tory MPs are trying desperately to replace Sunak as leader in order to call off the general election. For this to work, they’d need a vote of no confidence before the dissolution of parliament on Thursday 30 May. Except actually, that would have to happen before the proroguing of parliament on Friday 24 May.

So … this won’t work. But how very incredible - and hilarious - that they’re trying.

10.39pm

Let's take a look at the evening headlines!

A great start to Sunak’s campaign, with newspapers - including the Tory giant The Telegraph - celebrating the triumphant launch of his campaign:

Well! WHAT a day! Let's see how Thursday goes.

Thursday 23 May

8.00am

The BBC takes a moment to gleefully throw off the shackles of political oppression of the last 12 years to reveal that Rishi Sunak's announcement of a July election, the single most important announcement for a sitting government, the most sensitive and vitally-timed event in their calendar...

Was a total surprise to the rest of the party.

Tory party MPs found out when we did that they were about to have to campaign again. For a snap GE. Three weeks after having just done it for the council elections, in which they experienced the greatest single loss of their councillors in history. Even the damn meeting agenda was fake.

Still. Perhaps this explains the lack of umbrella or trousers.

9.09am

Nigel Farage confirms he will NOT stand at the general election.

*pause for applause*

That’s because he’s helping Trump get re-elected in the US right now.

*pause for screams*

This is good news for the Tories! And the rest of Britain, actually (commiserations to America. Please shoot him). Farage’s right-wing populist party - Reform UK - is the spiritual successor to UKIP and the Brexit Party, who’ve been splitting the right-wing vote for years. Farage is popular; it’s bad news for Reform if he’s not part of their campaign, but simply fantastic news for those of us who think queer folks, women and people of colour deserve human rights.

9.19am

According to BBC News and others, Sunak has hired Isaac Levido, the election strategist behind the Tories’ landslide win in 2019. Levido knows his stuff, and advised Sunak to stick with an autumn election.

Sunak ignored this advice. Lol.

9.20am

In the Guardian, Sunak says there WON’T be planes of immigrants flying to Rwanda before the general election. Good news for those of us who think it’s monstrous to deport immigrants to countries with unsafe governments. Bad news for Tory voters who were hoping to get racists to vote for them.

Now, this is particularly funny, because promising to deport refugees to Rwanda in spite of overwhelming legal opposition on human rights grounds is probably the single hill that the Tories have chosen to commit genocide on. This bill has been in and out of every court in the land since they promised it in 2019. It's been on again off again more than a tawdry tabloid romance. But, they finally managed to push it through, and the first planes were set to fly in July.

This means! That Sunak's strongest cards going into the election were the drop in inflation, and the Rwanda bill. He could sell it as "In spite of those bleeding heart liberals, we persevered and managed to tenaciously get rid of these browns and thus fulfilled our promise", and the fact that it won't actually affect the immigration numbers wouldn't be clear until after the election. And make no mistake, it is VITAL that those planes fly before any election - quoth one influential Conservative MP on the right of the party to the BBC:

“I know what question you’re going to ask us again and again. "You’ll say we’ve been banging on about Rwanda for years and we’ve only managed to fly one migrant out there - and we paid him to go”.

It took a single day for that gamble to dramatically fail.

Lol. Lmao, even. One might almost say rofl.

9.21am

Sunak is emphasising his own role in managing the economy.

The Guardian’s Rowena Mason points out that it might be better to sell this as a Tory victory rather than a Sunak victory, considering how badly Sunak’s doing as an individual in the polls.

10.45am

I'm obviously giving a lot of attention here to the funniest and most ridiculous stuff, but let’s take a moment to celebrate some genuinely brilliant journalism:

0_o

The whole article’s worth reading. It confirms that at least one more hi-vis wearer was a Tory councillor in disguise (in this case Ben Hall-Evans). Perhaps this is why they started by removing all the real journalists.

12.42pm

Sunak’s campaign takes him to a brewery in Wales! He attempts some Bonding With The Working Man and asks the workers if they’re excited for the football.

Top tip: if you don’t realise the country you’re in hasn’t qualified for the Euros, maybe don’t even mention the subject.

6.55pm

... here is a new problem. Ish.

As mentioned, three weeks ago, England held local council elections. In that time, the Tories lost over half their councillors; an unprecedented and staggering loss in one event. We are all still bathing in the schadenfreude.

But, many of those then left the party (probably fairly, actually - monsters though Tories are, that cannot have been fun.) But, the way politics in the UK works is that when you vote, you don't vote for the party - you vote for your local representative, and then it's a numbers game as to which party gets to rule. This means, with this sudden last-minute possibly-impulsively-declared-by-one-soggy-madman election now six weeks away, those candidates all need replacing so that the Tories will have a shot at getting the numbers they need to form a majority government.

Channel 4’s Paul McNamara reports that Conservative HQ have emailed asking for candidates in almost 100 seats. The deadline’s tight for this – and apparently, joining the lengthening list of people who weren't informed of this stupid election plan, Tory associations are livid at being left so unprepared.

Now, a lot of these seats are Labour strongholds, so you don’t necessarily need more than a token Tory candidate for them. Phew! A great relief.

But some of them are actually good Tory seats. Uh oh! Basildon, Bury St Edmunds, Wellingborough and Rushden … It’s a bad hit to the Tories to have so little time to find good candidates for these seats.

8.59pm

Labour launch a campaign video. It’s long, but the message is, “Remember life before the Tories got into power? Wasn’t it BRILLIANT?”

And to prove how great 2009 was, they’ve included a clip of David Tennant’s Dr Who saying “I don’t want to go.”

Lol.

9.57pm

Filmmaker Richard Cubitt jokily suggests he could stand as a Tory candidate, and immediately defect to Labour as soon as possible once elected.

I don’t know if the deadline’s closed, but I am now speaking to the chat. Lads: the time will never be better. Do it. Tell the Tories you'll stand for them. Immediately defect. You have the opportunity to do the funniest thing. Be the rot in the barrel. The time is now.

ANYWAY. Oh boy. Day one of campaigning was quite bad. Ah well! Onwards and upwards for Wali Heb Broli. Let's see what Friday brings.

And of course: the losses are staggering (100 candidates!), but it could be worse.

At least it's not senior MPs.

Friday 24 May

7.00am

Over 70 MPs confirm they will not be standing for re-election.

7.35am

It’ll be lovely to see this election get rid of some truly awful Tories. But no need to wait that long! John Redwood stands down. I haven't mentioned him before, but let's look at his clownface eggshell.

He opposed reducing the age of consent for homosexuality in 1994 and 1999, he voted to keep Section 28 in 2003, he opposed same sex marriage, he voted to reintroduce the death penalty in 1988, 1990 and 1994, he’s argued against Greta Thunberg over the UK’s climate emissions.

Although English, he became Secretary of State for Wales in 1993, and at a Tory conference, had to mime badly to the Welsh national anthem which he hadn’t bothered learning. In 1995, he cheated Wales out of a £100 million grant by returning it unspent to the treasury, so it could go back to England.

So, John – if by some fantastically rare chance you’re somehow reading this – it’s wonderful to see you step down. I wish you a very warm fuck you. And I hope the rest of your life is absolutely horrible and filled with immeasurable pain. Kisses.

7.58am

Vicky Spratt of the i newspaper announces that, with an election announced, the Renters’ Reform won’t pass.

This is a big deal, actually - this was a rare good promise in the Tories’ 2019 manifesto to protect renters by ending no-fault evictions. A good promise! With cross-parliamentary support, only slowed as much as it was because most Tory backbenchers are landlords and so tried to block it. But the fighting raged on, and it was finally agreed.

And now it’s broken. Wasting months of work by stakeholders, and thus forming another election promise that would have sailed through if only the election hadn't been called for July.

8.09am

Jeremy Corbyn – remember him? Former Labour leader, who was expelled from the Labour party in 2020 – confirms he’ll be standing as an independent. He’s continued to be a member of Labour despite being an independent MP – but standing against Labour in an election means he’ll have his membership revoked too.

9.26am

So where are we at? How do you reckon the normal Tories in the party are faring? Do you think they're positive of a win? Do you think they expect to lose?

Great Guardian article here:

Highlights - one government minister happened to bump into his equivalent opposition member, and immediately thrust his official folder towards them, saying, “You might as well have this now.”

Another Tory MP hugged a Labour colleague and cast their arm around the room. “Good luck. This is all yours.”

One Tory backbencher was asked if it was a good idea to call an election. “It’s a disaster. I can’t understand it.”

Even when they’re being optimistic, the Tories seem a little glum. One long-standing MP said: “Of course I’m going to fight it, I don’t believe in just giving up like the prime minister has obviously decided to.”

A former minister raises an interesting point. It’s not long, after all, since the Tories suffered those major defeats at the local council elections. That's impacted the number of candidates, of course - but, local canvassing is largely done, on all parts of the political spectrum, but activist volunteers.

That loss was three weeks ago. If you were a volunteer who just spent weeks knocking on the doors of your neighbours and community, trying to convince them to vote for the dead horse, and then lost – maybe you won’t feel like hitting the streets again so soon. Maybe you'd prefer to be able to meet your neighbours' eyes when you bump into them in the bread slicing queue at Morrisons.

Some MPs have even admitted they won’t be cancelling holiday plans to fight the election. On top of that, there's over 70 MPs that have already confirmed they’re quitting and won’t be seeking re-election!!! Absolute scenes.

Interestingly, some anti-Sunak Tories report frustration. They reckon they were close to calling a vote of no-confidence, in the hopes of replacing Sunak with a different leader. No idea if this is true – and if true, whether Sunak knew it. But given the panicked speed at which it seems to have been called...

11.08am

The campaign takes Rishi Sunak to the Titanic Quarter, to be interviewed by Belfast Live.

Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t let journalists interview you on a site named after history’s most famous sinking ship.

11.57am

How’s the campaign going, Rishi?

Oh, Rishi. Looks like someone else is not meeting anyone's eyes in the bread-slicing queue.

1.12pm

Politics UK reports that 75 Tory MPs are now standing down at the election – the same number of Tories who stood down ahead of the 1997 election.

2.49pm

Sunak’s campaign takes him on board an aeroplane.

Elanor's Pro Tip: if you’re the leader of a failing political party, maybe don’t be photographed in front of an exit sign.

7.07pm

MICHAEL GOVE ANNOUNCES HE’S STANDING DOWN AS AN MP!

I could honestly use that gif like seventeen times in this write up. You can all thank me for my restraint in choosing just one.

The 79th Tory to do so at this election – an all-time record exodus. Hey gang, would you like to see some familiar names joining him in this?

Theresa May

Sajid Javid

Dominic Raab

Matt Hancock

Ben Wallace

Nadhim Zahawi.

It’s just … not a great sign for the party, is it? That so many prominent MPs don’t reckon it’s worth sticking around.

7.50pm

Hey, remember those parody videos of Hitler getting angry with funny subtitles? Someone made a good Sunak one:

vimeo

10.48pm

The Guardian’s Kiran Stacey reports that Sunak will retreat from the campaign trail, spending the next day at home.

Honestly... that's probably best. Let him recover from the bread excitement.

10.50pm

We round off the day with Andrea Leadsom announcing she too is standing down as an MP. Bye, bitch.

WHAT A DAY! Still, Saturday will probably be better.

Saturday 25 May

12am

New episode of Doctor Who drops! It contains Welsh faeries. I later write a post explaining this. You're all welcome. Back to the circus.

10.06am

Good tweet alert!

11.14am

Keir Starmer promises to lower the voting age from 18 to 16 if he wins the election.

2.43pm

Hey remember how David Hameron was supposed to be in Albania? And actually went there? And then had to come back because of Rishi's totally-planned-for election announcement?

The Mirror reports that David Cameron spent £60,000 of taxpayers’ money getting to Albania for that trip. He was there for 89 minutes, before he had to come back in light of the general election announcement.

This means it cost the country £674 a minute for Cameron to be in Albania for about as long as it takes to watch The Lion King.

6.14pm

Labour and the Tories put candidates forward for 650 seats in a general election.

Of course, that's not quite all of them. The Times’ Patrick Maguire understands that Labour have only 13 candidates left to select, which is pretty good. The Tories are missing slightly more than that.

They need to find around 190.

(The number is rising. Chat, you know what to do.)

9.29pm

According to the Telegraph, Theresa May has said if she was still PM she would have used an umbrella to declare the election.

She probably would have, too.

10.11pm

Now then!!! Gather round boys and girls and all the rest!

Remember: the election was called based upon the following main cards in Sunak's hand:

The Rwanda bill

Inflation falling

The Renter's Reform Bill

Inflation fell, but not by as much as it should have. The Rwanda plan fell through a day later. The election itself has blocked the Renter's Reform bill.

Rishi needs a new set of promises stat, in order to shore up votes from his most important bastions of support. What can he offer?

The evening brings the answer!

At 10.11pm - note the time - in spite of having taken the day off, Sunak promises mandatory national service for every 18 year old if he wins the election. Either a year-long army placement, or a weekend a month volunteering for a year.

Sounds like a good pledge, if you’re hoping to motivate 18-year-olds to vote against you.

10.16pm

The Financial Times’ Jim Pickard reveals that the National Citizen Service (David Cameron’s legacy project) had its funding slashed by two-thirds in a 2022 review of government youth funding - when the chancellor was Rishi Sunak.

Five minutes. That’s how long it took a journalist to melt Sunak’s new pledge.

Still; Tories never let facts get in the way.

10.27pm

Politics UK reports that leaked documents suggest teenagers would be jailed for refusing this national service.

11.47pm

Sunak's bad ideas generator works hard, but the meme makers of the internet work harder:

Still. Sunday is a day of rest! Hopefully Sunday will be better.

Sunday 26 May

9.50am

Let’s check the Sunday tweets.

Starting to think whoever is in charge of optics for Rishi Sunak may be a Labour plant.

10.21am

Fantastic tweet alert:

I Agree With Gabby

3pm

And then... PLOT TWIST!!!

FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Sunak’s national service pledge - including assigning up to 30,000 18-year-olds to the military - was rejected this week by one of his own defence ministers.

Defence personnel minister Andrew Murrison warned of a hit to morale, headcount and resources if “potentially unwilling national service recruits” were introduced alongside Britain’s professional armed forces.

EVEN THE ARMY DON'T WANT THIS.

6.47pm

And then:

Incredible story from Gabriel Pogrund of the Times.

St Paul’s School, if you haven't heard of it, is an expensive and famous private school in England somewhere (I forget where and don't care). As with other private schools, they’d be subject post-election to a Labour plan to remove their VAT exemption.

Tory MP Greg Hands took matters into his own Greg hands, and messaged the school’s parents’ WhatsApp group to try and drum up anti-Labour sentiment.

I can see the logic. These are parents with money, who have chosen to send their children to a private school that often means an easy track into politics generally and the Tory party specifically. I see why he thought he was safe.

Tumblrs, he was not safe.

Parents intervened, complaining about Hands spamming the chat, and claiming his use of the chat was “inappropriate”.

One parent messaged: “Can we stop assuming everyone is a Tory in this group. A return to more morality, less corruption and more social conscience in British politics is not something to oppose necessarily.”

Another expressed that some parents will “feel it is hard to defend private schools being vat exempt.”

Ouch. Swing and a miss, Greg Hands.

Anyway. New week, new campaigning. I am writing this on Tuesday, and so our tale is nearly at an end for now; so let's see what happened on Monday.

Monday 27 May (Yesterday)

7.40am

Britain's teenagers respond to the national service plan. I love this tweet and the video it reposts:

And here, for your viewing pleasure, is the video:

8.17am

Tory MP Steve Baker (more on him later) actually tweets a public criticism of Sunak’s national service plan. You might be thinking "Well yes, obviously"! But no! For you see, when approaching elections, parties need to be united. Divided parties generally find it harder to win elections.

Naughty Steve.

8.41am

Foreign Office Minister Anne-Marie Trevelyan, having seen the absolute shambles of Sunak’s campaigning, wakes up this fine Monday morn and invites him to hold her beer.

Appearing on Times Radio, she’s asked whether the parents of teenagers could be prosecuted if the teens refuse to take up national service.

And she doesn’t rule it out.

NO BUT WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT ARE YOU DOING ANNE-MARIE. IS THIS YOUR FIRST DAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.

Parents are NOT prosecuted for any wrongdoing of their ADULT CHILDREN. How do you not understand this basic legal concept. The answer to that question was “no”! You say “no” because it makes your party more likely to be elected, and you say “no” because the answer is no.

Oh dear. What a gaffe, as the papers say. Gosh, I really hope Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe stays contained.

8.56am

The Telegraph duly reports that parents of 18-year-olds might be fined if their children refuse national service.

Anne-Marie Trevelyan’s gaffe did not stay contained.

10.55am

Looks like the Tories are unhappy that the press revealed that Sunak took a day off from campaigning.

But that’s okay, they have a new strategy! Reported by Politico, they’ve decided to suggest that Keir Starmer is too old to be a good Prime Minister.

They called him “weary” yesterday afternoon;

Tory Party Chair Richard Holden says it’s “bizarre” for Starmer to rest at home the day before a speech (but not for Rishi to - ? You know what, never mind);

A Tory aide tells the Sun that Starmer should be dubbed “Sir Sleepy” (what a Zinger, as those conscripted into national service say);

Another Tory aide calls Starmer “Sleepy Keir” according to the FT.

Keir Starmer is 61 years old.

11.17am

Let's check Tory candidate numbers!!!

Now last we looked it was 190, but obviously, as this is possibly their most urgent priority, they've been working flat out and recruiting across the land and so they have, fair play, managed to reduce that number.

The Spectator therefore reports that the Tories have 12 days to select 160 candidates. Would you like to see the maths?

This means, on average, they need to select one candidate every 100 minutes. Which is slightly less time than it takes to watch Toy Story 3.

#ChatYouKnowWhatToDo

12.41pm

The FT’s Lucy Fisher reports that Tory HQ has accidentally sent out an email criticising Tory MPs for failing to campaign, and warning of financial concerns in some seats.

Cannot stress this enough: even if the Tory campaign was going really well and they were predicting a landslide their way, this would be a terrible blow.

5.02pm

The Mirror reports that Tory MP Steve Baker is on holiday in Greece. That’s pretty irresponsible, isn’t it? What does Baker have to say for himself?

"The Prime Minister told everyone we could go on holiday and then called a snap election. So I've chosen to do my campaign work in Greece."

… this is the greatest Tory campaign in history.

(And once again... when exactly did you decide to do this, Rishi?)

5.15pm

In an absolutely baffling move whose motives I still cannot entirely fathom, Tory MP Lucy Allan - a repugnant, malignant liar of a woman who once altered an email from a constituent so she could claim it contained a death threat against her - is suspended by the party, for telling voters in her ward to vote for Reform UK instead of the Tories.

...

...wwwhyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

6.18pm

Good tweet alert! Here's political journalist Jonn Elledge:

6.30pm

Meanwhile, a Tory chooses to contact journalist Theo Usherwood over WhatsApp, criticising the election strategist Isaac Levido:

Now this is particularly interesting, because Levido is the guy who managed to swing the last GE to BlowJo, even though Labour were riding high on Corbyn. And I don't know, maybe he is actually shit at this and all that was luck.

I just... wouldn't have said he was the reason for this one going the way it is. Necessarily.

Finally, let's finish off Monday with a last good tweet:

10.06pm

***

That's all for now, folks! Thank you for reading, enjoy the circus playing out this week!

#politik #clownfall: endgame #Vimeo

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notherpuppet · 4 months ago

Note

Do you think there's a right and/or wrong way to handle QPR? I know it's a tricky relationship, but it feels like most/some people kind of just slap the label onto a ship while depicting the ship as just romantic/having no difference with a romantic relationship. (this is why I was a little surprised when you said you do radioapple qpr when it reads a lot more like normal romance). Not meant as an attack or anything on anyone, just genuinely curious more than anything. Again, tricky relationship

So Imma put this link to info at the top of this post: https://taaap.org/2022/07/16/qprs-part-one/

Alright, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, because that's exactly what it is. One small bit of perspective in a mass of many people who experience QPRs in their life and/or are on an aro/ace spectrum. I also have NO QUALIFICATIONS on gender/sexuality theory, so my opinions are shaped by what I've learned and experienced personally. While people may identify with the same term, we are all still individuals with our own experiences. Words can help describe a phenomenon, but it doesn't make everyone who identifies with the word into a monolith.

So I've stated a few times that I navigate shipping Alastor similar to my own experiences as an aroace person. (I guess I'm sharing about myself with this post, but I think that can be helpful to just spreading awareness of an "alternative lifestyle"). So I'm romance-repulsed and sex-repulsed LOL but I'm also "positive" about those things. Like I view romance and sex as lovely, fun experiences people can have, but I've never been into it personally. It's fun for me to consume media about romance/sex, but yknow, it's also fun for me to consume media about violence or isolation. Doesn't mean I want to experience or engage in any of those things lol.

Anyway, I'm a huge people person and I love to party and yknow it seems most people are really wanting to fall in love or fuck or whatever pretty much all the time, but especially at parties hahaha. Normally, I'm pretty touch-averse, but I love dancing so much and it's a blast to dance with a partner (salsa especially!! i don't care for grinding for probably obvious reasons). And to connect the two previous sentences, people (whatever gender they are) would be very kissy-touchy on the dancefloor. Which i honestly dont really give a fuck about hahaha. I don't really get anything out of kissing but I also don't mind it. I just like to dance. It's all a pretty superficial--but still genuinely fun--experience for me.

When it comes to my deeper or more intimate connections, I have had friendships that have felt SO on the line of what was viewed as a romantic relationship. They were exceptional friends and we connected on a level that was deep and true, but it wasn't romantic. Sometimes we'd slow dance, sometimes we kissed, and it rocked. But it wasn't more than that, it was all that it needed to be. I didn't want more and neither did they (except one situation and so we had to stop being friends lol whoops). From the outside, people would even refer to us as partners in a half joking way, but we really were just friends. And I love those friends!! And a huge part of what made those relationships (which at the time were described as 'situationships' because we didn't know any of these terms haha) was their convenience. We either lived in the same building, worked together, or were neighbors LOL. I'm still friends with those absolutely lovely folks, but we don't live around each other, so our QPR just appears a lot more like any ole regular friendship. But it's not like there was a feeling that we transitioned into something different than before. It twas what it twas! (Had to take a pause while I was typing to reminisce fondly for a second, okay back to hazbin hahaha)

SO, whenever someone asks or it comes up, MOST OF THE TIME I do ship alastor through an aroace lens and experience with QPRs (specifically, MINEE because they were fun and I've never felt like doing this before I met a character like Al). And my XP is: "this isn't gonna be a partnership and we ain't fucking" LMFAO. so yeah!

When it comes to using a queer term like QPR, I just hope folks are considerate in their writing, but I also am inclined to just believe them if they say that's their intention because QPRs can look very different. Again, aroace and ace folks are not a monolith. The terms help to describe a human's experience. I'm inclined to think people are writing in good faith.

And all this being said, I want to just emphasize that I really don't think it's necessary to consider any of this shit if you want to ship a fictional character. I understand wanting to be protective of a character who shares an identifier with you (I personally don't wanna see romance/sex with Al in canon). But shipping is a fun thing a fandom does that often does ignore canon. Tale as old as time. I don't think anyone needs to be beholden to canon when they're writing fanfiction or having fun. If we did, I would have like--5 artworks on this blog hahaha. These characters are like dollies, do whatever you want. It's cool if people don't like it and I think it's cool if people do. It's just not that serious. There are ships I'm not particularly into or dynamics that I am not enchanted by, but whatever. I can just scroll or close my eyes.

TLDR; shipping in fandom doesn't need to be taken seriously at ALL. It can just be fun way for someone to play with fictional characters they like. That being said, I think it's good practice to use queer terms thoughtfully.

#answers #wow what a long one!#that's what she said

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mossssor · 8 months ago

Text

this totally didnt take me. checks wall clock. like at least 8 hours. ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! ive been meaning to do this template for ages ! twas very fun working/reworking designs i already had or making whole new ones like for scott. a lot of these hybrid headcanons change whenever i feel like it lol but i went with the cuter ones (like fox etho) for this ^^!

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justafairytailofinnocence · 1 month ago

Text

Jareth x dreamy reader🔮💭🌌

Part 2

Masquerade ball scene🎭👗💃🔮

(A/n: hello, thought I'd make another part 2. I wanted to make it a bit different from the movie version. Enjoy 😉. Please comment and reblog, helps me alot 💖.)

Requests: open for labyrinth

Part 1 here

You knew where you were going. You were certain. You were the optimist. A dream mixed with sweetness. The definition of a sweet dream.

The environment was clumped with overgrown vines, trees, shrubs, and more stoned walls. Twas another obstacle, something to deter you from the path you went before.

"She'll never make it. She's not even heading in the right direction." Two short, stubby hairy creatures with protruding snouts, identicle to the next observed you sludging through the jungle. One spoke in a high high-pitched accent and the other a deep husk. It was like, similar to that of two young children watching a grown-up waiting for the moment to tell them 'I told you so'.

"She'll end up lost." The high pitch one said.

"Stuck." The low pitch responded.

"Mhm, stuck, that's what I said, stuck."

"You said lost."

"Mhm, stuck, lost, forever and ever."

You ended up reaching a tree, grabbing its vines, clinging to it carefully, not falling into the vines, or the vegetation that over grew even more. You swore they moved. Moving and increasing like snakes to block your path.

The one on the left shook his head, making a tsk sound with his tongue. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, never going to learn."

"No."

"Never going to make it."

"Never."

"Lost."

"Stuck."

"Forever."

"And ever."

Growing frustrated you tried to look for any sort of branch or loose vine that's strong enough to swing you across from the small island with the giant oaken tree to the platform covered in broken, grey, stoned paver's against the concrete slab.

You thought for a moment of jumping in; perhaps that's the only way. You would need all your strength to break through the dense vegetation, but, better than nothing.

"Oooooh, shes going to jump in."

You looked up to see a small creature sitting on a tree branch, wearing medieval scottish garb.

"Jump! Jump! Down ya go!"

"Down, down".

"Thar she goes."

"Into the unkown."

"Where will she stop."

"We won't know."

The two creatures then proceeded to laugh. Thinking there was no other way you paused to speak to them. "Excuse me, but would you please help me to get across."

"Oooh, help ya, quite bold of ya ta ask."

"Help you with such a task."

"To break the rules."

"To help with you to glory, or to your doom."

"Oh, help, help, power, power. The power we hold."

You were getting fed up. You didn't have time to waste for such nonsense. "Please, I don't have much time."

The two gazed at each other and then back at you. They then held up their hands, whispering to each other.

"Ok."

"Very well."

"We will agree to help."

"If you can solve a puzzle."

"Solve a mystery."

"Very well, what's the mystery, what's the riddle." You asked, smiling. You always had fun with these kinds of things. Surely, it's not too difficult of a task.

"Oh, brave, very brave. We will agree to help you."

"If you can figure out—"

"Which."

"Is which."

"Who is knick."

"And who is knack."

"Is he this."

"Or is he that."

They laugh once more.

You had to think for a moment. It seemed obvious for knick to have the higher voice and knack to have the lower. Though, knowing this place, tricks and turns come at every corner. You had to think hard, "well..." the creatures listened intently.

"You must be knick," you pointed to the one with the highest pitch. "And you must be knack." And the same for the lower pitch creature.

They glanced at each other, bewildered. "She—she's right."

"Correct."

"Now we have no choice."

"Help the girl."

"Save her from doom."

You smiled in brightness, you were getting the hang of this. Usually, you weren't the brightest of the bunch, often feeling half witted compared to other work colleagues or strangers that speak to you as if they had any idea of what you mean.

"Yes, now, will you please help me?" she said gently to the creatures with kindness.

"Very well." Knack hopped down from the tree as the other did the same. "Nnn, ok, let's see here, oh yes, just a twist and a snap, nnn," he muttered to himself. "Knick, where was tha spot again."

"Spot?"

"Aye, the spot, you know, tis a tap, one, two three."

Knick hopped down from the tree, looking like he hasn't slept in ages. He groaned getting up "errr let's see here, was it here, err no, no t'wasn't."

"Aha!, I found it." He stood at the edge of the small mount. "Give it ere, y'know, the ol' knock." Knick held out his hand for the long stick, that actually resembled a small staff.

"The ol'clock" he said.

"The ol'knock?" You questioned.

"Mhm, that's what I said the ol' knock."

"You said ol'clock" you mentioned.

"Mhm, that's what I said the ol' knock." Knack handed knick the staff.

Knick stuck the staff inside the hole. "mhm, there it is."

"Knew it was there."

"You were close."

"Very."

"Best stand back." You and knack took a step back expecting something rather big and tremendous.

He then started hitting the ground thrice, precisely three seconds in between. And—as you waited—

Nothing. Nothing happened.

"That was it" Knack said slightly disappointed. "Must be more to it then that."

"Give er a minute." Knick said, repeating the same movement once more.

All of a sudden, the ground began to quake. The vine's, roots, and vegetation slithered away. Creating a pathway for you to cross.

Knack posed with the stick expecting a 'thank you' of sorts.

"It's clear." You said thankful.

"Pathway m'lady." Knick proudly spoke.

"Always a boaster aren't you." Knack clicked his tongue tsk-ing at knick.

"Thank you both." You said walked along the gravel like path with mis matched grey stone pavers.

You felt confident, all you needed to do now was pass through the goblin city and get to the castle where you can find the king and return to your normal life, redeeming your wish, taking it back.

The two creatures waved at you as you looked smug, however, in that moment—something went wrong.

The floor beneath you began to crumble, creating a hole you fell through. "Woa!" You screamed.

The creatures staring unphased spoke. "Now, knick, did you remind her of the hole there."

"Don't beileve so."

"Well, she's well on her way to her doom now."

"Never to return."

"Never to come back."

"Trapped."

"Lost."

"Stuck."

"Forever."

"And ever."

"Mhm that's what I said lost, stuck, forever and ever."

They then started to laugh from the mounted island with the giant oaken tree.

-------

You slid down to what almost felt like a water slide, dirt and mud covered your clothes as you screamed. Turning, twisting and speeding down the slippery rabbit hole.

Eventually, you landed in a place that seemed rather empty, dark, and voided of any life. To your astonishment, a wooden stave dripped in tar lit on fire. So the king was playing fair—for now.

You grabbed the wooden stave, expecting it to disappear as you touched it—assuming it was another illusionary trick.

You wandered through the mysterious catacomb, believing it was an old city from another time. You took a moment to glance around at the structures; you were fascinated.

They seemed old, ancient, as if structured from inspiration from another city like Atlantis, Egypt, Greece, Rome pompeii, before the doom.

You trailed on for what seemed like hours, or rather perhaps twenty minutes. That was until you stumbled upon a structure, a structure that resembled an old standing mirror. The outer rim was decored in ornated wood and silver, and patterns of fairytails surrounded it. You couldn't help but run your hands down the side of it. Although, seemingly, some of these patterns resembled small items sparking old memories throughout your life. He wasn't kidding when he claimed he knew you better.

The glass of the mirrors reflection suddenly started to shift. Within the reflection, an illusion played out, like something that only happened in movies. You watched closely. It showed a room of white with sparkling glitter falling along with huge bubble like crystals floated around.

You were hypnotised. Entranced. Many of the women and men donned in different vibrant colours of frock coats, sack-back gowns, and masks resembling different animals.

Curious, your finger lifted to the mirror. Your finger push through the mirrors glass like liquid. Like moving water. You pulled your finger out, afraid and bewildered.

Looking closer, the men and women that danced in the costumes all waltzed; laughing, chattering and singing. Somehow, it drew you in, you always loved the ball scenes in movies.

This seems too familiar, somehow, like wasn't this from the movie. The part where she lost track of time, memory and herself.

Hesitantly, you looked behind the mirror. Nothing. And it seemed the only way through this was through the ornated wooden, silver mirror.

Shaking your head, you pushed through, taking a deep breath and holding it. It was quick. Like a flash. Your body felt a cold wetness for a second, and the next, you opened your eyes.

You wandered through, astounded beyond belief of the whole setting. You could hear singing and like in a trance, you began to loose your train of thought. As your eyes glanced down, you wore formal attire that seemed way too otherworldly or perhaps something you remembered wearing once before.

You traversed through the venetian masquerade ball. Many of the men and women, laughing your way as you passed. They seemed unphased by your presence. You turned and spun slowly trying take in your surroundings, trying not to lose touch with reality.

Oh, but how far you've already drifted from it.

You fidgeted with an item of yours that was close to you. Each moment, each time you moved closer, the more you started to forget, lose train of thought. Becoming one within the world of daydreams.

Oh y/n, you're already losing. You just don't know it yet.

Your vision became a sudden blur as suddenly you even forgot your name. You listened to the sound of the music, as many danced around you. Was, was this your purpose. Yes. This must be why you're here. To dance. To dream. To dance and dream. To be here. Forever.

Oh, you poor, callow minded creature, I've already won. You'll remain here forever. You've lost your innocence. You'll never see your dear ones again. You'll never go back. Forget about your home, the ones you hold so dear, dreams of realism, and live forever within a dream of our own.

You began to sway, having no little reason to believe this was your purpose. You moved fluently, dancing to yourself. Moving your arms and gracefully swaying your legs. Stepping in a glide to fit in with the crowd. Wasn't this what you wanted. To fit in when no one understands you. Now they can, here, where you can be safe and sound. Where no one can judge you and your free to be someone.

To be yourself. To live within your fantasises.

As you heard the sound of the gentle music sing. You spun and spun, feeling the reality drain away. Feeling happy. Free. Joy. Love.

Suddenly, you stopped in someone's tracks, and you delicately held your arms beside you. Dreamily looking up. He stood there. A man that felt familiar but you couldn't grasp the name of.

He wore a glittery, deep, blue frockcoat with an ornated cravert attached to a white poet linen blouse beneath. Without a word, you stood back, gripping the fabric of your attire. You didn't trust him. He seemed. Evil? No, not exactly the correct words but—

Evil, well that's a but far fetched don't you think.

The mysterious man held an odd venetian mask to his face attached to an ornated handle. The horns from the mask somewhat made you curious. You shouldn't approach. However, he held out his hand covered in a white glove.

Your hand hovered over his. However, you continued to dance, dismissing him. You spun and turned. Locked in a daydream.

Much to his annoyance, he tried to garner your attention. As you danced, many of the ladies and gents laughed and tried to offer their hand. Purposefully trying to block your path to guide you back to the mysterious man.

However, you simply drifted past them. Elegantly frolicking past the crowd. You felt free.

Careful y/n, look, their eyes are gazing upon you. Their judging your actions.

You continued to joyously spin and turn, kicking your leg in the air as you moved freely, ignoring the voice.

The mysterious man glanced with impatience. Surely this was supposed to happen, yet—he wanted something more...

He attempted to grasp you, following your movements. Yet, to no avail could he hold your attention. It was agitating. You were an irritating creature.

Only until did he take a step, you stopped in front of him. Stuck in a daze. He glanced directly at you. Looking into your eyes. His mouth slightly parted, showing a mixture of tantalisation and pique.

You moved to glide around the dance room. He couldn't control you. He trapped you. Yet. He couldn't grasp you. You were a dream, he couldn't touch.

Eventually you stopped at the mirror, the same one you entered. You took a look at yourself dreamily. You could see an illusion, the illusion of your yourself in the reflection of the glass but—wearing different clothes—Were those what you wore previously. Was that you? Didn't you have a purpose? You were here for something?

City? To get to the city? To meet the ki—

You gasped as someone gently touched your shoulder. Looking up, it was the same mysterious man whoms voice sounded familiar. "Oh dear, daydreaming again are you." He said in a mysterious, mystical tone.

"The—mirror—I saw?" You looked back.

"And that was." He grasped both your shoulders, prompting you to take a closer look. "I think you should look again, carefully this time. Look deeply within the mirrors reflection y/n."

You looked once more in the mirror's reflection, seeing nothing but the reflecting dream. "I-i beileve I saw—"

"A dream y/n, you saw. A. Dream." He spoke, concluded. "Dreams. Oh, what's that? " You laughed, smiling.

"Illusion." He smiled back in response. "Would you like me to show you." He guided your gaze back to the mirror. You saw yourself but, wearing different clothes. You watched as many people you thought you knew speak ill of you. Your loved ones resuming their normal lives without you and flashes of words you remembered that made your heart ache. You turned to him, tears streaking down your face. As though you were confused, not knowing why and yet feeling the pain washed over you.

"What. What is this." You say watching it. It felt so real.

"This is your reality y/n, this is what's real."

You wanted to take it all away. You wanted to imagine again. "If this is reality, I do not want it, take it away—please"

"Of course, you can, look." In the mirror you saw, yourself, in royal attire, that fitted only you. The style formed from a balance of your imagination and dreams. You saw yourself spinning forever smiling, not existing in that horrid illusion he showed.

"You can remain here with me. They won't mind. you're free here y/n. Free to do whatever you oh so desire." He offered his hand out to you.

Taking it out of curiosity. He smiled. He will keep you here, until time runs out. Forever making you his. A dream within his world.

He glided you across the room, as you danced in unison. Twirling, spinning, gliding, turning, dancing—to remain here. Forever.

Dancing with this mystical stranger felt right and—wrong. As he spun you, smiling. You were trying to remember something. A flicker of a memory, something within your mind. "City?"

To feel safe.

"Wasn't there a city, somewhere."

You need to feel free.

Y/n.

"There's a city I must go to."

Stay with me.

"I'm certain."

I'm your haven.

"To."

Your my dream.

"To go beyond, the walls of the—GOBLIN CITY! THE CASTLE!"

Your eyes flickered as if you awoke from the spell. You broke away, pushing him. You grabbed the fabric of your attire trying to run. In that moment, the guests were trying to surround you, to block you once more. You pushed and shoved them, rushing toward the mirror from which you came. The mysterious figure you recalled felt familiar, turned out, to be the king himself. Of course, he was tricking you. To make you lose yourself, to steal time away in order to make you forget, so you would lose.

That's why you remembered that scene in particular, oh how foolish you felt—but—you broke the spell.

The king, in frustration, grasped a crystal ball from thin air. Throwing it toward you. Showing all your greatest fears and wounds in a mass of shadow. As your eyes widened, you grabbed a chair, breaking the surface of the mirror's protective seal. You jumped through the liquid. Almost in an instant, you felt yourself falling, floating. To a near trash heap, only you describe it as a literal dump.

You held your hand to your head. As though you had a pounding headache. Once you realise your surroundings and gather your barings. You looked down, seeing the elegant attire you wore in the dream, a torn, trashed garbage piece. Suppose it was still clothing. Much to your annoyance. You sneer in disgust. He practically just dressed you in an illusionary trick.

You were sick of this, yet, you were thrilled. You loved the excitement of that dream, waking up. Now you were more determined more then ever to take back your wish and finish this off.

You trudged off through the trash pile, to the goblin castle beyond the goblin city.

Perhaps, you might even ask if he could return your clothes too.

#labyrinth #labyrinth x reader #jareth #jareth the goblin king #jareth x reader #labyrinth 1986 #david bowie #jareth labyrinth

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smashwolfen · 5 months ago

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I FINALLY FINISHED MY BOREDOM PROJECT!! Featuring Ol' uncle Bingo and 2 Scarlet/Violet OCs! Laias mine and Savannah belongs to bestie @mi-spark

Twas fun to do and my finish lines are fairly different than my sketch lines, Ingo didnt even have his other eye! Verrrrry proud how they all turned out, especially Ingo due to how many lil' details he has when lining in pen XD

I now have made 5 cards no one else in the world have and that makes me do a lil happy dance djthfjjdbrjdd. Akikos my Legends OC who I love very dearly despite never talking about her lol XD

Finally, the cleaned lines vs. their sketches I used my "light table" to transfer over!

(My light table was an empty picture frame with the back out and a flashlight under it, it worked XD)

And because I thought it looked cool before continuing on, have this half coloured Ingo! Emmet and Ingo ain't identical twins for nothing!

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drgenius-reid · 11 months ago

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A Creature Was Stirring

A/N: Merry Christmas @cumulo-stratus. May your holidays be filled with love and happiness. I hope you like this! 🎄 I wrote this as part of the @cmgiftexchange and had so much fun. Summary: Spencer hears his son sneak downstairs to see what Santa brought and he goes to investigate Pairing: Dad!Spencer Category: Fluff Content Warnings: None. Just pure cuteness. Word Count: 1,279

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, a creature was stirring, Spencer’s Little Mouse.

Spencer put his book down on his bedside table and waited silently for a few beats, trying to figure out if the footsteps he heard went to the bathroom or further down the hallway to the stairs. When he didn’t hear anything else for a few minutes, he decided to investigate.

Unraveling himself from the blankets on the bed, he slipped his feet into his slippers–a bright pink pair that Penelope had gotten him for Secret Santa at work–so that his feet didn’t get cold on the tiled staircase, and headed towards the stairs. Making sure to miss the one step that creaked no matter how little weight you put onto it, he crept down the stairs and through the house until he got to the lounge door.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon outside that shone brightly into the room, but Spencer could still see his son crouched on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, inspecting the gifts that lay there. Spencer had only been in bed after playing the role of Santa for ten minutes before he heard movement, a record in the Reid household. Once, when his son was only very little, he’d been caught red handed slipping presents under the tree. Thankfully the little one was too young to remember, much to Spencer's relief.

Spencer watched silently as his son lifted one of the smaller gifts from the front of the tree and shook it close to his ear. His tongue poked out from between his lips and his eyebrows furrowed the same way that Spencer’s did when he was trying to decipher something at work. For all of the genetics his son had gotten from his mother, his brain and facial expressions came directly from Dr Reid.

Spencer could tell that the young boy was trying to calculate which of the gifts he’d put on his letter to Santa was in the box in his hands. Whatever was inside the box rattled and confused the boy to no end. He shook the box again and again, trying to figure it out. However, he had asked for so much–he was the kind of child to see something and decide that instead of asking for it there and then, he would ask Santa to bring it for Christmas–that he couldn’t remember what he had asked for.

Watching the young boy reminded Spencer of his younger self. When he was a child, he would often try to sneak down the stairs on Christmas Eve to see what gifts were under the tree. Until he was at the age where he would try to find the hiding spot where Diana kept all of the gifts until Christmas. When one year he was successful in finding them, Diana had to find a new spot, and she would wrap everything as soon as it was in the house so Spencer couldn’t look.

The young boy looked at all of the gifts in awe, completely unaware that his father was behind him, watching him pick up multiple gifts and shake them to try and deduce their contents. If a gift had his name on, he would pick it up, turn it over in his hands to try and see if he could feel what it was. If he couldn’t feel anything, he would shake it before trying to put it back exactly where it was to start with, hoping that he wouldn’t wake up and find that Santa had been to take them all away again.

The second his eyes landed on the big gift at the back of them all, they grew three times as wide as normal. In big letters, on the front, was his name. Spencer watched as he tried to reach over the rest of the gifts, knees threatening to give out on him, before he cleared his throat quietly. It was so quiet that Spencer was sure he’d have to do it again.

But within a nanosecond his son turned to him, guilt ridden and sheepish as he sank back down onto his knees and sighed softly, his eyes not meeting Spencer’s at all.

‘What are you doing down here, Little Mouse?’ Spencer asked through a breathy chuckle. ‘You’re supposed to be in bed asleep. It’s way past your bedtime.’

‘I really tried to sleep, Daddy. I promise I did. I was in bed with my eyes closed and I counted the elves like you told me to but I just couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. Then I heard footsteps and I heard something downstairs so I hid under my blankets with my teddy bear and tried super hard to sleep. Then the noises stopped and I thought it might have been Santa and look, Daddy, it was! Santa came and he brought presents for me. He brought some for you and mommy too but that big one is mine! I just wanted to look at them all. I promise I wasn’t going to open any.’

The corners of Spencer’s lips turned up as he listened to his son. He took after his dad in all of the best ways. He was smart, and he loved with his entire heart. And he rambled just like Spencer, unable to control it. Unlike Spencer, however, his little one got involved in things at school, he had a large group of friends and he loved playing baseball and soccer too. But deep down, he was so much like Spencer.

When the little boy finally looked up at his dad and saw the smile, the same one made its way to his lips. Spencer motioned for him to walk over to him, and he did, slowly standing up so that he didn’t crush any presents before he walked the length of the lounge. As soon as he was within reaching distance, Spencer scooped him up and spun him around, eliciting the most infectious giggles there ever was.

Spencer laughed with his son before he held him firmly against his hip. At almost six years old, his son was getting far too big to be carried up the stairs still but Spencer had promised to do it for as long as he could, which meant that even though his son was perfectly capable of walking up the stairs himself, he was carried.

‘Come on, it’s time for bed. We can get up early and open presents with Mommy. But if you don’t go to sleep now-’

‘Santa will come and take them all away!’

Spencer chuckled. ‘He won’t take them all away, I promise. But if you don’t go to sleep you’re going to be super tired tomorrow and you’re not going to want to open presents.’

‘I am!’

‘We’ll see about that.’

Before Spencer even got to his son’s room, the boy was asleep in his arms, cheek squished against Spencer’s shoulder and mouth slightly agape. Spencer pushed the door open with his free hip and quietly crept through the room, hoping to not stand on any toy that would make a noise and wake everyone in the house up.

Laying the boy down in his bed and pulling the covers up to his shoulders, Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

‘Merry Christmas, Little Mouse.’

From underneath him, he heard the tiniest, ‘Merry Christmas, Daddy,’ which made his insides turn to mush.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even Spencer’s Little Mouse.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid writing #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #a creature was stirring #cumulos-stratus #cmgiftexchange

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