#to me that post reads exactly like that one time i said about jazz weather‚ and i quote:

[doctorwhoisadhd]

for context on the post before last: my entire team literally got incinerated during a solar eclipse game

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 25

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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“So you are saying that the Infinite Realms’ government is organized like a dungeons and dragons party?”

Danny snorted and patted Tim’s shoulder. “Jazz’s idea, actually.”

From where she was quietly talking with Bruce, Jazz huffed. “I never said it was a dungeons and dragons party. I only suggested the organization that fit our strengths better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Potato, potahto.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but went back to her discussion.

The group was walking towards the gardens, where a light lunch was served. Time went by as the Waynes asked anything and everything about the Realms and their rulers, now that there were no more secrets between them. They talked about Sam and Tucker and Valerie and even about Danielle, her origins and how she joined the team included.

The Fenton siblings enjoyed oversharing in a way that felt weird to the vigilantes, so used to hiding and concealing their thoughts all the time. Now that they were more comfortable, Danny and Jazz didn’t hesitate to act more inhuman around them, with the younger sibling floating when he got excited as if it was the more normal reaction.

It reminded Bruce of his colleagues in the Watchtower break room goofing around and using their powers for the stupidest reasons.

When Tim rejoined them, this time alone, he was more annoyed about losing the bet than missing the ghost royalty status reveal. Danny thought that was the funniest thing, and gladly started a new stream of oversharing information about Jazz’s princess status and all the titles she held, ignoring his sister’s attempts at silencing him.

They didn’t even notice lunch time approaching until Alfred reminded everyone in the house that they had to eat — yes, even their inhuman guests. The last part was added with a pointed glare and a short nod before the man walked away.

So now they were making their way to lunch, which was served outside given the nice weather despite being way into fall, chatting about Team Phantom and their roles in detail.

“So Sam is like the Barbarian of the team?” Tim pressed on. “And Tucker is the Artificer.”

Jazz huffed again.

“We are not—”

“Actually, is not that far from the truth,” Danny chuckled, “but not exactly just that. All of us are at least trained in one main duty and act as a backup for someone else. That guarantees that if one of us has to leave, nothing will be left unattended.”

“Like with Jazz being here.”

He nodded. “Jazz helped Tucker with all the record keeping and research in magical theory, as well as diplomacy and ghost law studies. Valerie helped Jazz with her main duties, and so on and so forth.”

“Magical theory?” Jason asked, one eyebrow arched. “Ghost law?”

“Sounds cool but it's actually just reading a bunch of books and trying to guess what they say.” Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. “I swear there is nothing that can make me pass out faster than reading those fuckers.”

“That’s because you don’t do your homework. Dorathea is a very good teacher.” Jazz chimed with a mocking smile.

Duke interrupted when Danny jumped to answer. “You said that the books weren’t Jazz’s main duty, so what is it?”

The young woman tensed for a second before putting on a gentle smile. It didn’t fool anybody, though. “I am—”

“Jazz.”

She turned towards her brother. “What?”

“Jazz, look.”

She frowned at his serious tone, the boyish glee gone completely, but turned to look at what he was pointing at.

It was a giant painting on the other wall of the room they just passed by, which was featuring a small family — a woman, a man and a child. All three were wearing nice clothes, serene smiles for the portrait.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce stepped closer to see what they were seeing, tensing when he realized what it was. “Why are you pointing at my parents’ portrait?”

The siblings looked at each other. “That’s your mother?” Jazz finally asked.

The look Bruce gave her was equal parts worried and calculating. “Indeed.”

Again Danny and Jazz talked to each other with facial gestures and looks.

“It can’t be.” Danny murmured. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” She answered.

“Hey.” Jason grabbed Jazz’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

She glanced at her brother, frowning. She licked her lips and drew a long breath. “That’s Lady Gotham.”

One second passed by. Two seconds.

“No, that’s my mother.”

Dick giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Could she be wearing someone’s face?” Jazz ignored Bruce’s quiet breakdown to talk to her brother. “Or is it like ‘the Spirit passes down ownership’ kind of situation?”

Danny hummed. “I don’t think it is the second case,” he crossed his arms, “she felt like an Ancient and this woman couldn’t have been dead that long.”

“Are you saying that an ancient spirit is wearing my mother’s face?” The older man said, voice small. Even Jason frowned at the weakness in his tone.

Jazz seemed to snap back to reality and noticed that the conversation may not be the best given current company. She sighed. “We don’t know. Maybe. Was your mother special in any way for this city?”

“Are you kidding? Haven’t you heard about the Martha Wayne foundation? Or all the charity stuff in her name?” Tim scoffed. “Do you live under a rock?”

Jazz blushed. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I don’t pay that much attention to current events outside my work and Crime Alley.”

Jason pretended to try to hide his smile in Jazz’s hair as he pulled her for a side hug.

Danny made a face at the pair, shook his head and turned towards Bruce. “We can’t be a hundred percent sure, but it’s not unheard of for an ancient Spirit to change their appearance. It’s usually to fit in as time passes; but taking the face of a real person from their hunt?” He tilted his head, and Jason noticed the similarity with his sister. It was adorable. “That’s a new one for me.”

“We can always ask?” Jazz tried to move past her misstep.

“Do you really think she’d want to talk about that?”

“Maybe. If we ask nicely.” Neither sibling actually believed these words.

Bruce blinked slowly and started walking again, lost in thought. The rest followed as if nothing even happened.

“Is she really that scary?” Duke asked.

“She is…,” Danny started, rubbing the back of his neck, “she is surely something else. This city is cursed, man; so it doesn’t surprise me that the Spirit overseeing this place is just as cursed.”

“What Danny is trying to say,” Jazz jumped in, “is that the Spirit of Gotham has been deeply corrupted and, well, she’s definitely in pain, and sometimes she lashes out.”

“That’s a nice way to put it,” her brother scoffed, shaking his head and not looking at anybody. “I don't know what nice and watered down version of the story Jazzy here told you guys but when we first came here, she was pissed. King or no King, she was ready to kill me.”

Jazz blushed again. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” Danny rolled his eyes.

She looked like she had something to say, but chose to close her mouth and ignore the chuckles.

They finally arrived at the nice backyard patio where a table was already set up for lunch. Alfred walked around the table with his cart, setting down the plates and giving the finishing touches to the display.

Nobody missed his little smile watching them naturally divide in groups and sit down together, his eyes lingering on Jason refusing to let go of his girlfriend’s hand even under said girlfriend’s brother's snarky comments about it.

It had been a while since the Manor was filled with noise like this. It felt… alive. Like how it was supposed to be.

The old man quietly grabbed his cart and went back inside to plate the second course for the meal. He didn’t glance at the moving shadows and the trickster reflections on the corner of his eyes — after so many decades serving at this Manor, this family, he got used to not being exactly alone inside those walls.

***

“I don’t know how you are going to break it to Frighty.”

Jazz froze mid bite, frowning as she swallowed the food. “What do you mean?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Danny’s shocked expression. The young man looked around the table, maybe looking for support or an explanation, but he probably forgot they just met that morning.

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Jazz, Fright Knight has been courting you for around a year.”

Tim froze, glancing up to see Jason’s reaction. Expecting loud shouting to start, he was even more shocked when Jason leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms with a giant smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” Jazz leaned in, glaring at her brother on the other side of the table.

“Hold on a second,” Dick pushed his empty plate aside to lean closer to Danny, “Fright Knight? The King’s right hand man? The Aspect of Fear?”

“That’s the one!”

“I don’t—” Jazz blinked, “I don’t know— How? When?”

“Uhhhh, since the first siege, I believe?” Danny's smile went from one ear to the other. “He said, and I quote, ‘I had never felt such things in battle before. Lady Jasmine’s war cries pierced my chest deeper than her lance pierced our enemies’.”

Tim shuddered. It was the way Danny impersonated this Fright Knight’s sickening dreamy voice.

“The first siege? That was more than two years ago!”

“And you haven’t noticed this guy being in love with you?” Jason spoke for the first time, grinning at his girlfriend.

“I don’t know?” Jazz threw her hands up. “I thought he was being nice!”

“For a whole year?”

“He’s been giving you courting gifts, Jazz!” Danny said, incredulous. “And you accepted them!”

“So those were courting gifts?”

“What were those gifts?”

“Swords.” Danny answered Jason. “Shiny blades. Ornamental and functional. Jazz has a collection back in the Realms.” He turned towards his sister. “Which, by the way, people keep sending gifts for you. I think they think that you are the ‘reasonable’ one of us and if they send you more swords you’d be more merciful.”

“I don’t need more swords.”

“You liar. You love swords.”

Jazz blushed, unable to say otherwise. “Still nothing he did told me he was interested.”

“Ancients, Jazz,” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everyone knew he was head over heels for you. We thought you were preferring to deal with it in private.”

Her blush became worse. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands fidgeting with her napkin. “You know I don’t do all the romance stuff.”

Incredulous, Danny just pointed at Jason. “And how do you explain him?”

“It’s…” she licked her lips, “different. Unexpected. We just— we clicked.”

“Awww.”

Danny made a face and rolled his eyes, ignoring Dick and Cass’ cooing.

“Well. I’m not going to be the one dealing with all that. Frighty is all yours.”

Jazz sighed. “I’ll talk to him when I go back to the Realms.”

“Hm.” Danny hummed, suddenly lost in thought as he sipped his water. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I said: Maybe you don’t have to.” He spoke louder. “Come back, I mean.”

She did a double take. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny took a second longer than what was expected. “You can stay here.” He leaned back on his seat, putting as much distance as he could from his sister. He was also evading her eyes. “Permanently.”

There was only the sounds of the birds chirping in the nearby trees and the wind flowing between the leaves for a few seconds.

“Are you—” Jazz’s voice was careful, low, “Are you firing me?”

Half the table was looking at Danny and the other half had their eyes glued on Jazz’s face. Her rage, while quiet, was familiar to those witnessing the moment — betrayals, infightings and disbelief ran though their minds as they remembered similar situations in their pasts.

“Jazz—”

“After everything you just— What the hell Danny?”

“I’m not— Could you at least look at me?” She did, and everyone could see her watery eyes. “It’s for your own good.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jazz’s expression turned murderous as the tears escaped her eyes. She stood up, teeth grinding, breathing deeply a few times before she opened her mouth.

“You don’t mean that.” She crossed her arms.

Danny looked like he wished he was anywhere else but in that room at that moment. “Bad choice of words. I don’t mean that.” He slowly repeated.

“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit, but she was still mad.

“What I wanted to say is…” He sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at— You know I always mess these things up— Okay, okay I’ll get to the point.” He quickly added under Jazz’s narrowing eyes. He breathed in, breathed out. “I want you to stay here. In the living world. As long as you want.”

She processed his words, and slowly sat back down. The sounds of nature around them picked up like nothing happened, even if no one had noticed their rather unnatural silence.

“But you said…”

“I know. But things have changed, Jazz. I want you to stay. How could I not be okay with that?”

“But— But my role— And the Archives, and Walker, and—”

“Everything can wait. Or, I don’t know, we’ll deal with it.” He leaned in and took one of her hands in his. “We told you to come here because you really needed a vacation, and I stand by it. The Keep can wait for you. I can wait for you.”

“But—”

“Jasmine Fenton. You have given up everything for me. You were not meant for any of this ghost bullshit or war or fist fighting gods in a Denny’s parking lot. But you gave me a decade of that, and I appreciate it, but that’s enough. You can rest now, you can have nice things. You deserve it.”

Nobody missed when Danny gave Jason, and quick look around the people on the table, when he mentioned the “nice things” she could have.

Jazz opened her mouth only to close it again, more tears coming to her eyes. Her cheeks tinted red, maybe from embarrassment, maybe for remnants of her anger.

She yanked her hand from her brother’s and rushed to her feet, taking a shaky breath.

“Excuse me.”

Jason frowned, watching her go back inside the house and probably looking for a place to calm down.

He felt a kick on one leg.

“Go.” Danny interlaced his hands on the table and nodded in his sister’s general direction. “She needs you.”

Jason’s frown deepened, but he obliged without saying a word.

Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very self conscious under Danny’s stare. The young man didn’t look affected by what just happened like his sister was, but his eyes betrayed the conflicted emotions he hid behind his mask.

“I’m sorry you guys had to witness that. I should have waited until we got home. My bad.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but it felt like forced nonchalance.

“That was sure something.” Dick commented after clearing his throat.

“I apologize but I need to ask,” Bruce leaned in. “Jasmine seemed pretty adamant her time here was limited, that she would sooner or later have to leave everything here. What changed?”

“Did she tell you that?” Danny made an incredulous face and scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t even need to ask. I don’t know why I keep being surprised by her antics.”

“So it’s not true?”

What else had she been lying about? A tiny voice said in the back of Bruce’s head. He tried to ignore it, but given the drastic differences between Danny’s and Jazz’s behavior, he was wondering what was the actual picture and what was the siblings’ casual omission of truth.

“It was true, but only because she herself sets those limits. Jazz is…,” he sighed, deflating on his seat, looking at the sky, “I love my sister, and a lot, but she takes everything too seriously.”

Or you don’t take things seriously enough, Bruce thought, but chose not to say it.

“I never said she had a time limit, or that she had to turn her back on the living world for the rest of her life. We sent her ass to the Arkham internship because she doesn’t know how to take a break.”

“Arkham is a break?” Tim asked what had been lingering in everyone’s heads. The siblings kept referring to working at the worst psychiatric criminal facility, a vacation and a break.

Danny scoffed again, turning his eyes towards the young man. His smile wasn’t kind. “You guys haven’t put it together? The kind of role Jazz has in the Realm. The kind of person she… The kind of person I asked her to become.”

There was deep guilt in his voice, and in the way he couldn’t hold his gaze. Danny fidgeted with his napkin, letting the birds sing the tension of his silence away. They were waiting on him to elaborate, and he knew that, but was building the courage to speak.

“Do you guys know how powerful I am? No, you don’t,” he answered himself with a shrug, “because there’s no one like me. I could— If I wanted to, I could bring this city, the whole city, into the Infinite Realms. Just like that.

If I wanted to I could end the war with a snap of my fingers. I could Order every ghost-adjacent being to follow my every command and bring peace via total domination. Or,” he stopped his fingers, sighing, “I could just rip their cores with a thought and crush them with another and be done with Vlad and with every stubborn ghost that thinks I don’t deserve to be King.”

He finally glanced up at Bruce, as if he knew all these scenarios passed though the man’s head as he spoke. “Imagine that — Every conflict, every war, I could wish it away in seconds.”

The older man nodded, following his speech. “And yet you are here.”

Danny’s vulnerable smile reminded him so much of Clark’s. “I can’t. I can’t do that. If I— If I just eliminate every little thing in my way, what kind of person would I be? I’ve seen it happen, Bruce. I know what I could be if I lose perspective of who I really want to be.”

Cass lifted her hand like she was in a classroom. “Jazz. She’s your anchor.”

Danny went back to looking at his hands, shoulders sagging. In shame? In defeat? “All of them keep me grounded, even when I feel like I’m drifting away from who I used to be. But Jazz? She knows what needs to be done, what I’m scared to do. She knows she can handle the guilt and the nightmares and the horror.”

He took a long breath to calm himself. “Jazz is what I can’t— what I won’t be, and she took that burden like it was nothing. She has always done that, taking the bad things and dealing with them for me. It’s just… This time, the ‘bad things’ are a little bit more permanent.”

It made sense now. How she avoided talking about it, how Jazz tensed when she was asked what her role was. How she was so comfortable at Arkham.

“She’s your Executioner.”

Danny flinched at Bruce’s words. “She’s that and more. She became a counterpart for me, a shadow, so I could shine in the spotlight. A symbol.” He said the word like it was a curse. Bruce didn’t miss the twitch in his eyebrow. “Do you know why her armor is bright red?” His smile wasn’t kind when he looked up. “The Infinite Realms are green. She stands out and attracts all the attention in battle so the rest of us can be the heroes of the hour.” He chuckled. “She never wanted any of this. She didn’t defeat the previous King, she wasn’t even there. I know my childhood could have been way worse if she wasn’t in my life, and I’m grateful, but I kept asking more and more from her and now—”

“Do you really think I didn’t want this?” Jazz’s voice cut through Danny’s rambles. “I chose to stay, Danny.”

He didn’t react when he saw her walk in, her face puffy and her eyes still wet. Did he know she was listening? Of course he did — from what the vigilantes could gather so far, Danny’s abilities were up there with Superman’s. Maybe even more.

“Don’t.” He frowned. “I can see right through your bullshit, Jazz. There wasn’t that much of a choice and you know it.”

She bit her lips, but didn’t deny it. Instead, she pulled on her joined hands with Jason’s so they approached the table and sat down.

After settling in her seat, she breathed in, breathed out and smiled. “You are making me sound like some kind of demon or something.” Nobody bought the lightness of her tone.

Danny caught her deflection and chose to follow. He scoffed. “And you are not?” He made a gesture with his hands, placing them on the sides of his head with his pointer fingers up, imitating his sister’s headpiece.

She rolled her eyes. “I am not—”

“Jazzy, fear incarnate is in love with you. He let you ride his horse!” He smirked at Jason. “Not an euphemism.”

He caught on what the siblings were trying to do and turned towards his girlfriend. “You never told me about any horse, darling.”

“Nightmare was a strategic move. Frighty knows I can’t fly like the rest of you and it could give me an advantage during battle.”

“Nightmare? Seriously?” Jason asked.

“Big black horse with wings.” She quickly explained with a shrug. “Breathes fire.”

“Are you serious? Fright Knight doesn’t let me even touch his horse and I’m the King!” He threw his hands up in the air. “That being said, he doesn’t challenge me as much as he does with you, and thanks the Ancients for that.”

“Wait. Wait a second. Are you saying—”

Danny’s smile grew like a Cheshire Cat’s. “Ooohhhh. You didn’t know? Did you forget the one basic fact about ghost nature, Jazzy-pants? Ghost’s love language is fighting.” He said the last part imitating her voice, like she was giving a lecture of some kind.

“Oh? Tell me more?” Jason leaned towards Danny, head leaning on one hand, completely enraptured by the information his girlfriend’s brother shared so easily.

“And he wasn’t pulling any punches either. Before I learned he was formally courting her, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight her to death or marry her!”

“He could do both if he’s not a coward.” Jason shared the smile with Danny, ignoring Jazz’s hands pushing his shoulder away from her.

“Hey!” Jazz protested, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Wait until I tell you about The Ballad of the Red Demon.” Danny also ignored his sister, and the eyes of the rest of the Waynes, as he summoned a notebook with more green flames. He cleared his throat, opened the notebook and started reading:

“The fire in her eyes burned brighter than any sun, as the sharp edge of her blade pierced your chest to meet your untimely end.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her burning fury will consume you in a blaze hotter than the Realm’s Core.

There she rides the winged Dark Horse as her cries call for the blood of her enemies, bright green eyes already searching for the next target.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her siren’s call will be the last thing you hear before you draw your last breath.”

“What in the Ancients is that?” Realization came to the young woman. She slapped the table and stood up. “Ghost Writer?”

Danny nodded. “He gave me the first draft to approve before getting into editing.” He shook the notebook closer to his sister. “There’s a chapter for each of us, don’t think it’s just about you.”

He rolled his eyes and reopened the notebook, getting ready to continue reading, but Jazz jumped and reached across the table trying to snatch the notebook before he continued. He managed to float away just in time to prevent her from taking it from him, and quickly flew high enough that she couldn’t reach him, but close enough that he was almost within reach.

“Awww, you don’t want our new friends to know about your feats during the last siege? About—” he glanced at the text, quickly murmuring words under his breath, “‘Her fiery hair glows like a damned halo’ and ‘sharp blade like a gentle kiss of death’ something something ‘crushing enemies under her foot’.”

Jazz was trying to jump high enough so she could catch her brother, her face crimson red as the others chuckled at the scene.

Finally, taking pity on her, Jason reached for the book as Danny was distracted reading the next stanza and seized it away from the floating Fenton.

“Thank you.” She breathed in relief, extending her hand so he could give her the notebook.

With a tiny smile, he opened it and tried to read too, but it was written in symbols he felt he recognized but couldn’t read.

“Do you have an official translation yet or do I have to wait?”

---

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[nikibogwater]

The Final Becoming--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction: Chapter One

A gentle king, a warrior queen, a clever prince, and a Master Wizard. Together with their allies, these four heroes must reform the ancient kingdom of Camelot and rise up to face the Arcane Order in a decisive final battle for the fate of everything they hold dear.

An alternate take on the series ending for those for whom Rise of the Titans didn't quite make the cut. Updates every Friday (weather permitting).

Read on Ao3

Or in the post below:

Hello, hello, hello, my sweet readers! Before we begin, I had just a handful of things I wanted to say in regards to this project--I promise I won't take too long!

First, I want to make it clear that this fic is in no way intended to be a slight against the creative team behind Rise of the Titans, or against anyone who liked that film. I still have a great deal of respect for the people who worked on it, and I in no way wish to begrudge others for their enjoyment of it. That being said, a significant portion of the Tales of Arcadia fanbase (myself included) feels like we didn't get the ending we were hoping for. I wrote this fic as a way of giving myself, and hopefully others like me, the satisfying conclusion we felt Rise of the Titans was unable to give us.

Second, I felt like I should let you all know a few things about this story before you sink your teeth into it. While I did pretty much completely disregard the majority of story elements in Rise of the Titans, I still wanted this fic to feel as much like the Tales of Arcadia series as possible, and to be a logical follow-up to Wizards. As such, the primary focus of this story will be on the four main characters of the series: Jim, Aja, Krel, and Douxie. With such an enormous cast of characters, I had to narrow my focus down to these four in order to keep the story from becoming an overly-complicated, incomprehensible mess. Don't worry, the other characters are still here, and play crucial parts in the story, but they're going to be in supporting roles. I did my best to give everyone some time to shine, but even so, there will be a few side characters who have to be relegated to brief cameos in order to keep the pace and flow of the story.

Finally, I want to say thank you to everyone who's been following this project and giving me the support I needed to make this a reality. This is, bar none, the biggest project I've ever taken on, and I couldn't have done it without the enthusiastic support of my Tumblr followers and my friends. Extra special thanks goes to my bestie @poetryinmotion-author for beta reading and being a constant source of encouragement and advice.

Alright, I think that's everything. Now, on with the show! I hope you all enjoy. ✨

*****

New York City wasn’t exactly kind during the month of March. Then again, Douxie thought as he shivered and pulled his hoodie tighter around himself to ward off the chill, New York City hadn’t really been kind to him in any month. Perhaps against his better judgement, he had been hoping the city would prove just as exciting and romantic as popular culture would have him believe; towering skyscrapers that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight, street musicians playing slow jazz at the subway station, the cheerful beeping of yellow taxis picking up bustling tourists. And to be fair, he had seen all of those things at one point or another during the last eight months. But he had also seen a lot of things tourism journalists conveniently left out of their descriptions of the Big Apple, things that took a great deal away from that romantic and exciting image he’d had in his mind when he first moved here.

For starters, the cost of living here made Arcadia Oaks look positively cheap by comparison. The apartment he shared with Archie and Nari was a studio on the top floor of a very tired-looking, red brick building, sandwiched between some slightly newer, but no less worn down complexes on a fissured and narrow street. It was a dimly lit room with cracked, paperless walls and coarse grey carpet. There was a kitchenette equipped with an ancient stove and refrigerator that were miraculously still functioning, and a miniscule bathroom that more than earned the moniker of water closet. And they were lucky they were able to get that much on such short notice. During their first month, he’d taken on three different jobs just to be able to make the first rent payment.

There was also the matter of the city itself. It wasn’t just bustling--it was crowded . He could scarcely walk to work each morning without brushing elbows with at least ten different strangers. That also explained why everyone here seemed to be in a perpetually bad mood. The first time he’d tried taking Nari for a stroll to get some fresh air, she’d accidentally tripped over a lady’s dog and been harshly scolded for it. It was a few weeks before she was ready to venture out into the human world again after that. Douxie later found the same woman waiting for a taxi, and discreetly turned her purse into a toad, reveling in the high-pitched shrieking that shortly followed.

That really was the worst of it, Douxie thought, having to watch Nari wither away in a place like this. He and Archie had always been fairly adaptable, able to make the most out of even the poorest of living conditions. But Nari wasn’t like them. She was born from the earth itself, meant to roam wherever she pleased. She needed the open sky and the grass beneath her feet in the same way that Douxie needed his music. With each passing day, he worried more and more that this prolonged confinement might soon begin to affect her physical health. And yet that was precisely why they had to stay here. The smog in the air, the crowds in the streets, the blare of traffic--it all combined to form an effective cover that he hoped would be enough to keep the Arcane Order from finding her. A place so choked with human noise that even some humans found it unpleasant? They likely wouldn’t even bother to look for her here. And even if they did, finding her in this mess would be another challenge in and of itself.

With a sigh, he shook these gloomy thoughts from his mind, and turned down the street where they lived. The front door of the complex creaked wearily as he let himself in, and he took the broken, uneven stairs two at a time until he made it to the top floor. He fiddled with his keys to keep up appearances as he quietly undid the magical seals placed on their apartment door. It was much warmer inside than it was out in the hall, and he sighed again, this time with contentment, as he slipped off his hoodie and threw it over the back of the broken-down sofa. Shabby and cramped it may be, but this tiny room was his home, and it never failed to welcome him at the end of a long day.

“Ah, Douxie,” Archie greeted him. The Familiar was lounging on the island countertop next to an empty tuna can, but he stood up to bump his head against Douxie’s hand in greeting. “Nari’s up top on the roof. She made you a salad. It’s in the fridge.”

“I never should have picked up that cooking magazine for her,” Douxie grumbled good-naturedly. “What I wouldn’t give for one of those cheap microwavable lasagnas now, after a solid month of nothing but salads.”

“Don’t be an ingrate,” Archie scolded. “You know she works hard on her salads just for you. And you must admit, your complexion and energy levels have been much improved since this dietary change.”

“I know, I know,” Douxie chuckled, opening the fridge and taking out the dish in question. There were little heart-shaped slices of radish carefully arranged on top of the greens--Douxie did not particularly like radishes, but he felt strangely compelled to savor these ones nonetheless. A gust of wind buffeted against the window as he dug his fork into one of them. “...She’ll catch a cold up there,” he muttered, setting aside his dinner and taking up his jacket again. Archie followed him out onto the tiny balcony, where a strategically-placed patio chair made climbing up onto the roof an easy feat. Douxie hauled himself up to find Nari curled up next to a chimney, staring up at the clouded night sky. She was hugging her knees against her chest, trembling from the chill, yet she continued to gaze upward, as though searching for something.

“She’s been out here for a while,” Archie admitted softly. “Longer than usual.” Douxie sighed and crossed the distance between them. He held his hand out to Nari.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Come inside. It’s too cold out here.” She finally tore her gaze away from the clouds above and looked up at him, a troubled look in her eyes. After a moment, she let out a sigh of her own, and took his offered hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. The two made their way back down onto the balcony. “Getting restless again?” Douxie asked once they were back in the warmth of the apartment. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve been to the park....I’m sorry. I’ve been caught up in some stuff with work and I haven’t been--”

“That is not what troubles me,” Nari interrupted, stopping by the countertop to absentmindedly rearrange a few of the radishes on Douxie’s salad. “Or....I should say, that is not what is making me restless tonight.”

“What is it, then?”

“I am not sure,” she replied softly. “I have been growing uneasy these last few days. I fear that the Order is getting too close, though I cannot say why I feel this way.” She folded her legs beneath herself, hovering in midair for a moment before settling on the floor in front of the sofa.

“While I am never one to discount the value of trusting your own instincts,” Archie began, hopping up on the couch and settling down near Nari’s head as Douxie sat on the floor across from her. “I cannot imagine a safer place for you to be. Tracing a magic aura through the chaos of this city would be an astronomical feat, and one that they likely could not accomplish without alerting us to their presence in some way. But there hasn’t been so much as a lick of a magical stirring in this area since we got here, apart from our own, of course.”

“I know, Archie,” Nari sighed. “This is perhaps the safest I have ever been since leaving the Order. But Bellroc and Skrael are cunning, and capable of more than perhaps even I could know. I was only able to evade them for as long as I did by staying on the move. I suppose that could explain my anxiety now. It has been many centuries since I last dwelled in a single place for longer than a few moons. But still....I just cannot shake the feeling that we are in grave danger here.”

“...Alright,” Douxie said after a pause. “If you truly feel it’s not safe here, just say the word, and we’ll be out of here by this time tomorrow..”

“No,” Nari returned vehemently. “I-I am frightened by what may await us if we stay but...” She released another sorrowful sigh. “...I am so weary of running. Yet I know that the consequences of being caught are too horrible to even consider remaining still.”

An ember of fury sparked deep within Douxie’s chest. None of this should be happening. Nari should not feel as though her only place of sanctuary was this drafty, moth-eaten studio at the top of a rickety old building. And she certainly shouldn’t feel as though that pitiful sanctuary was in danger of being ripped away from her. Not for the first time, Douxie found the injustice of this entire situation staring him in the face, laughing at his inability to provide better for her as her guardian. But he was quick to douse the fire that was trying to flicker to life in his heart. Anger wouldn’t help Nari now--if anything, it would make her feel worse.

“Nari...” he said softly, clasping her shoulder and prompting her to look him in the eye. “Whatever comes, whatever the Order throws at us, I promise, I won’t let them take you. They’ll never win, not while I draw breath.” Rather than looking reassured, the sadness in Nari’s eyes only deepened. She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it, and merely leaned in to embrace him. She clung to him tightly, face hidden in his shoulder, as he and Archie shared a glance over the top of her head. With a sigh, Douxie wrapped his arms around her, bringing a hand up to stroke her hair gently. “It’s going to be alright,” he murmured. “I promise.”

Silence fell between the three of them for a few minutes, broken only by Archie’s purring as he joined them, slipping beneath Douxie’s arm and pressing against Nari’s side consolingly.

“If....If we didn’t have to run anymore Nari,” Douxie began hesitantly. “If you could go anywhere you wanted....Where would you go?”

“Home,” she sighed, pulling back and conjuring a wispy image in her hands. It was a tree, that much Douxie could tell, but it was unlike any tree he had ever seen. It was almost hourglass in shape, with both its branches and roots extending higher and farther than Nari’s little image could contain. In the center of the trunk there was a hollow, carved inside and out with ancient, creeping vines of sigils and runes.

“Yggdrasil?” Archie asked softly, the green light of her spell reflected in his wide, golden eyes.

“Yes,” Nari answered. “The World Tree is the heart of the Eternal Forest, and it is the place of my birth. Much of my power lies dormant within it. Bellroc and Skrael sealed the Forest after I abandoned the Order. I have not seen my home in more than a thousand years.” The image flickered and faded away. Nari closed her fingers and dropped her hands to her lap. “Now more than ever, I long to return there. I want to share it with the two of you.” She reached out and stroked Archie’s head, looking up to meet Douxie’s gaze.

“We’ll find a way,” he said resolutely. “Someday, Nari, we’ll break that seal, and then you can show us everything. I promise.”

“You are making an awful lot of promises this evening, Douxie,” Nari giggled. She pulled Archie in close and leaned into Douxie once more. “...Thank you.”

Douxie held his tiny family in his arms, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders as heavily as ever. Yet sitting here, with Nari tucked under his chin and Archie purring against his ribs, he felt more certain than ever that he could bear it.

*****

The sky above Arcadia Oaks was a wonderful shade of crystal blue, the kind that looks so clear and bright, Jim could almost imagine reaching out and touching it, feeling its silky smoothness beneath the palm of his hand. The sun shone down on the world with a gentle, welcoming warmth, causing the neatly-trimmed and freshly-watered lawns to glitter like the surface of a still pond. Jim let out a contented sigh, reveling in the heat of the sunlight on his skin, the cool dampness of the grass beneath him, and above all, the sense of peaceful, lazy stillness that lay over everything.

Claire and Toby were lying next to him, one on either side. Claire’s hand was in his, their fingers loosely threaded together. Toby was blinking drowsily as he stared up at the clouds, hands folded over his stomach and thumbs twiddling idly. Jim couldn’t remember how they established this little ritual, but almost every day, the three of them would end up out here like this at some point, just resting and listening as time passed. If you had asked him two years ago how he liked to spend his afternoons, something like this would have been the furthest thing from his mind. Now though, after everything that had happened, there was nowhere else he would rather be.

Claire shifted next to him, squeezing his hand briefly before sitting up and stretching her arms above her head. She leaned back, propped upright on one arm, and looked down at Jim and Toby.

“...So, what now?” she sighed.

“What? You getting bored?” Jim replied.

“I heard they finally got the theater fixed up after that giant alien dude stepped on it. Gun-Robot 7 is supposed to be awesome,” Toby suggested, still staring up at the sky.

“No, I meant...What are we going to do next? We’re not kids anymore. High-school’s over. We’re all graduates now.”

“Somehow...” Jim muttered. He could only imagine the strings that had to be pulled and the rules that had to be broken in order for Principle Uhl to let him and Toby pass.

“...So what do we do now?” she continued. “Like, with our lives. We’re not exactly the Trollhunters anymore. Douxie says there’s been no sign of the Arcane Order since he blasted them out of the sky last summer. I guess....we should probably start thinking about what we want to do now that everything’s settled.”

“...I guess we should,” Jim murmured.

“...Honestly, I never thought we’d make it this far,” Toby marveled. “The past two years have just been so crazy-town banana-pants, I sort of thought it was going to be like that forever.”

“Things could still get crazy again, Tobes,” Jim reminded him. “The Arcane Order is still out there. We may have to fight them again someday. But....I guess Claire’s right. Maybe it’s time to think about what’s next.”

“What, like college or something?” Toby asked.

“Or something,” Jim replied. “I think for now....I just want to live again. Do what we’re doing right now. Feel the sun. Take care of my mom. Maybe try to get back some of what I missed these past three years.” Claire’s face fell in sympathy, and she took his hand again, giving it another squeeze. He sighed, sending her a wan smile, and continued. “What about you guys? What do you want to do, Tobes?”

“Nana wants me to go to some fancy school in Europe--apparently my parents went there when they were my age. But I think just living sounds good for now. I just wanna be with you guys. Just like it used to be. For a little while longer, anyways.”

“...Okay. For now, I guess we just keep living,” Claire agreed, laying back down and resting her head against Jim’s shoulder. There were a few more moments of blissful silence.

“Jim!” Barbara called from inside the house. “We’re back with Chinese food! Can you come set the table for lunch?”

“...Well, I guess that’s part of living too,” Jim chuckled, kissing Claire on the forehead before sitting up and stretching. The other two joined him. “Arguably my favorite part,” he added, as a warm, spicy aroma greeted them in the kitchen.

There was a contentment resting on Jim’s home that he hadn’t felt since before his father left. Barbara’s smile was lively as she dished up fried rice and chicken, laughing as Toby shared some amusing anecdote about getting the wrong order from his favorite taco place. The diamond and emerald ring on her left hand sparkled under the dining room lights, and Jim felt a happy twinge in his heart every time it caught his eye. Strickler sat next to him in the living room, the two of them eating from fold-out trays, as there wasn’t enough room at the table for all of them.

“Have you heard from that wizarding friend of yours recently?” the Changeling asked, finally looking up from his book.

“Nope. Douxie’s the kind of guy who’s not so good at keeping in touch,” Jim answered. “But I figure no news is good news.”

“Indeed,” Strickler hummed. There was a pause. “...How are the nightmares?”

“...Getting better,” Jim said softly. “There’s still times when I have to remind myself that the sun won’t hurt me anymore, but....I think I’m finally on the mend.”

“Hm. Very good,” Strickler replied shortly, and although his tone was nothing but professional, Jim could feel that he meant it. “By the way....There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“This better not be one of your pop quizzes,” Jim deadpanned, taking a bite of his food. Strickler waited until he had been chewing for a while before speaking again.

“I would like to ask you to be my best man.”

Jim choked, and Strickler waited with amused patience as the boy frantically chugged some water before looking up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“S-seriously?” he squeaked.

“Yes. Your mother and I have finally decided on a date--April nineteenth next spring. We’re not going to do anything extravagant, but we were thinking about putting together a small party of friends and family. I....don’t exactly have much of either of those, but seeing as you were always my favorite student, and now that you are going to be my step-son, I thought--” He was cut short by Jim snickering, and then laughing out loud. “...Something amusing, Young Atlas?”

“I-I just....If you had told me three years ago that you’d be marrying my mom--and that you’d want me to be your best man--I would’ve had an aneurysm!”

“I suppose this was a rather unexpected unfolding of events,” Strickler conceded with a chuckle of his own.

“You tried to kill me in that very dining room.” Jim was smiling broadly as he gestured to the room in question.

“And you snuck into my car to threaten me with the Sword of Daylight,” Strickler returned, also smiling. Jim laughed again,

“I’d be honored to be your best man, Mr. Strickler,” he affirmed. His grin softened as he looked over at his mother. “...On one condition.”

“And that is?” Jim looked back at Strickler, the mirth in his eyes now replaced with sincerity.

“You have to take care of her. No matter what happens, even if it means you have put her safety above mine--above everything else . I need you to swear that you won’t abandon her, that you’ll protect her.”

“...You have my word, Jim,” Strickler vowed.

Jim’s smile returned, brighter than ever. He couldn’t find the words to express the feeling of joy and rightness that was welling up in his chest, so he simply settled for giving the Changeling a short nod. Strickler understood. He reached over and clasped Jim’s shoulder, then quietly went back to his book and his lunch. Jim cut a piece of chicken in half absentmindedly, his attention back on his mother, laughing and smiling with Toby and Claire.

For the first time in almost three years, everything was finally alright.

*****

There was something energizing about being alone in Camelot Castle, Krel thought, listening to the rhythmic beat of his footsteps echoing off of the high ceilings. The ancient citadel housed a solemn stillness within its walls, a sacred silence, broken only by the gentle hum of magic paired with Akiridion tech. The weight of nearly ten centuries worth of history lay within Camelot, and now it was his to command.

He ran a hand across a lofty pillar as he paced unhurriedly down one of the many hallways. Once little more than a crumbling pile of stone, it was now restored to its former glory--and even improved, in his opinion. Putting Camelot back together had been an enormous undertaking, and one that he still wasn’t sure why he decided to take on. But Krel Tarron knew better than to question his creative muse. Something had sparked to life in him when he first saw this place lying in ruins where it had fallen just outside of Arcadia. He hadn’t understood the purpose of it, but gladly fanned that spark into a flame nonetheless, and immediately set to work on reconstructing the ancient citadel. Collaborating with Douxie to create the time trap had opened up an entirely new avenue of research on the applications of magic within Akiridion tech, and restoring Camelot had been the perfect way to pursue that research.

He breathed a contented sigh as he entered the roundtable room, fondly looking around at his creation. Sunlight streamed into the center of the room, specks of dust floating in and out of the rays lazily. Akiridion circuitry snaked up the walls, intertwined with the ancient glyphs and sigils used in magic, as the energy conductors in the alcoves hummed gently. The newly refurbished roundtable beeped in a welcoming way as he activated the controls and brought up the holographic displays for the castle’s systems. Everything was running smoothly, as expected. He activated the launch procedure, beaming with pride as the landing gear retracted and the massive ship took to the heavens with little more than a soft whirring sound.

A few more swipes across the holograph, a few dials turned, and then the rush of exhilaration in his core as Camelot exploded to life. The fast-paced beat echoed in every hallway, as the musical whine of a synthesizer filled the once-silent castle. Krel took a moment to relish in the sound, feeling his core pulse in time with the bass. Silence was all well and good, but it was music that got the work done. Already, he could feel his mind clearing, avenues of discovery opening before him as he pulled up a holograph for the ship’s schematics. He tapped his foot in time to the beat as he mentally sorted through the information at lightning speed, searching for his next great project.

“There you are...” he muttered with a grin as the puzzle pieces slotted into place in his brain. An opening for improvement, right there between the lines of Akiridion script that detailed the ship’s core functions. He pulled up a blank display and began feverishly typing, his mind held aloft by the music as his fingers danced over the keyboard. This was Krel Tarron in his element, seeing potential where others would miss it, and harnessing that potential to take his creations to ever newer heights.

As such, the sudden interruption of his work by the shrill beeping of his communicator came as both a shock and an annoyance. He groaned and forced himself to tap the communications display. Douxie was calling him. Of course. With a sigh, he turned down his music and accepted the call.

“Better make this quick,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I’ve just discovered a way to re-route the magical energies charging this place into the cannons. With a little more Akiridion tech, I can have this stone ship battle-ready and better than ever.”

“That’s great Krel,” Douxie replied wearily. “Listen, have your scanners picked up on any strange magical wavelengths in the past few days?”

“Ai, ai, ai, Douxie, you asked me this two days ago, and again two days before that. The scanners have detected nothing out of the ordinary. I would have called you if they did. Those Arcane Order skelteks are off hiding somewhere, probably licking their wounds and regretting ever crossing the likes of us. Assuming they even survived your fancy magic trick in the first place.”

“Nari says she can still feel them,” Douxie insisted. “They’re still out there, and she’s afraid they’re close to finding our location again. You need to keep constant vigilance on the planetary aura, make sure nothing unusual slips our notice.”

“Ugh, fine, yes, captain, I will double up on the magic scanning. Are you happy?”

“Very. Thank you, Krel,” Douxie said sincerely.

“You know, when all of this is over, you are going to owe me a kleb-ton of favors,” Krel grumbled good-naturedly, pulling up the displays for the castle’s scanning system and activating it.

“I’ll repay you someday, I promise,” Douxie chuckled. “Now, how’s the other project going?”

“Slower than I would have liked--your handwriting is not the easiest to decipher, but I think I have finally made some sense of your blueprints. But you know I cannot finish it without your magic.”

“If the time comes, I will rejoin you and cast the necessary spells. But I’m hoping it won’t ever come to that. As long as we can keep Nari away from the Order, we won’t need the new amulet, or Excalibur.”

“...So you intend to spend the rest of your life running?” Krel asked, suddenly serious.

“It’s....It’s all we can do right now,” Douxie sighed. “I can’t guarantee that I would survive another fight with the Order, and without the Amulet of Daylight, our Trollhunter is at a severe disadvantage. We don’t have the firepower for a confrontation with them, and even if we did, I would just as soon avoid one anyways. Jim was in no fit shape to fight the last time I saw him, and I don’t want to risk any of you until it becomes clear that we have no other choice. Even if it means I spend the rest of my life running with Nari, I have to choose the path that is safest for her--and for all of you. That is my duty as a Master Wizard.”

“You are sounding more and more like that old wizard.”

“Nah, Merlin never cared half as much about you guys as I do,” Douxie returned bluntly. “...but he entrusted me with Nari’s safety, and with the safety of the whole world. I won’t let him down, no matter what.”

“I see.” There was a pause. Krel absentmindedly tapped a finger on the roundtable. “My sister and I, we were in a similar situation not so long ago, as I’m sure you are aware,” he began. “We had to flee our home, hide away on this mud ball and try to keep our injured parents safe. But in the end, General Morando found us. We were forced to fight him. And we lost our parents forever because of that.”

“...Krel...I...”

“Sorry,” Krel interrupted, shaking his head as though to clear it of such gloomy reminiscing. “Didn’t mean to make this worse or anything. My sister says I can be....what is the word for it? Castor? Calcium?”

“Er....you mean callous? ” Douxie offered .

“Yes, that is it! Apparently I can ‘stress people out,’ whatever that is supposed to mean. But I want you to know that I understand your fears. I will do what I can to help you, and our other friends. Even if your nagging gets on my nerves sometimes.” Douxie barked out a laugh.

“Thanks, Krel. And....I’m sorry about what happened to your parents.”

“...It is in the past now,” Krel replied gruffly. “And even if I could travel back to it as you did, I do not think it would be wise to meddle with this timeline any more than you already have. Now, we must keep moving forward.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily as his communicator began insistently beeping once again. “...speaking of which. Aja is calling me now, Douxie. I must take this.”

“Right. Thanks again, Krel. Keep me posted.”

“As if you give me any choice,” Krel chuckled, closing the link with Douxie and answering Aja’s call. “Aja, what can I do for you?”

“Little Brother!” Aja’s voice shouted over a loud whirring sound. “Where is the manual override switch for the cooling system in the barracks?!”

*****

Queen Aja flopped down over her desk, burying her face in her arms with a groan. Her hover-seat bounced beneath the force of her weight for a moment, as though it too was struggling to hold up the burdens she carried.

“I don’t remember so many things going wrong when Mama and Papa were ruling,” she mumbled.

“General Morando’s takeover shook up a lot of things here,” Eli said, setting a cup of Akiridion tea at her elbow. “I’m sure it will all start settling down soon.”

“I just feel like I should know how to handle all of this,” she sighed, lifting her head up from her arms. “But half the time I am guessing, and the other half, I am asking my brother or Varvatos for help.”

“I’m sure your parents had people helping them too,” Eli consoled her.

“I cannot remember. I never paid enough attention to those things. I spent my whole life running from my duty here. And I....I never thought I would have to do this without Mama and Papa.” She sighed again and took an unladylike swig from her drink. “I thought I was finally ready to be Queen, Eli. But somehow I feel as though I know even less than I did before.”

Eli regarded her sympathetically for a moment, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. He seemed about to say something, but was interrupted by Zadra bursting into the room, looking every bit as frazzled as Aja felt.

“Apologies for the abrupt entrance, my queen,” she began, placing her hand over her heart in a hasty salute. “but there is another insurgence rising in the south quadrant of the capital. It is merely a protest for now, but I am concerned they will turn to violence if we do not intervene. What would you like us to do?”

Never a moment’s rest, Aja thought glumly, before answering aloud. “I will address the protesters myself.” She wearily rose from her seat. “They think me a coward for dismantling Morando’s army. I will not prove them right by hiding here in the palace while those who are loyal to House Tarron fight my battles for me.”

“Very well,” Zadra said with a curt nod. “We will take my ship. Vex is already there awaiting orders.”

“Good. I am sure I will need his help...” Aja murmured. She picked up her serrator from the desk and began to leave.

“Aja?” Eli put in. She turned to face him. “I think you know more than you give yourself credit for.”

*****

“House Tarron is not fit to rule!”

“The Omens are our only hope!”

“Pacifism is cowardice!”

Aja’s head rang with the sounds of dozens of protesting voices as she emerged from Zadra’s ship. A small crowd of Akiridions were gathered in the plaza, some of them holding up holographic images of the damage done by Morando’s takeover. Aja felt a knot form in her throat, and she faltered. A heavy, familiar hand landed on her shoulder.

“You are safe, my Queen,” Vex reassured her. “This protest is a peaceful one, though it is still most blasphemous.”

“The people have the right to speak and criticize their rulers,” Aja reminded him. “...And it is not my safety for which I am concerned.” She took in the sight of the exhausted faces of her people, the expression of sadness and desperation that weighed down their countenances. These were people who had suffered because House Tarron could do nothing to protect them from Morando’s forces. Much as she wished she could feel indignant, Aja understood their anger all too well.

“People of Akiridion V!” she called, stepping into their midst. “I hear your protests, and I understand your frustration. But--”

“My sister was killed because House Tarron did nothing to stop Morando’s coup!” one of the protesters shouted, cutting her off.

“My parents did everything they could!” Aja shot back hotly. She felt Zadra’s hand on her shoulder now, squeezing gently as though in warning. The young queen did her best to school her emotions. “...We had no way of foreseeing Morando’s attack. We had no way of preparing our defenses against him.”

“And you would have us remain defenseless now!” another protestor accused. “The Taylon Phalanx was destroyed! We have no protection from invasion! You would have us sacrifice our lives for the ideology of cowards!”

“You dare speak ill of your former king and queen?!” Vex roared.

“Peace, Varvatos!” Aja barked. “If we lash out now, we will only make things worse,” she added in a lower voice. She addressed the people once more. “Morando’s Omens contain technology the likes of which we have never seen. We can harness and repurpose that technology for peaceful means. The Omens can be reprogrammed to serve as medical bots, builders, pilots--they could elevate life on Akiridion V to greater heights than we have ever known before. But if I were to have them reprogrammed to serve Akiridion V’s military, I would be painting a target on our backs. How could we expect to form any true alliances when the rest of the galaxy can see that we wield such deadly power? How long before another planet tries to take that power from us? Bonds formed in fear will inevitably break. To use the Omens as an army now would be to resign ourselves to an inevitable war, while also denying ourselves the opportunity to improve life here on Akiridion V. My parents....I believe that true peace can only be achieved through friendship and compromise. Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to restore the Akiridion army, but I will not be a ruler who controls others with fear. I will not be like General Morando.”

“She cares more for outsiders than for her own people,” a voice in the crowd grumbled, and there was an uproar of agreement.

“Perhaps the people of the mud planet have bribed her!” another suggested.

“Where is Prince Krel? He was supposed to rule us alongside you, yet he chose to stay among the humans instead of taking up his birthright!”

“House Tarron has abandoned us!”

“Enough!” Zadra bellowed, stepping forward. “Your queen has spoken. It is her right as ruler to use the Omens as she sees fit, as it is also Prince Krel’s right to postpone his kingship. You will all disband immediately and return to your homes. We have no time for this chaos and unrest--not while there is still so much that needs to be rebuilt. Now go!” She punctuated her demand by slamming the end of her serrator against the ground.

Aja turned to leave, her cape swishing behind her, feeling anger and frustration churning in her core. She wanted nothing more than to return to the palace and unleash her fury on a few unsuspecting training Blanks. But before she could board Zadra’s ship, she was stopped by a gentle tug on her cape. She looked down to see a young Akiridion gazing up at her.

“...My mama says you’re right,” she said in a small voice, as though she was afraid of inciting a response from the dispersing crowd. “Akiridion V should be a peaceful planet. My papa was killed by the Omens. Mama says she doesn’t want anyone else to know what that feels like.” Aja felt the fury in her chest begin to cool.

“...Thank you, little one,” she replied softly. “Please tell your mama that I will remember her loyalty to House Tarron, should there ever come a time when she needs our aid. And--” She looked around. Vex and Zadra were still distracted with shooing the protestors away. The queen knelt and whispered in a low voice, “Come by the palace with your mama sometime and we’ll sneak into my brother’s old room. His collection of holo-games is still there, and they’re much more fun with three players.” The little girl’s eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically, before darting away.

Aja stood back up, a small smile on her face. Despite all of her doubts, her confusion, her struggle to maintain order on her planet, there was one thing she knew for certain. Her foremost duty was to provide for her people--to ease the struggles of Akiridions just like that little girl and her mother. It was to that end that she had chosen to repurpose the Omens. Akiridion V’s army was no longer what it once was, but it would hold for now, as long as she maintained peace within the planetary alliances. She couldn’t blind herself to the suffering of her people in order to safeguard against a threat that may never come to pass. Though there was still some uncertainty lingering in her mind regarding just about everything else in her queenship, this was the one choice she had made that she knew, without a doubt, was the right one.

Perhaps Eli was right after all.

Thanks for reading! ✨

(Link to Chapter Two)

[unlucky-rubber-ducky]

Found

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

3265 words

Summary/warnings: Not proofread. Sleep deprived writing. Mentions of injury and fighting and sadness and all that jazz. Post-Order 66, baby.

A/n: This one is definitely a ride. If not good, I hope it is at least entertaining. It was entertaining to write. Kinda sad. As always, please let me know if there’s anything I can edit to make the story more inclusive. Thank you for reading!

The annoyance you felt as you trudged out of the marketplace was… unmatched. This was certainly not the deal. You would help Sar’pah clean up the mess he had made, and in return he would get you off of Abafar. Of course, when you had said ‘off of Abafar’, you had meant somewhere with some semblance of civilization; something to blend into. Not another Maker-forsaken desert planet.

You should have known that a ‘pit-stop’ on Tatooine meant kicking the dangerous fugitive offboard, but seeing as how Sar’pah himself was a wanted man, you had hoped he would be a little more forgiving. He had landed in Bestine, asked you to go get a few items from the market, and flew off the moment you stepped off the walkway.

Kriffing fool doesn’t even know what kind of fugitive I am. Your trusting nature may have lost you a ride, but it certainly didn’t extend far enough that you told people why you were on the run. You simply told them that working with you could be dangerous. It was up to them to decide if they wanted to take that risk.

Too many would love the reward a Jedi would bring them. And dammit, if you were going to be brought down by the Empire, it certainly wasn’t going to be for anyone else’s gain. So, here you were, stuck on another desert planet. One ruled by the Hutts, no less. A few too many brushes with them, before and during the Clone Wars, had you very wary to make your presence known to them. So, you figured that at least until you had a ride offplanet, you should try your best to avoid bigger settlements. (Well, as big as settlements on Tatooine could get.)

Which brought you back to the current moment. Republic Credits had never meant much in the Outer Rim, but you had just enough to buy some water and an admittedly sickly looking Eopie. You hadn’t really bothered to check what direction you were setting off on, just picking the horizon that looked the least difficult to navigate with a large animal. It was also in the opposite direction of Mos Eisley, where you were quite sure a few old enemies resided. 

You refused to acknowledge it, but you could feel the Force pulling you west. You were sure many Jedi had taken solace in the Force after all they had lost, but all you felt was… betrayal. You were well aware the Order itself was corrupt, you didn’t deny that- but mass murder? The will of the Force was to kill some of its most loyal followers? You had witnessed its power. You couldn’t deny its existence. But you could deny its benevolence.

So you kept going with the suns in your eyes and told yourself it was logical to go west.

“Hey!” You ignored it. You didn’t know anyone here, surely they were calling for someone else. “Hello? Excuse me?”

You finally turned to see a blue Twi’lek jogging to catch up with your Eopie. Three years of being hunted had your instincts screaming at you to reach for your lightsaber, but the friendly (if panicked) smile on her face put you at ease enough to let her get close enough to explain herself.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh you don’t have to be so formal! I’m Sasrula, just Sas if it’s easier, and if you’re willing, I could really really use some help right now.” You stopped your mount entirely, turning so the suns were at your back and the stranger couldn’t see your face. You examined her more closely, which you could tell was making her more nervous. “I just need to get out of here, somewhere a little more sparsely populated, and quickly, or else I wouldn’t be bothering you, but just since I’m pretty light and your Eopie could probably carry both-”

“You were enslaved?”

She looked down at herself, seemingly only now noticing the small bits of fabric she had been given as clothing. Before she could go on another rant, you gestured to the space behind you. 

“Hop on.” Before she could get any closer you help up your hand, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s a cloak and some water in the bag.”

 The animal beneath you protested, already struggling with your weight, but when you calmed it down enough, it began its slow progress. The first minute or so was silent, but Sasrula’s chatty entrance was an omen of the hours to come.

“Whatcha doin’ on Tatooine?”

“Passing through.”

You could sense the doubt that washed over her, and the suspicion that your lie brought onto you.

“Most people ‘passing through’ Tatooine don’t ride off into the desert.”

“I have never killed anyone that wasn’t about to kill me.” It didn’t… soothe her, but the blunt statement seemed to ease her enough into another topic of conversation. 

“...did you have a job before Tatooine?”

“Few years ago.”

“Spouse?”

“No.” It was too late, though. You had stiffened, and due to her close proximity, Sasrula easily picked up that there was more to that story than you were letting on. “He and I were never married.”

“Already have a wife then, did he?” You let out a puff through your nose.

“Something like that.”

There was a time you had resented Obi-Wan for inevitably choosing the Order over you. For leaving your quarters early in the morning, whispering empty promises of love and a happy future. Nowadays you would go to the ends of a universe just for one more moment with him. But you would never get that. Because even if Cody hadn’t been the one to kill him, and he had survived the initial execution, Obi-Wan was too courageous and too selfless and too reckless to have made it three years on the run. 

And if maybe you didn’t want to consider the idea that he hadn’t come looking for you like you had spent the first two years looking for him, you would never admit it to yourself. You weren’t sure you could survive that notion.

“Was he handsome?”

This was the most Sas had seen you emote in the little while you had now been together- she wasn’t letting your mystery man get away that easily.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Rich?” You laughed, and Sas felt just a bit of pride that she had eased you up.

“Hardly! The man never remembered to bring whatever money he did have, and I would constantly have to apologize to Dex-” You stopped yourself. No names. Don’t get familiar. “Dex was the owner of a greasy little diner.”

There was something… pleasant, about pretending that your relationship with Obi-Wan had been a normal one. There was no Jedi Council to answer to, no status to keep safe, nothing. Just you, a few memories, and an escaped Twi’lek full of questions and eager to fill the silence.

“...then, the kriffing bastard, he pushed me into his closet! Like whoever was coming in wasn’t gonna figure out something was amiss!” The giggle coming from behind you was loud, and you were glad to finally be sharing these stories with someone. 

“Oh no I entirely relate, there was a guy who- why’d you stop?”

You all but fell off of the Eopie, stumbling when you landed but quickly steady on your feet. Something felt very wrong, and you were quite sure that something was moving towards you very fast. While your hand first landed on your lightsaber, you made the decision to grab the blaster you had stolen from Sar’pah instead.

A distant cloud of dust, coming from the direction of Bestine, was moving… fast.

“How fast do sandstorms usually move?”

“Well, it depends on the pre-existing weather and geographical conditions, but they can go hundreds of miles an hour, it’s not pleasant-“ she finally turned to look at what was causing you to panic “dank farrik! That is not a dust storm!”

“Well what is it then?!”

“A lot of trouble!”

As you tried to pick out details of the approaching figures, a reflection of light let you know they were on speeders. A brief glance at the struggling eoipe let you know you wouldn’t be riding away from this, and the miles of flat desert around you hardly made for any good hiding spots.

“Are we sure it’s trouble?” You knew it was- another whisper from the Force that you were trying to keep unacknowledged. 

“Yeah. I had hoped he wouldn't notice I was missing till tomorrow.”

Now that’s just… great.

“Who is ‘he’?!”

“My previous captor. He’s, uh, not very forgiving.” Sas moved to get off of the animal, but you stopped her. “Listen, I appreciate your entrepreneurial spirit, but you’re not gonna get any money from him for my return, he’s just gonna kill you.”

“I’m not trying to get any money, you’re not going back.” The Twi’lek’s surprise was almost palpable. “At least, not while I’m standing.”

The cause of the dust cloud had gotten close enough that you could see four speeders drawing near. Three had large, intimidating riders, and the front one, the fanciest one, had a severe looking older man.

They slowed when they drew close enough, and the cold look in the man’s eyes told you everything you needed to know about him.

“I believe you’ve made off with something of mine.”

“You’ll have to enlighten me, sir.”

He paused for a moment, taking your protective stance and hood-covered face in.

“I’m not so sure I do, partner.”

“I haven’t stolen anything since I landed on your dustball of a planet.”

He snorted, still looking down on you from his position on his speeder.

“That,” he pointed at Sasrula, “is mine.”

“She is traveling with me. Has been for a while.”

“You can’t fool me, traveler. I know my own property. Don’t try to lie.”

You held your hands up in mock defeat.

“Hey, I never said exactly how long she had been with me. No lies have been told.”

“How long is this gonna go?”

“Till you either let us go, or are crushed under my boot.”

“Now, we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

In an instant you dropped to the ground, dodging blaster fire from four different directions. Even in the heat of the moment you were wary to reveal your past, so you pulled out your own blaster, desperately trying to get back on your feet whilst dodging dozens of blasts every moment. Once you finally had the chance to stand, you were able to get two of the larger men down.

It was a stressful situation, and once again you hated to admit it, but fighting felt… good. Not the chaos or death or injury of it, but the feeling of letting the Force guide your movements, feeling it flow around you and tell your limbs where to go.

Unfortunately, the method didn’t work when you were surprised out of your focus. And a cloaked figure coming out of seemingly nowhere and kicking the leader off of his speeder was enough to startle you.

You cursed as pain shot from your right shoulder, and it took everything in you not to drop to the ground. You shot the last of the body guards, and aimed at Sas’s captor, who laid in the cloaked man’s shadow. You paused when you felt a hand on your arm. You looked up to see Sasrula, who was looking at you with an unspoken request in her eyes.

You handed her the blaster and let her take the shot. You understood the desire.

Once he was dead on the ground, you turned towards the other presence, who had taken to watching your interaction with Sas. You couldn’t see his face under the hood of his cloak, and some part of you felt better knowing your face was likely just as concealed as his. 

“Thank you for the help!” Sasrula’s bright voice poked through the suspicious silence.

“It was no trouble at all.”

Your blood froze. You were almost certain you knew that voice.

“Take down your hood.”

“Excuse me? I-“

“Please just do it.”

You could see his shoulders stiffen, and you knew he recognized your voice. He lowered his hood. 

His eyes were the first thing you noticed. They were sad. The saddest they had ever been. And so tired. But there was a burning hope, a burning question, that you knew you needed to answer for him.

So you copied him, and dropped your hood.

“Hey, Obi.”

That was all it took for you both to take off in a sprint, clearing the few meters between you in less than seconds. You jumped and landed in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You buried your face in his neck, sobbing as you tried to get as close to him as you possibly could. He let out a disbelieving laugh, and you pulled back to get another look at his face. You placed your hands on his cheeks, brushing the stray tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“I thought you were dead, Obi.”

“I thought you were dead, little one.”

There was a part of you that expected him to push you away when you leaned in to kiss him. A part of you that still felt it needed to hide your relationship. 

Instead, you kissed him and all of your grief and anger and sadness and deep adoration and love were on display for him, and his for you.

You finally pulled back and stepped back down on the ground when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“I’m assuming this is the handsome man from before?”

You blushed and looked at Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, it is.” You reluctantly pulled out of Obi-Wan’s arms, taking a step back to look him over for injuries. “How long have you been here? How did you survive all of the slaughter? I heard you had killed Grievous but then there was so much chaos, and I made my way to Utapau just to be sure you weren’t there and-”

“You went to Utapau?! Darling, that was foolhardy and-” 

You took another step back.

“And?”

“And dangerous! I can only imagine that place is crawling with Imperials!”

“What was I supposed to do, Obi? Yours was the only face I cared to see, so I figured I’d start from the beginning.” Conflicting and powerful emotions caused more tears to fall from your eyes despite your best efforts. “What was I supposed to do?” It came out as a whisper, and you hated how broken you sounded. Suddenly you felt very tired, and the previously forgotten blaster wound on your shoulder was beginning to burn with pain.

“I had hoped that you would let me go.”

“Could you have?”

“What?”

“Could you have let me go?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately, and you had your answer. Suddenly all of the heartbreak and quiet crying in your quarters at the temple were worth it. The three years of not knowing if you were searching for a ghost, the sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t done the same for you.

Worth it.

“Can I stay with you?” You sounded like a child and you hated it, but now that you had him you weren’t sure you could let him go.

His continued silence turned your heart to ice. Perhaps he hadn’t looked for you because he was tired of you. Perhaps you misread the situation. Perhaps he could have let you go. 

“Have you had any run-ins with the Empire?”

“Nothing beyond what any other Jedi has encountered.” You heard Sasrula gasp, and you felt just a little bad that you had entirely forgotten she was there. “I’m sneaky, Kenobi. Surely you remember that.” The curious turn of conversation had you feeling just a little more stable. He did not, however, smile.

“I’m staying here. On Tatooine. For a long time.”

“You’re saying I can stay?”

“It’s not like I can kick you off the planet.”

The rush of relief was sudden, and altogether too much for you. That, combined with the rather serious wound you had yet to take care of; the exhaustion of the past few hours; and the hot sun, it’s really no surprise that you passed out.

“Oh dear.”

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

When you woke, you felt blessedly cooler. The bandage around your shoulder was soft, and the blankets you were wrapped in smelled like the desert and Obi-Wan, which calmed your initial alarm at waking in a foreign place. There were no windows in whatever room you were in, but the general darkness around you suggested it was nighttime. There was a doorway with just a curtain across it, from which you could hear quiet murmurs. Your sleep muddled brain told you to lay back down and close your eyes for just a little longer, but you were too curious to sleep any longer.

When you stood you realized you weren’t in your own shirt. It was much larger than your own, and a slightly different color. You were, however, still in your own pants. Which was very appreciated. You took a few steps before stumbling, still rather weak from the past few hours.

You weren’t noticed when you first stepped into (what you could only assume to be) the main room of Obi-wan’s home. Said man was currently bickering with Sasrula over how to prepare dinner, and if they should wake you up to eat. You were glad to see that the Twi’lek hadn’t run off, and you were even gladder to see Obi-Wan in a lighter mood.

You finally caught his eye when you moved further into the room, and he quickly moved to your side in order to help you to a make-shift dining room chair, kneeling in front of you. You sheepishly smiled at your two companions, who both returned your look with concern.

“I see you two have become pals.”

“I see why you spent three years without him. Your man is insufferable.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and you both tried to pretend like Sasrula calling him ‘your man’ didn’t affect you.

“You gave us a bit of a fright, my darling. I hadn’t even realized you had been hit.” He kissed you on the forehead. “I do hope you don’t mind that I took your shirt off in order to treat your wound.”

You shrugged.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

If he wasn’t red from Sasrula’s earlier comment, he certainly was now.

The Twi’lek snorted and made her way to the kitchenette on the other side of the small space, taking her chance to prepare dinner her way.

“How long did I sleep for?”

“About two days. You left me alone with a stranger for two days.”

“That explains why you’re so chummy with Sas.”

He grimaced.

“Yes. I… don’t know that I’ve ever met such a talkative woman.”

“Giving Ahsoka a run for her money, hm?”

“Don’t remind me.”

You chuckled, and felt a warmth in your heart that you hadn’t felt since you and Obi-Wan were both Padawan’s and had the galaxy ahead of you. Except… this was different. You weren’t sure you could call it better. There was too much bloodshed and trauma for it to be better. But it was undoubtedly freer. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable to say that I love you?”

Obi-Wan smiled softly.

“Never.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you deeply, little one.”

[ectolights]

Haunting Questions

Happy Holiday Truce @rebel-skull! Sorry I’m skating right up against the deadline. This holiday season got busier than I expected.

Thank you for letting me change the prompt a little! This is a DP/Buzzfeed Unsolved crossover fic with a side of Demon Shane. (Read it on AO3 | FFN)

Thanks also to the ever wonderful @oboenotclarinet for your help when I got stuck. I’d be a mess with out you <3

~~~

Maddie attacked the living room with the rare intention of making it look somewhat presentable, for the equally rare occasion of guests coming over. The scorch marks on the wall from the ectopus incident last month she could, unfortunately, do nothing about, but maybe the lime green stains on the couch could still be scrubbed out.

“Danny! Come help me clean up! Our guests will be here soon!”

“Why can’t Jazz do it?” Danny’s automatic response to housework rang out from upstairs, in the direction of his room. Maddie eyed the stain on the couch critically. It’d probably take more than Incredible and elbow grease to get this one out.

“Also, what guests? We literally never have anyone over. Are you actually cleaning?” Danny plodded down the stairs, stopping on the bottom step with his arms draped over the railing. He quirked his eyebrow at his mother in inquiry.

Maddie walked over to the closet with the cleaning supplies, responding over her shoulder, “Jazz is out with her friends, she’ll be back just before the guests arrive—yes, she does have friends, don’t give me that, young man—and I need you to help me tidy up because we were contacted by a team of professional ghost hunters, to be interviewed for their show. Isn’t that exciting! We’ll have the opportunity to share our knowledge about ghosts and ghost hunting with viewers all across the country!” She rifled through the haphazard piles in the closet, searching for the Fenton Foaming Cleaner that would surely (hopefully) remove the sickly splotch on the couch.

Danny moved from the base of the stairs to flop down on the armchair, helpful as ever. The raised eyebrow never faltered as Maddie made her way back to the offending couch, spray bottle prize in hand. “They don’t sound all that professional if they have a tv show. Most of those shows are just a bunch of fancy tricks, you know. Are you sure these guys are for real?”

Maddie spared a glance in her son’s direction, to where he lay sprawled across the chair, one leg carelessly thrown over an arm. She turned back to the stain and spritzed it with the cleaner. “They’re from a company in Los Angeles, called Buzzfeed. They were nothing but professional when I spoke to the representative on the phone.” The stain began to bubble green, an acrid aroma piercing the air. She hummed in concern. It wasn’t supposed to do that. Hopefully that meant it was working.

“Oh wow, that’s a real vote of confidence. Mom, Buzzfeed is like, ‘what pizza you are based on your favorite color,’ or ‘we tried being hipsters for a day,’ they’re an entertainment company. The last thing they are is professional ghost hunters.” Of course, this would probably work in Danny’s favor more than if they were actual ghost hunters, but, well. No one needed to know that.

Maddie paused from her observation of the science experiment that was the couch and met Danny’s raised eyebrow with one of her own. “Even so, sweetie, they’ve offered to pay for this interview and they’re already on their way here. Besides, even if they are a little… new, to the ghost hunting world, then it’s just an even better opportunity to get the word out there! We can outfit them with proper ghost hunting equipment and make sure they’re equipped to handle all the standard ghostly threats. Your father will certainly be excited to show them all his latest inventions!” Her trademark optimism could rival even Pamela Manson’s, and at times Danny questioned how anyone could have that positive of an outlook, even about things like phony ghost hunters coming for a flipping tv show. Still, there was clearly nothing to be done about it now, so Danny figured he might as well brace himself for the inevitable catastrophe.

As Maddie returned her attention to the couch, concerned frown deepening at what she finally decided was a lost cause, she opted to wipe away what was left of the “cleaner” and cover the whole couch with a long, wide throw blanket. That would at least hide the hole that the Fenton Foaming Cleaner had eaten into the cushion. Better than nothing, she supposed. “Now then, Danny, if you’re done griping about people sharing our passion, then you can get your dirty shoes off the arm of the chair and help me dust the living room. They’ll be here soon, and I want the house to be somewhat presentable. Once Jazz comes home we’ll get your father out of the lab and we can all be here for the interview. It’ll be so exciting!”

Danny huffed and reluctantly got to work. “Still think this is a dumb idea,” he mumbled under his breath. His mother rolled her eyes and didn’t comment.

When Jazz came home a little while later she revealed to Danny she had known about this interview for a few days, but after having looked up the show she’d deemed it a non-threat. She explained she was under the assumption Danny knew about the upcoming interview as well, so she didn’t think to tell him. They both supposed their parents had simply had it slip their minds—not an unusual occurrence. Besides, it was a moot point now; the tv people would be here any minute.

“Alright, kids, I’ll make sure your father has kept the lab in one piece and get him to join us before they arrive. Danny, you’re on door duty. Don’t let your father get close enough to threaten them with the Fenton Bazooka. We don’t need a repeat of last time,” this last part was said under Maddie’s breath as she headed to the lab door in the kitchen. Jazz and Danny exchanged a knowing look.

When the doorbell finally did ring, Jazz perched neatly on the chair, Jack and Maddie came running into the room (“Ghost!” “No, Jack, ghosts don’t use the front door, we’ve talked about this Sweetie.”) and Danny opened the front door, pained smile already in place. He was met by two young-ish guys—or, more accurately, a guy and a tree with legs—who both looked very out of place in a town where ghost attacks came on the news as often as the weather. The shorter, more average looking of the two had a bright smile on his face, and the guy with trees for legs (Seriously, how was he so tall?) had his hands in his pockets and a laidback grin.

As soon as Danny laid eyes on the taller one, his smile fell from his face.

There was no way this guy was human.

“Hi! I’m Ryan Bergara, and this is my co-host, Shane Madej. Our cameraman Mark is grabbing the equipment out of the car. We’re the guys from Buzzfeed Unsolved; we’re supposed to interview the local ghost hunters. This is the Fenton residence, correct?” The shorter guy—Ryan, apparently—bounced a little on his toes.

“Well I should hope so Ryan, they have a giant neon sign,” Shane grinned, earning him a lighthearted jab to the ribs from Ryan. Danny narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, of course, welcome!” Maddie came up behind Danny, and he stepped to the side grudgingly as his mother continued, “Please come in and sit down, we’re very excited to have you here. I’m Maddie, and this is my husband Jack and our kids Jazz and Danny. We’ve been looking forward to this ever since you contacted us! It’s a thrilling opportunity.” She led them into the living room, not noticing Danny’s sudden change in attitude. As soon as Shane stepped over the threshold, the electric ice that usually accompanied Danny’s ghost sense washed down his spine—but his ghost sense hadn’t actually gone off. He’d know if it had. This guy was giving him major danger vibes, but he clearly wasn’t a ghost. Danny swallowed the growl that was building in his chest.

Maddie continued welcoming them, unperturbed.

“I always love meeting fellow ghost hunters!” Jack announced in his usual booming fashion. “Always good to see more folks interested in this perilous profession! You can never have too many people fighting back against the threat of those putrid ectoplasmic post-human manifestations.”

Ryan faltered, his smile wavering. “What? I don’t… Fighting? What do you mean, fighting?”

Maddie’s brows creased. “Well, you’re ghost hunters, right? Surely you know that all ghosts are the evil incarnations of human imprints, driven by obsessions to violence and chaos. They have to be dealt with to protect people.”

Based on the gobsmacked expressions on the two purported ghost hunter’s faces, they hadn’t exactly expected this answer.

“So I take it you definitely believe in ghosts, then.”

A brief moment of stunned silence followed Shane’s statement, even Jack temporarily lost for words. “Well of course ghosts are real, that’s ridiculous!” Jack exclaimed once he recovered. “They attack the city practically every week! We Fentons have developed the most advanced ecto-technology capable of harming and containing ghosts. We’ve been studying ghosts for years!”

In what to Danny was a clear effort to ward off one of their father’s ghost rants, Jazz asked, “You’ve been doing this show for a while, correct? You must have fought a ghost before, or at least encountered one?”

“Well, no, we’ve never seen a ghost, or any paranormal creature. We always look for evidence, but we almost never find anything that counts as compelling.”

Ryan, still stunned, held up his hands. “O-okay. Hold on. This is… this is a lot. Why don’t we uh, why don’t we set up for the interview, and then we can continue this conversation while we’re recording, so we don’t have to repeat anything? It’ll be more genuine that way.”

While the Buzzfeed guys, now including their cameraman, set up for the interview, the Fenton parents whispered to each other in heated sounding tones, presumably still baffled by the lack of proper hunting knowledge. Jazz came over to stand by Danny, who (despite the strange turn the afternoon had already taken) hadn’t taken his eyes off Shane. The longer he was in his house the more Danny felt the urge to fight. Jazz didn’t seem to notice her brother’s weird mood, instead commenting, “Well I guess they’re just yet more phonies, huh?”

“No.”

“What?” She sounded taken aback.

“The taller one. Shane. He’s not human. I don’t think he’s a ghost either, he didn’t set my ghost sense of properly, but he’s definitely something. And he’s powerful, too. He gives me a really bad feeling.”

Okay, Jazz was definitely worried now. “Well what are we going to do about it? Is he a threat? Should I call Sam and Tucker?”

“No, I don’t think they’ll be able to help. I don’t think I could take him. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can just sense that he’s too much for me, even with help. I don’t like it.” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Besides, he hasn’t actively made any threats yet. For now, we just keep an eye out. If it goes bad, I’ll deal with it while you get Mom and Dad out. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

Jazz glanced between Shane and Danny, pensive. “Okay, but… please be careful.”

Danny spared his sister a brief look. “I’ll try.”

There wasn’t much they could do but act normal and hope for the best, so once everything was set up and the cameras were ready to roll, Shane and Ryan sat on the recently-blanket-covered couch across from Jack and Maddie, who were each in an armchair. Jazz and Danny perched on the loveseat, out of frame and on edge.

Ryan worked quickly through his usual introduction and explanation, eager to get to the meat of the situation.

“So Drs. Fenton, what can you tell us about Amity Park as a haunted location?”

“Well,” Maddie began, “The ghosts started appearing frequently about a year and a half ago, coming from the Ghost Zone into our world and attacking people. They generally cause havoc a couple times a week, destroying property and attempting to injure people. They fight amongst themselves as often as they terrorize average citizens, being the violence-driven creatures they are.”

“Wow, there’s… a lot to unpack there. What is the Ghost Zone?”

“That’s where the ghosts come from!” Jack chimed in. “They need ectoplasm to survive, since that’s what they’re made up of, so they go back to the Ghost Zone when they get weak.”

“So I take it ghosts can be seen to the average eye, then?” Ryan asked.

“Well of course they can! All ghosts can make themselves invisible, but their default state is in the human field of vision. All ghosts are typically tangible, unless actively using their powers of intangibility, and they seem to stay hovering or flying unless deliberately doing otherwise. Most ghosts have offensive powers as well, such as ectoplasmic blasts and elemental attacks, but the weakest ones don’t maintain a consistent form and don’t display anything beyond the basic capabilities,” Maddie explained.

“Wow,” Ryan said, “I had no idea ghosts were so… present. I thought they were, like, barely able to move pencils or turn on flashlights.”

“Nonsense,” Jack declared, “Ghosts are a very serious threat and can cause a lot more harm than turning on the lights!”

Shane leaned forward, hands clasped over his knees. “So ghosts can hurt people? And they do it actively? So much for Casper the Friendly Ghost.”

Maddie waved a hand, nonchalant. “Oh yes, all ghosts are driven by malice; their base instinct is to turn to violence. They’ll just as soon attack each other as they will a human. That’s why it’s crucial to make sure you always have the proper weaponry to defend yourself.”

“What kind of weapons? Like salt and holy water?” Ryan asked, hopeful to at least have gotten one thing right about ghosts.

“Of course not! A little saltwater isn’t going to do anything against a grisly ghoul! That’s why we have these bad boys,” Jack sprung up from his seat, pulling out an ectogun from seemingly nowhere and brandishing it in front of the two guests. They leaned back quickly in response, startled. Mark, from behind the camera, watched nervously, and Jazz put her head in her palm. Danny grimaced.

“This here is a state-of-the-art Fenton brand ectogun, designed and built by yours truly. It uses ecto energy to fight ghost fire with ghost fire. Nothing on Earth is more effective at takin’ down those scary spooks!”

“Alright, Dear, let’s maybe put the gun down; I think it’s making our guests just a little uncomfortable. I’m sure they can admire it just fine from the coffee table.” Maddie stood and placed her hand gently on Jack’s arm, lowering it and deftly taking the gun from his hands. She set it on the table and smiled apologetically at the men on the couch. “I’m sorry, Jack can get a little… enthusiastic. But it’s not to worry, ectoguns can’t hurt humans. They’re designed specifically to target the unique energy that constitutes ghosts; the most even our larger guns would do to humans is knock the wind out briefly.” She encouraged Jack to sit back down, and returned to her own seat.

It may have been Danny’s imagination, but he could have sworn Shane slid further away from where the gun rested innocently between them.

“…Okay, so you use actual weapons to fight ghosts. Cool. Uh… where do you find ghosts? You said something about them going to and from the—Ghost Zone, correct?—so I assume they aren’t bound to one place like in most tales about them,” Ryan said, attempting to brush off any lingering awkwardness from Jack’s well-meaning outburst.

At this, Jack brightened up considerably and said, “We use the Fenton Finder! Ghosts all have an ectosignature, so we use those to detect when they’re nearby, like radar! Even if they’re invisible, this puppy can find a ghost on the other side of the city.” He beamed proudly, and Maddie gave her husband an endearing smile.

Shane perked up once again, absently picking at the threads on the edge of the hole Maddie had attempted to conceal. “So you’re saying this finder-thing makes it impossible for ghosts to hide?”

Danny had a bad feeling about this.

“That’s right! We’d know a ghost was near long before it had the chance to get the drop on us.”

Ryan asked, “Does it work on other creatures, too? Like demons, for instance?”

Maddie laughed, “Don’t be silly! Demons don’t exist. Everything that people think they see is usually some form of ghost. There’s a vast spectrum of forms a ghost can take.”

Shane nudged Ryan. “See Ry, I told you demons weren’t real! You’ve been getting so worked up about nothing. Annabelle’s got nothing on these ghosts we’re learning about.”

Danny tuned out Ryan’s spluttered denials and defenses as he came to a worrying suspicion. Shane wasn’t a ghost—even if he had been a half-ghost, Danny would have been able to tell. But he wasn’t human either; the moment he first saw him he just knew. But if he wasn’t a ghost and he wasn’t human… then he had to be something else entirely. Danny had never encountered anything else, but if his own existence proved anything, it was that he couldn’t jump to conclusions about what did and did not exist.

Shane didn’t seem to believe in any of this stuff, even if he was currently going along with the ghost thing (Danny felt pretty sure that was just out of politeness to his parents, based on the faces Shane had been making and the near-constant laughter he appeared to be fighting). But Danny knew from experience how helpful putting on a persona could be. He couldn’t assume anything about this guy.

(Ryan seemed pretty safe. He didn’t seem to share any hidden glances or take any second meaning from his friend’s actions. He was probably in the dark.)

So if Shane was something else…

Danny was suddenly very worried he perhaps knew what that ‘else’ might truly be.

“…so ghosts have different power levels,” His mother was saying as Danny brought himself back to the events at hand, “and that determines how difficult it is to defeat.”

“So you can’t purposefully antagonize anything while we’re here, Shane,” Ryan said, giving his friend a stern eye. “I am not going to be the one to tell Sara you got yourself murked by the undead.”

“I don’t know,” Shane replied, “Could be fun to fistfight a ghost. A good old-fashioned brawl.” He turned with a Cheshire grin and stared straight at Danny, too-dark eyes glittering.

Yeah, this definitely wasn’t good.

[amoveablejake]

One Year Later

And here we are. 

Exactly one year ago today A Moveable Jake was created and the first post, that introduction to the blog, was drawn up and posted. Since then this little blog of mine has continued to sail along with three pieces released every week. The first being an album of the week followed by a photograph I have taken and then rounding off the week with a longer thought piece. I thought for today’s one year special I would write about what we’ve learned from the blog over the past three hundred and sixty five days. So, shall we see if anything stayed in our heads afterall. 

What have we learned from the past fifty two album of the week pieces. Well, for starters I have learned that the albums of the week often bleed into the long form pieces and the photographic ones too. Music seems to be one of the central pillars of A Moveable Jake and I hope the blog is all the better for it. The past year has charted a wide array of blogs as we travel from down tempo jazz from the masters to Brazilian samba music to Vapourwave and ofcourse those Peanuts soundtracks. This really wouldn’t be A Moveable Jake piece without mentioning Vince Guaraldi and what I’ve learned this past year is not only that I can seemingly write about Guaraldi’s work again and again but that also he is such an integral part of my day to day and the ideas of hygge that my life revovles around. Guaraldi keeps coming up as he ties in so perfectly to ideas of hygge yes and as an extension from that peace, gentleness and stillness. Again and again over the past year we have seen pieces revolving around those ideas appear and I don’t see any chance of that letting up as they are so truly key to me as a person. Needless to say they bleed into the album of the week choices and so I’m sure we will continue to get cosy album choices from here on outwith the occasional trip down to South America. 

I think its pretty clear from the photographs that I’ve chosen to share from my archives over the past year is that Paris is always on my mind and in my daydreams. We have learned that like writing about Vince Guaraldi I keep coming back to Paris and with it my visions of quietly wandering through the streets soaking the city in. But Paris hasn’t been the only usual suspect although it definitely has been the most prominent. Berlin, well Germany as a whole, has featured quite a few times particularly over the autumn and winter months. The same actually can be said for Copenhagen and ofcourse that won’t come as a shock considering that hygge is so central to most of the pieces. As the weather has gotten warmer the photographs too have moved into warmer climates as visions of Spain have started to appear. And what we’ve learned aswell through the photographs is that aswell as my constant dreams of Paris I’m also always thinking about driving through the mountains in British Columbia and seeing seamlessly endless forests stretch out beyond the clouds that envelope the road ahead. Perhaps the most prominent lesson that has arisen from my photograph choices is that I do seem to always be daydreaming about something and as I write I often take a beat and gaze out of my window to fully lose myself in those visions. 

Now, I don’t even know where to begin with what we have learned from the longer weekend pieces from the past year. We have covered a great deal of subjects so lets see what we can remember. We’ve learned that if you were to see me out in the wild chances are I’ll be wearing a fairisle nordic jumper or a plain t-shirt and always, always with a cap. We have also learned that apparently I think I can review the rain and seasons as a whole. We have learned some of my desert island discs aswell and in 2021 we have been learning what my songs of the month are each month. We have learned that the weekend piece has the potential to be about anything but that it is quite often about football hopefully in a more narrative and considered way. We have learned that I should never write a piece before a final because that team always goes on to lose. We have learned what we can draw from those losses and how to move on to the next match. We have learned what football means to me and that Diego Maradona whilst being far from perfect really deserves his status as being a Saint. And really that has to explain why he reached out with the hand of God. 

For a moment, if I may, I would like to touch on what I have learned from writing a Moveable Jake this past year. I have learned that writing these pieces every week have quickly become staples in my calendar and offer me a chance to reflect on the subject at hand and to help formulate my feelings about it which often extend to other aspects which I don’t include in the piece. As an extension from the blog I have also started to keep a diary, lets call it a journal actually, over the past few months and this really helps me aswell. Keeping a to do list and a journal, hell just scribbling your thoughts down on a scrap piece of paper I believe is truly beneficial to your way of thinking and allows you to breathe and take a moment with your thoughts. Not to mention how hygge the activity of keeping a notebook is and that building a record of your thoughts and days will be a wonderful thing to look back on down the line. Which really, is what this blog is. The past year has all been recorded in a Moveable Jake, some in more subtle ways than others but it is all here. As I sit here now, typically gazing out of my window as I write, I will admit I am rather proud of keeping a Moveable Jake going over the past year and that I don’t have any intention to break from our regularly scheduled programming now. I suppose all that is left to say is thank you for reading and I hope that you continue to stick with the blog. 

As always, 

Jake, a man didn’t actually start doing these sign offs until the 13th of August last year so is now thinking do they deserve their own anniversary piece, 18/07/2021

[queensdivas]

Jazz and Crabs (Modern Roger Taylor)

Okay I know that title is weird..but it’ll make sense as you read on!  @leah-halliwell92​ for the request. An interesting one to write about but it turned out to be more fun than I thought it would. A very wild rollercoaster this one! Hope you enjoy! 

If you would like to be tagged please let me know and I will tag ya. Wanna request something? Go for it!

Warnings: Theres smut..there’s fluff..there’s some swearing..and a whole lot of jazz. 

wordcount: 3k..there’s a lot. 

Masterlist

Taglist: 

@mexifangorl​ @i-live-for-queen​ @its-funny-til-its-not​ @brianmydear​ @bonafiderocketqueen​ @endlesslydead​ @teathymewithben​

I was born to love..with every single beat of my heart...yes I..was born..to take care of you..every single day of my life!

A large gust of wind began flapping around the curtains in the bedroom as my hand rubbed his chest. A little smile formed on my face with my eyes blinking a little bit to adjust to the sunlight that was coming in and out because of the flying curtains. Moving myself a little closer to leave a soft kiss on his cheek to then get up and sit on the edge of the bed. God I really want some orange juice. 

Grabbing my robe from the floor to walk into the small kitchen that was in our hotel room, hoping to find some sort of orange juice. Opening the fridge to see a glass bottle of juice looking so damn beautiful! Pouring myself a glass as Roger was still sound asleep in bed. Looking very peaceful as I tried to stay quiet so he wouldn’t wake up. But I would love to stand on the balcony and watch the city hustle and bustle. 

Sneaking through the curtains as I walked out to the balcony and leaning against the railing. It really was how he described it over the phone and a little bit of last night. It’s already eight o’clock and music is already playing. No wonder the boys love coming here when they would tour America. 

“Unreal isn’t it?” He came out in his shorts and Hawaiian shirt to hold me from behind. 

“God this is amazing. Why don’t we come here more often?” My hips were swaying to the clarinet solo that was blasting from the street below. Finishing my glass of orange juice as I spun around to put my arms around his neck as he joined me in my swaying. 

“It’s been a while since you and I have done something like this baby.” His lips placed a soft kiss on my forehead as I held him closer to me. 

“I know. I’m glad I took time off for the rest of your tour.” He stopped swaying as his face was filled with absolute joy. Giggling as we started swaying again as the music was getting more raunchy. 

“God I love you.” Cupping my face to give me one of those old Hollywood kisses. Ya know when the male would just suck the soul out of the women. Stopping for a moment to grab my hand so I could do a little twirl in front of him. Once I finished my twirl, I lifted my left thigh up to his side for a few giggles. His hand grabbed my thigh to then give it a small squeeze. Who knew that Orleans would make me super horny! 

Putting my leg down to begin leading him back into the bedroom slowly to give him a little morning show. Knowing what I had planned for him. He sat down on the edge of the bed with his hands sitting on his knees. My fingers lightly holding onto the ribbon that was keeping my robe enclosed to start pulling it. Hips moving closer till the ribbon was undone for it to be barely opened right down the middle. 

My arms moved above my head to start making their way down, slowly to make him anticipate what was coming for him. Turning around as I let the robe fall down to the floor so my back and red undies would be exposed. I could sense he was getting tensed by the way his breathing was changing from soft to almost growling. 

The next song began playing as the clarinet was really getting into the song which was getting me all worked up. Spinning back to him as I got closer to him for his hands to grab my waist. 

“Dance for me baby.” He growled as he turned me around so I could shake my groove thing before him. Keeping in time with the clarinet as I sat on his lap to grind against his member. 

“Fuck..” He growled as I turned myself to sit on his lap to then spin my head for my hair to go all over the place. My hips grinding on his member as he made a loud smack on my ass. 

“Someone is eager.” Whispering in his ear to then bite his ear. He wrapped himself around me to began leaving kisses all over my neck. Still grinding as his member was getting harder underneath each movement. 

“Fuck me.” Moving my head so I could kiss him roughly. My lips attaching to his as he slipped his tongue inside my mouth. Foreplay isn’t even needed because we were wild animals! 

I had to get off his lap for a moment so he could pull down his shorts as I moved my underwear to the side. He stroked it for a few seconds as I sunk myself down onto him. My eyes rolling to the back of my head as it felt so damn heavenly since it’s been so damn long. 

People always said that jazz drives people mad, but just wasn’t expecting it to give me the greatest sex I’ve ever had. His nails began digging down my back as he kept thrusting inside of me. His walls stretching me as I was grinding into each thrust so we could really be in sync. 

I ripped his Hawaiian shirt open for my nails to dig into his chest, claiming him to be mine. He’s my sex God! He fell back onto the bed as I kept grinding on his cock with each thrust becoming harder against him. 

“God..yes..baby..” He smacked my ass again with my nails still digging into his chest. He gripped my breast giving them a nice squeeze as I felt him getting closer to the edge. As was I. 

“You ready for me Roger?” Giggling as I kept going for him. Butterflies were dancing in my stomach as he began moving at a faster pace to then hit my holy spot. Double time was it as I fell down on top of him for our lips to meet again for sloppy wet kisses for each other. 

The clarinet began its twill as fast as it could, the trombone blowing its sweet low blues, as the trumpet to play its highest note to cover up the screams of becoming one together. The crowd cheered as we were entangled together trying to catch our breaths from the most sexiest and quickest sex we’ve ever had in our lives. Even our honeymoon in New Zealand was nothing like this! 

“Breakfast.” Someone yelled from the hallway as I climbed off of him to grab my robe from the floor. He quickly climbed under the covers as I tied my robe so I wouldn’t be naked in front of the staff. Looking back to see Roger under the covers giving me the go. 

“Breakfast mam.” The lady smiled as I grabbed the tray from her then closing the door behind me. 

“Never seen you spring so fast.” He sat up in bed as I brought over the tray to the bed. Climbing into the bed to then remove the top for a delicious tray of chicken and waffles steaming. He always said New Orleans had the best chicken and waffles, God they look absolutely delicious. 

We downed breakfast while we figured out our plans for the day. Brian wanted to take a photo with him on the street corner, then a big lunch with Adam and his boyfriend at some seafood restaurant. I want this day to be all about him having a wonderful time. I mean it already started with the best sex which is absolutely perfect. 

Finishing breakfast as we got dressed for the humid Louisiana weather. So my thin pink maxi dress that had an opening in front to expose my leg for Rogers pleasure. Slipping on my sandals to see Roger in his punk jeans and his black button up. My punk even wearing all black in this heat. God I love him so. 

First time in New Orleans with Rogger so far has been an absolute blast! He showed me all the hot spots where they previously partied, and where apparently Brian got so drunk he tried riding a bicycle down the street. Now according to Roger, Freddie loved New Orleans with it’s own culture outside of the rest of America.

Walking into one of the bars to see Adam and his boyfriend sitting at the bar waiting for us. He kept a tight grip on my hand as we walked up to them at the bar. Adam turned around still drinking his drink for his eyes to widen. 

“MATT! YOU MADE IT!” He smiled as we hugged a little bit. 

“I know finally! So whose this man?” 

“Matt this is my boyfriend Javi. Javi this is Rogers wife Matilda. But we all call her Matt.” Javi put his drink down to then hold his hand out to me. 

“Lovely to meet ya.” Shaking his hand as Adam ordered Roger and I two fish bowls.

“So shall we get exploring? I’ve never been here before so not sure exactly what there is to do.” Asking them as Adam handed me my fish bowl. Taking the little Hawaiian umbrella out to place it behind my ear. 

“A little bar hopping then to Jackson Square, to lunch at this backwood seafood place I was told about. Then to get ready for the show.” Adam told us as I nodded to start drinking my fish bowl. Wait where’s Brian?

“Brian not joining us today?” Asking as Roger looked at his phone to see a text from Brian. 

“Says he'll join us for lunch since he’s picking up Anita from the airport.” Nodding as I leaned my head against his shoulder. Though he was emitting off heat like a radiator but it felt wonderful to finally be with him again. 

The four of us began our adventure running around New Orleans. Down all the streets to listen to the street bands, watching the dancers, and occasionally stopping at bars along the way to refill on our fish bowls. We made it to the corner of Royal and Toulouse. He got quiet as he walked over to the light post and took a big drink from the bowl. 

“He said. What an odd name to name a street. I love it.” Roger said as I walked towards him to kiss his cheek. 

“He almost named a cat Toulouse. But heard the name Miko and thought it was better.” 

“Toulouse the cat. I like it.” Holding his hand as he wrapped his free hand around me. Every once in awhile he goes silent with his own thoughts. Whether it be in the mornings when he stands in front of Freddie’s statue in the backyard. Or whenever we're running around London to see one of the small music halls they played at in the beginning of their band's history. The best way to handle it is just to let him hold me or just hold his hand. It’s a very touchy subject obviously. 

“Alright. Adam where’s this seafood place.” He brings himself back every time. What a trooper. 

“It’s down two blocks. Brian says he’s already there with a table.” Adam and Javi began walking off as Roger took one last look at the street pole. 

“Don’t worry. Were coming back anyhow for pictures. Brian has something funny for his instagram I think.” He nodded as we began walking down the street. My thumb was rubbing his hand to hopefully bring some sort of comfort. 

“Matt. Thank you.” We stopped walking then moved over next to the entrance of the restaurant. 

“For what? I haven’t really done much.” 

“No you have. You’ve done more than you can ever imagine. Not quite sure where I would…” Interrupting him with a quick peck then giving him a tight hug. 

“It’s my absolute pleasure. I love you. Now let's chow down because my hangry stage is coming in at any time now.” He laughed as we walked into the restaurant to see everyone sitting around a large table. 

“Matt. Lovely to see ya!” Brian got up from the table to walk over to give me his famous bear hugs. 

“As well Brian. Also lovely to see you Anita.” She smiled as the three of us sat down then saw that food was already being brought to our table.

“Ordered a little early so we could chow down.” Brian told us as a large bucket full of crabs were placed right in front of Roger and I. He became stiff to then look away from the bucket. 

“Roger?” He kept his eyes away as the side dishes were being brought to us. 

“Roger..do you not like crabs?” 

“What animal needs that many legs!” He commented as I looked at the crabs. Is..is he scared of crabs? I know he’s scared of spiders because I have to kill them whenever they find their way into the house. But crabs? Really? Smirking as I grabbed one from the bucket. He pushed the bucket away from him towards me which gave me the answer. 

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of something that’s been boiled alive?” Holding it up to him as he moved his chair away from me. 

“Roger it’s not going to bite. Maybe snip but not bite.” Adam grabbed a crab from his bucket to hold it up to Roger. 

“Is it the little eyes that scare you?” He grabbed its leg to wave it at Roger who turned away back over to me. 

“Or is it the clamps? Are you afraid of clamps? No! You’re afraid of nipple clamps!” Moving the clamps as he crossed his arms. 

“Roger..all I want you to do is eat me. I didn’t ask for ten legs.” Adam mimicked the crabs voice as he scooted his chair back away from the table. 

“Okay I’m done.” Lying as I put the crab down on my plate as he moved back to the table to grab the large bowl of gumbo. As soon as he’s done grabbing his fill of gumbo. Mr. Crabs will strike! He passed the bowl over to Adam to start a conversation, holding the crab up close to his face. 

“Hey Roger look at this.” Telling him as he turned towards me. 

“HOLY HELL!” He almost fell out of his chair as we all had a good laugh. 

“WHAT FUCKING CREATURE NEEDS THAT MANY LEGS!” He yelled as the entire table was laughing. He was getting a little angry as I put the crab back into the bucket. The waiter placed down a large bowl of gumbo for him since I’m assuming Brian knew his fear of crabs. 

“We wouldn’t mess with you if we didn’t love you Roger.” Kissing his cheek as we started to chow down on lunch. Every once in a while we would hold hands under the table. We’ve been married for a few years but still act like a young couple in love and it feels wonderful. 

*Later that day*

Roger and Brian posed next to the pole as I began taking the pictures. Brian looked happy while Roger was pulling off his regular photo face...smirking little devil. They began talking amongst themselves as I handed Anita Brians phone. 

“Matt you’ve done wonders with Roger.” Anita blurted out as I looked over at her as she was nodding. 

“I know you’ve only been married for a few years. But he hasn’t been this happy since Freddie. You’ve brought life back into his life..such as Adam has as well. Both of you have done wonders to them. So thank you.” For most of my life being with Roger. I always got this feeling that Anita didn’t like me and had no interest in me. But boy was I wrong. 

“Thank you Anita. Thought you didn’t like me or something.” 

“Oh no I enjoy you.” Percolatin Blues was beginning to play a few yards away from us as Brian walked towards Anita to swing her away from me. Roger walked over and held his hand out to me. Taking it as we walked over to the rest of the dancing crowd. 

Swaying back and forth as we kept perfect eye contact with each other the entire time. Our fingers entwining for another light squeeze with each other. Guess sometimes we need to make sure this wasn’t some sort of dream. 

“What did Anita say?” He asked as I placed my head on his shoulder. 

“Oh nothin’. Just a little catch up.” Come to think of it. Have I really done that much? I know I can be a little clueless sometimes but..did I really do that much for him? 

“Roger..do I really make you happy?” He looked down at me with his eyebrow raised at me. 

“What a silly question Matilda. Would I be married to you if you didn’t make me happy?” Thinking back to Dom since they got married basically for their kids. 

“Just..wouldn’t..don’t..just sometimes it feels like..I just haven’t done anything for you..that I’m just here to be..

“Listen to me my love. Do you think I would be touring again if it weren’t for you? Yes Adam helped but who pushed me to get back into doing what I love? Your kindness..that heart of yours is what got me through some very difficult times. Waking up next to you each morning or either seeing you with the sun making you shine makes..makes my heart stop. When you accepted my children into your life even though you’re not..ya know. I finally found the one I was meant to be with and it took me forever..but I caught ya. Even if you make fun of me for being afraid of crabs. Not the point. Matilda..you’re more whole world now..and I wouldn’t trade it for anything..almost anything. I love you. You make me so happy with your witty humor, your kindness towards the world, my children, and even the way you bring lunch to me when I’m in the studio. You’re my entire world now..” One more kiss on his lips as I laid my head against his shoulder then grabbed his hand hold next to me. No more words were spoken during the music because no more were needed. Life is perfect with my punk man who makes my heart sore every day. 

[astralaffairs]

freedom of the press 02 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8@assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers lmk if you want to be added to tags

words: 5.4k

warnings: 

desc: you’d just moved to d.c. full time, a promotion at your publication leading to a transfer to another district chapter, and you were more than thrilled to be there, more than ready to immerse yourself in the world of politics. what you weren’t ready for, though, was how the campaign trail you were following made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. you also hadn’t expected it to be so... gaudy? magenta? -- or perhaps, though you wouldn’t hear of it, that wasn’t the campaign’s effect at all.

IT WAS WITHIN a week from that day that Y/N had begun to establish a network nationwide, calling sponsors of events in states where she knew Jefferson was planning to speak, effectively mapping out his entire campaign trail so she'd never have to cast the second stone.

And the first Jefferson rally just so happened to be conveniently located right down by Charlottesville, Virginia — two hours south of her apartment, and less than one short of crushing her spirit.

Going to his first presidential rally of many seemed like a good idea at the time, the best way to get the first look at something not many knew about, get the first look to turn her writing into part of the thing itself; as it turned out, though, the fatal flaw in that plan was actually Thomas Jefferson.

She'd gotten into contact with both the event planner and the venue owner, had secured a place in the part of the event they were sectioning off specifically for press coverage. Her plan was to give a live feed covering the new information given at his first campaign rally, and later compile it into an article detailing his intentions as a candidate.

And while that wasn't quite where the wrench in her plans was thrown, it sure did lay the foundation for some real damage.

It started with the storm.

She wrapped her coat tighter around herself as she furrowed her brow, trying to both see and walk into the rain without getting it all up in her eyes. She muttered curses to herself as she pulled her hood back up over her (already soaking) hair, not foolish enough to think that pulling out her phone for a map would be a good idea.

She scowled. Oh, Jefferson. Making her drive a cool two hours through this weather, and then holding his rally in the most secluded venue apparently quite far off the beaten path.

She gritted her teeth before making a beeline for the coffee shop across the street, wind and rain whipping through her soaked hair and bouncing loudly from her thick raincoat. The moment she stepped into the shop was like a breath of fresh air. The door closed behind her with the tinkle of a bell, and she sighed. She pulled her hood down, loosening her coat as she embraced the warm atmosphere, the low buzz of animated conversation, clattering plates, and mellow jazz playing underneath it all.

Although she'd just stopped in to check the location on her phone, she was already tempted to stay awhile. She wiped the rain and smeared makeup from her cheeks with a tissue she'd stashed away in her briefcase. And then, as her screen quickly loaded, her jaw clenched involuntarily; she let out a groan as she buried her face in her hands.

According to the map, she was right on top of the address she'd been given, and somehow, just maybe, she wasn't exactly sure this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop was exactly the location of one of the first presidential rallies of the election. Call her a skeptic, but it didn't seem quite likely. (Then again, God, what had she expected when she went to Charlottesville?)

She approached the seemingly-friendly barista with a weary smile and a ten-dollar bill. "Hi, can I get a medium black coffee and directions to the Jefferson campaign rally?" She knew her voice sounded exhausted, but the desperation she was sure was written across her face only seemed to amuse the young woman as she grinned.

"I'll upgrade you to a large for the low price of the bags under your eyes," she chuckled, and Y/N let out a soft sigh. The barista probably had a better sense of humor about her situation than she did. She tapped Y/N's order into the cash register, making change in record time and moving to grab her a cup. "Can I get a name for the order?"

"Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." She flashed her an I-make-my-living-in-tips smile as she jotted her name down in thick black marker, before glancing back up at her and adding, "And the Jefferson rally was recently moved to the local library, about a block from here. It was supposed to be in the square about five hundred feet in front of this shop, but the storm came this morning out of nowhere."

She nodded to the windows at that, and Y/N couldn't help but glance at the grimace-inducing crash of thunder behind the harsh tattoo of rain. Even to call it a storm was a near understatement.

The barista spoke again, pulling her attention back to the counter before her. "Drop back and let me know how it is, yeah?"

Y/N gave her a small grin as she handed her cup off to another barista. "I'll be sure to, but it's only fair to warn you that if you're looking for positive feedback, you're looking in the wrong place."

She let out a light laugh, adjusting her hijab as she moved to reset the register. "Don't worry, not all Virginians are behind him. I'm one of the good ones." She shot her a wink with that, and Y/N's grin grew as she moved to the other side of the counter to wait for her drink.

Her coffee was done in a matter of minutes; her same barista handed it off to her with a grin and a "good luck." (She did make sure to tip her well, though she couldn't pretend she didn't know that was the point of her shtick.) And with that, she was off to the races. The presidential races, that was.

She wasn't altogether thrilled to have to duck back into the downpour, nor to have to race five blocks down clutching her scalding coffee to her chest and yanking her hood down every two feet. She was all but shocked the coffee wasn't all down the front of her green blouse by the time she arrived at the library.

As it turned out, the local library was rather gorgeous. The place went several floors up, all of them visible from the opening in the middle of the room around which the staircases winded. It was abuzz with what she perceived to be everyone from the press to local politicians to voters to the opposition. No one seemed to want to miss such a kickoff event for the election.

As Y/N walked through the open area, she caught consistent snippets of conversation — Jefferson and President being a few key terms. From what she could tell, the building was split into equal parts scathing critiques of the man she was there to see and his most loyal supporters. By around the time she made it to the center of the room and seemed no closer to any sort of destination, she began to question exactly where she was headed.

"Excuse me?" She strode up to a man clad in a well-tailored suit, an air of familiar authority surrounding him as he interacted with those who seemed to have approached him.

He turned to her after letting out a jovial laugh at something another woman was saying, smiling widely in fading amusement. "Hi, what can I do for you?" His deep voice seemed to be on-brand with everything else about him.

"Hi." She couldn't help her smile growing at the man's demeanor; he seemed genuine, but Y/N had also pegged him as a politician from the moment she met him, so she didn't abandon her notion to be wary. "I'm here for the Jefferson rally, and well, I get the feeling I'm in the right place," —she glanced at the packed room around her with a weary smile, causing the other man's grin to grow— "but exactly where am I headed for the main event? Or is everyone just waiting out here until doors open somewhere?"

"Where Secretary Jefferson is actually going to be speaking is another floor up, but everyone is waiting here for the time being." He gave her a once-over, pursing his lips as he eyed her attire. She knew her skirt-suit and blazer didn't exactly scream miscAngelicaneous supporter, but she certainly did not come off as a politician of any sort. "Are you here with the press?"

Y/N's eyebrows shot up; while a part of her was shocked he had he pegged that easily, she supposed being able to read people was an occupational hazard when you worked in politics. "I... Yes, I am."

"Then you can feel free to let yourself up if you'd like. We have a part of the room sectioned off for reporters; just let them know who you are and who you're here with," he explained, and she raised an eyebrow. Security seemed awfully relaxed for such an inaugural event. He paused for a moment, considering himself. "Did you perhaps call ahead?"

"Yeah, I got in touch with the event organizer about a week ago," she said, her hands resting in her coat pockets. "Why?"

He smiled, nodding toward the nearest staircase. "Here, let me show you up there myself. Securing clearance for reporters is a bit of an ordeal."

She rose her brow once again, her mouth fell open into an 'o' shape in surprise. "Alright, thank you, Mr... ?" She trailed off, looking at him expectantly, and he offered her a hand to shake with a grin.

"Madison." She shook his hand with a smile of recognition. Things were beginning to fall into place in her head; this had to have been James Madison, both an old friend of Alexander and the man projected to be Jefferson's running mate. It was a wonder she didn't recognize him sooner. "And you are?" he asked in turn, and she grinned.

"Y/N L/N. I'm here with the Washington Post."

He raised a curious eyebrow, his easy smile never fading from his expression. "It's great to meet you, Ms. L/N. Follow me." He started toward one of the staircases just off to his left, a bit behind him after bidding farewell to the many curious voters who appeared to have flocked to him. She turned to go after him with a deep breath.

She was having trouble not feeling small, this being the first event of such a magnitude that she'd attended for the purpose of writing an article; the big venue and bigger names didn't help. As she ascended the staircase, practical pumps clicking on the shining tile, she raised her chin, doing her best to remind herself why she was there, keep in mind that she, too, was among the population of suits who needed to walk with a purpose.

As they walked, Madison glanced over his shoulder at her. "Do you happen to be the same Y/N L/N who broke the initial article detailing the circumstances of this campaign?"

She couldn't help but note how formally he spoke; she brushed a hair away from her face, the corners of her mouth curved upward timidly. "Yeah, that's me."

"Then I suppose that it's you who I have to thank for actually spreading real information about Secretary Jefferson's campaign, as opposed to conjecture and gossip." His low voice floated back over his shoulder as she raised her eyebrows. "We consider ourselves to be lucky that your article, of all those written that day, spread like wildfire. Although I can't say that Thomas is thrilled about the light your tweets cast him in."

"Well, the goal was to give people more than a CNN notification update about the election. I'm as glad as anyone that they were actually reading it." Y/N gave a wry smile as she paused, considering herself. "As for the tweets, I hope he doesn't expect much to change."

"Oh, by no means," he chuckled, meeting her gaze with smiling eyes as they reached the landing of the second floor. "Besides, any press is good press when you're making an effort to popularize a candidate. Even the kind of press that involves blackmailing said candidate after he refuses to take questions."

He gave her a knowing look at that, mischief dancing in his eyes that she hadn't thought to exist, and her jaw dropped slightly. He seemed to be reveling in her wide-eyed stare, raising an eyebrow when she was speechless for a moment as they continued.

"So you know about that, then?" she asked sheepishly, pursing her lips as he gave a laugh.

"Oh, I certainly do."

"Between that and the tweets, I'm surprised you haven't had me removed from the premises," she joked, trying to ease the nerves that talking to this man was quickly instilling in her.

"That's assuming I'm not leading you to security so they can throw you out," he retorted, and her eyes quickly widened. He seemed to catch wind of her slight-but-genuine panic, grinning as he added, "That was a joke, Ms. L/N."

"You didn't strike me as someone who joked, Mr. Madison." She raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged, his light smile diffusing ever-so-slightly the tension she was trying hard not to feel.

"I suppose I'll have to work on that, then." He hesitated for a moment, considering himself, but said, "In all seriousness though, I'm more than glad you ended up interviewing him. Speaking in confidence, his decision not to take questions about the announcement was a foolish one at best, and anyone would've told him the same if he had cared enough to ask."

"I get the feeling that won't be the last of those moments on the campaign trail." Y/N gave him an amused grin, and he all but rolled his eyes, lips pressed into a line to suppress a smile.

"I've worked with him for years; I don't get that same feeling." He glanced back at Y/N with an amused gaze as they walked, adding, "By now, I know that won't be the last stupid thing he does."

She laughed at that, fidgeting with the strap on her purse and the hem of her blazer. "For his sake, I'm glad he has you to keep him in check."

"For my sake, I'm glad there are reporters like you willing to help me with it." By then, they had reached the doors to the room where the actual event was being held, and Madison murmured a 'give me a moment' as he approached the lone security guard they had stationed at the entrance.

He exchanged a few words with the guard, flashed him a grin and gestured toward Y/N, who did her best to look neutrally pleasant despite the anxiety coursing through her veins. Ultimately, the man (who she supposed was venue security; he didn't appear to be with the government) gave him a nod, stepped aside to allow Mr. Madison and her into the room. He thanked him heartily as he took the door, held it open for Y/N with an easy smile.

"Thank you, so much," she said, proceeding into the room with him just a few steps behind.

"Of course, Ms. L/N." He grinned, moving just in front of her, leading her toward a table off to the left in the back of the room. She sighed.

"It's Y/N; don't bother with the formalities." She waved away his unsure expression with a soft smile, and he pursed his lips.

"Alright, Y/N." He took a few steps past her, grabbing a few things from the table and turning to hand them to her — a lanyard and a name tag. She raised an eyebrow; apparently calling ahead could open more doors for you than she expected. "Then I guess it's James to you, so long as we've done away with the formalities."

He led her a bit further into the room, carrying himself with an air of importance as she glanced around the area. "So most of this area is just going to be open to anyone, the general public, whoever wants to be here, but," — He gestured off to the left, where a number of chairs lay roped off from the main crowd. The low clamor of political chatter flowed over from the area, a gaggle of pseudointellectuals carrying on about current events — "this part of the venue has been sectioned off for the purpose of being able to accommodate reporters and journalists. You'll find there has been enough space saved for you, seeing as you called ahead to confirm arrangements."

She turned to him with a warm smile as he motioned to the space. "Well thank you, James. I hope I'll be seeing more of you as I cover the campaign."

He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing if only by a millimeter at her words. "You're on this campaign for now?"

"Try the next two years," Y/N said dryly, "You'll be sick of me before the primaries."

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "I wouldn't worry. I have, by now, known Thomas for longer than I care to remember, and still managed to let him rope me into managing his campaign." He hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the stage of the venue with a grin. "And if I can handle him that long, I can take anyone."

"Then you're stronger than most," she quipped, eliciting a snort from the man.

"Tell me about it." He glanced at her for a moment, considering her as he unfolded his arms. "I look forward to seeing you around, Y/N."

She smiled. "Likewise."

_________________

Y/N HAD SETTLED into the press section just minutes later, her glasses pushed up the bridge of her nose and her game face on. Her eyes narrowed, nose scrunching up as she focused intently on her computer screen, confirming with her boss that she had clearance to set up a live coverage feed, fact-checking and real-time reporting the nonsense she was wholly prepared for the presidential candidate to spew. She was so focused, in fact, that she didn't notice the reporter just to her left watching her with amused eyes.

So it was to no one's surprise but hers when she nearly jumped out of her seat upon him finally saying something to her.

"So what publication are you here with?"

When she finally regained her bearings, her smile was anxious, and she pushed her glasses back as she replied. "I'm, ah, with the Washington Post." She hesitated for a moment, still feeling off guard as she eyed the amused look playing at the man's lips, the laugh dancing in his eyes, before asking, "What about you?"

"New York Times." He leaned in, offering her his hand to shake. "Ben Arnold."

She pursed her lips, before taking his hand and saying, "Y/N L/N."

"So what brings you here, Y/N?" He moved away once again to rest against the back of his chair, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, and she shrugged, giving a light smile.

"Same as everyone over here," she said, nodding toward the reporters on her left and right, "Following a story. Hoping someone will create one for me." She grinned at that, sharing a glance with him before looking to the stage. He chuckled, nodded.

"A noble goal." With that, he paused; he raised an eyebrow as he eyed here for a moment, spared her a sidelong glance. "You from around here? Forgive me when I say you don't seem exactly... the type."

She had to stifle a laugh at that, eyebrows nearing her hairline as she looked back at him, amused disbelief dancing in her eyes. "'The type'? What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged as he shifted his gaze back toward the stage. "You don't seem as cold or cutthroat as DCers tend to be."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Sure."

"Now what makes you say that?" Her expression read curiosity now as she fixed her gaze on Ben. He gave her a knowing grin.

"You're making small talk at a work event."

She couldn't help her full laugh at that; he had her pegged. "Alright, you got me. I'm not from here. You sound like you speak from experience though; how long have you lived in DC?"

He again leaned forward in his chair, his smile an easy one at her reaction to his words. "Yeah, I've been covering politics for the New York Times for six years now. Have yet to publish my big breakout story, though, unfortunately."

"So do you report on the government domestically, then?" she asked. He nodded.

"Something like that." He leaned back in his chair, opened his mouth to continue speaking, but was promptly cut off by the clamor of the crowd who'd all just been let in. He instead chuckled, sharing a look with Y/N. "Seems like a lively crowd."

"That is certainly a word you could use for it," Y/N shrugged, and Ben snorted.

"How's 'chaotic'?"

"More apt." Y/N paused a moment, sharing a grin with the man, before turning back to her laptop. "Anyway, them letting the guests in must mean Jefferson's not too far from going on stage. I really should finish setting up my live feed." She gave him an apologetic look, and his smile didn't falter.

"Hey, don't let me stop you. That is what we're here for, Y/N." He hesitated a moment, reaching into his bag and withdrawing a small piece of paper. "Take my card, though. Let me know if you ever need anything — a contact, some info, whatever."

She raised her eyebrows, surprised but pleased at the development, and took the card with a smile. "Why thank you, Ben Arnold."

He grinned. "Anytime, Y/N."

__________________

SEVERAL MINUTES PASSED yet before Jefferson went on, and even more did so as he skirted giving details on his actual policies. It kept Y/N on her toes, though, raking through his voting records, previous statements and speeches, as well as his actions as the Secretary of State. Y/N couldn't help but wonder how many calories she had burned through the speech, what with having spent the past hour running sprints through a mile-long list of everything Jefferson had ever done.

This time, he did, in fact, take questions. (That's a first, thought Y/N dryly.) Most of his answers seemed practiced, canned, meaningless fluff, because no one in the general crowd had come to play hardball with their questions. Unfortunately for him, Y/N had worn her gym shoes — metaphorically. (Realistically, she hobbled through the storm in her most practical pair of black pumps.)

Regardless, she wasn't there for a scrimmage. She wanted a game.

Her eyes scanned the crowd around her, searching for one of the event attendees bringing microphones around so those in their seats could post questions to the Secretary of State. She smiled as she caught one of the men's gaze, flagging him down to bring her the mic.

Once it was safely in her hand, though, her sharp gaze was fixed back on Jefferson, laughing as he assured a voter he wouldn't be raising taxes, so long as he could help it. The woman he was addressing seemed to be pleased with his answer, so the spotlight in the crowd shifted to Y/N. Perhaps she had imagined it, but Y/N could have sworn she saw Jefferson's smile widen as he caught her eye. (She certainly hadn't imagined it when his eyes roamed her figure, lingering for a moment on the neckline of her deep green blouse.)

"Secretary Jefferson," she began, no trace of a smile any longer settled on her lips. "As president, how would you plan to conduct the United States in the current humanitarian crisis in Yemen?"

His expression was steady as his piercing gaze met her own, wearing a smile that was all but strained. "My stance on the war in Yemen hasn't changed, Ms. L/N," — She certainly didn't remember having given her name when she stood to speak — "and I firmly maintain that the United States has not done enough to help the innocent citizens in Yemen suffering through this war, through no fault of their own."

He gave her a warm (fake) smile, about to turn away and address another question, but she wasn't done. "Alright, well if the situation has escalated to its current state — and the U.S. has done next to nothing thus far — under your watch as Secretary of State, what reason do we have to believe that will change with you as President?"

He hesitated a moment, a fire lit behind his eyes as he recognized her challenge for what it was; she could hear a quiet murmur of discussion from the section of reporters around her, could see Jefferson's jaw tick under the stage lights despite the smile he retained.

"Ms. L/N," he repeated slowly, before turning slightly to address the entire crowd, "and to all those present today, I urge you to recognize that one person cannot start a war, and nor can one person finish one. Many factors, political and global, went into the escalation of the crisis in Yemen, and the State Department has made a genuine effort to do our part to aid and support the Yemeni people through it."

"Yes, but—"

"Yes sir, up front in the blue?" Y/N's immediate reflex to push him further was cut off before it could continue. Jefferson's charismatic facade was back, stronger than ever as he addressed the man he'd called on to end Y/N's interrogation, but his clearly cutting her off seemed far from well-received, if the uncomfortable buzz of the crowd was anything to go off of.

Y/N retook her seat, though reluctantly, her jaw tight and arms folded across her chest as she stared disdainfully up at the presidential hopeful. Ideally, a hopeful would be all he could become, if she had anything to say about it — and this time, she wouldn't be cut off.

________________

A NUMBER OF questions (that weren't hers) and a struggle to not be trampled by the crowd on her way out of the auditorium later, Y/N found herself back on the lobby floor, this time with Jefferson roaming around shaking hands, as opposed to his associates.

She finally caught him at a free moment, right between kissing babies and schmoozing voters, and didn't hesitate to weave through the crowd, making a beeline for where he stood.

"Secretary Jefferson," —He turned to her with wide eyes, visibly startled at her approach— "Care to make a statement for the record about your approach to counterterrorism worldwide?"

He couldn't help but grin at her no-nonsense attitude, recognizing her immediately by her expectant expression and businesslike tone. He already knew she'd shown at the event, but it was apparently too presumptuous to have thought her questioning during the rally would've been all. "Thought we had agreed you were callin' me Thomas."

She raised an eyebrow, surprised for a moment at the confirmation that he'd recognized her, and folded her arms, suddenly feeling rather defensive. "You'll have to forgive me for supposing that when you nearly hit someone with a car, you'd be in a bit of a rush to forget it."

"It's hard to forget a lady who extorts you for an interview you weren't plannin' on givin'." He raised his eyebrows with that, returning her challenge, though the mischief dancing in his eyes never withered.

Heat crept up the back of Y/N's neck at that, though. She wasn't sure what she expected when she decided to grill Jefferson on his policy, but it certainly wasn't that things would be turned back on her. "I needed a story," she ultimately said, lamely.

"And you're willin' to do anythin' to make one then, huh?" He took another step forward, encroaching on Y/N's space — and while it would've looked to anyone else they were having a friendly conversation about his campaign, Y/N's skin was crawling.

His expression was still pleasant, but she scowled. "I wouldn't say it's my fault nothing you're doing is enough to constitute its own story." She paused, considering his raised brow, before adding, "I'd think you'd want press coverage, but your strategy so far isn't going to get it for you."

"I seem to be doin' just fine on that front, Y/N." He glanced around him, looking smug as he surveyed the area. "We got reporters from all the big publications in the area. And you're here." Jefferson gave her a very pointed look with that, eyebrows raised expectantly, and she knew he was right. With the name he already had, it'd be a cold day in hell when his presidential bid didn't receive twice the air time as anyone else's.

Sighing, she decided to change the subject, knowing exactly which role she was filling so far in this game of cat and mouse. "Anyway, who are you thinking of as your running mate, Mr. Je—" He folded his arms, and she hesitated, "Thomas?"

His eyes shone with satisfaction at that, a satisfaction which Y/N couldn't quite place the source of. "Off the record?"

"Not unless you need it to be." He pursed his lips at that, his smile still hardly contained as he looked down at her.

"Alright, but just so y'know, nothin's official." He glanced across the room a moment, his eyes flitting back and forth before his expression split into a grin. "You've met James?"

She raised an eyebrow, couldn't help but smile herself at that as she looked back at Jefferson. "So he's really who you're considering?"

"Don't see why not." He looked down at her with a fox-like grin, and added, "Don't tell me you've got an issue with that; from what I heard you two were gettin' on just fine."

"No complaints here." She laughed, brushing a loose hair behind her ear, and gave him a roguish smile. "Seems like he's the only thing that'll make these next two years tolerable."

"Well sweetheart, if you get sick of me, you can always feel free to harass the Democrats," he said matter-of-factly, and she rolled her eyes, gave a huff of mirthless laughter.

"Fat chance." He raised an eyebrow at her cynicism, and she explained, "I'm signed on to follow your campaign right up until the election — or when you lose the nomination. My editor's decided you're someone to watch, and I'm the poor sucker stuck doing it."

"Well honestly, 'signed on' sounds to me like you had a say in the matter." His grin grew as he folded his arms across his chest, drawing ever closer to Y/N. "So you decided you wanted to spend the next two years of your life with me. Honestly, I'm flattered, Y/N."

Jefferson's smile was far too smug for her liking, and for the sake of professionalism, she resisted the urge to slap it off his face, choosing instead to say, "Don't get too cocky. They're jacking up my pay for this too, Thomas." (That wasn't true, mind you, but she needed an excuse that made it seem like they twisted her arm. She couldn't allow Jefferson the satisfaction, otherwise.)

"Oh, yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You bet."

"Sounds like you owe me then, Y/N." His grin had mellowed out to a soft smile by then, which almost felt more threatening given the circumstance. She felt herself swallow roughly as Jefferson fixed her with a chilling stare. "And it sounds like I'm gonna spend the next two years figurin' out how you can ever pay me back."

____________

TWITTER

@Y/N_L/N: And into the presidential race we go. See my recent article for the Washington Post for an update on Secretary Jefferson's future political plans -- or in cases, his lack of such.

Leaps and Bounds or Drones and Airstrikes: Thomas Jefferson's Foreign Policy https://washingtonpost.com/this/isn&t-a-site

Replying to @Y/N_L/N: @AngelicaSchuy: I take it you took the job, then? 😉

Replying to @AngelicaChurch: @Y/N_L/N: Here's hoping I won't live to regret it 🥂

Replying to @Y/N_L/N: @LizaHamilton: I don't think you know how unreasonably proud it makes me when you publish new articles

Replying to @LizaHamilton: @Y/N_L/N: have i mentioned at all recently that i love you??? oh my god???

...

@A_Hamilton wants to send you a message. Accept?

Offscreen, Y/N couldn't help but furrow her brow at the notification. Why wouldn't he just text her? What was so important that it couldn't wait for him to open a different app? Hesitantly, she pursed her lips and pressed accept.

@A_Hamilton: WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU ACCEPT THE OFFER

@A_Hamilton: YOU COULD'VE BEEN WRITING PERFECTLY GOOD ARTICLES ABOUT DOMESTIC POLICY OR,,, TAXES

@A_Hamilton: as proud as I am of you for smearing Jefferson in your article, rethink your priorities, jfc

@Y/N_L/N: cool it, asshole. it's a good opportunity and has already, ironically, gotten ME good press as a reporter

@Y/N_L/N: just because you hate the prick in purple doesnt mean he isn't good for my career

@A_Hamilton: Y/N, please, i love you and you know how adamantly i support you and your career

@A_Hamilton: but please, for the love of god, it's not too late to reconsider

@Y/N_L/N: always fun talking to you, lex.

...

@JamesMdson started following you.

@JamesMdson liked your recent tweet.

Y/N hesitated, pursed her lips as her phone lit up with the notification, before tapping on his profile.

Messages to: @JamesMdson

@Y/N_L/N: yknow, id think that as a campaign manager, you wouldn't like tweets smearing your candidate

@JamesMdson: please, Y/N, if you managed a campaign youd understand that no one will ever hate a candidate as much as their manager

@Y/N_L/N: im begging you to let me use that on record

@JamesMdson: for my sake, it'd better not be

@Y/N_L/N: no fun

...

@Thomas_Jefferson: Thank you all, people of Charlottesville, for an incredible turnout at an astoundingly successful first campaign rally! So much love for the people of my hometown.

img.653667.987.jpeg

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson: @Y/N_L/N: would you mind defining 'success', if only for bookkeeping purposes? we seem to be operating under different definitions

Replying to @Y/N_L/N: @A_Hamilton: i may have to approve of your assignment after all just for tweets like these

Replying to @A_Hamilton: @Y/N_L/N: 🤠🤠🤠

Replying to @Y/N_L/N: @Thomas_Jefferson: How would you feel about defining success as having been able to see you all afternoon? 😉

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson: @Y/N_L/N: how do i dislike a tweet

@A_Hamilton liked your tweet.

@Thomas_Jefferson liked your tweet.

...

@Thomas_Jefferson wants to send you a message.

[aloneandunreal]

june 23, 20

i’ve not really realized this until now, but it doesn’t really feel like summer should feel. i wish it could feel like summer. i always love this time of year, mid/late june. maybe it’s because it’s my birthday month but also because i just love it for some reason. it’s hot (love the heat) but not as hot as july usually is, it’s when i get out of school, and there’s really not too many responsibilities in june as there is in later months--since school just ended. maybe i feel weird because i haven’t been at school since march 9th (because of coronavirus). i had no finals. there wasn’t a real “goodbye”. all that jazz that usually happens at the end of the year. maybe that’s why it doesn’t exactly feel like summer. the reason i came to this realization, for some odd reason, was because i opened the window and smelled the air outside. and heard the cars outside. felt the warmth of summer. it smelled like summer but it didn’t feel like that. i know it sounds really fake deep but that’s just how i feel. i’m sad about it now. so now i’m listening to sad music to make myself more sad, i don’t know why i do this to myself. listening to songs that give me the chills. sounds stupid, but there’s certain songs that just have a very specific sound that no other song has, that just is eerie and chilling to me, but not in a bad way exactly. reminds me of the first time i listened to these songs. do you ever wish you could relive the moment you heard a song for the first time? that’s what i want to do sometimes with certain songs. just to hear it for the first time -- how amazing that must have been. jeez, i sound really fake deep and dumb. i’m listening to 505 by arctic monkeys by the way. it’s one of those songs i liked in middle school during that 2014-2016 tumblr era with those skinny girls with thigh gaps who posted themselves on tumblr smoking cigarettes and wearing fishnets and american apparel tennis skirts. i’m sure you know what i’m talking about. i remember wanting to be one of those girls so bad but i was ugly and apparently not skinny enough (to myself). ah, miss those days sometimes. don’t even know why. wonder where those girls are now. there was this one girl i met when i was 13 who was 17, and she was one of those girls. i thought she was so cool. i wanted to be like her when i was in high school. never really did become her. (i’ve talked about her before probably, so i’m sorry if this is a repeat. even though no one is reading this.) i didn’t know her for too long but for some reason she had a (kind of) significant impact on my life. she was just such a big role-model for me in a way, even if she was a bad role-model. i just wanted to be like her so bad. i thought she was so cool. don’t know her anymore, i think she’s 21 or 22 now. in art school. anyway, i really went off topic there: it just doesn’t feel like summer. and it especially doesn’t feel like it’s going to be my birthday in a couple of days. i feel like time went so fast -- it was JUST my birthday. how is that going to be a YEAR AGO on friday? doesn’t feel like it to me. i’ve changed since then, too, i guess. anywho, i don’t know if i’m excited for my birthday or not. i don’t exactly want to turn seventeen. i remember being 14 and thinking 16/17 were the “cool kid” ages. i’d be going to parties, have friends, maybe a s/o.... but no. it really wasn’t like that at all. and these are the times when i wish i was those girls on tumblr back in the day. i wanted to be them -- they seemed so cool to me. never became that, though. sorry 14 year old me, these are not fun years. i don’t want to be negative, but i’m sure 17 won’t be anything special either. i’m not going to be a changed person. my senior year will be like every other year. then i’ll be done, at the same spot next year, feeling even more worried about what i’m going to do with my life. jeez, don’t even wanna think about that.

it really does smell like summer. i don’t know - it just has this very specific smell that i remember from when i was younger. makes me feel somewhat nostalgic. i’m nostalgic about everything though and it’s so dumb sometimes. i guess i was just born to be sentimental though. thinking back on all of the past years around this time (my birthday) and what i did. sixteen i had a surprise birthday party which was amazing and so fun, fifteen was pretty boring, fourteen was the last time i had a birthday party with a group of friends (and later in the night my cousin and i had a sleepover and sat on the roof listening to music.... yeah i thought i was cool because i sat on rooftops, apparently that’s aesthetic), thirteen i went to the beach, twelve i had a birthday party with my friends... the list goes on. one of my good friends (well, not anymore), her birthday was on june 14th. i remember going to her 13th birthday party, and it brings me so much nostalgia for some reason. that was probably one of the last times we talked. she was super flaky that year and i remember she told me this: “the only reason i’m inviting [the name of my best friend at the time] to my birthday party is because without her you’d be lonely” and it’s stuck with me forever. that birthday party was pretty fun, though. i remember she made a kahoot about herself where we had to answer questions about her and see who knew the most about her, yadda yadda. and me and my best friend at the time made our users, “tyler joseph” and “josh dun”. i remember we both were giggling at that, especially when everyone asked “who are they?” i no longer talk to this girl, we drifted apart in 8th grade. we were always very different people, so it’s not exactly surprising. and that girl who was my best friend at the time? dang, i could really go on about our friendship forever. we’ve had such an on/off friendship. we reconnected this year but it’s not the same as it once was (i mean, obviously -- we’re not 13 anymore). and now that we don’t see each other at school, we’re starting to drift apart AGAIN. she’s much more of a face-to-face friend if that makes sense. and i also always feel like i’m the one reaching out -- never her. she has other friends anyway. i’m always that “outside” friend. i’m not apart of the group. i’ve been that person with so many with my friends. they’ll have their little group, and i won’t be apart of it. which i’m fine with. but it’s just interesting to me - i’ve never had a steady friend group that i’ve stuck with. last friend group was in 8th grade and that was falling apart.

anyway, now i am listening to video games by lana del rey. another song that gives me chills for some reason. it just has such an eerie vibe to it -- i don’t know how to explain it. it’s making me feel sad and nostalgic. the crickets are chirping outside, the weather is warm, i hear the cars passing by outside my window. it’s supposed to feel like summer but it doesn’t. okay, i’ve already said that so many times. it’s just sad to me i guess. i wish i wasn’t so sentimental like this. there’s so many things i wish, i wish, i wish... it’s sad honestly, because most of it doesn’t come true. i am sad for no reason. well, i guess there is a reason. but at the same time i’m making it more of a big deal then it has to be. now i’m thinking of all of my friendships. i hardly have any at the moment. which i’m kind of sad about, but at the same time not. i’m ok with being lonely sometimes, but at the same time, i wish i had that coming of age type high school experience with a ton of friends and having all these crazy experiences. i did have some fun/crazy experiences -- but nothing like you see in the movies. and maybe that’s why. because it’s only in movies. 

well this is already a mile long. i don’t know why i’m like this. i write all this just for no one to read. i guess it’s nice to get it out? i don’t know. i don’t know much; i always seem to be saying ‘i don’t know.’ haha. anyway, i guess i’m going to wrap this up now. for some reason i want to keep writing but i don’t know what about. my life is boring. i’m back listening to 505 and feeling sad. that’s where i’m at at the moment. i wonder when my next entry will be. will i be 17? or will it be before i turn 17? i guess we shall see.

[bryonysimcox]

Goodbye Aragon, hello Catalunya: Week 5, Spain

This week saw us depart Zaragoza and head to a secluded cottage nestled amongst vineyards and olive groves. Life on the road seems surreal and sublime.

You would think by now the reality of living nomadically would have settled in. But it hasn’t! While we’ve become accustomed to the rituals and rhythms of our new lives, the actual feeling of knowing we don’t have a brick and mortar home or stable jobs to return to still feels bizarre. What’s more, knowing that we can explore so many different places, often blessed by more pleasant weather than the UK at this point of the year, feels like a gift.

I am very conscious to remain mindful and grateful while travelling and living in Suzi the van. I’ve never wanted to take the experience for granted, or to boast that this way of living is better than anyone else’s. Whilst it feels like a ‘gift’ to be able to live in this way (even if it is only for a few years), I have to keep in mind the sacrifices made to get this far: the process of building the van, the cost of doing so, and the relationships we have put under strain by leaving family and friends.

(images) Painful memories from 2019 of the seemingly endless van build!

Living like this certainly isn’t for everyone. But for me, I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be.

Exactly where we are (in physical as opposed to metaphysical terms), as I write this blog post, is up in the hills above the Spanish coastal town of Palamós. We started the week in the city of Zaragoza, wrapping up some video editing and life admin. On Thursday, we drove south-east towards Barcelona on the coast, and then up from there towards Palamós, where we have been lucky enough to stay in a secluded cottage belonging to Dan’s family. Dan is George’s best mate, who featured in the previous blog post.

We had really enjoyed Zaragoza, but by the start of this fifth week on the road we were ready to leave and get some more miles under our belt. We’ve been honing down our ‘vanlife admin’ routines but still managed to overfill the waste water tank from the sink on Wednesday evening. It wasn’t a disaster, but was a reminder of how used we become in domestic settings to all our services being piped in and out, out of sight, like water, gas, electricity and waste. After the clean-up operation, the prospect of cooking an evening meal and washing everything up again felt pretty undesirable, so we headed into town for dinner.

Eating out is a really big treat, as we’re living within a tight budget to make sure we can sustain our travels. That evening, we were both really craving a vegetarian burger and were hoping we could find a good one amongst Spain’s meat-heavy dining scene. The Bronson Bar, where we eventually stopped, did not disappoint with an incredible veggie burger, and as the third meal we’ve eaten out in five weeks(!), it was totally worth it. That said, it’s worth noting that we both really enjoy cooking, so making food in the van isn’t usually a burden, but a joy.

The challenge of cooking food in a van becomes a fun daily activity: making tasty, healthy and inventive vegetarian and vegan food with the produce that we can find in local shops.

On Thursday, we had passengers in the van! Taking others is a welcome chance to shake things up a bit; share conversation and pass the time with others, and of course to use our swivel-sofa (which I’m very proud of). We took Dan, who was headed to Barcelona to catch a flight to Berlin, and Alison, a bubbly Bolivian girl headed to Martorell who we met through BlaBlaCar. There are so many wicked apps encouraging the ‘sharing economy’ out there these days, and BlaBlaCar is the perfect example: hooking people who are driving somewhere with spare seats in their car up with people looking for lifts. It works both ways - we get some petrol money and the passenger gets an affordable journey in the comfort of a car (or campervan).

(images, left to right) A full house in the van, saying goodbye to Dan after a brilliant week with him in Zaragoza.

Headed east, the rocky expanses of Aragon gave way to a changing landscape: more verdant and fertile but still dramatic in its own way. We had arrived in Catalunya.

Having dropped Alison off in Martorell and then Dan off too, we were suddenly in the heart of Barcelona, a city we both know and love. Throngs of people, active street fronts, night-time buskers and signs in Catalan all added to the charm, and although we were set to immediately leave the city up the coast, George and I were so excited to be back that we agreed we would properly return to Barcelona before we leave Spain and spend a few more days there.

An hour up the coast from Barcelona, we found an Area Autocaravanas in Sant Celoni and stopped there, late Thursday night. The next day, glorious sunshine greeted us and we went for a bit of an explore - revealing that behind the train line and industrial area we were parked next to there lay a charming little town! Sant Celoni’s narrow streets, brightly coloured houses and bustling town square amid preparations for the upcoming carnival made for a perfect wander and photo-taking session.

(images) Sunlight and vibrant buildings made Sant Celoni a visual delight.

Yet again, travelling by road allows you to discover these unassuming little places, brimming with life and characterised by vernacular architecture and everyday activities.

Having caffeinated/wandered/read my book/eaten bread with olive oil to my heart’s content, we left Sant Celoni mid-morning and continued north. From the seaside town of Palamós, we drove up into the hills, and as soon as we were on the dirt track flanked by vineyards that leads to Dan’s family’s cottage, I was pretty damn excited. I’d been to the cottage once before, three and a half years ago when George and I were still doing a long distance relationship between the UK and Australia and I could hardly dream of the adventure we’re on today. Back then, when it was just a holiday getaway, it was a blissful spot, and returning to it once again as a week-long stopover on a very different journey, it brought back that same bliss.

(video) George’s travel film documenting our trip here three years ago.

Since arriving at the cottage on Friday afternoon, we’ve made it our base, our home, our escape and our office. Just a simple building with a small plot of land has offered so many creature comforts - such as a verandah that we can do workouts on, a shower that we can use after said workouts, an oven that we can cook with (a welcome change from just having a two-burner hob in the van), a wood fire, a normal bed and even a flushing toilet!

Having a place to stay like this little cottage is an absolute privilege and we are floored by the generosity of others.

(images) Our home for a week, a cottage up in the hills above Palamós.  

Even though we only just left Zaragoza where we’d been positioned for more than a week, coming to another place for a whole week has been critical. George is tantalisingly close to finishing the ultramarathon documentary about Jacko, Steve and Pat, and the other footage-sorting, editing and admin jobs have been piling up for me. So the two of us are really getting our heads down and trying to treat this like a working week, removed from the distractions of vanlife.

Even though it sounds like I’m moaning about all the self-inflicted ‘work’ we’re doing, I can't imagine travelling in a van without a focus. Having Broaden, the documentary channel which we’re launching, allows us to express our creativity, learn technical skills, meet new people, and hopefully generate some income too. It’s becoming more and more clear to me how important it is for everyone to have some sort of creative outlet like this, to express themselves outside of their conventional activities or job. I recently finished reading ‘The Amateur’ in which the author Andy Merrifield champions those who make and create, who follow their passion and do what they love. The book tied up a lot of my feelings about resisting the status quo and ignoring the internal voice that says “it’s not even worth trying, you’re not an expert”. Listening to the deeply personal and evocative ‘Gaba’ podcast from Adam Martin has been further encouragement that our own perspective can be deeply valuable for others - as Adam’s is for me.

My ongoing resolution is to keep making and creating - whether that be doing graphic design, making collages, writing blog posts or even just cooking new meals. But also, I want to keep supporting others who make and create.

(images, left to right) Storyboarding a new video we’re making, ‘The Amateur’ which I’ve just finished reading, making collages as AnalogueBryony.

It feels almost coincidental that quite a few of our friends are underway with their own creative endeavours, whether that be our aussie mate Pat making a podcast about running, our pal Matt Carline starting an online community ‘That Thing You Like’ for people to share their passions, Andy’s ‘Bad Luck Book Club’ designs, or Rosie Tee’s growing musical career and jazz-infused releases to name just a few. If this blog can have an impact on others, I’d like for it to be a platform to champion positive initiatives and projects, and to spread the message that it’s never too late to start. Never too late to make, create, learn, and be a self-professed amateur.

Of course, it’s not all video editing and life admin. On Saturday, we were lucky enough to catch the Carnaval de Palamós. Although the sunshine would have you believe otherwise, this is the town’s annual winter festival, complete with various festivities and competitions across 11 days. Saturday was the day of the grand parade, where each team goes to impressive lengths to prepare co-ordinated dances and wear perfectly matching costumes. Starting from a bar on the waterfront, George and I wandered along the spectator-filled pavement, walking towards the oncoming parade and frantically snapping photos along the way. It was a frivolous and joyful affair, with participants of all ages and a welcome low-key approach (no H&S officers or Police barricades as you’d expect in England).

(images, left to right) 1950s beach babes who were having so much fun, some impeccably dressed seamstresses, and a bunch of fantastic seahorses: just a few of my favourite costumes from the festival.

I've always loved dressing up, so I was floored by the commitment to epic costumes. From start to finish, the whole carnival parade was surreal and sublime.

So that’s it for this week’s post. Reflecting on another week leaves me feeling refreshed and ready for the next. I’d also just like to say what an honour it is hearing from those of you that are reading these posts, as I know they’re long and sometimes tangential! My only hope is that I can share a little of the magic that George and I are experiencing on this bumpy adventure, and as I said, perhaps inspire others to take a leap towards their own desires or projects too.

I’ll leave you with this passage from ‘The Amateur’ which really resounded with me:

"To be an amateur is to perform for yourself, to draft the script to your own life, not simply in work, a state of being as well as a mode of doing. It is to do things well because you're intimately connected to what you do, because doing well correlates positively with being well, with well-being. To be an amateur is to enrich yourself beyond wealth. Amateurism is an affair of the heart, like love. It is complicated and messy, often tumultuous. But it is always about honest human expression."

[hsj-scenarios]

My internet friend is an idol AU with keito and the reader knowing about jump please!

Note: I wrote this as if Keitopinionweren’t a JUMP related blog but something that Keito had started on his own asa sort of release so, for the purpose of this, keitopinion will be referencedbut there won’t be any mentions of JUMP in his entries, there will also be madeup entries where I did my best to try and portray Keito. Hopefully I’ve done mynumber 1 justice! – Mod C

It had been a long day. Concert prep wastaking a lot out of Keito and, while he definitely enjoyed it and was excitedto be doing lives soon, he couldn’t help but be happy when he finally made ithome. Throwing his jacket down on the couch, Keito pulled out his phone andmade his way into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice. He paused, handon the fridge handle and a smile spreading over his face as he read the messagethat was waiting for him.

ABeautifulDream: I listened to that song you recommended. How do youalways know what kinds of things I like?

How could I not know? Keito thought. Typing a quick reply, he slid his phoneback into his pocket and finished grabbing his snack before going into theliving room and settling on the couch.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: I have my ways （⌒▽⌒ゞ

OddlyCharmingGentleman: I’m glad you liked it though! I have a few more Icould recommend if you want.

This had become a regular occurrence inKeito’s daily life for the past few months. He hadn’t intended on making anynew friends, especially not ones that he couldn’t see or physically talk to. Hehad simply been looking for a way to express himself outside of his activitieswith the other boys. Keito had just wanted a place to share his thoughts andmaybe see if there were people out there who felt the same way that he didabout some things. So, he set up Keitopinion, a regular blog on a regularserver squeezed between thousands of other entries by people all over theworld. He had a few readers, but there was one who had stood out.

ABeautifulDream: Of course!

ABeautifulDream: How are you, by the way? Spreading happiness bygiving up your seat on the subway? hahaha

This person, whoever they were, not onlyread his blog but commented almost every week and had since the blog wascreated. They ran a similar one of their own, where they commented on orreviewed movies, shows, and books that they were enjoying and Keito found itinteresting, so he began to comment on their posts as well. “I liked thatmovie, too!” “I heard that author was good, but I haven’t read that book yet.Maybe I will when I have time haha.” “Ahh, you should warn for spoilers!! Ihadn’t seen this episode yet.”

Aside from general encouragement on eachother’s blogs, Keito hadn’t expected much. That is until they shot him amessage to apologize about spoiling the episode. The two had been chattingregularly ever since and getting to know each other. It was a refreshingfeeling for Keito to be able to talk to someone outside of the company whogenuinely just liked talking to him and not Hey Say Jump’s Okamoto Keito.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Hahaha nothing like that today. You make fun butdoing things for other people really does make me happy

ABeautifulDream: I know, I know haha I actually really like thatabout you. It’s nice, most people aren’t like that.

There was that familiar pull in his chestthat Keito occasionally got while talking to them. It had been happening moreoften lately as the two of them got closer and he had been trying not to payattention to it. As much as he loved talking to this person, he didn’t knowthem or even what part of the world they lived in or really anything. Butstill, those small compliments and the very frequent offhanded flirting werestarting to get to Keito.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: What about you? Did you have a good day?

ABeautifulDream: Could have been better, but I can’t complain either

And so, the two of them talked for over anhour, Keito letting them retell that day’s events as he got ready for bed. Thatone coworker who was always causing trouble. The project they were working onthat they were both excited and nervous about. The coming weekend and whattheir plans were.

ABeautifulDream: But enough about me! What did you do today?

Drying his hair from his shower, Keitocouldn’t help but frown down at his phone. It was times like this when he felta bit bad about the friendship the two of them had built. While they hadmaintained a certain level of anonymity, neither asking for full names or evenwhere the other was from, it wasn’t very fair that they were being so open tohim and he could never honestly answer when they asked how work was or what hedid during the day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. But he wasn’t exactlysupposed to be running the blog in the first place, so telling his friend thathe was an idol was out of the question.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Same old, same old.

OddlyCharmingGentleman:JDC241.JPG

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Thisweek’s playlist! Let me know which songs you like, okay?

ABeautifulDream: Will do!Last week’s Pink Floyd was great, by the way. And I liked the bit of jazz youthrew in too. How do you come up with these playlists?

OddlyCharmingGentleman: They’rejust the songs I listen to the most throughout the week haha nothing special

ABeautifulDream: I’d begto differ. You’ve got great taste!

ABeautifulDream: I’m not saying it’s not a good book. I’mjust saying some of the characters lacked depth. Great plot, great writing.Just needed a bit more character development.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: You’realways such a critic

ABeautifulDream: Hi, nice to meet you, let me redirectyou to my review blog. Oh wait, you’ve been following it for months now hahah

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Okay hahathat’s fair

ABeautifulDream: And it’s not even like she does anything! She showsup late to every meeting, criticizes everything the rest of the team suggests,and then has the nerve to take credit for things when the supervisor says helikes it!

OddlyCharmingGentleman: And this person still has a job because?

ABeautifulDream: She’s the chair’s niece…But! On the plus side, I’m ashoe in for a promotion once this project is finished so I’ll be in a differentdepartment and won’t have to worry about it.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: ✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡

OddlyCharmingGentleman: That’s me celebrating

ABeautifulDream: Hahah thanks Keito

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Okay explain again why you think I’m a spy?

ABeautifulDream: Well, you’ve never told me what it is you do for aliving and you’re always very vague when I ask how your day was, so I figurethere’s no way you have a normal job.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: And so your first thought was spy?

ABeautifulDream: No…it was just the most interesting

“Honesty”

What does it mean to be honest with someone? I’ve been thinking about thesekinds of things a lot…Expressing yourself fully, telling someone something evenif there may be consequences…There’s no doubt that being honest with yourselfand the people you care about is the right thing to do.

So, why is it so hard?

I think sometimes honesty is selfish. You’re selfish if you are dishonestbecause you are not taking that person’s feelings into account. But you can beselfish if you are honest, too. Why? Because what if the consequences aren’tworth it?

These are my thoughts lately. To be honest or to keep it to myself to saveeveryone the trouble.

Hopefully, I will figure it out.

Keito clicked post on his most recententry. It had been a few days since he had talked to his friend, a bitoverwhelmed and exhausted from rehearsals, the concert drawing closer and closer.They still messaged, though, even if Keito didn’t have time to respond. He wasgrateful for that because seeing that they thought about him made him feel good.

ABeautifulDream: Update on the work project: we’re halfway there andmy supervisor said it’s looking good!

ABeautifulDream: Today’s weather? Cloudy with a chance of meatballshaha I’m babysitting and this was the movie of choice

ABeautifulDream: I’ve been listening to Nirvana a lot lately thanksto you.

ABeautifulDream: There’s a concert I really want to go to, but I’mscared that tickets will sell out before I can buy them. Wish me luck!

ABeautifulDream: In my Keitopinion, I think honesty is always thebest policy. Do you want to talk about it?

The last message reached him not longafter he had made the post, the soft chime from his messenger catching him offguard as he was cooking dinner. Did he want to talk about it? He did, more thananything. He wanted to share his excitement for the concert tour with hisfriend. He wanted to tell stories from rehearsal the same way that they toldstories from the work conference room. He wanted to talk about the new song hehad written and how 7 was going to perform it as a special stage and he was sohappy because he really felt useful.

But what if it changed everything? What ifthese months of friendship dissolved when he told you who he was? He didn’twant to bear the weight of another scandal, but he also didn’t like not sharingequally in this relationship the two of you had. Putting down the knife he hadbeen cutting vegetables with, Keito couldn’t help but laugh a little. Relationship. Was that the right wordfor this?

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Hypothetically speaking, what are the chances thatwe would ever meet?

ABeautifulDream: Well that depends on a lot of things. Where and howfar away you live. How well I feel like I know you. Whether or not you’reactually a spy

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Hahah I promise I’m not a spy. I was just curious isall. And we certainly wouldn’t have to if you weren’t comfortable with it. Ijust thought I would ask.

There would be no point in being totallyhonest if they had no intentions of meeting Keito to begin with. He would feelless guilty about concealing who he was if there was no chance or really anyreason for you two to meet in person.

ABeautifulDream: Hmm…How’s this sound? I did manage to get tickets tothat concert I wanted to see and it’s this weekend. The friend I was going togo with is sick but, if you’re serious about wanting to meet me, maybe we couldhave lunch and go together?

OddlyCharmingGentleman: What concert is it?

ABeautifulDream: Ah, I know I know you’re a jazz and classic rockkind of guy, but hear me out when I say that this idol group is really good andthey’re one of my favorites. They’re called Hey Say Jump!

Keito couldn’t log out of his messengerfast enough, cheeks flaming after he had read the message once, twice, threetimes. Of course. Of course, they were a JUMP fan. Knowing that left him withmixed feelings. On the one hand, he felt honored that Jump was their favoriteidol group and happy, if not even bubbly, at the fact that they were open tothe idea of meeting him. But, they were a JUMP fan. There were too many waysthat meeting could go wrong, too many ways that he, the group, his fans couldget hurt. Too many ways that youcould get hurt. Even though Keito wanted to believe that wasn’t his maindrawback, he knew that it was. Best case scenario where you didn’t care that hewas an idol and your friendship or even relationship continued after you foundout, Keito didn’t want to risk exposing you to the treatment that often befellthose that dated idols.

So, instead, he lied.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Ah, I’mnot really into idol music. And, like I said, it was a hypothetical question.It wasn’t like we would be able to meet anyway…

ABeautifulDream: Oh haha…Yeah, I guess you’re right…

Messages became a lot less frequent and heknew. Keito knew that he had hurt their feelings and thinking about it botheredhim but not thinking about it made him feel guilty. The days leading up to theconcert, even though he didn’t post on Keitopinion, he still logged onto theserver to see if you had posted anything. For 3 days, there was absolutelynothing. Until the day of the concert.

He was in the dressing room, one of thefirst ones ready for the opening number, so he was relaxing. Or at least tryingto. Knowing that somewhere in the audience sat the person he had been chattingwith, the person he had gotten so closed to only to push them away, left himwith mixed feelings. He needed to do his best for every single person out inthe audience and for the other members. He needed to do his best for them, too,and so he checked their blog one last time before the show, surprised andrelieved to see a post for an hour before.

It was a picture, something that theynever usually posted in an attempt to keep up that anonymity, and a fewsentences. It took Keito a while to make it down to the actual post because hecouldn’t take his eyes of the picture.

There you were, standing on your own infront of one of the concert posters, the biggest and most beautiful smile Keitohad ever seen plastered across your face. You were dressed comfortably butcutely and in your hands was a big Keito uchiwa. He couldn’t help but smile ashe looked at you, that same pull in his chest returning, his heart pounding abit at the fact that you were attractive. Scrolling down, he looked at yourpost.

Not my usual content, I know, but I’m so excited to be seeing Jump today!I’ve been dreaming about this for so long! And, to my number one, OkamotoKeito, I’ll see you soon!

Again, he was hit with a wave of mixedemotions. You looked so happy to be at the concert, so happy to be seeing yourfavorite group and so ready to proudly wave an uchiwa for your favorite member.Him. But he had lied to you. He was your favorite member and he had lied toyou.

A tap on his shoulder from Kota let Keitoknow it was time for them to head towards the stage. Taking one last look atthe photo in your post, Keito made up his mind then and there, setting hisphone down on the table and following the rest of the members.

That night,he saw you. You were fairly close to the end of the stage so, when the membersran down to sing Asu e no yell, he could see you, waving your uchiwa andsinging your heart out. He knew that he was wrong, that you would probably hatehim if you found out who he was, but at that moment you were smiling so muchbecause of him, so much because of what he and the rest of the boys were doing,and he wanted you to remember it. He wanted this to be a good night for you andfor you to remember your number one in the best way possible. And so, wheneverhe was on your end of the stage and whenever the performance would allow, hesmiled at you. He waved at you. He sang for you. Because he never wanted to seethat smile leave your face. Especially not because of something that he did.

ABeautifulDream is online

Keito read those words over and overagain, debating whether or not he wanted to message you. True it had been goingon a week since you had talked to each other, a few days after the concert. Hehad seen the long addition you had made to your first concert post and feltkind of bad because of how happy he was seeing you fangirl over him. It wasn’tvery fair of him to do that to you, but you were happy, so was it really wrong?

He was surprised when you were the one whomessaged him first.

ABeautifulDream: Hey. I know you’re online. I also know you’ve beenlurking around my blog.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: How’d you know that?

ABeautifulDream: I have a view counter…Although I was only guessingat it being you.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: I was just checking in on you…Was curious about howyou were doing?

ABeautifulDream: You know what’s a great way of checking in? Sayinghi.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: You got me there.

Keito paused for a moment, fingers restingon is keyboard. You had said that you believed that honesty was the bestpolicy, so Keito was going to do just that. He was going to be honest.

OddlyCharmingGentleman: So, I have another hypothetical question for you…

ABeautifulDream: Okay, let me hear it

OddlyCharmingGentleman: If I were to have a few days off from spy work,would you still be interested in meeting me?

ABeautifulDream: Why would I do that? Hypothetically speaking…

OddlyCharmingGentleman: Ipromise it would be worth it.

Keito was nervous. And honestly a bitsurprised with himself. After convincing you to meet him, he had called in afavor to get the two of you some privacy. He wanted to be able to talk to youwithout too many watching eyes. He wanted to be able to talk to you as the himyou had spent months getting to know, not the him that was an idol.

So when he saw you waiting for him ata table at his friend’s café, Keito needed a second to breathe. Checking hishair in the window and fixing his clothes, he let out a breath before goinginside. You had been reading a book someone had recommended to you to review,but when you heard the door open, your head instantly turned to look.

You were at a slight disadvantagebecause he hadn’t told you what he looked like. Keito had prefaced your entiremeetup on the need for you to trust him and, because of how sincere his requestwas, you agreed. Maybe he was shy and didn’t want to send a picture in case youwouldn’t want to meet afterwards, you thought.

However, when you saw the man makinghis way towards the counter, your heart stopped and you hurriedly looked backdown at your book. Noting that you hadn’t gotten anything other than a muffin,Keito stopped to order drinks for the both of you before clasping his handstogether awkwardly and moving to join you at your table. Your heartbeat onlyquickened when he sat down across from you.

“(Y/N)?”

His voice was gentle as he said yourname and it wasn’t long before you were putting two and two together. Here hewas, Keitopinion, your OddlyCharmingGentleman, the obscure blog owner that youhad allowed yourself to chat with for months because he was willing to listenand didn’t judge you, even when the two of you had differences of opinions.Here he was, your number one, a member of Hey Say Jump, an idol. Here he was,the man you had developed a crush on and had also had a crush on for years.

“Keito…”

Giving you a shy smile, he said, “It’sreally nice to meet you.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #80

oh wow, sorry for the inactivity ya’ll.  been busy with moving and no internet...

is your hair damaged?   no, it's very healthy, actually.  people love my hair, makes me feel amazing tbh ;;u;; who was the last person you threw out of your life?    um idk really.  i rarely throw people out... i believe in fixing relationships.  most, realistically, are salvageable. how many hours did you sleep last night?   like... none. e_e has someone disappointed you recently?   yes.  a friend was acting rather immature last night. do you prefer hot or cold weather?   COLD COLD COLD are you afraid of roller coasters?   yup. are you shy?   VERY!!! do you hate it when you go over to someone’s house and do absolutely nothing?   no, so long i have my phone or laptop. what color is the hair of the last person you kissed?   black does the last person you kissed wear glasses?   nope you’re on your way home from a night out, and you’re sure someone is following you. what do you do?   drive to the nearest police station. what colors of mascara have you worn on your lashes?   only black what color ARE your lashes?   black what font do you usually use?   a small version of arial or garamond. do you put gel or mousse in your hair?   i do not. ever used to have an imaginary friend?   no actually. ever used a dreamcatcher? if so, did it work?   nope. ever took ballet, jazz, or tap dancing classes?   jazz, hip hop, clogging, modern... wear a specific necklace every day?   i do not. are you an affectionate person?   very. what is something you are proud of?   graduating in the highest tier of my graduating class. time of day you were born?   11:20 A.M., i think. are you a boy or girl?   girl how do you want to die?   idk, really.  some pretty painless way. ever made out in the bathroom?   no. are you scared of spiders?   most. do you have piercings? how many?   yes, two in each earlobe.  i've HAD many more, buuut... long story. want any more?   yep.  labret on lip, snake eyes on tongue, right side of nose, more on my ears... have you ever been on a horse?   i have. have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?   i have, much to my dismay. do you believe your most recent ex thinks about you?   doubt it. ever been to alaska?   i wish! what’s your zodiac sign?   aquarius do you like subway?   ye what is your least favorite color?   brown or like, puke green. do you like to read?   not anymore, no. what’s something you’re really passionate about?   m e e r k a t s ! ! ! ever been bitten by a snake?   nope a spider?   not to my knowledge ever had a job? if so, what and for how long?   two, yes.  gamestop sales clerk for like a month.  dollar general cashier for legit four days lmao. ever won yourself a stuffed animal?   sure ever had someone else win you a stuffed animal?   i think. do you like lollipops or suckers?   yeah, sure. favorite fruit?   strawberries favorite vegetable?   broccoli favorite meat?   chicken do you drink energy drinks?   nope. ever used crest white strip?   no, but i'd like to. do you want to cut your hair?    i need it trimmed. do you have any scars?   shin and chin is your profile private?   my facebook one?  yes. what artist do you have the most songs for in your itunes/music library?   ozzy osbourne or metallica what’s your blood type?   a- do people ever say your name wrong? how do they say it?   no.  it's such a common name, so. which do you like better, biographies or autobiographies?   autobiographies, imo. do you think that your parents give you a lot of freedom?   even at 21, no. which do think is classier, black clothes or white clothes?   black have you ever seen a ghost? explain:   idk.  i KNOW i've seen some inhuman entity walking on all fours once before, but idk if it was truly a "ghost" do you like oatmeal?   eh, i'm picky.  can't have too much milk, i'll tell ya that for sure. are any of your friends in a band?   no. what is the worst food experience you’ve had?   eating brussel sprouts omg never again do you know how to tap dance?   i know how to clog.  same thing, just different shoes for a different sound effect. what’s your favorite flavor of skittles?   RED OMG when was the last time you used oil pastels?   high school art class do you know who edward gein is?   hmmmm... wasn't he some serial killer or even a satanist, something along those lines?  name sounds familiar.  think there's a character in the silent hill franchise in his name. if pot was finally legalized, what would you do?   idk if it's legal in nc, but anyway, i still wouldn't do it. do you like sitting on the inside or outside of a restaurant booth?   inside do you prefer an automatic or a manual transmission?   automatic who is your favorite disney character?   not sure, maybe mufasa. if you’re staying home all day, do you bother getting changed or do you just stay in your pajamas?   stay in pajamas. if you don’t drive - how come? if you do - how old were you when you got your license?   i have my permit, but i don't drive much because of anxiety.  i am a nervous wreck, and i'm not comfortable endangering other's lives. have you ever caught a tadpole?   ye. (: what kind of dog would you get if you could choose any breed?   right now, a chow chow. how often do you listen to rap?   like never. do you have the boobs to work at hooters?   boobs, maybe, but not the body.  granted, i'm only a d because of my weight.  when i wasn't overweight, i was a c. are you wearing a ring, if so who gave it to you?   yes, and my mama. if someone of importance checked your profile, would you be embarrassed?   what profile, my facebook?  not really. has anyone ever told you “forever”?   AND YET HE'S NOT HEEEEEREEEEE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! :D which is harder - walking in the snow or sand?   sand, omg. do you like sour candy?   YEAH in one word, how would you describe your best friend?   honest. is there a song that reminds you of your best friend?   "friends" by... i think it's blake shelton?  she's established that's "our song," which i think is so cute. ;w; what's annoying you right now? even just a little bit counts.   okay so a friend from high school was talking to me via facebook last night, and he just... did something that REALLY got under my skin.  first let my say that in high school, he admitted to liking me.  i liked him as a friend; i hadn't known him long enough to really establish an "i like-like you" attitude yet.  well, we drifted apart, not that there was ever anything much holding us together.  anyway, he and i were messaging each other for a very short period of time when he asked me if i was seeing anybody, said no, then he asked if i liked him, and i was just like... uhhhh... no???  bc i haven't seen him since high school???  sooo tell me how i would have any valid feelings???  and more importantly, tell me how he'd have valid feelings for ME after so long???  idk, it just honestly pissed me off because it made me feel like he was after an easy piece of meat with no emotional connection.  he hasn't messaged me back yet, and i, frankly, don't care if he does or doesn't. have you ever painted a car?   no are you gonna buy lottery tickets when you’re old enough?   no.  the worth isn't there, imo. have you ever been into a real cave?   oh, i wish!! have you ever posted mean comments on youtube?   oh i can say with certainty i have as a pre-teen.  i was an obnoxious lil shit when i first started actively using the internet. what was the main subject of your last telephone conversation?   i was telling mom i was throwing up, so my anxiety was bad. have you ever kissed someone who has previously kissed someone you hated?   yup. what exactly did you drink the last time you were intoxicated?   mike's hard, i think. do you think the next person you kiss will be a better kisser than the last person you kissed?   impossible. is your all-time favorite television show still on air?   i wish, but no. are looks important in a relationship?   very!!  very!!  slightly!!!!  i believe emotional chemistry is incalcuably more important, but simultaneously, having a physical attraction to your partner is something that increases your connection.  i used to not believe this and you probably don't either, but ponder over it for a while.  it does hold slight weight. do you believe in love at first sight?   absolutely not, it's rubbish to believe you can "love" somebody just by fucking looking at them.  the idea is laughable. do you ever want to get married?   i do. do you shower every day?   no, that's horrible for your skin.  i shower every two days. have you ever experienced unrequited love?   yes and tbh i'd rather die have you ever written a song or poem for someone?   poems, yes. what’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?   i don't actively look for it, but hmmm... i'd say decent/healthy teeth. who are five people you find attractive?   1.) link neal is actually daddy; 2.) jason/my ex; 3.) adam levine ain't bad; 4.) chris hemsworth; 5.) oh my actual god i almost forgot mark fischbach/markiplier what's your profile picture?   i'mma cover for... almost everywhere.  this tumblr: me; main tumblr: link neal; facebook: me; km rpg: rhett mclaughlin laughing; deviantart: my oc what's your dad's name?   kenneth, but everyone just calls him "ken" do you still have feelings for an ex?   very strong ones do you like the rain?  ye!! what is your favorite fruit flavor?   strawberry which two friends can you see together as a couple?  idk, i don't really "ship" my friends what was the happiest moment in your life?   dancing to "stairway to heaven" with jason on prom night, in my front yard, in the headlights of his old truck. would you be brave enough to spend an entire hour alone in a cemetery?   yeah. got a phobia you want to share?  whale sharks.  lmao. how many places have you traveled to? name them.   new york, michigan, florida, ohio, tennessee, virginia... who are the 3 greatest living musicians?  oh god.  errr ozzy osbourne, otep shamaya, james hetfield. what’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been?   michigan do you feel like a leader or a follower?   i'm a follower, usually. if you had to live in a different state, what would it be?   utah would you rather win an olympic medal, an academy award or the nobel peace prize?   nobel peace prize what is the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?  "the rite" scared me ONLY bc i am horrified by the idea of being raped by a demon, nevermind satan what is your favorite thing about the beach?   the shells and starfish! what’s the worst thing you did as a kid?   i hit my little sister multiple times would you ever donate blood?   i have before, but idk if i would again.  it was so stress-inducing. do you wear hats?   no. have you ever seen your best friend cry?   i have. have you ever been a vegetarian?   nope. do you find lube pointless for regular old intercourse (not anal)?   yeah, honestly.  if you're technically turned on, your body pretty much takes care of it? which sex position would you find more awkward: anal or some really crazy vaginal intercourse position (check wikipedia if you can’t think of any crazy ones)?   anal will always be weirder to me. do you ever wear temporary tattoos as an accessory?    no. when was the last time you had a panic attack?   two nights ago what’s your favorite color to wear?   black.  it's a flattering color. clay, crayons, markers, pastels, charcoal, or paint?   pastels have you ever broken anything because you were mad?   no are you ticklish?   yup. why were you last hospitalized?   i tried to kill myself. do you prefer baked potatoes or mashed potatoes?   baked.  mashed is gross. do you like bread sticks?   omg you have no idea what state were you born in?   north carolina have you ever been to an art gallery?   sure. do you have the same political views as your parents?   most, yes. what are you listening to?   a jim gaffigan stand-up if you could make your lips bigger, would you?   IF i could just snap my fingers and it's be that way, maybe.  i'd have to look in the mirror again lol are you one to sneak food into movie theaters?   sure am. what’s the funniest commercial?   omg the sexy mr. clean one bc i CRY do you own any form of a gameboy?   we have three.  i think two are broken, though. what’s your favorite store in the mall?   hottopic. have you ever seen a cat with blue eyes?   ... yes? would you be embarrassed to buy pads/tampons/condoms? which one more?   never bought condoms before, so i can't really say, but pads/tampons, nah man.  periods are just a totally natural part of life for a woman, nothing to be embarrassed about. if you were looking for a new pair of shoes where would you go?   hot topic is preferable what color is the computer/laptop you’re on? did you buy it yourself?   it's black, but it has a pink zebraprint cover on it.  and no, it's my older sister's technically, but now it's mom's. do you have a second home?   not anymore. does the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer repulse you?   all of them.  the worst is weed though, oh my GOD it stinks. was the last person you kissed younger or older than you?   two years older. how often do you drink monster?   never.  it's nasty. have you ever made totally pointless videos with your friends?   you forgot to mention cringey.  oh, the pre-teen years. do you own a nightgown?   no. have you ever worn fishnets?   for dance, probably.  i'm not sure. is someone in your family affected by asperger’s?   no. would you rather go out to eat or be eaten out?   *CHOKES ON DRINK* do you always wear your seat belt?   always! are there any diseases/health problems that run in your family?   welp.  here goes.  high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, asthma, depression, bipolarity, cancer is in question, and i can guarantee i'm forgetting some... do you have asthma?   no.  my mother and grandmother do, though. last person to take off your pants, besides you?   jason might you enjoy hanging out in the woods for day or two?   so long i can bring my camera! do you have a bull ring through your nose?   no.  thought about it, though. do you and your dad get along?   yep. can you see your purse right now?   indeed. when you get colds, do you use nasal spray to help get your nose unstuffy?   yes.  i have allergies, so i sometimes use it even when i don't have a cold. do you actually like sneezing?   ... does anyone? do you wear skirts a lot?   i haven't worn a skirt in years. how many pairs of jeans do you think you have?   i have no jeans.  just yoga pants and sweatpants... are you one of those people who claim to live with no regrets?   hell no. do you love your computer?   yes ;-; do you shop mostly with your parents, your friends, or by yourself?   with mom. do you like zombie movies?   no particular opinion. what’s the grossest/worst thing you’ve ever seen in a public restroom?   saw an old lady puke on the floor once when i was little.  scarred me for life. x-what’s the worst relationship advice you’ve ever seen?   this was never told to me, but to my mother: let your husband be your head/be very submissive to everything he wants.  fuck that. have you ever volunteered in a hospital? if not, would you ever want to?   no no no no no no no. have you ever had to give a pet away?   cats, yes. did you play pretend a lot as a child? were there any recurring plots or themes?   oh definitely.  and i don't think so... has a teacher ever tried to teach you something that was undeniably wrong?   oh, you mean like evolution? have you ever meditated? if so, did it do anything for you?   not the whole "ooohhhmmm" deal, but yeah.  it only stressed me out. are any of your favorite bands broken up or on hiatus right now?   ozzy osbourne- probably metallica- no otep- no marilyn manson- i don't believe so rammstein- no cradle of filth- don't know a day to remember- no what kind of wild animals do you see most frequently where you live?   besides birds, squirrels.  occasionally a possum at night. do you have any physical photo albums?   sure do. do your parents and grandparents get along with each other?   dad loves his dad, mom loves her mom, but she pisses her off and offends her a lot. do you have a favorite hoodie?   the one i'm wearing now!  it's dark gray with pikachu sleeping on it and it says "current mood." :3 do you have a twitter?   it exists, but i never, ever use it. is anyone in your family artistic?   besides me, my cousin is. what do you want to do after high school?   after high school, i went to a community college very briefly.  quit.  took a break.  went to a university.  quit. are you emo/gothic/punk?   eh. would you date someone 20 years older than you?   definitely not.

[ellipsesarefun]

you pour it out for everyone to see

(Sorry if it’s late :(( )

Otayuri Week 2017 Day 2: Social Media/Celebrations (FaceTime, Skype, Youtube, Instagram)

A/N: Sequel to “now i gotta wash my mouth out with soap”~! Also featuring an Original Female Character.

His mind is a cosmic chaos of emotions. Not even skating himself to the death is helping him.

As the past six months ran by, his communication with his labeled “bestie” remained ambiguously normal. They talk on Skype as they usually do, always ranging from their skating routines to their daily nonsense (cats, weather, etc.). And it was perfectly normal. They barely engaged a conversation on love, Mila, or… the Accident (because it totally was; come on, he wasn’t thinking straight.) and that is totally normal in their imaginary rule book. Even before said fiasco, they never really took the time to indulge on that topic, merely in passing (“who was your first kiss”, “who was the worst partner”, “the most embarrassing moment when you dated”). So yea. Totally mundane and ordinary. 

Except it wasn’t okay. It took all his strength not to broach on any topic. It would be weird and awkward. Awkweird. It was not the line friends cross and while he did cross the line by an inch, he was just pushed back to his side of the line where he initially belonged. Beka, being casual and everything, did not initiate nor push him about it. He merely kept his usual composure, just how the way things were.

And it only fueled his turmoil. It doesn’t help that his relationship with Mila grew fragile. A few days after he left, she had this.. look. There was no smile this time but there was something on her expression that she knew something.. that somehow it was his fault that he fucked up their relationship.

Through this chaos, anger at himself became his drive in training. But it wasn’t only anger, there was a whole icing of anguish spread on top. He stretched his limits, to the brink of his own sanity, almost tearing his body from limb to limb. To those who noticed said nothing, merely watching from afar and only intervening when he came close to passing out.

And said intervention came to the rescue. She was a friend of his from overseas who lived with katsudon and old man. Her parents and Katstudon’s parents go way back and decided to ship her here in Russia for a mini vacation.

***

Tine [20:30] Yo asshole!

[20:45] tf do u want bitch? why are you still up? katsudon would’ve put you to bed by now..

Tine [20:47] Ahem. I’m a fucking 20-year-old adult. I make the rules.

[20:48] 20-year-old adult in a fifteen-year-old body :p

Tine [20:49] HEY! Watch it, kid, regardless of our two-year gap, I’m still older than you.

[20:50] yea. but i LOOK older than you :p even old man thinks ur my little sis

Tine [20:59] ...point taken.

Tine [21:00] Anyways. How’s it going?

[21:01] cut the crap

Tine [21:03] YOU cut the crap, Mr. “I’m angry with the world and everything that’s teen angst”

[21:06] ur lame af

Tine [21:04] And you’re stalling... haven’t heard from you much.. what’s really up..? how’s he doing?

[21:06] same old same old.. the usual.. nothing changed really..

Tine [21:07] ....After all that?

Tine [21:08] That fucking sucks.

[21:13] tell me about it

[21:15] what makes it worse is mila hasn’t really talked to me..

[21:17] and i’m too distracted in coming up with any ideas for my theme and song music..

[21:18] and beka’s.. Beka’s okay. We’re cool. We talk the usual shit.

Tine [21:19] but you’re not okay.

[21:20] ...is that all you got? putting out the obv?

Tine [21:21] Hm.

[21:22] spill it woman, i don’t have all night for this

Tine [21:23] What say you and I do a little music jam? Make a Youtube account?

[21:24] whut

Tine [21:25] For a stress reliever, dumbass. You can sing. I can sing. We both can play the guitar and we can put it up on Youtube.. Plus we can search for some music you might like that’s beyond classical. It’s a win-win for everyone.

[21:28] what do u get out of this?

Tine [21:30] To do something for shits and giggles. Something nice for my spare time.

Tine [21:31] What say you?

[21:34] sure i guess

Tine [21:25] Such enthusiasm.

[21:26] hey ur asking a lot from me here.

***

True to heart, they went music scavenging as planned on the days he finished his training. That meant his time with his friend from overseas overlapped with his Skyping time with Otabek. He introduced the two one evening and it went slightly awkward, seeing as they barely have anything in common except for maybe some literature, but that was only in passing. She and Yuri decided to keep the music project a secret, with the viable excuse of her being there was to be watched over (”Hey, I’m older than you, you know” “You don’t act like it”). Otabek didn’t mind of course. They still kept their conversations as mundane as they make it while Tine sat beside him mostly in silence, sometimes listening, sometimes reading some shit (”Seriously, just pretend I don’t exist; i don’t usually wanna talk” she laughed). It was an upgraded routine for all of them and no one seemed to mind one bit.

He wasn’t exactly sure how she managed to rope him into this. While yes they both have the skills to do so, he was hesitant in trying her songs. Most of them were dark, creepy and downright strange. She also had a wide variety of options. There was an equal proportion of hip hop, grunge, metal, acoustic, with a few jazz and blues combined. Beka helped as well, seeing he is a DJ and has encountered most of the music she presented. However, he never truly found out what Yuri needed for, only for some new music to skate for. 

(Sometimes, he can feel his best friend has an inkling of what they were up to, but that’s just paranoia).

Fortunately, it only took two weeks for them to find a song they both liked.

***

yuri-plisetsky

Soap Cover - Melanie Martinez

[one minute sneak peak video]

“I feel it coming out my throat Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap God, I wish I never spoke Now I gotta wash my mouth out with soap”

[link to Youtube]

#melaniemartinez #cover #soap

Tagged: @chriscapss 

6,321 views

View all 763 comments

BestYuriAngels OMFG HE CAN ACTUALLY SING!!!

christophe-gc Such accent!!! <3 Love his voice

Yurisonlylover Who’s she? His surrogate sister or something?

BestYuriAngels @Yurisonlylover I think so.. I saw a picture of them once. [link]

phichit+chu Damn that voice~

v-nikiforov Wow! Amazing, Yurio! @yuri-plisetsky @chriscapss  

chriscapps Damn.. so many views per day.. You’re good for this music business @yuri-plisetsky.

***

They only posted one video yet they were already famous. His phone exploded with notifications filled with likes, dislikes and comments. Yakov didn’t seem care, as long as he kept on practicing his usual routines. Mila started talking to him again, with the help of Tin. He introduced them three days after he uploaded their video. One look from Mila and she was already adored by the older skater (”YURI SHE’S SO ADORABLE!!!”). They now go out for coffee breaks. 

And Otabek.. Beka was impressed. Still is. After he found out the video, they finally found another topic that piqued their interest: music. 

***

Beka [17:00] Hey. Nice cover. When did you learn how to sing like that?

[17:02] a couple of years back, tine’s first visit in russia. We had a couple of gigs together, but this is the first time we ever posted a song that we actually like.

Beka [17:03] You had a lot of disagreements before?

[17:04] pfft, more like full-blown arguments. her song choices can be a little creepy

Beka [17:05] I noticed...

***

Since then, there conversations prolonged and gradually, contentment filled his emotions more than his own anguish over unrequited affections. This upgraded their routine and level of closeness further and while it was not what his other part of himself had hoped, it was enough for him to have that familiar comfort of talking to him again. 

This music project isn’t so bad after all.

***

yuri-plisetsky

Carousel Cover - Melanie Martinez

[one minute sneak peak]

“And it's all fun and games, 'Til somebody falls in love, But you've already bought a ticket, And there's no turning back now”

[link to Youtube]

#melaniemartinez #cover #thissongrocks

Tagged: @chriscapss 

8,453 views

View all 532 comments

YuriPisMyJam God, that voice.. I live for that voice

Plisexyness Another Melanie?? Is he a CryBaby fan?

chriscapss @Plisexyness I am the huge fan. He just happened to like some of her songs. 

Y-Angels56 @chriscapss OMFG, can you do a cover on Cry Baby? Training Wheels? Are you guys gonna cover the whole album.

chriscapss @Y-Angels56 Nah haha. Maybe?

yuri-plisetsy @chriscapss no.. 

***

Tine [19:00] Any ideas for your music theme?

[20:15] none yet..

Tine [20:25] You doin’ ayt?

[20:30] more or less.. fucking tired though. almost collapsed when i couldn’t nail that jump right...

Tine [20:31] Ah

[20:33] beka and i are doing okay if that’s what you’re asking... am weirded out by mila though.

Tine [20:36] Why?

[20:40] she seems to be talking to me now.. beka hasn’t mentioned about her at all. not like we talk about dating so seriously..

Tine [20:41] Seems okay.. What’s the problem though..

[20:43] nothing i guess..

Tine [20:45] Hm..

[20:47] wanna jam something tom? i think.. i may have a few ideas for my program..

Tine [20:48] Same artist?

[20:49] omfg ur killing me u know...

Tine [20:50] So you do like all of her songs now?

[20:51] not all, okay.. a couple... but she grew on me.. i’ll admit that..

Tine [20:55] YAY! So what say we pick another poison from her album?

***

yuri-plisetsky

Cake Cover - Melanie Martinez

[one minute preview video]

“I feel like I'm just missing Something whenever you leave We've got all the ingredients Except you needing me”

[link to Youtube]

#melaniemartinez #thisonetookthecake #freakinggenius

Tagged: @chriscapss 

7,345 views

View all 4556 comments

YuriPisMyJam Okay, third time’s the charm. wtf is going on here?

BestYuriAngels This is just their third song, but they’re all the same artists..

Y-Angels56 That’s just the third video.. nothing much to discern over anything yet..

YuriPisMyJam @Y-Angels yea but.. come on, the chosen lyrics? the chosen songs? there’s something going on...

leodglesia woah @yuri-plisetsky never knew you were a fan.. we should put up some gigs sometime.

***

The internet is now speculating on said posts. It had only been three covers of the same artist and people are already assuming that therein lies a deeper intentions that the said skater was hiding. Even the people around him were starting to wonder, with the stupid pig and stupid old man barraging him with hugs, questioning his mental well-being or if he was moping for someone. Mila even singled him out once or twice over the week, not-so-subtley prying for answer. Otabek was speculative (his best friend is too smart for his own good) but only mentioned in passing. Yuri could only keep up with the excuse to their covers as Tine being an avid fan.

And that was true.

Only, this was an outlet; a healthy outlet to convey his raging emotions. Little did he care that Otabek was oblivious to their purpose now. In a way, it’s pouring his intentions in guise of a singer’s spontaneity (because of this, he was glad that he had Tine singing with him; she’s a really good use for an excuse).

He admittedly grew an appreciation for the artist, how much skill and talent was shown through the way she writes them, and the way she sang each of her songs. 

To that extent, it was already giving him ideas for his music and theme for the upcoming competition. 

God, he is such a sap.

***

Tine [21:00] Ready for tom?

[21:34] yep.

***

yuri-plisetsky

Training Wheels Cover - Melanie Martinez

[one minute preview video]

“You've been riding two-wheelers all your life It's not like I'm asking to be your wife I wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say Is this coming off in a cheesy way?”

[link to Youtube]

#melaniemartinez #awesomesong

Tagged: @chriscapss 

9,234 views

View all 5,656 comments

YuriPisMyJam omfg something else is going on... I just know it..

Y-Angels So maybe there is...

leodglesia Awesome cover, guys!!!  Sick guitar plucking @chriscapss 

saymyname what is with the Crybaby themes??? Could it be..?

Y-Angels Pining? Unrequited love??? they’re quite apparent...

saymyname maybe it’s just a coincidence.. who knows..

****

Beka [23:30] Hey. Great cover today *thumbs up emoji*

[00:01] thnx..

A/N: Credits to Melanie Martinez and her awesome album track!!

[captain-fanattic]

All questions from the meme with Kotac

real talk i cant remember which meme this is from bc this ask is like months old but i remember it was one with 50 questions so im finding the first one i can in my tag and just answering those

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?

kotac is his full name i never bothered to give him a last name. idk it just sounded cool

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

FARMER idk nothing special. he works. on a farm

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

YEAH his parents are real good to him and he’s very close with them and his family. his fave memories are doing stuff together as a family just out and around like going berry picking. idk about bad memories maybe one time he was attacked by an angry farm animal as a kid but that’s all i can think of

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?

VERY GOOD he still has both parents and no real bad memories.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

i mean honestly probably but i havent created them so no

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

he graduated high school and then kind of just stopped doing school. he enjoyed science but hated math and english

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood?

yeah! he’s good at making friends and he keeps in contact with a few.

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

yes and yes bc he works on a farm and has animals on said farm

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?

YES totally 100% animals love him it’s almost weird how much animals like him

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

he is okay with children but he wont actively seek them out or anything. he’d probably be a good parent but he’s not interested in kids rn. would have to adopt anyways

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

he eats vegetables a lot bc he’s part rabbit but he also eats a lot of meat bc of being part cat as well. he’s not really allergic to anything and loves to cook

12. What is their favourite food?

apple pie

13. What is their least favourite food?

idk he’s not picky so it’s kind of hard to find something he actually hates

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?

he doesn’t eat out at restaurants very often but he does have a few memories of going out for special occasions with his family

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

YES YES he’s very good at it and loves it. others love it too

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

probably collects weird things like antique spoons

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?

he’s not a really techy person but im sure he takes cute pictures of his animals sometimes

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

he likes to read big novels it doesn’t really matter the genre he probably reads a lot of books about animals too. he loves country music and doesn’t watch T.V. very often; same w/ movies. doesn’t really play video games either.

19. What’s their least favourite genres?

*shrugs*

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?

yeah he likes musicals and music in general. he probably sings along to his favorite songs.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

he is very paitent and rarely ever loses his temper.

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

he probably has some extreme weird insults, i imagine he uses a lot of metaphors and whatever, immmmmmmm listening to music and it’s distracting me but i dont feel like pausing it and i cant think of the right word for it. idioms?? maybe. anyways he’ll tell someone to their face if he has a problem with them but he rarely ever does that since he is very tolerable.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

he’s good with memory for things about his farm and he’s good at remember faces but he’s not so good when it comes to names.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

he goes to be late and gets up really early but for some reason it doesn’t bother him. he sleeps on his bed and its some weird mix of hard and soft. it’s not awful but most might find it uncomfortable.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

he’s got a good sense of humor and will joke around a lot with his farmhands. not sure what exactly his sense of humor qualifies as

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

he likes to hum and occasionally sing. he gets very smiley when he’s happy and excited

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?

probably losing animals on his farm. like a fox gets one of his chickens or something and he’s probably heartbroken but also that fox is like his #1 enemy now so he’s angry at the same time. i guess THATS one way to make him mad. probably will cry openly but not often.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

he is afraid of losing people and animals he loves but that’s probably normal. he doesn’t really have any other fears. not even bugs or anything. he’ll straight up pick up a spider and go run around in the dark and everything. he’s hard to scare.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective?

he’s probably protective

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

yeah often, but it’s not like a gym work out. it’s working on the farm for hours and hours on end. keeps u in shape when u gotta take care of a million things in one day, every day

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

ya he will drink and he’s probably a very giggly and open drunk like he’ll talk more and get more cuddly. he’s very grumbly and sleepy when he’s hungover. he will absolutely take care of people who are hungover though.

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

very country. jeans and ripped clothes and overalls and white t-shirts and all that jazz. probably just wears boxers to bed. he is all hair he is a furry. his the  white hair on his head is pretty unruly most of the time.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?

boxers

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?

muscular, strong, kind of a big build. he’s probably like idk 5′10″ or something. he likes his body but at the same time he does not really care at all

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

idk im bad at answering this type of question

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

good at idk growing food. cooking? cooking for hobbies too. maybe he doodles some in whatever spare time he has but he’s not really an artist or anything, like not even close. can sing.

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?

yeah he like to read. he’s like medium. enjoy poetry and probably reads fictional stories a lot but thinks non-fiction is also very good

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

work ethic and sense of humor. he also likes it when people are happy. um idk he’s pretty satisfied with what he can do already

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging?

letters > anything techy

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

drinks coffee a lot in the morning but always seems to be awake and alert no matter what. some people think it’s strange but he’s totally fine with it. being awake and alert always means farm work is done well

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?

gay. doesn’t really have a preference. likes people that like animals idk he’s not picky and i don’t know how to answer this question

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

to have a good farm / would sacrifice for farm / wants farm to be popular with local people

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?

mildly yeah

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most?

loves summer and spring! loves bright hot days and days with cool breezes, also loves light rain. dislikes snow bc…….farm

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

everyone generally loves him and he loves himself so yeah

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

probably but sometimes people catch him after he’s been working all day and he’s all dirty and tired and everything and thats probably not a very good first impression

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?

doesn’t go to formal events often, doesn’t like the formal clothes, avoids it as much as he can

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?

no not really. likes family events but not like crazy random parties. would probably just drink a lot if he got dragged to one

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

idk does his horse count? he loves his horse

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

um i never know how to answer questions like this

[jacewilliams1]

Night, mist, haze, and all that jazz

Sometimes when we look back to our earliest periods in aviation, we are rightly hounded by some of the infamously stupid things we did—or tried to do. But if you’re like me, you can honestly say you just didn’t know any better at the time, and that there was no one around to warn you of the dangers. We all have to learn. And every once in a while, the learning unveils itself ex post facto. Shockingly—like the last man on the trail being the only one to spot the coiled snake.

In doing the historical research for this story, I re-discovered that I hadn’t been checked out and endorsed for night flying until two years and one month after passing the private pilot flight test with my instructor/examiner. And that important aviation milestone occurred seven months and only four hours and fifteen minutes of logged night time before the following event took place. I was twenty years old.

The date was March 1, 1976, and it was a beautiful, mostly calm, just-barely-cool day in Roanoke, Virginia. I spent that gorgeous day cooped up in the operator’s cab of an overhead, 30-ton crane at the Blue Ridge Steel Company. It wasn’t where I really wanted to be, but attending community college at night and working for my father during the day was my lot in life for the time being. I was fortunate, actually, to have the job…

Destination: the bustling (not really) Bridgewater, Virginia, airport.

The steam whistle finally blew at four o’clock in the afternoon, and I was out and down the ladder like a full-pockets swabbie starting his first shore leave. My excitement had been building intensely because this was the day on which I would pick up my girlfriend after work and then head to Woodrum Field to prepare a new 1975 Cessna 172 for our 50-minute flight down the Shenandoah Valley to the tiny Bridgewater, Virginia, airport.

Once there, we would meet my close friend from high school, Garland—now a music major in college—to make the short drive to Harrisonburg’s James Madison University, our final destination. That night, the school was hosting a free concert in Wilson Hall by the premier US Air Force jazz orchestra, The Airmen of Note. The band did and still does play as tightly as any large jazz group in the world. And (being the jazz enthusiasts we were at the time), we weren’t about to miss them.

Upon the successful completion of all the required tests and check rides on the road to becoming a licensed pilot, an extremely heavy burden is placed squarely on a new aviator’s shoulders. Comprising a portion of that burden is the need for the new airman to quickly develop the traits of, pardon the expression, sort of a benevolent authoritarian. Yes, an authoritarian. Only because of one concern or another about the safety of flight, there are times when a pilot must say, “no, absolutely not,” and stick to his guns. Quite often, the weather predominates these germane elements of concern. And that night in Harrisonburg, Virginia, was no different.

My girlfriend and I arrived with my high-school pal at the concert hall and rendezvoused with some additional friends—Gary and Jody, who were brother and sister, both my age, and their parents. The four of them had driven to Harrisonburg from Roanoke earlier in the day. Now all together, we took our seats and eagerly prepared for a great time of music and friendship.

However, being ever-the-pilot, those nagging “pilot-worries” kept creeping back into my mind time and time again as the concert progressed. I just couldn’t seem to relax and enjoy the show like everyone else could. I was concerned about two specific facts: one, the temperature outside was noticeably cooler than what had been forecasted; and two, the air was hazier and more moisture-laden than I had expected. During the flight down the valley to Bridgewater, I had noticed that the visibility had gradually begun to decrease the further north and east we travelled; when we landed in the early evening we couldn’t see more than around six or seven miles. I made a mental note of it but didn’t carry the thought any further at the time.

After the show, almost everyone wanted to go out to eat and party at a good place they had heard about in town. I say almost everyone because I knew then that I should have said “no” and started back for home, but I also knew that I would have never heard the end of it from my girlfriend if I had. So, I reluctantly gave in. I caved. I should have been strong and stood my ground, but I was a coward. It shames me to say it, but that’s the truth. I was afraid to make waves. Later on, in the restaurant, I silently tried to rationalize my self-humiliation: “Well, more than likely, the weather will be okay; the forecast was for clear air. And besides, who really wants to be labelled, ‘Party Pooper?’” Meanwhile, outside, the temperature kept dropping and the mist started gathering.

Why is there mist forming?

By the time we finally got back to the Bridgewater airport, it was around eleven o’clock at night. Gary and Jody both had decided that they wanted to fly back to Roanoke with us in the plane rather than endure the two-hour car ride. Gary had been drinking beer and was worried about walking through the terminal with a six-pack under one arm and an open can in his other hand. Of course, when we got to the airport he realized his fears were unfounded. There was no terminal. There was no one on the little airstrip but us. In fact, there wasn’t even an outside telephone. So, there was no way I could check the weather. So I didn’t.

So we just loaded up, started the engine, and took off—into a moonless night, with mist and haze which had now cut the visibility down to around four miles, in an almost maximum gross weight Cessna 172, down a black valley bordered by high mountains, with a pilot who had but four hours of night time and no experience in the clouds whatsoever.

We often read about accidents stemming from scenarios exactly like this one. Hapless novice pilots get themselves into situations from which they can’t recover on what seems like a regular basis. What scorches my mind suddenly like a bare hand on a hot stove is the speed at which I recognized we were in trouble.

Barely a few moments after leaving the ground I knew we were in distress. There was just enough forward visibility, initially, to keep myself oriented with the lights on the ground. But we were over open farm land. And soon, what few lights there were began to appear fuzzy, with little halos around them. The higher we climbed the worse the visibility became, and I started losing sight of any lights at all except the ones practically straight down. I had thought I’d be able to spot Interstate Highway 81, with its heavy traffic, after passing the city of Staunton and follow it all the way to Roanoke, but that idea rapidly became a cruel joke. We watched the town pass by on our left, but we never found the highway.

On the flight northeastward to Bridgewater, I had chosen 4,000 feet for the cruise because that altitude seemed like an acceptable compromise between the desire for sightseeing and the need for a safety margin while over the taller hills within the deep valley. Now, however, on the flight back to the southwest, I realized that I couldn’t climb much higher than 4,000 feet or so without losing sight of every light on the ground. So, I stayed as high as I could while clinging desperately to each of those dim little lights of orientation like an exhausted swimmer struggling from one life ring to the next.

Not the place to get lost at night.

As pilots, you’re now up to speed concerning the pickle I got myself into. So, in an attempt to be as brief as I can and not drag this thing out any further with dramatics, I’ll list only the pertinent facts from here on out:

Since we were too far away from Roanoke to receive any signals from the ROA VOR at our altitude, I simply chose the reciprocal of our outbound course for our return course. I thought that heading would keep us in the wide valley.

The MOL VOR was either out of service that night or my navigation radio wouldn’t tune it. Either way, it was not available to us.

The only navigation aid I had left was the ADF. I used it to tune in and navigate to a local broadcast radio station in Roanoke: WFIR, 960 AM.

I had no idea how to track a low frequency station, so we homed in on it. By the time we were close enough to Roanoke to receive an adequate signal from the ROA VOR, I located us on the 094 degrees radial.

After passing Staunton, Virginia, I recognized nothing until I confirmed the lights of Roanoke ahead, at about 8 to 10 miles.

Now, if you are still with me and interested in this open confession of incredulous ignorance, get your sectional chart and plot this flight yourself while reiterating these facts: the pilot departed Bridgewater, Virginia late on a cool, damp night in what really were instrument conditions. He confirmed the passing of Staunton, Virginia, on his left a few minutes later. The pilot had only a Private license with 156 total hours of flight time and a paltry 4.2 hours of night flying experience—with of course, only minimal instrument training. The pilot had never before flown in clouds. He maintained a cruising level which averaged about 4,000 feet msl. Mystifyingly, the pilot approached Roanoke not from the northeast as he had planned, but unexpectedly from the east without ever seeing anything on the ground except a few lights scattered here and there—almost perpendicular to his flightpath—until within ten miles of downtown Roanoke.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll allow you to vocalize your own epithets at this point. How we survived that night I’ll never know. It must have been either divine intervention, fate, or just pure dumb luck. Say what you will… I’ve said enough.

Editor’s Note: This article is from our series called “I Can’t Believe I Did That,” where pilots ‘fess up about mistakes they’ve made but lived to tell about. If you have a story to tell, email us at: editor@airfactsjournal.com.

The post Night, mist, haze, and all that jazz appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2020/07/night-mist-haze-and-all-that-jazz/

[oltnews]

We could all use laughter as well as beauty, joy, another reality. Recently, musicals have become my big escape, because they are s'wonderful, filled with heart and body stuff, toe-beating rhythms, witty words and syncopated movements. The stories invariably turn on couples (or matchmakers) and play like parades: Guy and gal meet, they dance, sing, kiss, argue. Then they dance again beautifully, because the weather is always nice in the musical even when it rages outside. Here are five of the 1930s, the decade when movies went from talking everything to singing and dancing.1931"The smiling lieutenant"Best known for exquisite romantic comedies, Ernst Lubitsch also contributed to the development of the musical as a genre. "The smiling lieutenant" follows Niki (Maurice Chevalier), a lively Viennese officer. One night in an outdoor cafe (where else?), He meets Franzi (Claudette Colbert), a violinist, and they coo soon for breakfast. "You put kisses in the cafe," he sings.There aren't a lot of songs and almost no dancing, but it's funny, sexy and really charming. During a waltz, Franzi asks Niki if the other woman in his life, Princess Anna (Miriam Hopkins), is a blonde or a brunette. He says he doesn't know and Franzi laughs, as she now realizes that Niki hasn't seen Anna in the buff. The moment is naughty in a film steeped in adult knowledge and melancholy nostalgia.The smartest and liveliest song is "Jazz Up Your Lingerie ”, which Franzi and Anna perform together. After slapping and tears, the socialite Franzi suggests to Anna to give up her puffy panties for something more flirtatious. Women are rivals, but playing a piano trills on lace and melodies - and all that is incomprehensible - they form a sad brotherhood which is as convincing on the emotional level as doubtful on the narrative level. The film does not end as you wish. "A poignant sadness permeates the director's most gay moments," observed Andrew Sarris - but it's Lubitsch, whose touch, "is that counterpoint between sadness and cheerfulness."Available for streaming on Flix Fling."You go there as a youngster, but you have to come back as a star!" Marsh (Warner Baxter), the director of the musical "42nd Street" behind the scenes, talks with Peggy (Ruby Keeler), the hoof singer and untested singer who suddenly became the head of his splashy show. She must be a success, insists Marsh, because there are so many - "200 people, 200 jobs" - at stake. She must be a star because it's the midst of depression, and the film's audience could also use a break, as well as a reason to smile.Keeler is a period curiosity, with a young girl's voice and small feet which hammer the ground. The biggest draw here, however, is Busby Berkeley, the dance director and creator of sui generis shows. It was Berkeley's first film at Warner Bros., and he was already waving his bizarre flag, as evidenced by the number built around the song "Young and Healthy". "If I could hate yuh, I would stay away," sings Dick Powell to a guy Jean Harlow with a fox stolen from his breasts. "But it's not my nature / I'm full of vitamin A."It's funny and incredibly catchy and you don't really have time to think about what it means, because suddenly this Harlow lookalike is part of a cavalcade of peroxide blondes who start to slide past Powell on a platform rotating shape. (The third to pass is Pre-Astaire Ginger Rogers.) Powell sings to each chorine with affable leers, arms clasped and a tug suggestive of his bow tie. Then he and his smiling partner kiss, and the camera comes closer, as if to get into action. When they open their lips, the screen explodes in an orgiastic boon from Berkeley with dozens of dancers forming geometric patterns on a brilliant black scene. It is insane and insane surrealism.Available for rental or purchase on Amazon, FandangoNow, Flix Fling, iTunes, Vudu and YouTube.1935'Top hat'The setting is a ridiculously absurd Italian hotel - a perfect depression era fantasy - with a sound stage channel and toff-like extras. Here, Jerry (Fred Astaire), a dancer, chased Dale (Ginger Rogers), a model. She thinks he is married, which he does not know, mistaking the stratagem of Astaire and Rogers, but she is as attracted to him as to her. There was a stupid drama, and now, after a lot of jokes and a few fabulous numbers, Dale appears in a dress trimmed with ostrich feathers and Jerry appears in tie and white tails.He invites her to dance, but she is reluctant, expressing the push-pull that characterizes the Astaire-Rogers romance here and in other films. She gives in and they start dancing. "All I know is that," says Jerry, who begins to sing, "Heaven ... I'm in heaven." The transition from conversation to song is satiny and heralds the moment that takes the scene from familiar fiction (where the characters are almost deadly) to the magical kingdom of musical comedy (where they are Astaire & Rogers).Finally, there is a section that begins the second half of the number, an orchestrated passage in long (and wide) plan which shows you the bodies of Dale and Jerry, from head to toe. The whole is hypnotically beautiful, an expression of desire conveyed by a harmonious flow. Finally, the dance ends and the lovers - because now we know they are in love - take a break. Rogers was still panting so softly, and his breathing gave the note a note of erotic grace. Katharine Hepburn said that Astaire had given Rogers lessons and that Rogers had given him sex, but it was their dancing together that caused the heat.Available for rental or purchase on Amazon, FandangoNow iTunes, Vudu and YouTube.1935"The little colonel"During the second half of the 1930s, Shirley Temple caused a sensation at the box office, a fact that was both understandable and confusing. It was a great professional pie, but while some of his films are fun and some are better than most, others can make you gag because of their molasses and grimacing representations. Despite my qualms, there is a very good reason to watch "The Little Colonel", and his name is Bill Robinson.He was one of the most famous dancers of the early 20th century; when he died in 1948, 32,000 mourners paid homage. Nicknamed Bojangles, he left vaudeville and made his screen debut in "Dixiana" (1930), performing a dance that was cut off when the film starred in the South. Fox soon tapped him to appear with Temple in "The Little Colonel," a disturbing post-bellum fantasy about a relentlessly optimistic tot, Lloyd, who is a peacemaker for his grandfather in the far south. and his mother, who married a northern resident.It’s a rich tangle of contradictions, in part because of Lloyd’s foolproof role as an intermediary between the black and white worlds. The relationship with his grandfather's servant, Walker (Robinson), is crucial. They perform two dances together, the most important on the plantation staircase symbolically transported (shades of “Gone with the wind”!). Walker teaches Lloyd how to dance the stairs, with him in mind or, as a film historian Donald Bogle said, "Robinson became the master of their relationship when he taught him the stair dance routines."Available for rental or purchase on Amazon, iTunes, Vudu and YouTube.1938"The Duke is at the top"In 1936 Fox hired Ralph Cooper will choreograph another vehicle from the Temple. Cooper founded Amateur Night at the Apollo, where he worked when studio executives persuaded him to go to Hollywood. Fox signed it but didn't know what to do with it. Hollywood, as Cooper later wrote in a memoir, "was not really interested in a prominent black man." So he enrolled in Fox film school. "I decided that instead of appearing in photos that demeaned black people, I would try make images that glorified black people.That's exactly what he did, creating hits like “The Duke Is Tops,” a fun and creaky musical backstage with an all-black cast that was shot in 10 days on a tightrope. Cooper trapped Lena Horne to embody Ethel, a singer, and the love interest of her character, Duke, a theater manager. When Ethel is drawn to celebrity promises, Duke bombs show business and begins to peddle a universal elixir for a designer. It's easy to understand why Fox signed Cooper, nicknamed the "Dark Gable": it's all charisma.It was Horne's debut on the screen and her line readings are steep, but she was born to be worshiped by a camera, and her song is dreamy. The music was arranged by Phil Moore, who worked in large studios ("Dumbo" of Disney), often without credit. He gets his due in "The Duke Is Tops", which includes brief tantalizing tricks from other notables, like Willie Covan, for years, MGM's chief instructor, and singer-dancer Marie Bryant, who went from the Cotton Club in Hollywood, where she worked for Gene Kelly and helped teach white stars how to move like immortals.Available to broadcast on Amazon. https://oltnews.com/escape-with-me-to-the-trippy-world-of-1930s-musicals?_unique_id=5ea14c11cf7bd