#ANYWAY. this got a note and the discussion picked up in the forums again so I thought to divulge

[morelikesin]

Alright I'll spill bc I'm at a loss LMAO

The long and skinny of it is things are heating up in the fragrance fandom. I jest but essentially someone (me) who is pretty knowledgeable if I do say so myself about fragrance and the fragrance industry has to bear witness to people who don't understand what fragrance is and then cover their ears when they're proven wrong

Biting my tongue on some stupid shit but I'll have you know that it is objectively hilarious. Maybe I'll divulge maybe not but the bare minimum context is that it's people not understanding what words mean and then when they're explained to why their gripes are misplaced they kick their feet and whine that you aren't blindly agreeing with them

[something-tofightfor]

High Roller - 1

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader (HCtS)

Word Count: 7393

Rating: M (only for language, and maybe a few mentions of Logan’s past)... this is as tame as it gets otherwise. 

Author’s Note: This week, we’ve seen not one but TWO pieces of Logan content that have left me with massive frowns on my face because of the subject matter. This isn’t that. This is Logan at his happiest, Logan getting what he deserves... and you all getting what you’ve been waiting for for a LONG time. 

Summary: The night that you become Mrs. Logan Delos for the first time is very unconventional, but it’s exactly what both of you need - and deserve. 

“Yep. That works. There are only four of us.” You drummed your fingers on the surface of the table, nodding. “We need to keep it -” You grinned. “Yes.” Perfect. “I can pay now or -”

 “That won’t be necessary.” The woman on the other end of the line sounded excited, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Logan Delos’ secret wedding? That’s a story. “We’re very familiar with Mr. Delos, and we have no issues with you paying on site.” You reached up with one hand to scrub your fingers over your face, the metal of your engagement ring cool against your skin. I’m… “I do have a few more questions for you, though, so that we can start getting things in order, but eight hours is more than enough time to get this done.” Thank God. For the next few minutes, you answered the woman’s questions, picking out flowers, telling her that you didn’t need any of the frills of a wedding package; just the basics, along with someone to document it for you. Right before hanging up, she confirmed everything you’d discussed, ending the call with a cheerful laugh and reassurance. “Someone will call you around four to confirm everything.” 

 “That sounds perfect, I’ll go ahead and give you Logan’s number too, I still need to go and find a dress somewhere without it -”

 “If you’re looking to stay close to the Strip, the Forum Shops or even Fashion Show are good, and you’ll definitely be able to find something.” I was going to leave the area, but that makes sense. “Even on such short notice.” Thanking her for the idea, you gave the woman Logan’s phone number, telling her to try you first when things were confirmed, and then hung up. Alright. Get dressed.

 Standing, you moved through the living room and back into the bedroom you and Logan had shared, pawing through your suitcase and finding a pair of shorts and a shirt, pulling them on before you left the room and stepped out onto the balcony. Though there were almost no hotels in the city with windows that opened, you and Logan had chosen the Cosmopolitan because it had a balcony, allowing you the opportunity to sit high above the bright lights, taking in the view. “Get everything taken care of?” You nodded at the man, who was leaning back in one of the chairs, feet propped up on a small stool. It’s unfair how put together he looks after last night. “Good. Just got off the phone with the airport, the jet’s leaving in less than an hour, and Juliet and Mark will be here by 5 at the latest, does that work?” Stepping over to Logan, you pointed at his lap, raising one eyebrow and watching as he rolled his eyes. “You’re seriously askin’?” 

 He reached for you, his hands landing at your hips as he pulled you downward, urging you to settle on his lap before he encircled you with his arms, chin resting on your shoulder. “Had to call a couple places, Logan, but I found somewhere that can get us in tonight.” You paused. “I had to offer them to pay for our… for us and for the final three hours of time that they’d be open today to keep people out.” Logan took a deep breath, grip on you tightening. “I didn’t want to, because it was expensive, but I didn’t know if you wanted people to -”

 “They’re gonna find out anyway.” He turned his head, lips finding the side of your neck. “And it might even be later tonight, but…” You felt his beard against your skin as he rubbed his cheek against it. “By then, it won’t matter… and until then, I’ll take all the privacy with you that I can get.” 

 “You’re not mad? You didn’t even ask how much -” He scoffed, arms tightening.

 “It doesn’t matter.” You shifted so that you could look at him, brow furrowed. “I don’t care what it costs, you wanted this to happen today, and I want this to happen today, and if I’ve gotta buy out a Las Vegas wedding chapel to make it happen, that’s fine.” Your heart began to beat faster, and you saw in Logan’s eyes that he meant it. “Which one did you pick?” At his question, you actually laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through Logan’s hair. This is gonna be good. 

 “It’s called the Little Church of the West.” He raised an eyebrow but stayed silent. “I tried at the Flamingo and Caesar’s, but -”

 “It’s perfect.” You watched him smile, the sunlight changing the look in his eyes and making the brown brighter - which made him look younger at the same time. Oh, Logan. “It’s the one that’s it’s own property, right? Not attached to a casino?” 

 “How do you know that, Lo? Been there before? There something I need to worry about?” It was his turn to laugh, Logan leaning in to kiss you, his lips resting against yours for long moments. You know I’m kidding, right? 

 “No.” He spoke without pulling away, his hold on you tightening. “I mighta looked up some places while we were on the plane.” What? We weren’t even… “I didn’t know if I’d ask you this trip, but …” Logan shrugged, straightening up. “I like to be ready.” I know you do. Rather than replying, you just tilted your head back down, resting your forehead against Logan’s again. I love you. 

 “You’re sure, Logan?” You swallowed, feeling his hair slipping through your fingers as you stroked the back of his head. Give him a chance to back out. “Me? Today? Without a -”

 “Yes.” You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the tone of it bordering on urgency. “I’m lookin’ at that ring on your finger and now I don’t want to wait. I don’t care about the paperwork, I don’t care about the guest list, I… none of it matters. Only you an’ me.” He pushed you gently, forcing you to lift your head to look at him. “I’m marrying you today, at…” He finally frowned, nose wrinkling. “What time? How long do -” 

 “Eight.” You pressed your lips together. “I know it’s late, but I need a dress and to get ready, and Mark and Jul-”

 “No, that’s perfect.” He reached up to pull your hand away from his head, thumb rubbing over the diamond you wore on your finger. “You’re taking it off before you go out, right? Don’t want anyone to know, or see it, or...” I don’t want to, but yes. With a nod, you confirmed the answer to his question. “That’ll be the last time there’s nothing on this finger, you know that, right?” Raising your eyes from your joined hands to meet his, you watched his lips curve into a smirk - the one you loved so much. I sure do. 

 “Same goes for you, Logan.” You glanced back down, taking a deep breath as he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “You ready for a ring on that hand of yours?” 

 “Yep.” 

--- 

 Three hours later, you were on your way back from shopping, the handles of multiple bags looped over your arm. You’d been to both shopping areas, starting with the one furthest away, but you hadn’t found the right dress until just before you gave up, trying to figure out what you’d brought that you could wear. But when you’d seen it, you’d known that it was the right one, and as soon as you put it on, glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you fought back tears. It’s perfect. 

 It wasn’t a typicall wedding, but you were wearing white, knowing that if you didn’t, you’d regret it - and so would Logan. Even though both of you were far from virginal and neither of you were traditional in any sense of the word, marrying Logan needed to be done right - and a white dress was the first step. But it’s still me, you thought as you turned to look at your back in the mirror. And he’s going to love it. Pairing the dress with low, strappy heels in black, that bag joined the others that you’d accumulated, the thought in your mind that if anyone saw you, they wouldn’t even assume that you were shopping for a wedding. No, just out spending Logan’s money, probably. 

 Even though you knew the truth, you also knew that the tabloids were ruthless, and they had been for years, especially when it came to you. Just give me one day with him. One night, even, where we can enjoy this without… You’d checked both of your names on Google as you traveled between locations, and though there were plenty of people saying that they’d seen Logan in Vegas, there were no pictures, which was a surprise to you, since you’d been to so many places the night before. But as you waited for a light to change so that you could cross one of the busy streets, you heard - and felt - your phone vibrate with an alert. It was nice while it lasted. 

 The alert linked you to an article about the teo of you in the Chandelier, complete with pictures of you confronting William, the angry look on the blonde man’s face apparent even in the pixelated, zoomed in images, Logan’s expression stony. Well they know we’re here now, there goes hiding. By the time you made it back to your hotel, slipping in through the casino and hurrying to the elevator, there were more pictures and two different stories. You’d been spotted at not only the Chandelier but at the Bellagio, too, and then again at the Beach club, each of the articles mentioning Logan’s birthday in Sin City, as well as calling you the man’s “current” girlfriend or “some woman” in the case of a few tweets and Instagram posts from women that you’d been tagged in. If they only knew. 

 When you opened the door to your suite, you heard Logan singing in the bathroom, which meant you had time to unpack. Quickly, you sorted through the things you’d bought, removing the tags from your clothes - you’d bought a few shirts and a second, much more casual dress, too - leaving a small box out and on the nightstand. “What’s that?” Startled, you turned to see Logan leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his bare chest and a pair of dark boxer briefs the only clothing he wore. “ That’s not a dress. What did you buy?”

 “You needed a ring.” Swallowing hard, you reached over, picking up the box. Here goes. “So I grabbed one , just to have a placeholder until we -” He moved toward you, biting down on his lip as you held out the box to him. “It’s nothing special, just black tungsten, but…” He flipped the lid of the box open, his eyes on the circular pice of jewelry inside of it. “I thought…” 

 “I love it.” He was still looking down at what he held in his hands, but you heard how surprised he sounded. “I didn’t think you’d buy… how much was it, I’ll pay you for it.” What?

 “No.” You stepped closer to Logan, closing your eyes. “No, this is from me, and it’s not much, but it’s… you can wear it for a couple weeks until we get you a real one.” And it wasn’t your money it was mine, so no one can...

 “A real one?” He finally looked up, his eyes wide. “This is real. This is… you picked this out for me, and it…” He bit down on his lower lip, teeth bright and white against it. “I really don’t know what to say.” Speechless Logan was new for you, and you didn’t want to let him flounder for too long, instead stepping forward and putting your arms around his waist. 

 “I got a dress, Lo.” He froze but recovered quickly, snapping the lid of the box shut and dropping it onto the bed. “I think you’ll like it, it’s…”

 “Don’t tell me anything about it.” He began to rock back and forth with you slowly, one hand flat against your back, the fingers of the other curled around your bare arm. “I don’t wanna know until I see it.” Alright, Logan. “We might not be doin’ this the regular way, but I still…” He sighed. “Still wanna give you... “ What? “Look.” Logan sniffed, letting his breath out.. “We’ve never been a traditional … anything.” You had to laugh at that, feeling Logan’s thumb moving over your skin slowly. “And we’re seein’ each other before the ceremony, and we spent the night together last night, and I don’t believe in all that bullshit, but I still… I wanna be surprised with your dress, and so the less I know, the better.” 

 I get it. I understand. Opening your mouth to reply, you were cut off by the ringing of your phone. Shit. “It’s probably the chapel, Logan, I have to…” He pushed you away, reaching up to run a hand through his wet hair, and you reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone. It’s them. “Hello?” 

 --- 

 Mark and Juliet landed a little after 5 and were checked into the Cosmopolitan by 6, meeting you and Logan in your room shortly after. He greeted the couple at the door while you sat in front of the mirror in your bedroom, doing your makeup. In the few hours since you’d returned with your dress, you and Logan had been busy - taking a cab downtown to get your marriage license, eating a quick dinner, you taking a shower - and even a few minutes spent sitting in one place was welcome. There’s so much secrecy here. You fought back a frown as you applied your mascara, tucking the tube along with your eyeliner, some concealer, and a few other pieces of makeup into a small bag. Just in case. 

 You’d be changing into your dress at the chapel, not wanting to risk people seeing you and Logan leaving your hotel together while dressed formally, and the phone call with the wedding planner from the chapel had made other things clear, too. They were sending a car for you and Juliet, and Mark and Logan would be taking a second one a half hour later. You’d have a private room to get dressed and ready, and before Logan got there, you’d be taking a few pictures. While you’d had the option of getting married inside or outside - since you were renting the whole facility, you and Logan decided that inside was the better option - just in case. 

 “This is ours… I don’t want anyone to…” He seemed flustered, color rising in his cheeks. “It’s stupid, I know, but I don’t want the pictures or a video or… we’re not gettin’ married for them, and if we go outside, there’s a chance someone will ruin it and put it all over the Internet.” 

 He’d seen the alerts, seen the pictures from the night before, and that had solidified your decision. There was a small, secluded garden that you’d be able to take pictures in together, but the ceremony - with only the four of you, plus whoever was there from the chapel - would take place inside. After that, the four of you would be taking a single car back to your end of the Strip, continuing the night. There would be no reception, no meal. No party, but it didn’t matter to either of you, since the important part of the night would be long over at that point. I’m going to marry Logan. At the thought, you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face, and though you heard the three of them laughing from the other room, you were focused only on your reflection, and the fact that aside from looking a little tired, the only emotion you saw on your face was excitement. 

 “You ready to become a Delos?” Juliet’s voice carried across the room to you, and you grinned at her reflection, nodding. “I am, too.” She stepped in, walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He was so nervous. I’ve never seen Logan like that before.” Really? “The only other person that knows is Mark - and I don’t just mean about what’s happening today… I mean Logan even having the ring.” You spun in your chair, facing her. What? “He didn’t tell anyone, because he didn’t want to risk it getting out.”

 “How’d he get the ring then, he -” Juliet raised an eyebrow, the smile on her face wide enough to rival her brother’s. 

 “He and Mark went into the jewelry store, and…” She lifted a hand, waving it back and forth. “Logan picked it out, but the cover story was that it was a new one from Mark for me.” He planned everything, he wanted to make sure… You felt warmth spreading through your chest, unable to form words. “He didn’t want to ruin this, because…” She reached over, putting a hand on your bare knee. “He can’t lose you. Especially because of some gossipy bullshit.” 

 “He won’t.” You chewed on your lip as you turned back toward the mirror, staring at yourself. “Juliet, I know that I shouldn’t even worry, but… your dad… when he finds out that Logan and I… that there was no prenup, that…” 

 “Logan doesn’t give a shit what Dad thinks.” She paused. “Well, I take that back. He doesn’t give many shits about it, even though he cares a little more than he did a couple years ago.” You knew that the relationship between Jim and Logan was tenuous at best, but that didn’t mean you wanted to add stress to it. “And honestly? The money… Logan won’t get shit from Dad until after he’s gone, so the only money you’d even be able to go after would be Logan’s… and my dad would be giddy at having something else to hold over his head.” That’s unfortunate. You lowered your head, looking at your hands. I don’t want anything from him, just… 

 “I wouldn’t take anything, Juliet. None of it would matter without him.” The room was silent, and you could faintly hear Logan and Mark talking from the other room, but couldn’t make out their words. “I’d never hurt him like that, it’s…” 

 “Well.” She stood, squeezing her hands into fists  for a second. “Of course you wouldn’t, because not everyone’s like William, determined to squeeze every last cent out of someone on his way out the door.” Ouch. “But I’m just saying, we all know Logan has nothing to worry about, but I get why you’re even bringing it up.” She smiled, the expression soft. “You know how many people would kill to be in your shoes… but only a few of ‘em would do it for the right reasons.” Glancing at her watch, Juliet took a deep breath. “We’ve gotta get going, the car should be waiting.” Oh, shit. 

 Heart pounding, you stood, picking up your makeup bag and tucking it into the larger bag with your dress - carefully folded - and the shoes. Juliet took it from you, and with a tiny nod and a tilt of her chin, motioned for you to go back into the large living space of the suite ahead of her. “It’s time?” Logan put his glass down on the bar and stood from the stool he was perched on, crossing the room and standing in front of you. “You guys leavin’?” I… we are. 

 “Yeah, the car… I need to…” Put a sentence together, come on. You motioned at Juliet. “She’s got my dress, and I need to…” You felt yourself growing nervous, lips pressed together. “We’re doing this, Logan?” It came out as a question, and though you knew that he’d heard the apprehension in your voice, he didn’t hesitate with his answer. 

 “It’s the only thing I want to do.” His certainty calmed you, and instead of responding back, you just leaned into his chest, your arms going around him. Me, too. He sighed, kissing the side of your head before his lips dropped, stopping next to your ear. “Well… one of the only things I want to do.” Even though he spoke quietly, you heard the meaning behind his words, and couldn’t help laughing, tightening your hold on him. 

 “I look forward to it, Logan.” And I know you won’t disappoint. He released you and stepped back, and even though you locked eyes with him, it didn’t last long. “I’ve gotta…” Juliet was urging you out the door, tone insistent. “I guess I’m getting married.” Raising one eyebrow, Logan stepped closer to you again, one hand rising to your chin and holding it in place, his tongue darting out to lick the corner of his lips as he stared at you, a heated look in his eyes. 

 “I guess you are.” 

--- 

 The room was small but comfortable, and you were surprised at how easily you’d been able to settle in, changing clothes putting the final touches on your makeup. You were trying to figure out exactly what you’d do with your hair, a small frown on your face. He won’t care. It doesn’t matter. Juliet had made sure you had everything you needed before leaving to supervise the wedding planner and the team after she’d changed her clothes, too, using her own camera to take pictures that she promised to send to you and Logan. The chapel’s photographer had come in to take pictures of you getting ready, but you ignored the woman, focused only on what you were doing and trying to calm the pounding of your heart. Logan texted you twice - once when he and Mark were walking out of the hotel, and again while they were in the car, and you knew as soon as you read the messages that you’d never delete them. 

 The first was simple enough - On our way. It was no different from the texts he normally sent you, but when you read it with the second, you felt your stomach lurch. This is happening. See you soon, Mrs. Delos. You drummed your fingers on the table in front of you, deciding to leave your hair loose around your shoulders, but with one final stroke of inspiration, you swept it up and into a messy ponytail, taking a deep breath. It worked then, so why not... There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for you to respond, it opened, Juliet stepping back into the room. “You ready?” I guess so. She made her way to where you sat, sinking back down into the chair next to the vanity. “I have…” Turning to look at her, you watched as she ducked her head, shoulders set. “I never thought my brother would get married, you know?” 

 When she looked back up at you, you saw that her eyes were filled with tears. “Juliet, you -” What’s wrong?

 “No, it’s a good thing.” She used one finger to dab at the corners of her eyes, shaking her head. “I wanted him to be happy, wanted him to find someone that… understood him, that was willing to accept him, even knowing what his past was like and what he’d been through.” She stopped, her fingers twisting the rings on her own finger. “Because part of that was my fault, and I almost wanted to… just to make up for it, because he deserves it.” He does. “And then he came home from a bachelor party and getting stuck on an island in a hurricane, and he wouldn’t tell me anything about what happened, aside from saying ‘I spent a couple days with someone’.” You knew that Logan hadn’t talked a lot about you with his friends before you’d moved to Los Angeles, and since it had never really come up, you hadn’t known what he said to Juliet about you after you’d first met. “He didn’t say anything else, and that… that said everything, you know? Logan? A couple days with someone that he wouldn’t talk about?” 

 “Juliet, I don’t -” She laughed, sniffling and taking a deep breath. 

 “Logan would flaunt his … relationships just because he liked talking about the people he was with, even if he didn’t mention all of them by name.” She grimaced. “That mostly stopped once he … once everything with William was over, but he still wasn’t shy about the fact that he…”

 “That he was Logan. Got it.” You gripped the back of your neck, waiting. “I know how he was Juliet, I -” Why are we… 

 “Mark and I knew he was serious about you before he did.” She shrugged her shoulders at you. “And I hoped it lasted, hoped that he didn’t get in his own way, and… he didn’t.” Juliet pulled her purse onto her lap, one hand disappearing into it. “I know you love my brother. And I know that you’re good for each other.” Her hand emerged, fingers wrapped around a small box. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t know I have these for you, but…” She handed you the box, using her fingers to close yours around it. “This isn’t what anyone would think Logan would do for a wedding, but it’s him. It’s him, and it’s you, and I think it’s perfect… but that doesn’t mean that everyone’s here that should be.” What? “Open it.” 

 You did, a quiet gasp leaving you as the lid flipped up, revealing the clusters of onyx stones within it. “Juliet, are these -”

 “Yes.” You looked up, meeting her eyes again and seeing that she was actually crying, a few tears leaking down her cheeks. “They were our mom’s, she got them as a gift from my dad right after she had Logan, and she wore them everywhere for the first couple years when he was a baby.” Juliet glanced up, blinking quickly. “We’ve, ah, got home movies where she’s holding him and he’d grabbing for her ears because they’re so... “ Juliet laughed. “If she was here, she’d want you to have them. I’ve never worn them, because it didn’t feel right, but.. “ Juliet said your name. “They’re yours now. Something old.” 

 With shaking hands, you fastened the earrings into your ears, the glittering gems reflecting the lights that surrounded the vanity mirror. “Are you sure, Juliet? They were -” She assured you that she was. “Thank you.” You lifted a hand, fingertip pushing one lobe forward.”They’re… they’re gorgeous, Juliet, I don’t know what…” 

 “You don’t have to say anything.” She stood, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You’re family, and even though… even though the Delos name is…” She paused, an uncertain note to her voice. “I’m glad.” You hated that even years later, Juliet still felt responsible for William’s behavior - even though she’d been just as fooled as everyone else. He doesn’t blame you, not anymore, not… William fucked you over, too. “But that’s enough of… that.” She laughed. “Are you ready?” With a final look into the mirror, you nodded. “Oh! Something borrowed!” Juliet bit her lip and  then turned away, reaching into her purse. “I’ve had this in my purse for years, it’s…” She pressed a flattened penny into your hand, laughing. “It’s so dumb, but I started collecting them for Emily, just because it was something small to show her from where I’d been… but I never gave her this one.” 

 “Big Ben?” You grinned, holding it up. “I’ve never been to London, you know that?” Julliet’s eyes widened. 

 “Make him take you sometime, you’d love it.” She waved her hand. “Tuck that into your dress, you’ll know it’s there.” You did that, ensuring that it was secure, and she kept talking. “So just somet-”

 “My shoes are new. So’s the dress.” You stood. “And then blue… I did a couple blue flowers in the bouquet, so I’ve got it covered, even though I didn’t think…” You hadn’t thought about all of the traditions, and even though you’d imagined you would on your wedding day, you didn’t feel apprehensive about only having two of the four. It’s superstition, just like he said. “I’m ready, Juliet.” Your voice was steady, and Juliet let out a breath, nodding.

 “Let me take a couple pictures, they’re going to knock when they’re ready for you, so we still have a few minutes.” Agreeing, you let her guide you into poses, and by the time the chapel photographer arrived, you had your bouquet in hand and were anxious to get to Logan. I don’t want to wait, I want to be married, I want to see him, I… 

 “Are you ready?” The photographer had finished and was waiting by the door, camera in hand. “It’s time to walk down, this is…” You gave Juliet a single nod, stepping to the door, which was half open. “Here we go.” 

---

 “Wait until you hear the music start, and then you can go through the doors.” The young woman - Avery - the one that you’d spoken to over the phone, was waiting with you in the hallway, a small earpiece visible at the side of her head. Juliet had left you in the hallway after giving you a tight hug and whispering “good luck” into your ear, and you’d made the short walk from the dressing room to the hallway with Avery, stomach twisting with each step. I’m nervous, but… why? You wanted to marry Logan, and knew that he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he hadn’t wanted it too, but that didn’t mean you were totally ready for what was coming. After tonight, it’s… 

 “Have you seen him? Is he -” She laughed, reaching out and squeezing your shoulder. “I -” 

 “Yes. He looks…” Avery trailed off, smiling and blinking a few times. “Look, I am happily married, but if I knew that someone like Logan was waiting in the next room for me? I wouldn’t turn it down.” You laughed, the sound loud, and then clapped a hand over your mouth, eyebrows shooting up. Oops. “He looks incredible, and so do you.” She leaned in, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “And he’s just as nervous as you are.” He is? Before you could reply, you heard the music she’d mentioned, and felt you heart thump one final time. “That’s you... you ready?” You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a few seconds. Am I? Behind the closed lids, you saw Logan’s face flash - the way you’d seen him for the first time; flustered and expectant, fingertips tapping against the surface of an airline counter. The second my life changed. 

 “I’m ready.” You opened your eyes again, straightening your shoulders, and swallowed. “So ready.” She pushed you gently, whispering that she’d be right behind you, and even though you heard the quiet clicking of the camera shutter as you took the few steps toward the open doorway, you heard nothing after you stepped into it, barely even seeing the dark, stained wooden beams that made the interior of the chapel into something that could have looked natural in Sweetwater. Logan. Oh, Logan. Look at you.

 He stood at the end of the aisle, hands behind his back, and before you could fully react to the sight of him, you watched him sway slightly on his feet, his eyes widening as he dropped his hands to his sides,. You stepped toward him, your fingers wrapped tightly around the stems of your bouquet; a small assortment of white roses and calla lilies, the latter tinged blue. He does look… Your heartbeat quickened as you got closer to Logan, but you were still focused on his face - on the way he’d trimmed his beard neatly without losing the fullness, the way his hair was swept back from his face - but not perfectly in place, the curl behind  his ear unruly as always, on the way his eyes were the same warm brown from the balcony that morning, yet they were focused on you, too. Hi, Logan. 

 By the time you reached him, your nerves had subsided, and though you were still in disbelief, even after two years of dating the man, that you were standing in front of him, waiting for him to make you his wife, you were certain that you were making the right decision. You felt a hand on your arm, glancing away from Logan for the first time as the music ended, and saw Juliet nod at you, gesturing for your bouquet from her place to your left. Oh, that’s… yeah. She took it from you and as you turned back to face Logan, you watched his lips part, the lower one trembling just enough for you to see it. “You look beautiful.” Three words were all he could manage before you watched tears start to leak from his shining eyes, both of them blinking shut as he lowered his head. “Gorgeous.” The word was nothing more than a whisper, and with a smile on your lips, you reached forward, using the knuckles of your pointer finger against his chin to urge his head back up, encouraging him to look at you. C’mon, Delos.

 “Thanks, Lo.” Removing your hand from his chin, your smile widened as you swept a thumb over one of his cheeks and then the other, drying them. He’s crying, I… It was all the encouragement you needed to continue what you were saying. “Let’s do this before you change your mind.” You winked at him as you ended the sentence, and that’s all it took - Logan laughed, his cheeks rounding out as he crushed you against his chest, arms tight around your body. “You look amazing, Logan.” You took a deep breath as you pulled away from him, Logan’s hands sliding down your arms until they reached your wrists, squeezing. He paused only for a second before he took your hands in his, both thumbs moving over the backs of your hands. 

 “Never gonna change my mind.” He spoke quietly, still staring at you, and after a few seconds of silence, he turned his head to look at the officiant, giving the man a single nod. “We’re ready.” Logan’s attention back on you, you tried to pay attention to what the man was saying, but all you could focus on was the fact  that you were in a chapel with Logan, standing in front of him and holding his hands - ready to marry him. This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You realized the truth of your situation as the officiant spoke about finding the person that made sense with you, one that was always willing to share in successes as well as failures, the good times and the bad. You could tell that Logan was having as difficult a time as you focusing on what was being said, but it wasn’t until you felt his grip on your hands tighten that you were brought back to the present, startled out of your thoughts by Logan’s next words. “Wait a minute.” The officiant froze mid sentence, and so did you, waiting. What? He pulled a hand out of your grip, reaching up to take your earlobe between his fingers. “Are these…” His eyes darted away from you, and you saw Juliet nodding out of the corner of one eye, Logan’s brown eyes flooding with gratitude and surprise. “Oh, Jesus, she’s... ” 

 He looked down again and you lost it - the tears coursing down your face as you linked your fingers with Logan’s, the hand near your face moving to your neck, his long fingers curling against it.  “Surprise, Logan.” Juliet’s quiet voice was barely audible over your tears, but Logan spoke again and everything stopped. 

 “She’s here. Even though she can’t be… ” You looked back up at him, noticing that he was crying again too, his nose wrinkled, but the look in his eyes warmer than you’d ever seen it. “And you’re here, and I’m here, and … this is all that matters.” You nodded, agreeing with him as he looked away, focusing again on the man. “We don’t need to repeat everything after you right away, I just… there’s some things I…” The officiant gestured to the two of you with both hands, taking a step back, and then Logan’s gaze returned to you. He took a moment to compose himself and then licked his lips, swallowing. “Do you remember the first thing you said to me?” After a short pause, you nodded, opening your mouth to reply. “I do. I remember what you said and where you were when you said it. I remember how irritated I was that you - a stranger - were callin’ me out in an airport.” Yeah, I shouldn’t have… “But it… the more I talked to you, the more I got to know you, I wouldn’t have wanted anything else.” Logan stepped closer, and you could do nothing but focus on him, on the way he smelled - on the way he took up all the space in the room, leaving you with no option but to get caught up in him - more and more each second. “I wanted to kiss you in that bar, even before that first drink was gone.” I know that, because I… “But I’m glad I didn’t, because if I had, we wouldn’t be here.” 

 “What?” He smiled, removing the hand from your neck and using it to tuck hair behind your ear, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Logan, I -” He said your name, the intensity in his voice startling you. 

 “I knew that night, that first night, before you knocked on my door in the dark, before we played that game, before you mixed my drink with your finger that I wanted to know you, and kissin’ you in that airport would have changed everything.” Would it? “You stepped out onto that balcony without knowin’ I’d follow you, but the truth is that even after a few hours, I woulda followed you across that beach if you’d asked.” He swallowed. “I promise to keep you safe. I promise to make sure you always feel … that you’ll always matter.” You blinked back more tears, waiting. I guess we’re… “You’ll always know exactly how I feel and what I want.” Your hand rose, palm flattening against the material of his shirt, right between the lapels of his jacket, next to the pale blue calla lily that he wore. He’s… his heart is… “I promise to give you everything you need for the rest of my life.” He grinned at you, hand sliding around to the back of your head and tugging on your ponytail gently, the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile. “Anything you want, for as long as you want me, because...you’re it. This is it, for me.” 

 Logan fell silent, taking a deep breath. “Anything else, Logan?” The officiant cleared his throat, but Logan shook his head. 

 “A lot more, but I’ll tell her later, when it’s just the two of us.” Oh. You heard Mark cough quietly, and you ducked your head, feeling your cheeks growing warm. Oh man… I… he… it’s my turn. 

 “Logan.” The tips of your fingers curled against his chest, and he tightened his grip on your hand in return. “I was… afraid to get to know you, especially when I figured out…” Take your time. “Relationships aren’t always… good, and I know that, but disappointing you was never… was never an option for me.” Feeling more confident, you continued. “That first night was…” You remembered taking his hand for the first time, the cold rain soaking both of you and neither of you caring. “I’ve never taken a chance like the one I took with you, like any of the ones that I’ve taken with you in the last two years.” Your eyes wandered around the room, rising to the ceiling for a moment before they met his again. “Every single one of them has been worth it.” You felt relief rolling off of him in waves. “I want to spend the rest of our lives taking chances, Logan. Every minute, every day, every… everything. I love you, and I promise to show you just how much. I… I promise to believe in you, and to trust you, and to be there for you.” I’m making a mess of this, he was so… “No matter what.” You swallowed hard, lifting your hand from his chest and resting your palm against his cheek. “Remember how you said that a proposal should have been the second happiest day of my life and a wedding should have been the first?” He nodded, looking slightly confused. “You’re wrong.” You didn’t give him time to think, continuing. “The happiest day of my life was meeting you in that airport, Logan. This comes close, but… Meeting you was -”

 “Stop.” Logan sounded almost pained, shaking his head back and forth before turning it toward the man standing next to you. “Can we… can we get to the actual vows? I need to kiss her and I don’t know how much longer I can -” Fighting back a laugh, the officiant gestured toward Mark, who reached into his pocket and held out two rings - the diamond studded band that matched your engagement ring and the black band you’d bought earlier. There they are. Taking the glittering band first, the man placed it in Logan’s outstretched palm, telling him to repeat what was said. 

 “I, Logan Isaac Delos take…” You were more focused on the words as Logan said them, his voice strained but filled with happiness, than you were on your surroundings. As he took your hand in his again, the cool metal sliding up your finger and resting against the diamond that Logan had out on your hand for the second time not even 12 hours earlier, you felt your knees wobbling. No. Hold it together. “‘Til death do us part. I do.” He stopped, his eyes on your hands, and you blew out a breath as you realized that he’d done his part - it was your turn. You met the officiant’s eyes, letting him know that you were ready, repeating the first line and then continuing, your voice stronger with each word. This is really happening. 

 “I promise to love you, Logan. And honor you and your family. I promise to support you in any way that you need, for as long as… as long as we’re both living.” You met his eyes again as you slid the ring onto his finger and settled it behind his second knuckle, your heart pounding. “‘Til death do us part. I… definitely do.” The chapel was silent, though you heard a quiet sniffle from behind you as Juliet reacted to what she was watching and hearing. 

 “If there are no objections…” There better not be. The officiant paused, waiting a few seconds, and then continued. “Then let me be the first to congratulate the two of you and introduce Mr. and Mrs. Logan Delos.” Logan swore quietly under his breath at the same time that your knees buckled, but you didn’t fall far. 

Quickly, he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand against the bare skin of your back to pull you close, your arms going around his neck. You heard the officiant telling Logan that he could kiss you, but only barely, the man dipping you backward as the fingers of his other hand disappeared into your hair, pulling your ponytail loose. We’re married. He’s my… Logan kissed you thoroughly - wasting no time in deepening it, his lips moving against yours with a controlled urgency that you knew was only a preview of what you’d get later that night. And every night… I’m… Juliet and Mark were cheering, and you even heard the chapel employees clapping and whistling too, but none of it mattered; Logan was your focus. He has been, ever since… 

 By the time your husband pulled away from you, you were able to stand steadily, though still clinging to him and only allowing him to move as far back as he needed to to look into your eyes - his filled with happiness, the grin on his face radiant. “How’s it feel to be my wife, Mrs. Delos?” 

---

... This is wedding 1 of 3 - and it while this piece stops here, there’s a lot more to come on you wedding night. 

* * * 

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[zrtranscripts]

Radio Abel, Season Eight

Part 4 of 5

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello ci-ti-zens! Welcome back to Radio New Hope.

ZOE CRICK: This is a very special edition of our show, listeners.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's right, Zoe! [laughs] It's our first broadcast since Fort Canton became the seat of the UK government. We’re only a few feet away from the office of the prime minister, Amelia Spens. [sighs] Prime Minister Amelia Spens. [laughs] How did this happen again?

ZOE CRICK: There's never any one factor that determines who rises to power, Phil.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, for the benefit of any listeners not up to date with current affairs, uh, can we list the -

ZOE CRICK: An understandable predicament, given the post-apocalyptic demise of the 24-hour news cycle.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - can we list the factors that led to Amelia's appointment?

ZOE CRICK: Opportunism...

PHIL CHEESEMAN: ... And?

ZOE CRICK: I'm thinking.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I thought you said there was never any one factor.

ZOE CRICK: You know, I think Amelia's a special case. Most world leaders aspire to the job, for better or worse, but Amelia only ever wants what's best for Amelia, whether that's nabbing the last reservation for an exclusive spa treatment -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - or seizing control of a country.

ZOE CRICK: Exactly.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Listeners, I realize that the phrase “seizing control” had some negative connotations, and I'd just like to explain what I meant when I said that's what the prime minister did to the UK. There was a power vacuum and no one else was up to the task, so Amelia stepped in.

ZOE CRICK: I'd also like to clarify what I said. Amelia does only want what's best for Amelia, but right now, that's what's best for the country, too.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We hope.

ZOE CRICK: Amelia wants to live in a UK with hot running water, a plentiful supply of luxury goods, and no V-types. If she's the best person to make that happen, then her being in power is a good thing for all of us.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And on that note, here's a song that always puts me in an optimistic mood.

~

ZOE CRICK: Radio New Hope is still fully independent and completely unbiased.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I wouldn't call your veto of progressive art rock unbiased.

ZOE CRICK: Phil, many of our listeners are out scavenging for supplies and running away from zombies. We don't need to make their lives any harder. My point is that our proximity to the prime minister has no bearing on our editorial stance.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, definitely. The fact that Amelia's just down the hall and controls the penal system doesn't affect what we say in the slightest. I hardly ever think about how easy it would be for her to kick me out of Fort Canton and leave me to the V-types.

ZOE CRICK: The only person who'll do that is me the next time you try to put on some King Crimson when I'm not looking. Amelia said a strong government has nothing to fear from a free press.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Might have been a test.

ZOE CRICK: She knows if we suddenly started spouting propaganda, our listeners would get suspicious. As long as she lets us carry on as normal, she looks confident, like she's got nothing to hide.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Which she hasn't. Probably.

~

ZOE CRICK: Do you really think that's necessary, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's journalistic ethics, Zoe. We've got to disclose it.

ZOE CRICK: [sighs] Go on, then.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Listeners, one of Amelia's first acts as prime minister was to give us a new studio.

ZOE CRICK: It's hardly new.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's a lot nicer than what we were in before. Less sticky.

ZOE CRICK: To explain, listeners, Amelia is building a scale replica of the House of Commons at Fort Canton. Just like the original, it's furnished with green leather seats. Although most of the leftover building materials went to settlements more in need of refurbishment than Fort Canton, no one else wanted the green leather, so we've got it. All of it. Everything in this room is green.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's... a very relaxing color?

ZOE CRICK: In moderation. [sighs] I feel like I'm broadcasting from the depths of the swamp.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The important thing is that our new upholstery wasn't payment.

ZOE CRICK: Are you satisfied?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think so. We can't be too careful about this. Transparency's critical.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, perhaps, but it's hardly the most exciting way to fill the airwaves. Here's some music to lighten the mood.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We hope that's made it clear, listeners. Radio New Hope has no official affiliation with the prime minister, so you can stop filling ROFFLEnet with requests for new laws. We can't help you with them.

ZOE CRICK: And in many cases, we wouldn't want to.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. To whoever wrote to us under the username Undying_Love, no, I don't think human/zombie marriage is going to be legally recognized anytime soon.

ZOE CRICK: I also think it's also safe to say that if and when the DVLA is back up and running, zombies probably won't be eligible for driving licenses.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: To be fair, we have received some reasonable requests, uh, it's just that we can't do anything about them. We're just broadcasters.

ZOE CRICK: That's right. While it's wonderful that so many of you are politically engaged, you need to direct your efforts towards the right people. If there's something you want discussed in parliament, contact the leader of your settlement.

~

ZOE CRICK: I'm glad that's cleared up. I must say, it's a relief not to be talking about politics for once.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not that politics isn't important, listeners, it's just that Zoe and I haven't really had a break from it since Amelia became prime minister.

ZOE CRICK: If we're not bumping into settlement leaders in the canteen, we're tripping over King Jamie's retinue when he drops in for his weekly conference with Amelia.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We can't even get a cup of tea without getting caught up in an argument about V-type policy.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, it's exhausting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So allow Radio New Hope to be your refuge from current affairs.

ZOE CRICK: Here's a song with absolutely no political message at all.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Since we're not talking about politics, let's catch up. Uh, Zoe, what have you been doing recently?

ZOE CRICK: Well, last night I went to see Amelia to -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No need to go into too much detail.

ZOE CRICK: - borrow a David Attenborough DVD.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh.

ZOE CRICK: She says they keep her children entertained, but I'm not sure they fully appreciate the lion cubs of the Serengeti. Anyway, I never even got to ask her for it because she was too busy arguing with the representative from the Psychoanalysts Enclave. The UK Alliance hasn't really figured out taxes yet, but Amelia's interpreting the concept loosely. In exchange for services, she wants control of all the dirt the Enclave acquired prior to the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Purely to keep it confidential?

ZOE CRICK: Of course.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, that's sort of like... It's politics, really, isn't it?

~

ZOE CRICK: All right then, Phil, what non-political activities have you been engaging in?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've been researching Alan Parsons.

ZOE CRICK: Don't you know everything about him already?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm putting together a biography. It's important that the history of significant cultural figures isn't lost. To make sure my information’s correct, I’ve been cross-referencing my sources with the fan community on ROFFLEnet. It's just that there aren't that many Alan Parsons fans -

ZOE CRICK: Who’d have thought?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - because many of them died in the apocalypse.

ZOE CRICK: I'm sorry.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: The point is that because there are only a few people left with expertise in classic progressive rock, everyone else on the message board figured out who I am and that I work near Amelia.

ZOE CRICK: So you can't even escape politics on the Alan Parsons forum?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly. I've been bombarded with questions for her, things she hasn't addressed in her own broadcasts. I printed them out, actually. [paper rustles] Here, you can take a look.

ZOE CRICK: You know, some of these aren't bad. I wonder if Amelia would come on the show and answer them.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I always secretly wanted to host Question Time.

~

ZOE CRICK: Listeners, I'm very happy to announce that the prime minister Amelia Spens has agreed to appear on Radio New Hope and answer some of your questions.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I won't ask how you convinced her.

ZOE CRICK: I didn't have to. She said it would be good for her image.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Really?

ZOE CRICK: Yes. She says the population sees her as intelligent, refined, and sophisticated, but that those qualities make her hard to relate to. According to her, appearing on Radio New Hope will increase her appeal to people who don't care about personal grooming and who haven't read a book since the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is that what she thinks of our listeners?

ZOE CRICK: To be fair, reading materials and cosmetics are in short supply.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yes, and people's priorities have changed. Some of us are more concerned with staying alive than getting our well-manicured hands on the last remaining issues of the Times Literary Supplement.

ZOE CRICK: A fair point. Listeners, to find out what our prime minister's priorities are, send your questions to us over ROFFLEnet.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Zoe, since this is our first prime ministerial interview, do you think we should have picked a more appropriate song than that?

ZOE CRICK: It's too late now.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: People of the UK, we'd like to introduce a very special guest to Radio New Hope. Please welcome our prime minister, Amelia Spens.

AMELIA SPENS: Hello, Phil and Zoe. I must say, I'm glad this is a radio broadcast. This studio looks frightful.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Now hang on. It's decorated with offcuts you gave us.

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, is this where they ended up? I thought we were going to burn them.

ZOE CRICK: We're off to a good start, listeners. Let's have some serious music before we get into the questions.

~

ZOE CRICK: Our first question is from Concerned of Dorchester. ��Prime Minister, when democracy is reinstated, will zombies get the vote?”

AMELIA SPENS: “When democracy is reinstated.” [laughs] Phil and Zoe, I hope these aren't all going to be comedy questions.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think just focus on the zombie part for now.

AMELIA SPENS: I think we can all agree that one of the few silver linings of the apocalypse is the way outdated prejudices and social orders have been rejected.

ZOE CRICK: Just to be clear, you're not ruling out zombies having the vote?

AMELIA SPENS: Not until I know who they'd vote for. V-types are very intelligent in large groups.

~

ZOE CRICK: This next question is from Sir Augustus Headley Coombs. “Prime Minister, do your duties as a mother hinder your ability to run the country?”

AMELIA SPENS: Quite honestly, if anything, they help -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm sorry, Prime Minister, you don't have to answer that. I apologize on behalf of Radio New Hope to you and to all other mothers listening for airing a question that implies that motherhood might compromise a woman's abilities to do her job.

ZOE CRICK: Quite. We all know that if Amelia's abilities are compromised, it's by her refusal to do anything that might damage her manicure.

AMELIA SPENS: Are you still annoyed about that, Zoe?

ZOE CRICK: Now isn't the time.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: There's really no need to acknowledge this question, Prime Minister. Let's move on.

AMELIA SPENS: It's a reasonable question, and the answer is that dealing with a clutch of screaming children with no control over their emotions is the best training a prime minister could have.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've got a question from, uh... this person's username is just a string of cat emojis. They say, “Prime Minister, doctors and scientists are increasingly aware of the therapeutic benefits of caring for animals. Simply stroking a cat has been proven to lower blood pressure. Why, even when there's so much evidence that animals make it easier to cope with mental health difficulties, are kitten pens still not compulsory in all settlements?”

AMELIA SPENS: Zoe, did you write this? I told you, if you ever need a way to relieve stress, just come to my quarters and I’ll -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So that's a no on the kitten pens for now, listeners. Here's a nice loud song to block out the sound of your own imagination.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: This question comes from BV, but I'm not sure we should ask it. Zoe, take a look.

[paper rustles]

ZOE CRICK: Hmm, I see what you mean. But if this is a true public forum, nothing should be off limits. Besides, I think the time for editorial qualms would have been before you printed out the entire message board.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Perhaps it wasn't the best use of our paper allowance.

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, just ask it. I've scheduled a hot stone massage after this and if I have to cancel, running out of paper will be the least of your problems.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Um... “Prime Minister, how does it feel to be the most attractive world leader of all time?”

AMELIA SPENS: It's a meaningless accolade.

ZOE CRICK: Of course. We shouldn't judge politicians on their appearance.

AMELIA SPENS: No, I mean there's no competition.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, the next question's also from BV. Uh, this one's a bit more sensible, though. It's about health policy. “Prime Minister, I am the CEO of a corporation with an extensive pharmaceutical arm. I'd be happy to discuss supplies for ministry hospitals. Perhaps over a bottle of Cheval Blanc 1947 Saint-Emilion, and some caviar.”

ZOE CRICK: Wait, pharmaceutical corporation? BV? Is this Valmont? Prime Minister, I don't think this is a genuine request.

AMELIA SPENS: I'm terribly sorry, BV, but a meeting won't be possible right now. I have to be very careful about the relationship between business and government. You understand. More importantly, red wine and caviar is a dreadful pairing. Let me know when you've got some Dom Perignon and then we'll talk.

~

AMELIA SPENS: Zoe, I know that was a dreadful song, but could you at least -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hey!

AMELIA SPENS: - but you could at least stay awake for the duration. The rest of us had to.

ZOE CRICK: I was awake. I just like to close my eyes sometimes, or the green gets too much. Anyway, what's the next question, Phil?

[paper rustles]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Ah, I don't think we need to ask that one.

AMELIA SPENS: Nothing is off limits. Please go ahead.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Um, Outraged of Essex asks, “Prime Minister, does your involvement with Zoe Crick create a conflict of interest regarding your appearance on this program?”

AMELIA SPENS: I don't know, Outraged, do your hobbies create a conflict of interest with your job?

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've got a question from [clears throat] Nice Try, But If You Think I'm Writing My Name In That Box, You've Got Another Thing Coming.

ZOE CRICK: I didn't know ROFFLEnet usernames could be that long.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: “Prime Minister, is it true that you're demanding the Psychoanalysts Enclave give you all their information? Would the details go public? Asking for a friend.”

AMELIA SPENS: Firstly, the UK Alliance doesn't demand anything, it's a negotiation. As for the information, it sounds like its secrecy is valuable to you. Interesting. Write to my office and we'll talk.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Happy and Glorious asks, “Will the king attend the State Opening of Parliament?”

AMELIA SPENS: The State Opening of Parliament took place in the House of Lords, not the House of Commons. Since we haven't built a House of Lords, it just wouldn't be right to reenact such a historically significant ceremony. A shame, as I'm sure King Jamie's speech about self-sacrifice and duty would have been a hoot.

ZOE CRICK: Couldn't you adapt the ceremony for post-apocalyptic times?

AMELIA SPENS: What do you mean?

ZOE CRICK: Before Z-Day, the State Opening of Parliament consisted of several commemorative rituals. For example, the Palace of Westminster cellars would be searched for explosives in remembrance of the Gunpowder Plot.

AMELIA SPENS: And you're suggesting we open Parliament with zombie-themed rituals, is that it? [laughs] Amused as I am by the thought of King Jamie being chased through Fort Canton by a horde of V-types, there are several recent events that it would be best the population stop associating with the office of minister.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You mean all that stuff with Sigrid?

AMELIA SPENS: It's easier for people to forget if they're not being constantly reminded, Phil.

~

ZOE CRICK: Lance Corporal Kapoor asks, “Is there any truth to the rumor that defense resources are being spent retrieving high heels from the last remaining Christian Louboutin shop in Mayfair?”

AMELIA SPENS: Yes. Politics is all about image, and I need to look stylish yet powerful to intimidate our enemies.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But aren't zombies our biggest enemies? Do they notice shoes?

AMELIA SPENS: There's a lot we don't know yet about zombies.

ZOE CRICK: On that note, here's a song that'll make us all feel powerful.

~

AMELIA SPENS: Are we nearly finished? All this green is giving me a headache.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Almost. The Truth Is Out There asks, “Is the UK Alliance withholding information about UFOs?”

AMELIA SPENS: UFOs?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Unidentified flying -

AMELIA SPENS: I know what they are, Phil. Listener, was the zombie apocalypse not enough? Haven't you had your fill of government conspiracies? Don't you think if - actually, no, I'm not going to dignify this stupid question with an answer. That's it, I'm afraid, Phil and Zoe. It's time for my massage.

[chair legs scrape across floor]

ZOE CRICK: Wait, there's one more.

AMELIA SPENS: No.

ZOE CRICK: Where is Janine De Luca?

AMELIA SPENS: Oh, Janine. I'm amazed anyone noticed she was gone. Don't worry, listeners. Colonel De Luca is on a secret mission and it's all under control. She and her appallingly drab outfits will be back at Abel in no time. And with that, I'm off.

[door opens]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think it's probably time for some music.

~

ZOE CRICK: I think that went... about as well as could be expected.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, considering it was our first prime ministerial interview, we didn't read the questions before going live, and we're broadcasting from what looks like the inside of a spinach tin.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] I thought you liked the decor.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Just didn't want to complain. Fort Canton's been a stressful place to work since Amelia became prime minister, but I try to remember that we're all on the same team. Everyone wants to get rid of the V-types and we need to work together, focus on the big things, and not sweat the small stuff.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. Like how our studio looks like Kermit the Frog's fever dream?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly.

~

[magazine pages rustle]

ZOE CRICK: Phil? Phil, we're live.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, sorry. Uh... [clears throat] Hello, ci-ti-zens! Welcome back to Radio New Hope, where your entertainment is our priority.

ZOE CRICK: Except when we're reading... [magazine rustles] Vogue? Phil, don't take this the wrong way, but I never thought of you as being particularly interested in fashion.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I never was, Zoe, before the apocalypse. But one of our runners picked this up from a dentist's waiting room during a meds run and I was curious. So fascinating, really, that there used to be this whole industry dedicated to the way we looked.

ZOE CRICK: The people in these pictures had no idea what was coming.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If they had, maybe they'd have worn more practical shoes.

ZOE CRICK: Yes. [laughs] Good luck running from a zom in those. They're quite fun, actually.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, they're pretty good, but I prefer these.

ZOE CRICK: Wow! [laughs] Those are quite something. You couldn't wear them to work, though.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Not unless you were this next musical artiste!

~

ZOE CRICK: Welcome back, listeners. Today we're reading Vogue, which is like gazing through a portal into another dimension.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A dimension where people thought it was sensible to make dresses out of tin foil and feathers.

ZOE CRICK: Mm, I'm not sure sense had anything to do with it. These clothes are about fantasy. They're works of art.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, those ones are, but look at this other fashion mag I picked up. [magazine page rustles] This article is called “Summer Must-haves.” It's telling me I must spend 700 pounds on these trousers. And it's next to an advert for some magic cream to make me look young. Now remember, before the apocalypse, a lot of people worried about not wearing the right clothes or that it was a bad thing to look their age.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm, that's a good point. Nowadays, if you see someone older, you know they've probably got some wisdom to share. Always handy in the post-apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Exactly! Just yesterday, a teenager asked me where the toilets are.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm, impressive! [laughs] Here's a song by someone even older and wiser than Phil.

~

ZOE CRICK: You know, Phil, how we look hasn't become totally irrelevant since the apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well... yeah. Uh, it's-it's important to look basically alive so that no one mistakes you for a zombie and tries to knock your head off with a baseball bat.

ZOE CRICK: True, but I was thinking more about the way we express ourselves. For example, isn't that a Dream Theater T-shirt you're wearing?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yes. You know, it does cheer me up to wear a T-shirt featuring a band I like, even if they are all dead.

ZOE CRICK: And I'm wearing socks with cats on them. Every now and again, someone will stop me in the corridor and compliment me because they like cats, too. Then we'll have a conversation about cats and the whole day gets a little brighter.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: They are pretty nice socks.

ZOE CRICK: Thank you, Phil. [giggles] Since we're on the topic, why don't you put on a song for our listeners and I tell you about the morning I spent in the kitten pen?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, do I get a choice?

ZOE CRICK: Nope.

~

[pumpernickel-simswood]

A Devoted Friend: Pt 3

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette got up and quickly helped set the table. 

Adrien, polite as ever, ended up sitting between Sabine and Marinette. He waited for everyone else to begin eating before he started.

"So," Tom said between bites, "what were you kids studying? Is there a big exam coming up?"

"No, actually, it was a business plan Adrien made for me." Marinette replied, sounding equal parts proud of Adrien and blown away that it was for her.

Both sets of parental eyebrows went up.

Adrien swallowed and smiled politely, "Well, I overheard Marinette discussing opening an online store for her designs and I… I have access to a well of knowledge about that, especially for fashion, so I don't see why I wouldn't help her."

"That's very sweet of you, Adrien." Sabine smiled, "Thank you."

"It's nothing, really." Adrien looked down, feeling his cheeks warm.

"Even if that's true," Marinette began. He glanced up to find earnest eyes peering at him. She continued, "I'm incredibly grateful you put any time into helping me."

"Of course, Mari," Adrien said immediately, "we're friends."

Marinette canted her head at that, slightly.

***

"Thanks so much, Marinette!" Rose hugged her tightly.

"Of course, Rose." Marinette grinned and hugged back.

"We'll see you at school." Juleka smiled.

"Of course." Marinette waved.

"Bye~!" Rose waved back and they descended the stairs.

"And now, Adrien." Marinette muttered as she turned to look at him with an analytical eye. She let out a long sigh, "You got taller again."

A chuckle escaped Adrien, "Sorry?"

"Let's hope I made the pants too long." Mari shook her head in amusement. 

"Capris could work if they aren't." Adrien suggested easily. 

"Uh-huh, sure. Just go try them on, long legs." Marinette laughed.

Adrien snickered and took the clothes, "Be right back."

Marinette made some notes as Adrien changed. The wiki was gonna have to get updated once she actually checked his height. She was pretty sure his shoulders had gotten a bit wider too but she'd have to check.

"So, good news and bad news." Adrien said, stepping from behind the screen, "Good news, the pants fit perfect."

Marinette turned to him, "What's the bad ne- Oh my G-d."

Adrien's shirt was a good inch too short, his midsection showing, "I mean, it's not that bad."

"Adrien, it's at least an inch too short." Marinette put her hands on her hips.

"Truuuue." Adrien chuckled. 

"Alright, let's get measurements." Marinette laughed. 

***

"Alright, I just gotta make you a new shirt." Marinette said, looking up from her notes.

"I can buy replacement fabric if you want?" Adrien offered.

"No, I have enough left over, but thank you. Hopefully neither Ivan or Luka hit a growth spurt before next week." Marinette laughed. "Also, do those colors work for you?"

"Green and black?" Adrien's lips pulled into a playful smirk, "Yeah, I like to think so."

Marinette's brow furrowed but she nodded and made another note, "Okay, good. You can change back, by the way. At the very least, I need the pants back. Not sure how I'll repurpose the shirt yet…"

"Well," Adrien stepped behind the screen to change, "if you just shorten it, then I could have an awesome crop top."

"You want me to?" Marinette asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, the material is awesome and super soft. Plus, may as well make it a crop top when it's already short, right?" Adrien replied.

"Fair point." She shrugged, actively pushing down the desire to imagine him in it.

"Pretty please?" Adrien offered the shirt, redressed.

"Okay." Marinette held it up to his chest, "Where should I cut it to?"

"Uh, here." Adrien indicated. 

Marinette grabbed a marker and made a quick mark. And shortly she handed him the shirt back, now officially a crop top.

"Thanks Mari." Adrien beamed and kissed her cheek, "You're the best. See you later."

Marinette blinked after him as he climbed down the stairs. She raised a hand to her cheek then melted into her chair, "Yeah."

***

"Ugh, and they want Cat Noir specifically to show up for their birthday party." Alya groaned.

"To be fair, that's not that far of a stretch to get. You do actually know Cat. Plus he's pretty good with kids from what I hear." Marinette shrugged, hands in pockets. 

"I know but I dread asking him a favor like that. It seems like small potatoes compared to what he does daily." Alya argued.

Marinette snorted, "Alya, their patrols literally involve getting kittens out of trees and retrieving balloons most days. Just ask. I'm positive he'd love to."

"How can you be so sure?" Alya squinted at her friend.

"Cuz I've met him? And we did work together for Evillustrator, remember? Besides, I've seen how many pics you've gotten of him for your Instagram." Marinette started walking away. "And if you don't ask him, I'll do it for you."

"Hey! No! Don't you dare!" Alya bolted after her.

"I think his solo patrol comes by my balcony tonight, actually." Marinette hummed thoughtfully.

"Why on Earth would you know that? They always randomize their patrol schedules." Alya frowned.

"Because I keep track of everyone's schedules due to my anxiety and I noticed he does what might appear to be a random pattern but is actually just an extended rotational schedule. It, of course, varies based on akuma attacks, but he should pass my balcony tonight on his patrol." Marinette explained with an air of discussing weather.

Also he'd told Ladybug on their last patrol, but it did fit the schedule she kept so.

"Girl, can I just say I'm glad you're not on Hawkmoth's side?" Alya said.

Marinette shrugged, "So, sleepover?"

"Yes!" Alya grinned.

***

Cat Noir bounded across rooftops,delighted by the feeling of weightlessness at the apex of every leap. Things had been quiet so far tonight. A few strays to feed and that one shelter that needed an extra set of hands, but nothing big. Which was great.

He grinned as he raced across the top of his school. He could see the familiar and inviting balcony lights shining tonight. He was going to have to figure out how she always seemed to know when he was out and about one of these days.

As he got closer, he noticed Alya was up there with the princess tonight. Huh. Maybe tonight was a coincidence. Either way.

A well timed jump and flip landed him neatly atop the railings.

Alya jumped and yelped.

Mari simply glanced up, a playful smile pulling at her lips, "Hey Cat."

"Good evening, ladies." He bowed deeply. "Sorry to startle you, Alya."

"N-no, it's okay. I just didn't see you coming." Alya mumbled.

"He is pretty fast." Marinette shrugged. Her eyes returned to Cat, "Aren't you, showoff?"

Cat chuckled at that and crouched, "Oh, so you did see that awesome flip."

"I've seen better." Marinette said.

"Meowch, you wound me, Purrincess." Cat dramatically placed his hands over his heart.

"Mm-hm." Marinette was clearly trying not to laugh. It egged him on more than he cared to admit. She, sadly, turned to a very confused Alya, "Anyway, Alya wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" Cat canted his head toward the blogger.

"Oh, uh, right." Alya took a deep breath, "I was hoping that you could maybe put in a quick appearance at my sisters' birthday party?"

Cat blinked, "The tall, kinda scary, buff one or the twins?"

Marinette snorted.

"Hey! You try fighting a boxer with spider powers!" Cat objected.

Marinette fell into giggles, "No, not that, just the idea that Anasi would want you at her birthday party."

"It could happen." Cat crossed his arms and scowled.

"Uh, for the twins." Alya interrupted, though she was looking curiously between them.

"I would love to. When is it though?" Cat turned back.

"In two weeks, on Sunday." Alya replied.

Cat hummed, trying to remember if he had anything scheduled, "I think I'm free. I'll message you on the forum when I get home and double check."

"Thank you!" Alya grinned.

"Of course." Cat smiled easily.

Mari nudged Alya, "I told you."

"Fine, you were right. There was nothing to worry about." Alya sighed.

"Hey, if you need anything Alya, seriously, let me know." Cat said.

Alya smiled, "Thank you, Cat."

Marinette picked up a plate of cookies that had somehow escaped his notice and handed them over to the hero.

Cat beamed as he took one, "Y'know Princess…"

"If it weren't for the Bug having your heart, you'd marry me for my baking alone?" Marinette raised a brow and practiced recital, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, wrapping the plate back.

"Well! If that's all I'm good for!" Marinette crossed her arms with a huff, though her playful air never truly left her.

"Oh, c'mon, Purrincess, if that was all that drew me here, I'd just buy from the bakery mask off." Cat leaned his face close to Marinette's, sincere and earnest, "You know you're one of my best friends."

She turned her pursed lip glower to stare intently at him. She sighed and turned away, cheeks pinking some, "Yeah, I know. You're one of mine too, Kit."

His heart filled with warm delight. He really loved her caring so much about him. It made him feel so full of light. He knew he was grinning ridiculously but couldn't bring himself to care, even with their audience.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Go fall off a balcony, Prince Ali." Marinette snorted.

"Oh, as the princess wants." Cat saluted and fell backwards off the balcony.

With quick, well honed reflexes, he bounded back up with his baton onto the next roof, never losing grip of the plate of cookies.

"I want that plate back when you're done!" Mari called after him.

He turned, bowed one last time and bound off. He was almost out of earshot when Alya spoke.

“Girl, what the hell was that!?”

Part 1 Part 2

@ijustwannabecanadian @rianoel @hellolovelyscientist @theworldslittlesis

[edharrisdaily]

Ed Harris Has No Idea What’s Happening on Westworld Either

Ed Harris has enough iconic characters in his 40-year career to make other actors jealous — and that was before he added Westworld’s Man in Black to his repertoire. We’ve learned more about Harris’s character, the ultimate player of the game, in season two of HBO’s epic drama as he has progressed deeper into the park amid a robot uprising. In Sunday’s episode “Vanishing Point,” Westworld reveals the most traumatic moment of William’s life — the suicide of his wife, Juliet (Sela Ward) — and pushes him to the absolute edge of cruelty and sanity: After shooting his own daughter, Emily (Katja Herbers), he’s last seen slicing open his arm to see if he’s actually human. Ahead of the episode, Vulture spoke with Harris about “Vanishing Point,” why he’d never want to direct an episode of Westworld, what he thinks of the show’s fandom, and why he loves Atlanta.

Westworld is a famously secretive show. How much of William’s arc do you know in advance? And how does that affect the way you play the character?

The first season was different than the second season. The first season was full of surprises as to what was revealed to almost all of us every episode. We found out things in like episode five, six, and seven and were like, “Wow, that’s news.” The second year, I knew the path that my character was on and where I was headed.

How is this project different from others you’ve worked on?

I’ve never really done this kind of episodic series, so that’s different unto itself. And the length of the season is pretty long. The first year was ridiculous. We stopped and started again — six, seven, eight months. You work two, three days a week max, some weeks you don’t work at all. And this particular show is so complicated. There’s so much being shot. The end of the second year, they had three or four crews working on different episodes. I’m glad I’m not the person trying to keep track of it all.

When even the writers aren’t sure of the backstory, how does that change your approach?

Even when they are sure, they don’t tell you. [Laughs.] I would say, “Hey, look, I just did 125 performances of a play in London. I knew what was going to happen every night. And I was still very present and fresh. You can let me know whatever you want to.” What I didn’t know, I didn’t know. I was going episode by episode, particularly scenes, characters, who I was working with, and what was going on. I didn’t really fret about what I didn’t know because I didn’t know what I didn’t know.

More in the moment.

Very much so. For me, anyway. I took it a script at a time, scene at a time, line at a time. Be present and real and tell the truth.

What’s the most challenging part of this role?

In terms of where it’s going, I guess the difficult thing is just gauging that and trying to understand it. For instance, the episode Lisa [Joy] directed, episode four, she was great to work with because she knew more about [William’s] intent than I did. She was very helpful, in terms of “this is what’s going on inside of him now and this is where it will lead.” When you play a character, you try to get as deep in there as possible. When certain things are revealed to you, it’s very helpful.

How much of the buzz around the show do you pay attention to? The fandom is pretty vocal.

Absolutely none. My wife, who’s a news junkie, will say, “Ed, they’re writing about blah blah blah,” and I’ll say great. I’m very happy it’s a successful show and I love working with the directors and the cast, but I don’t really pay attention to all of the guesswork and what people are trying to figure out.

Is this true across your career? Do you read your reviews?

I really don’t. I remember things that were said to me when I was 28 doing theater in L.A. that I don’t need to have in my head, you know what I mean? If you’re doing a play today in New York, you can’t help but find out if it was positive or negative.

Did you discuss the character at all with Jimmi Simpson? Compare notes?

A little bit. We have a good relationship. I said, “Anything I can help you with, let me know.” He would email me some questions every once in a while, but I didn’t even know there was a younger me until I saw a guy walking around the trailers and said, “Who’s he?” “That’s you.” “Oh. Really? Thanks for telling me.” I think Jimmi does a great job establishing the whole history of this guy.

What did Sela Ward and Katja Herbers bring to “Vanishing Point” that made the episode different?

It’s nice to be out of the Man in Black suit and just be William, the family man, however poor he is at it. Sela was brand-new to the whole situation, so you just try to make somebody like that as comfortable as possible. Work with them. Have them welcome. Get rid of whatever nerves they have. Katja is great. She’s not afraid to ask me things, acting questions. I love talking about it. If she has something that’s bugging her or is stuck in something, we can discuss it.

The episode is about obsession, especially the kind that can blind us from what really matters. Have you ever been obsessed?

I was definitely obsessed with Pollock in the ‘90s, but it was a good obsession. I wasn’t blinded by anything. Let’s see. I like to get into things. I like to do things well. I can get pretty easily obsessed with something I care about, but not necessarily blindly.

Do you have any character or story input on Westworld?

Hmm, we probably had some discussions. Never any major points of disagreements. I did say in one public forum, “I don’t want to be in a samurai suit and I don’t want to be naked.” There are two things I suggested.

How do you pick parts at this point in your career? What’s important to you?

What’s important to me at the moment, which I will know in the next few days, is if I can get financing for this film I want to direct in August or September. It’s a Montana novel called The Ploughman — Robert Duvall, Garrett Hedlund, my wife Amy [Madigan], my daughter [Lily Dolores Harris]. I wrote the screenplay and I’ve been fighting to get the money I need. If I don’t, we won’t be able to make it for a while.

Why is that so important?

Well, I’ve only directed two movies and I haven’t directed in ten years. I really love doing it, and this is a novel that I think could make a really cool movie. I adapted it a couple years and I’ve been trying to do it for the last three years. I really, really, really want to do it.

It sounds like a big, challenging project. When you’ve accomplished so much, are you still looking for things that challenge you?

Yeah, definitely. I just did this play in New York, Good for Otto, the new David Rabe play with my wife Amy. And it was definitely a challenge. A 14-character play. Every night, you’re out there and you’re trying to make it work. I still really enjoy what I do. The acting part of it is more fulfilling in theater than in film work, in a certain way. One of the things I love about directing is you’re constantly focused. You’re constantly occupied. For instance, in Westworld, I’m on set two days a week, and then I may not work for two weeks. I may not know I’m not working for two weeks because they don’t know yet. You’re on set for 12 hours and on camera for ten minutes. It gets a little bit old after a while. You try to keep a good attitude.

Would you consider directing an episode of Westworld?

Jon [Nolan] and Lisa mentioned it to me a while back, but I don’t think I’d be a good director for Westworld because I have a hard time understanding it. [Laughs.] I’m as confused as anybody else watching this thing. I don’t always know what’s going on.

Do you watch your past work? If The Rock is on cable, do you watch it?

If I’m flipping and I happen to see it, I might watch it for a little while. Just for fun. I won’t hunt it out to see something that I did.

What’s your airport question? What do people recognize you for and what do they ask you when they do?

It’s a wide variety. Sometimes people come up and say something like, “Milk Money is my favorite movie.” “All right, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” [Laughs.] A lot of guys go “The Rock! The Rock!” Or I’ll hear, “I really liked you in The Hours.” “Pollock is my favorite movie.” Now Westworld. More people have probably seen that than all the films I’ve ever made. It’s a little bit strange, but it’s alright. You get used to it. I kind of skulk around. I don’t ask to be recognized. I’m always wearing a hat and glasses. I don’t mind if people are polite about it.

You’ve been acting for 40 years. How do you think film and television have changed?

You’ve got, what, 500 scripted shows? I was talking to Amy the other day, and we get all these Emmy screeners in the mail, how could anybody possibly watch all of this stuff? They should have categories. Emmys for HBO. Emmys for network. Emmys for Hulu. That’s the main thing that’s changed — the amount of stuff being put out there is amazing. And in film, it’s all tentpole business. You go to a ten-movie theater and eight of ‘em cost $200 million to make. It’s very different.

So, how do you find what’s good through all the clutter?

There are a lot of good things. I was watching Atlanta last night and I just think the originality of that show is beautiful. You never know what’s gonna happen week to week. It’s so quirky and fun. It’s cool. That’s one of the good things. There are a lot of really good things written, produced, and directed that would never be done in film.

Do you think TV is at a more creative point in its history than film?

You know, there are so many independent films being made that you don’t even know about, I can’t really say. I think there’s a lot of wonderful, creative work being done. I go out the Sundance Film Lab every June if I’m not working. They’re very creative. They’re wonderful.

What’s next? Hopefully the Montana film, right?

If it doesn’t happen, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll keep working outside in my yard.

Is that what you like to do?

Yeah, I got some acreage. That’s what I like. Be outside. Close my mind.

[maikatc]

black sun tale | jackson

i want more jackson love so i shall share jackson love. also this is from the 3rd draft of bst too and most of it is still in the current canon, just a good amount of changes here or there (like the ending-)

-

Since the sun wanted to kill his skin like usual, Jackson stayed inside with his companion

Despite her constant rambling, he stared at his computer screen in focus. He checked left and right from every forum he travelled to, reading all of the comments and theories that left in each and every one.

“Do you think we should get Finn over? Since he’s basically the same as you and never bothers to listen. Well, actually he’s pretty good at multitasking so it’s mainly just you.”

There was a sour tone in her voice, which her minor complaints caused him to look at her directly rather than his screen. “Mirana, I can still hear everything you say while I read.”

She crossed her arms, “That’s impossible,” she scoffed.

“Have you ever seen some foreign movie with subtitles?”

Mirana looked at him deadpanned. “I was forced to, yes.”

Jackson sighed, he figured that socializing during the summer was probably a good thing. “Just call Finn over.”

“Okay! I’ll go on speaker.” Mirana grabbed her phone as Jackson comforted himself back to his laptop, muttering.

“Why am I even friends with you guys again?”

“Because childhood friends are bitches like that.”

“Right.” He cringed at his own lack of silence.

“I’m guessing Jackson’s being a prick again?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s the reason you always invite Finn over here,” Jackson entered the conversation as Finn entered through the doorway.

Mirana crossed her arms. “I always tell you guys to go out but no,” she spited.

Jackson rolled his eyes, “You haven’t seen the news lately, haven’t you?”

Finn replied, “You mean the area deaths?”

“Mirana, do you really think anyone would go out with that situation at hand.” Jackson eyed her as she played with her red hair.

Mirana looked down, muttering words Jackson couldn’t hear. She looked back at both of them, “Well, we can always just go somewhere indoors. You guys just stay in your houses all the time.”

“I’m researching about the area deaths.”

“I’m trying to hack online friends for a prank.”

Jackson and Finn replied to her simultaneously.

The girl sighed and pointed at Jackson, “Okay that’s too depressing to spend days on,” she shifted her hand towards Finn, “And that just means you need more of a life.”

Finn chuckled, “They hacked me a few days ago, gotta get em back.”

Mirana shriveled downwards, “Y’all need more vitamin D, goddamnit.”

Jackson opened his computer again, “That’s why they made pills for it.”

“Don’t forget the flavored gummies.” Finn added, going on his phone in the process.

Mirana stared at them deadpanned. “… You guys suck.”

As Jackson’s focus drifted back to forums, a hand suddenly closed his laptop, causing him to jump. He saw Mirana take Finn’s phone as well.

“What the hell?” Finn his arms up as his phone was gone.

She swiftly grabbed both of their arms, her strength being able to pull them up. “I’m dragging you guys out. We’re going to the diabetes shop.”

Jackson’s eyes lowered at her. “Fucking hell.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you guys candy in return.”

Jackson pulled himself out of the girl’s grasp. “Let me at least get ready to go.” He looked at himself, still just in a white t-shirt and black boxers.

He walked to his drawer of clothing, taking off his shirt in the process.

“Don’t you ever think that’s too forward?” Finn commented.

Jackson opened a drawer full of shirts, “It’s not like I’m trying to get you guys to sleep with me. Well, anybody anyways.”

“Yes, we’ve already gotten over this: You don’t like people.” Mirana stood by his bedroom doorway as she spoke. All the while, Finn was on his phone he had gotten back from the girl. “Besides, out of anybody, Finn would be the one distracted by you right now.”

Finn turned away from his phone immediately. “Middle school means nothing.”

“And nothing came out of it, so now we’re just chill.” Jackson grabbed a grey t-shirt he’d gotten from concert Mirana brought him to around a year back. He put it on without much thought and then wore a red unbuttoned flannel over it.

As Mirana and Finn talked to each other, returning regrettable middle school memories, Jackson added a simple pair of jeans and a belt to complete his outfit. He tucked his shirt in as he walked towards the mirror. He fixed up his tuff of brown hair lying on top of his coffee-colored skin. Adding his grey newsie cap on his head, he turned towards the others.

“You definitely go on the internet too much.” Finn eyed his outfit.

Mirana laughed, “I still don’t get why you where that hat, I gave it to you as a joke.”

Jackson shrugged. “Well, I like it.”

“It makes you look like an old man.” Mira smiled.

“Let’s just go,” Jackson grinned at their common talk.

 ***

 “I still hate the sun.” Jackson complained.

“Take off your flannel then,” Mira told him, rolling her eyes.

Finn said, “Hey Jackson, there’s this one video I’ve been meaning to show you too.”

“Finn, another video and I’ll take your phone again.” Mira remarked, causing Finn to place his mobile in his pocket yet again.

“Oh yeah, you heard of the Katzmann death, right?” Jackson asked Finn.

Finn nodded. “We’re screwed.”

“I still don’t get why you used the excuse of the area deaths when you still die indoors now.” Mira grumbled to herself.

“It’s more common outside though, the Katsmann kid was the first time a death was inside. And that happened like two days ago.” Finn spoke in defense.

“I still want to know why this is happening. It’s just getting weirder…” Jackson furrowed his eyebrows, his sight on the ground as he walked in the streets. His curiosity had peaked as always.

“Leave that to the government.” Mira’s hand made a brushing motion.

“It’s easier like that but people should try to figure it out so they’d know what to make best in the situation.”

“Yeah, yeah, but your ideas are too out of proportions.” Mira retorted.

“Don’t go into one of your journalism talks again please, Jackson.” Finn commented.

Jackson sighed and let go of the conversation.

The traffic was busy as always, creating the city noise he’s listened to for almost five years. Turning his newsie cap backwards, he observed the tall buildings engraved in his mind as his friends talked to each other about whatever gossip Mira had. Their snickers mixed with nostalgic sounds eased him slightly.

However, there were ideas peeking through his mind again, area deaths being the topic of course. The number of clues for the cause is nothing to discuss. There was no reason for many of them to just die so suddenly. Everybody would just fall from system failure. No way it couldn’t been a shooting, no injuries. How could a virus appear out of nowhere and kill others instantly without any other contact? How would the virus just disappear suddenly after mere seconds of so many dying? How could no one else around the area be affected if it were to spread so quickly? Why-

He bumped into somebody, someone shorter than him for sure. He looked down from his height to see a boy around his early teens down on the ground from lack of attention. Mira and Finn stopped with him.

The boy had white hair, likely dyed, covering his eye and strangely pale skin. He bore a simple, yet untucked, buttoned shirt and tight black jeans. His visible eye stared at him dully, though it shone a pretty blue.

He got himself up after muttering something under his mouth.

“Sorry, ‘you alright?” Jackson asked looking down at him. He was definitely short, maybe less than five feet compared to himself being over six.

The boy observed him again, and with a small curve on his lip, he said, “Yeah, but you better pay more attention.” He walked off without any other comment.

“You should probably pay more attention too,” Finn fussed.

         They walked for about another minute until Mira noted, “Well this was a pretty short walk. Not much to complain about, right?”

“I’m still sweating like shit, Mira,” Jackson bickered, “Shut up.”

Mira ran to the store door, “There’s a thing called cold drinks, you know.”

Finn walked inside. “I’m just gonna have some sour candies and soda while I plan on what the hell to do with life after high school.”

Jackson sighed as he walked in himself. “Same though, I don’t want to think about the college applications in two years.”

“And I don’t want to think about that stuff since we just went through sophomore year and it’s summer, so be quiet.” Mirana entered, slamming the door.

The store was the same as always, an array of candies near the cashier and soda pop stacked upon each other in rows. Throughout the store held packs of what kids get nowadays: junk food. Though laid around were mediocre everyday items such as earbuds or chargers, which were simply begging to be bought with their cheap prices. Jackson and company mainly went however for the small table they held for customers who just wanted to relax. Though, behind the front counter was a man around their age, who they all knew well.

His name was Kasen, his parents were managers so it was the easiest job to get, from what Jackson heard. Whenever he’d visit the shop for a quick grab of snacks for a sleepover, he would chat with him whilst paying with the little cash he’d have at the moment.

His aloof attitude towards the job made the shop surprisingly more welcoming with his honest attitude. Which is its own downside since he makes the family more money from the teenage crowd, thus his parents force him to stay.

“Yo, Kasen,” Finn walked towards him immediately. “How’s today’s shift going for you?”

Kasen looked up from the article he was reading on his phone. “Boring as usual.” He wore his signature, busted nametag as well as a short-sleeved hoodie for the heat. All the while he placed iced coffee from the coffee shop down the street and a fan to keep him cool.

Jackson shrugged, “Well, at least you have company now.”

Mirana picked out three individual candies that each of them liked themselves and placed them all in front of Kasen as she grabbed her wallet. “I told you guys I’ll by candy for you,” she placed the exactly amount of money on the counter to pay, “So here you go.” 

“I still have to scan it.”

Mira paused. “Oh yeah.” She handed the treats back to him.

Kasen quickly put his long-cut blonde bangs behind his ear and scanned all of them to hand them back to her. “Okay, now you guys can have it.” He took a sip of his iced-coffee again as he took the cash to put in the system.

“Wait!” Finn suddenly said. “What about the drinks?”

After a quick moment of silence, Kasen sighed as the computer printed out the receipt. “Just get your soda already and pay me again.”

 “I still don’t get why you guys just have a table here…” Mirana sat back as she ate gummies.

Kasen leaned forward from his counter. “Well, it was my idea when I was younger, my parents bought it as a present so I wouldn’t be running around the store while they worked. Plus, I thought that people who wanted to stay shouldn’t be standing. Didn’t really noticed how weird it was until I got older.” He snickered pulling up his glasses.

Finn chugged some of his cold, orange pop and took a sighed as he swallowed. “Aren’t we the only people who actually sit here?”

Kasen shrugged, “Well, there are some who do, but they don’t bother talking to me. Mainly since they’re basic bitches, but they get annoying easily so I don’t really try at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” Jackson nodded, “You’re a good man, Kasen, a good man.”

“Yes,” Kasen chuckled, “A good man without an idea of what degree I even wanna get.” He took another sip of coffee.

“Isn’t that half the students though,” Mira questioned.

“I guess so. I mean, at least I’m pretty sure my parents will let me quit after graduating.”

Jackson indulged in his popping candy as the others talked. He already had a basic plan after graduating high school, though without older siblings like Finn had, he didn’t have anything to make reference of for himself.

“Damnit…” He muttered, taking a sip of his lemonade as the others laugh about some random new topic.

 ***

 Jackson had returned to his cozy apartment, lying beside his dining table and lightly chuckling from the thoughtless jokes of the media.

Mira and Finn had left hours ago, all the while his mother had arrived back from the hospital, cooking up dinner. Her bleached hair puffed up into a mess like always as her small eyes carried bags underneath.

Jackson turned towards her directing, eying that she wobbled as she walked.

Jackson stood up, closing his laptop as he slipped next to her and place his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve worked two nights shifts and a day shift to top it off, I’ll make dinner.”

The woman blinked at him slowly, only to place the cutting knife she held for vegetables and sighed “Fine.”

She stumbled towards the table and slumped down on a chair.

Jackson nodded to himself as she already fell to a slumber, and went on to cut the rest of the veggies to use for the last step.

The rice noodles were already being boiled and the chicken breast was already cut. All Jackson had to wait for was the rice noodles to be ready.

 His mother blinked her eyes open as Jackson stirred all of the ingredients together in a wok.

Jackson stirred repetitively for some time until the clattering of plates struck his ears. He turned to see his mother grabbing plates without precaution. Though, he shrugged and laid his eyes down upon the food. “The pancit is ready.” He said as he began serving food to the plate that had been passed to him.

“You’re starting to make better food than me, it took seventeen years.” Her mouth slurred as she spoke as Jackson passed the plate he held to her.

“I’ve been good, besides you passed out immediately once I offered help,” Jackson scoffed.

After gathering their food and utensils, the two sat on the dining table together.

“So how did your day go?”

The light shined above them dimly, and his mother’s voice was weaker than normal.

“Mira dragged me and Finn to the shop. She paid for treats though so I didn’t have to use any money.”

The woman sighed. “Well that’s good. But I’ll pass you some more money by the end of the month.”

Jackson dragged his food around silently. “You know that you don’t have to save for college money now…”

His mother looked down on her plate as she chewed up her meal slowly. As she swallowed, she replied, “I’m just trying to being precautious. My family budget got screwed over for my education around your age.”

“But you still managed.”

“But, I had to work my ass off while you were just a baby.”

Jackson scoffed, “I know, I know. But it isn’t like I’ll be in that situation.”

She sighed, placing her spoon down gently, “Look, I’ve been working enough extra shifts for the hospital to offer me a vacation week. Will that make you a bit happier?”

Jackson took a spoonful of his meal. “Yeah, just rest for the week though. I’ll take care of the house.”

“Thank you, Jackson.”

They continued to eat the meal until Jackson picked up both of the empty plates to wash. His mother meanwhile, sat at the table to have some herbal tea and bread. An array of clean dishes on the other side were waiting to be put back in place, however Jackson’s desire to was barely existent as he washed more things.  

“So, Mom, have there ever been survivors of area deaths that were in the hospital?”

“No, even the news says that no one in those places survived, you’d know that better than me.” Jackson could easily tell with her tone that she was confused.

He replied, “Yeah, but the news gets information wrong sometimes, so it’s always good to gain your own evidence.”

His mother took a sip of her tea. “That’s true. I’m guessing you’re making your own little conspiracy theories again?”

Jackson rolled his eyes with a grin. “No, this situation’s too vague to have a real solution here.” He said while placing a dish to the clean side of the sink.

“Are you going to keep trying to look for clues?”

Jackson groaned, “With how weird this all is, and the situation just getting stranger, I’m not even sure if anyone is gonna get a solid theory to this.”

His mother hummed thoughtlessly, “Well, even the absurd theories end up being true sometimes, so what do you got?” She took a bite of her bread in the process.

Jackson finished up the last dish and turned off the sink. He turned towards his mother with his hands holding the counter behind him. “The closest shot that I have is some artificial virus.”

She eyed him in a tired surprise while saying with bread in her mouth, “And what makes you say that?”

Jackson took a seat across from the woman, stretching his arms while looking at her straight. “Well, if you look at how the area-deaths go. They only happen in a specific location at the moment, and it kills everyone almost immediately. So, what if someone or some people had developed a virus they could activate and spread however they’d like. But at the same time if this were in a, most likely, terrorist perspective, it wouldn’t make sense to just attack specific people out of convenience when they can make mass destruction so easily with that type of destruction. Even more nonsensical that they would guess use this technology on singular people such as the children who’re kept and-… yeah.” He stopped himself from rambling too much.

“Hm, makes sense that this would be tricky. But maybe you should try and see other perspectives on who may have done this if there was someone in action.” His mother stirred her tea as she spoke, spreading the scent of plants and herbs across the room to Jackson’s dismay.

Jackson shrugged. “It’s hard to think of any. This tech would be impossible to create without tons of money or support.”

“With the world nowadays, anything can happen really.” She took another sip of her tea, tipping her head downwards only to get herself back up quickly.

Similar to past nights, Jackson got up to take away her tea and bread. “You’re going to work again tomorrow, right? Go to sleep.”

She blinked until she replied, “Okay, okay. But you’re drinking the rest of that tea for me.”

“That’s fine with me, mom.”

She got up with him as he walked with her to her bedroom.

“Oh yeah,” his mother said whilst slumping herself through the short hallway, “did you have fun with Mira and Finn?”

“Yeah, we talked with Kasen at the shop too, but I was still busy thinking so I spaced out for most of it.”

She softly chuckled, “Of course you did.”

They arrived at her room, all a mess with dirty clothing and mail, and she wobbled her way to fall on her bed. “Night, Jackson,” she said dozily.

“Night, Mom,” he replied as he closed the door with a soft creak.

Jackson walked back to the living room to go back to his laptop. All the while he was in the regular thoughts of a 34-year-old woman working herself exhaustingly for her almost already-independent child.

 ***

 Mirana sat quietly on the floor with her sketchbook while Jackson took notes on his bed for summer homework. As Jackson bored himself with science facts, he noticed Mirana had observed him with her pencil at hand.

He listened to her sketching on her paper as comfort, the pencil tip scratching ever so slightly against the sheets.

“So, what are you drawing now?”

Mirana placed the pencil eraser on her lip, focusing on his position yet again. “Trying to make a sketch of you, but this angle is tricky of course.”

“Why don’t you just move somewhere else to get an easier angle?” Jackson raised his brow, though her answer would most likely be predictable.

She shrugged, “The harder the angle, the more impressive it is to pull it off.”

Jackson typed up a quick fact that he’d forget later. “I still don’t get how people can draw.”

“Well, at least you can take pictures,” Mirana scoffed.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “You just don’t know how to take pictures of people.”

“Adding a filter like you do doesn’t work on everything.” Mirana whined quietly as Jackson turned to his notes again.

They continued doing their own work. And whilst Mirana seemed to have fun in her focus, Jackson began to grow a headache as per usual.

“Hey Mira, are you almost done with your sketch?” He asked.

“Oh, I actually just did. You still have those colored pencils I gave you, right?”

Jackson replied, “You told me to keep them in case you drew here so I left them to die in my closet. Go look there. I’m gonna get some pills.”

Mirana put her sketchbook and pencil, beginning to stand in the process. “’Kay, thanks”

Jackson pushed his laptop aside and got up from his bed. Muttering to himself about not sleep depriving himself before working.

He quickly walked to the living room cabinets, finding headache pills quickly from the last time he left it there. He grabbed the cup of water he’d abandoned from morning breakfast and took the pills with it, having a good chug of the rest of the cup for safe measures. Though as he drank the rest of the cup, thoughts raised through his head.

The quicker I get this work done, the more time I have to relax and… maybe get some money from a job. I’ll look after. It’s starting to get dark though-.  

His surroundings turned grey and silent as he felt a brush on his back in a flash. He choked on his water from flinching, though everything went back to normal the second he coughed it out.

Jackson gasped for air as he stumbled his hands towards the counter edges. He slowly breathed out, “What the hell…” as he stilled to calm down.

“Jackson, you okay?” He turned around to see Mirana by the end of the hallway.

Jackson let go of the counter and answered her. “I just choked on my water a little bit,” he sighed.

The woman crossed her arms and lowered her eyes. “I could hear from the other room. Your walls were thin enough.”

“Of course,” Jackson groaned as he straightened up his t-shirt.

“Have some more water. The pills won’t support your choking bit right there.”

“Sure, sure,” Jackson grumbled as his poured more water from the pitcher.

“So,” Mirana said as Jackson started drinking again, “what made you so startled anyways to that point.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yes, but choking that much by an accident isn’t really that believable.”

Jackson took another gulp of his water. “It was just random chills. I’ll look it up later or something.”

Mirana stayed quiet until she sighed, “Okay then, I’m just gonna go back to coloring.”

She walked back to where she disappeared in Jackson’s eyes. As he turned to look back at the window set on the living room wall. 

The streets were just as lively as ever. Kasen was probably taking a nap during his breakshift of the day, while Finn procrastinated to even read his english books in the first place most likely. Despite his rural beginnings, everything that brought out curiosity and naivety to him had faded into the mundane.  

His mind continued racing until he finished his drink, swifting the glass towards the sink to clean later and going back to his room. 

Though, Jackson opened the door to find his room floor covered in multiple dull colored pencils. He looked ahead to already see a blur of colors in Mirana’s sketchbook.

Carefully, Jackson dawdled to the other side of the room. “You don’t have to throw all the shitty pencils across the room,” he retorted.

Mirana scoffed, “They aren’t shitty. They just aren’t needed for the sketch.”

Jackson rolled his eyes from her ignorance as he sat next to her, getting a better sight of the sketch.

She managed to catch his appearance well, like usual. His light tan-skin was replicated using a simple mix of pencil shades. His eyes squinted smaller than they already were as he focused, which was a usual habit in his defense. Though Jackson noticed his hair was a brown mess, and he subconsciously fixed his hair with his hand as his eyes analyzed the piece some more.

“Goddamnit Mira, it’s good.”

“Thanks, I mainly just colored you but I think I’m gonna move on to an outfit sketch.” She spoke as she turned to the next page, catching some stuck pages out from seemed to be dirt.

“What kind of outfit are you thinking of?”

“Just a thin dress, for when I go out swimming, you know?” She started sketching out lines of the model’s head.

Jackson’s mind swirled about what type of design it’d be, though another question came to mind.

“With how many outfits you made, did you ever consider being a designer or something?”

Mirana scrunched up, tapping her pencil slowly as she slightly hummed. “I’m not really sure yet. I like doing art in general, outfits are kinda just another hobby but I don’t know shit about actual fabric stuff.”

Jackson shrugged as she kept sketching slowly. “Yeah, but you can always learn, that’s what half the internet was made for.”

Mirana chuckled. “Yeah, but I prefer using the other half,” she clicked.

Jackson scrunched his eyes. “If you’re implying what I think you’re implying, get out.”

She snickered as he groaned back onto his own workspace.

“So, Jackson, what are you gonna do when I’m gone for the next two weeks?”

Jackson opened an online textbook, “Oh- Wait, shouldn’t you be packing right now?”

Mirana said, “I already did all of that last night. It was pretty easy.”

“You just stuffed everything you had other than your sketchbook and materials into your luggage without a thought, didn’t you?”

She grinned. “Pretty much.”

Jackson shook his head, “Your car trip’s gonna be around 2 days long…”

“Yeah, but out of anything, all I really need for survival is my sketchbook. Same goes for my music but I always have that so no need to worry.”

Jackson sighed, “Don’t come complaining to me when you don’t know where your swim-suit is.”

Mirana looked up from her sketchbook, “What? I got too focused on something.”

Of course, he thought. His screen became his sight again as he said, “Just don’t die in Massachusetts.”

“You’d probably like it more than me really, colder than here in New York City.”

Jackson smiled. “Trust me, I don’t like anything considering the weather.”

 ***

 “It’s been two weeks. More kids died in their apartments. News is saying that people are starting to move. And at the same time, we still have no idea why this is happening in the first place.”

Finn commented, “There haven’t been anything else like this outside of NYC, so it could be worse.”

Jackson snapped back, “But what if it does get worse?” He slammed down his laptop from the kitchen table, walking off to refill his glass of water from minutes prior.

“Jackson?”

He chugged his cup full down with a vitamin D pill quickly, coughing and wiping his mouth with a sigh as he finished. “What,” he gasped.

 “You’re getting stressed again. Calm down.”

Jackson huffed. “I don’t understand what’s going on anymore. The press would’ve released something weeks ago explaining, but all I get is shitty blogposts.”

He sat at his table again, arms over his head and kicking his long legs back and forth from the stool. “If we keep this up, we’re all gonna die soon enough.”

Finn stood silently, then sat on another stool on the side. He clapped his hands together while taking a breath. “Okay. Jackson, we aren’t gonna die. Out of anything if we see people die, just turn for it until you’re out of the area completely. Maybe try not to breathe, I don’t know.”

“But we still don’t know the main cause, we’re fucked.”

“Jackson, you have to calm down,” he patted Jackson’s back.

Jackson said blankly, “What’ll happen if my mom gets involved?”

“Jackson!” Hands stuck his arms tightly, turning him to face Finn again, who was stricken with concern in his eyes. “You need to stop worrying about this stuff. You should know out of everybody that it’s not good for you.”

Jackson blinked, then replied slowly, “If we stop doing anything, we’ll get nowhere. If we don’t know anything, we’ll get nowhere… We need this.”

Finn sighed, letting him go steadily. He glared at him softly, “Just don’t stress yourself out like that anymore.”

“Don’t worry. I think I’m fine now, I’ll just take some relax pills.” Jackson stood and turned to the cabinet of pills, grabbing a bottle of valerian root pills. He refilled his cup again to take it in.

He finished the cup silently as Finn attempting to make conversation after their talk.

“Huh, that’s a first.”

Finn cocked a brow. “What?”

Jackson said, “I’ve been having these weird chills lately at random, and over half the time it was when I was drinking water. And for the first time in two weeks,” he raised his cup, “I was able to drink an entire cup without getting any.”

“Wait,” Finn asked, “Is that why you’ve been drinking tons of water and choking?”

Jackson nodded, “Yeah, didn’t really like it but I wanted to see how long it’d last. Besides I stay inside so much that I might as well get a lot of hygiene to compensate.”

“Understandable.” Finn went back to his phone. “So, you said that you were hanging out with Mira tomorrow when she comes back, right?”

“Yeah, down at the Amersford park at 2:30.”

“Do you think I can join a bit after? I’ll be like an hour late since I’m gonna hang out with some of the basketball guys.”

Jackson shrugged, “Yeah sure, she’s pretty much just hanging out with us as a way of getting out of unpacking for a bit so the more the merrier.”

Finn chuckled, “Her room’s gonna be a disaster either way so it’s fine.”

“I’ll text her later. But for right now, you’ll go do my math work for me.”

 ***

 Jackson’s phone buzzed while he looked at pop culture news. He picked it up to see Mirana’s name plastered on the phone.

He clicked the green button and answered, “Are you almost here? It’s almost two.”

“We got here earlier than expected, so do you think you can come over now?”

Jackson looked at himself, dressed in a random t-shirt and a pair of boxers yet again. “I can, but I need some time to get ready first.”

“You’re in your boxers again, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Okay I’m just gonna wait with YouTube. See ya soon.”

She hung up right afterwards.

Jackson groaned from his own lack of sleep and got up regretfully. After taking deep breath, he dashed to his drawer and quickly dressed himself. He immediately brushed his teeth in the bathroom, washed up his face, and fixed up his hair. He snatched his newsie-cap and phone to be completely ready to go in the record-time speed of five minutes.

He quietly said goodbye to his resting mother before going off.

Jackson called her again as he started walking to the park.

“Are you out of your house yet?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.”

“Good, you’re being productive.”

“Unlike you.”

“Shut up”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Oh, bye then.”

Jackson hung up the phone as he started to take his ten-minute walk of the week.

 ***

 Just a block away from Amersfort park, and Jackson only struck silence in his ears. He cocked his head to say the least once he noticed.

He walked to the entrance steadily. He found a scent wasn’t of the city’s smoke, which was utmost peculiar causing him to walk quicker.

A thick atmosphere comforted around him as he got closer, and his hand suddenly began to burn but he ignored it during the flashes of monochrome that appeared in his sights, with chills going down his spine continuously.

He got to the entrance, and slowly turned to see what exactly was going on.

His eyes widened to the point where it hurt. His blood ran colder than it had ever been before as his heartbeat sped up faster and faster. His eyes slowly began having forming thick, wet tears that burned against his cold figure.

He couldn’t stop staring at all of messy, bloody bodies that laid before him. The eyes of pain they’d left only made sense with the giant puncture on their bodies.

And what laid across the entrance of the park was dyed-red hair that he could always remember.

Mirana ended up dead in New York City.

Though, as Jackson stood in shock, his eyes caught a black figure standing. It was ginormous, skin wrinkled up to its spine and a black aura surrounding them as well. However, its paws held thick claws that were stained red.

This isn’t real.

The monster turned and saw Jackson.

This isn’t real.

It took a single step towards him.

He could barely think.

He could barely tell reality anymore

However, one single thought formed completely.

Run.

[macchiatomingi]

dysnomia.exe (ATEEZ Cyberpunk!AU) Chapter 2

Chaos//Order

After the news report, the house was sent into a flurry of activity. Yunho and San were setting up the firewall to prevent trackers from getting to it, Jongho and Yeosang were hooking up the microphone and making sure the surrounding area would be silent. Mingi hadn’t left his room since the report, but everyone knew better than to try and speak to him. You, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung sat with Hongjoong, discussing the group's next move.

“We have to leave,” Seonghwa starts, his voice cutting through a thick veil of tension.

“Where can we go.” Hongjoong replies, voice so certain that you couldn’t register his statement as a question or just a general sentence, the tension in his shoulders suggested a question, but the certainty of his voice suggested statement. Humans were confusing.

“We can scout,” Wooyoung starts, using a scarred hand to push silver hair out of his face, “the normal team can go out and look for a new place to live. We need to go hunting anyways, so we can kill two birds with one stone.” He finishes, leaning forward and resting his hands on Hongjoong’s desk.

Confusion sets in; why would Wooyoung want to throw stones at birds? Now isn’t the time for that.

“Wooyoung,” you start, turning to face him, “what is the purpose of killing birds with stones? There are more pressing matters at hand,” you say.

“Well, y’see Calixte-”

“As well as now not being an appropriate time,” you cut in, green numbers and charts flashing in front of your vision, “it is statistically impossible for anyone outside of Mingi to hit a bird with a bullet, let alone a stone. Attempting to kill birds with stones at this point in time would result in an approximate four hours and thirty-seven minutes wasted, and an approximate two hours and twenty-three minutes wasted by Mingi.” you conclude, the green haze leaving your eyes as you focused once again on Wooyoung’s features.

The room was silent, aside from Seonghwa’s muffled laughter at your literal acceptance of Wooyoung’s words.

“Anyways…” Hongjoong begins, you notice some of the tension has left his body and were relieved until another jolt of electricity shocked your system. Human emotions are stupid and cause nothing but pain, that’s the conclusion you’ve come to due to San’s faulty codes, “I’ll send the normal squad out for scouting after the transmission is completed, deal?” he finishes, pushing himself up from his seat.

Your eyes glow blue in affirmation while Wooyoung nods. Seonghwa took this as a chance to exit the room, and he did, followed by Hongjoong. Wooyoung followed shortly after which left you alone.

Your systems were malfunctioning, especially your sight receptors. You should probably notify someone of that, but now isn’t the time. Stress levels were much higher than what they normally were at the time of transmissions, and you knew to request an update to your hardware would add on to the already stressful situation.

The house was silent upon your exit from the room, realizing that everyone was standing outside the recording room as Hongjoong made another address, you quietly made your way over. Not a single floorboard creaked under your weight, and nobody knew you even left the room as you took a place standing behind Yunho, too short to see over his shoulders but not needing to.

“In light of the recent news report,” Hongjoong begins, his voice as smooth as silk as he spoke, “We feel as if it is necessary to re-explain our goals. Dysnomia is, in short, the Greek goddess of lawlessness. Disorder. Rebellion. Anarchy. Whatever word you’d like to use. Our goal? Answers. We seek answers for the crimes committed against us and the 15,892 others that lost their lives in the forced Wiping of Sector 00913. We seek the truth, we seek closure, and we will stop at nothing to get it.” He drawls, voice sharpening as his words take on more emotion, “Whether that be murder, or starting riots, we will get what it is we ask for.” He says.

The air stills, and you can see everyone get tense once more. Hongjoong speaks again but this time his voice is...darker...harsher than what it was.

“The answers we seek come from IDAT, from the Integrated Defense of Automated Technology. The president finds it in himself to call us the criminals when he is responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths. We will bring his crimes to light, and we will bring peace and solace to those affected by him and his men’s regime.” He says, every word laced with a poison of which you’ve never heard.

The transmission ends shortly after; it was a success. 

There were no attempted breachings, and it was broadcasted on every major news network and website in Nuseoul. As quickly as everything was brought out, it was packed back up. Hongjoong exited the recording room and instructed everyone to go with him into the city to buy new clothes and hair dyes as well as materials for your new physical suit.

“Calixte,” Seonghwa says, stopping in front of you as he puts on his coat, “stay here and make sure Mingi doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Your eye flashed a shade of yellow, “Command received,” you say.

Seonghwa nods and follows everyone else out the house, leaving you alone with Mingi.

This wasn’t a problem, it’s not that you disliked the boy, you were incapable of disliking anyone after all. You took a seat on the couch once more and the TV automatically cut on in response. Every news network in Nuseoul was talking about the recent transmission, and after conducting a quick search of the Internet, you realized that every forum was talking about it as well. Eventually settling on a random TV station playing a mindless cartoon, you set your systems to Hibernate to try and alleviate some of the stress your sensors had been under for practically the entire day.

You were brought out of your hibernation when a body was sensed nearby, turning to face the direction of the body, you took note of the figure in front of the fridge.

Mused brown hair fell in front of sharp features, the boy stood unmoving until he noticed you staring at him.

“What,” he starts, gravely voice cutting through the air, “what do you want?”

“My sensors tell me that you are distressed,” you say as you run an emotional diagnostics exam, “the main emotion you seem to be feeling now is the one titled Stress. According to the WPA, one way to alleviate Stress would be to discuss your problems with someone around you.” you finish.

“I don’t need to-”

“My sensors also indicate that you are experiencing the emotion titled Anger.”

“Well yeah because when you-”

“My sensors indicate that you-”

“Can you shut up?” The door to the fridge slams shut, rattling the entire appliance and knocking down some of the boxes of cereal on top of it.

Your already scrambled sensors are scrambling even more at this point, a variety of emotions swirl in front of you ranging from Confusion to Rage to Distress and you don’t know what any of them are, you only have Excitement and Confusion. San hasn’t created any new emotions for you yet.

“I do not understand,” you say, head tilting to the side, “it is clear that you are experiencing a variety of negative emotions yet you refuse to acknowledge the solutions that have been provided to attempt to resolve them, Song Mingi.”

“I can’t believe I’m arguing with a robot,” he says, laughing at the pure stupidity of the situation, “I don’t need your advice, I don’t need advice from a talking piece of metal.”

“I am an android, an android made of a copper-titanium alloy.”

“Like that makes it any better.”

You stay silent, you couldn’t understand why he wasn’t taking the advice you gave. Your primary purpose was to serve ATZ and ensure that they are well and that their missions are a success, that is what you were reprogrammed for. That is what you were repurposed for. The fact that you were so blatantly ignored when the person obviously needed help was...as Jongho would say, baffling.

“I apologize if my lack of Empathy renders me a nuisance to you,” you hear a scoff, “I have requested that San program the emotion so that I can better understand complex human emotions. I hope that I will be more understanding once I receive that program.”

“You sound like a fucking IDAT robot.” He groans, your vision flashes an ERROR message once again.

Silence consumes the room as you turn back towards the TV, slowing down your systems once again to accommodate the influx of error messages you receive. You eventually fall into another Hibernation state, only waking out of it when Wooyoung restarts your systems to notify you that you, him, and Mingi will be leaving to both scout the surrounding area for a new home and hunt for dinner for at least the next week.

The three of you left in silence, you trailing behind Mingi, who followed behind Wooyoung. All of you dressed in black to blend in with the darkness around you. Wooyoung has a small pouch of throwing knives tied around his thigh, while Mingi has at least three guns on his person. You’re left with nothing, but that’s okay as you’re able to be repaired and are thus, as Mingi says, disposable.

“There is a heat signature about fifty-four feet in front of us, near a water source, most likely a stream.” You say.

“Got it,” Mingi replies as he passes in front of Wooyoung, taking the gun that was slung over his shoulder and flipping it around, he crouches down and brings his eye up to the scope, powering the weapon on. He adjusts his position a bit before he holds his breath, you take note of how his heart rate slows and his body relaxes. He pulls the trigger and is knocked back a bit due to the rebound from the weapon, but you still see that the animal was indeed hit by the bullet.

“The target has been knocked down.”

“No need to state the obvious.”

“Be nice.”

The three of you walk forward to the animal, you take note of it’s twitching form as it’s life slowly ebbs out of the bullet wound. Walking past Wooyoung and Mingi, you pick up the animal and sling it over your shoulder, turning back around to face them.

“We can continue searching for shelter now.” You say, walking back towards the path you all came down originally.

After about two hours of searching you all stumble across another house, further out than the one you were currently in. Wooyoung instructs you to notify the rest of the team via an encrypted message, and you do so. Receiving a reply roughly 30 seconds later instructing you three to set up home for the time being.

Wooyoung and Mingi enter the house as you go around the back to drop off the animal that was collected from the hunt, as you set it down you receive a file from San.

‘These are some emotions I made for you! Install them! All the programs save for Excitement are betas so let me know how they work!’ it reads.

The emotions are installed as you set up a fire to cook the animal, and by the time everything is finished you’ve acquired Empathy, Sadness, Joy, an updated Excitement, and Rage. Placing the animal over the fire you make your way into the house from the back entrance.

“Calixte!” Wooyoung shouts, a wide smile gracing his features sending a jolt of electricity through your systems, “how do you feel? San said before we left that he was gonna send you new emotions!”

“Yes,” you begin, “I have received the emotions and they have been installed. Upon you saying my name I believe I felt the emotion of Joy, but I am unsure.” You said monotonously, much to Wooyoung’s dismay.

“Well, there’s always time to teach you,” he sighs, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you towards the home’s living room, “let’s wait for everyone in here. Mingi already claimed a room and slammed the door.”

You nod in acknowledgment of his words, and upon sitting down your systems once again get flooded with error messages.

~~~~~

Ooooh this kinda droned on too but !!! the next chapter should pick things up :’) fdaklj i’m so hype to get the next chapter up but its 12:30 AM as i finish and i still have to sort stuff out for school :’) ah education, i love it but i hate it.

[kristallioness]

Of comfort and connections

Summary: Aang thinks about things while being in Katara's embrace for a change.

Word count: 2,027

Author's note: This early Saturday morning I happened to go through a thread on a random forum (where people discussed some things that I indulge myself in) and I began reading how this sweet young man talked about what he liked to do with his girlfriend. He admitted that it felt weird to him when she wanted to be the one who'd cuddle him and let him listen to her heart, since he felt like HE should be the one who offers her protection/comfort and not the other way around (obviously he let her do it anyway, which is why he seemed like such a caring guy). I can understand the reasons why he might think that, but at the same time I thought of a certain other couple who has it both ways. It sparked this idea. (I'm not a member in that forum, so I couldn't add my opinion, but personally I really like and believe it can work both ways.) The story takes place some time after "The Rift". Also, there's a reference to how Aang/Raava survived based on the exact opposite of what Vaatu said to Wan (about how he could become stronger). I should probably stop writing/drawing so much fluff about these two and save some ideas for Kataang Week (I already sketched something new and I might use it for a prompt that fits, I'm not gonna post it yet because it's too good).

----------x----------

Aang's finger traced a path across the soft blue fabric, drawing the shape of a heart above hers. The sensation made her giggle. Katara grabbed his left hand for a second and laid it flat in the middle of her chest so he'd quit tickling her. He didn't mean to do that, but he got the message.

Aang was simply pondering why listening to her heartbeat felt so soothing. Why it made him wanna doze off, yet sort of felt like a wake-up call at the same time. He didn't get to do these kind of things so much before. Snuggling up to each other was new for both of them ever since they'd become a couple. Sure they'd hugged and comforted each other many times during the war, all of which helped build their friendship and lay the foundation for their relationship.

But this.. this was something much more intimate. His head resting on her chest, her left hand supporting his back and holding him close to her side. A blanket underneath them and a pillow behind her head for support. Cuddled up at the back of the saddle in the warm summer evening, getting ready to fall asleep and rest, only to wake up the next morning when new adventures would await their small gang.

He'd felt a bit.. okay, a lot awkward when Katara had offered that they took these poses, being first in their makeshift bed that night. He wasn't used to being the one who was cuddled, much less by a girl and in the position she'd suggested. He was supposed to be the cuddler.

His rosy cheeks had returned to their normal colour once he'd gotten used to the feeling of the side of his face squishing her breasts and found a comfortable spot that didn't bother either of them. Focusing on the steady rhythm of her heart helped a little.

Katara had laughed about it, saying that he needed to feel protected by her just as much as she did by him. That she wanted to give him that feeling. And that meant he'd get to experience what he'd previously allowed her to do - snuggling close to her side and resting his head above her heart. Yeah, this was something that only a couple could do without feeling embarrassed.

His head slowly rose and descended according to her breathing. Aang raised his head a bit to look into her eyes, but she wasn't even looking at him. Katara was busy gazing at the stars in the northern sky. Her diamond blue eyes shimmered similarly to them. She wore a loving smile that grew a little when she sensed that he was staring at her. She seemed so calm and happy, her mind free from constantly worrying about the state of the world. She had him to thank for that.

Aang lowered his head and pressed his right ear above her heart to continue listening. His fingers tiptoed a bit lower to a less awkward position as he rested them below her ribcage. One of them still rubbed at a rib that moved up and down under her right breast as she breathed. Why did this seem so familiar to him?

His hand nearly clasped her tunic from that spot when he finally remembered. It'd only been a short moment, but it was the sound that'd stopped him from leaving her. It went crazy at the thought of losing him forever. It was the first sound he'd heard when he came back to her, after she'd revived him with the spirit water. Her heart racing when she couldn't accept what'd just happened - that the water didn't work.

But it did work. She'd poured her love out, all over his limp body, which had helped revive his Avatar Spirit. He grumbled and managed to get a short glance of her relieved smile when she held him in her arms before everything faded into darkness again. Except that he could still hear that drumming in his ears for a while longer, until eventually that faded away, too.

He didn't know how it was possible, but she did. She'd held him close to her side all the way from Ba Sing Se to Chameleon Bay, not daring to let go for a second. The way she'd defended him had given him strength to recover. Hearing her beating heart tell him how much she loved him had given him breath to continue fighting. And it'd brought him back to life during that fateful night.

Aang frowned at the thought of what kind of hell he must've put her through during those following weeks. He pulled his left knee up a bit and curled up like a baby, trying to close what little space remained between their bodies. He nuzzled his nose against her chest and pulled his hand back under his chin, laying it over her heart before clenching it into a fist.

"Aang.. you okay?" she wondered, running her hand over his head a few times when she felt how his body tensed up. He looked up at her with a worried gaze, but simply seeing her being concerned about him helped wash away his sorrow and he offered her a reassuring smile instead.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking about stuff."

"Mmm.." Katara hummed, her finger running down his nose and over his lips before she leaned forward a bit to give him a tender kiss on his temple. She rested her hand above his and gave it a gentle squeeze, making him relax his fist.

"Cosy?"

"Mhmm," Aang nodded against her chest, attempting to resume his train of thought. He startled a little when her stomach growled. She lifted her right knee up a bit, as if she had a stomach ache.

"Hungry?" he asked in return, seeing how she blushed and scratched the side of her face.

"Not really, we had a good supper. But I wouldn't mind a small snack."

"Psst! Momo.. Hey, Momo!" Aang quietly called the winged lemur, who'd been napping on top of Appa's head. Momo's big ears, followed by the rest of his head, popped up from behind the front of the saddle and he quickly leaped closer to the airbender, licking his face in the process.

"Ha-ha-ha! Cut it out, buddy! I need you to bring me something."

Momo quit licking him and jumped onto Katara's belly instead, tilting his head curiously to look at Aang.

"Momo, bring me an apple, please."

The winged lemur chirped a few times, then leaped over Katara's head to land on the luggage behind them. He sniffed through their bags and quickly found a backpack that was full of fruit, picking a nice juicy green apple for the Avatar's girl. Momo grabbed his loot and flew back to her side, handing the fruit over to Aang.

"Thanks, buddy! Here you go, sweetie."

"Thanks, sweetie. And thank you, Momo!" Katara said as she grabbed the apple in her right hand, then stroked the lemur with the back of it before biting into her snack. Momo yawned and curled up like a ball beside the couple to fall back asleep.

Aang began rubbing Katara's flat belly, like he was trying to ease a nonexistent pain while she ate. Running circles around that area reminded him of something else. If he'd thought about their past before, then now he started to think about their future.

He remembered what she'd told him during the battle for Yu Dao. How she'd seen a future where people from different nations could live together, where they're married and have a baby. He'd never thought about that before, what his life could look like in the future with Katara after the war was over.

Sure they'd stay together as a couple, but marriage hadn't crossed his mind since Aunt Wu predicted that he'd become her husband. At least not until Ursa and Ikem had pointed it out again on the two of them - how lucky they were to have found each other at such a young age. Aang did feel lucky that she'd found him in that iceberg. That Katara was the first person he'd woken up to a hundred years later. That during the final year of the war, they'd begun falling for each other. And that they were a couple now.

His palm stroked her tummy. That was another thing he hadn't given much consideration yet - starting a family with her. He'd never had to think about having children with someone before. Now he felt like it was his responsibility to think about it. If for no other reason, then for saving his people from extinction. Bringing a new airbender into this world was the only way to do that. Because even though sky bison were the original airbenders, he doubted that Appa would live to see the next Avatar and teach him or her airbending, especially since that would be the last element to master.

The idea made Aang feel a bit sick to his own stomach. Having a child simply because it's his duty to save the airbenders. If he wanted to have children with Katara, then it'd only be because both he and she wanted to. Because they'd love their baby for who he or she is, airbender or not. He'll figure something out when it concerned his next life, and Katara would certainly help with that. Yes, he decided that sounded a lot better.

And since she'd already imagined a baby in their future, then he concluded that she must want one. That she'd definitely love to have one with him. Honestly, he was glad that if that happened, then it would be with Katara, because she'd be the most caring and loving mother in the world to their children. The whole concept seemed scary now, but Aang felt sure that if and when she was ready to do all of those things, then he'd be ready, too.

"Katara?"

"Hmm?" she tilted her head while she took another bite from the apple.

"Remember when you first told me how you saw our future?"

"Mhmm.." she answered with a hum, nodding in agreement before swallowing.

"It got me thinking," Aang went on, his finger tenderly running around the edge of what he guessed was her belly button under that blue fabric.

"Yeah.." she said in a teasing tone, waiting for him to say whatever it was that he wanted to tell her.

"I'd be honoured to be your husband. And I'd love to raise a family with you, whenever you're ready. That is, if you wanna marry and have a baby, of course! No pressure!"

Katara chuckled as she took one last bite and threw the remainder of the fruit on the grass beside Appa. She licked her fingers clean and dried her hand against the side of her tunic, then cupped Aang's cheek.

"Yes, I'd love that, too. Very much," she murmured to him, caressing his cheek with her thumb. Aang propped himself up on his right elbow to look at her. Her cheeks were decorated with a tint of red, but she never broke eye contact. She was smiling back at him, her eyes half-lidded.

Katara beckoned him closer by softly pulling her hand away from his cheek, tugging him to follow. He shifted a bit so his face would be closer to hers, close enough for her lips to meet his so she could kiss him. He cupped her cheek in return after they'd broken their kiss, admiring her beautiful face.

"I love you so much, Katara," Aang said in a slightly shaky voice. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and wrapped his arms around her for a very tight hug, almost as if he was afraid of losing her. She was his whole world and he really didn't wanna let go so soon.

He felt how she snaked her arms around him, too, and rubbed his back in return. She hummed in delight, feeling both their heartbeats reciprocating the same against their chests.

"Mmm.. I know. I love you, too, Aang."

[derenyanai]

Araquu Journal Session #10- So Here’s The Plan

Time: Sometime after Session 18 Characters: Maska, Cecily, Yue, Aldrid, Navi

Posts indented like this were typed by the GM.

Posts that were not indented were typed by the player(s).

After the incident at Floradai Park, the DISC Unit discusses what to do next...

Yue was laying on a couch in whatever meeting room they be in kicking her feet in the air as she lays on her stomach hands on her chin supporting her head, "Sooo, we're out of leads then huh guys? No more relics to go after then? Is there some Small crime going on we can handle then?" she wonders out loud.

Maska is sprawled on whatever table they have in the room, head resting on the hard wood. With a laptop in front of him i guess "I could look up news article of the past few days..."

Cecily is only standing up and leaning near a corner of the room, having her arms crossed. "I could call one of the council members and see if they have any more info on relic locations," she suggests, pulling out her phone.

"Is there any thing else we should be doing aside from relic searching?” Yue asks. “I feel like that's a fun pass time searching for relics and all, but isn't there some more important other things we should do? Like finding the person actually stealing the relics, then we don't have to waste time to look for the hard to find artifacts."

"I could look up the year they were made in," Maska blows his single strand of hair of his face, "What year was it again? 18 something?" He sits up and brings the machine closer to him.

"1944," Cecily corrected.

"Ah yes, the 40s" Maska said, in a mocking old timey voice "Where showing a single ankle was like hardcore porn to men" He typed up ‘City of Araquu, 1944′ on google.  

Some furious Google searching is enough to yield some rather interesting results. You have learned the following! • 1944 is the same year that the current Emperor became, well, the Emperor, having formerly been a part of the (then) council. • Several businesses and attractions were established in that year; Café Bleu de la Lune, Yinxiu Trinkets, Floradai Park, and Shimmering Fabrics are all familiar names. Attractions at the Park of the Lady, and a few recently discovered things (exhibited at the History Museum and Museum of Modern art) are mentioned. • Several powerful mage families also emigrated into Araquu at that time. Listed are the Summers family, the Noah family, and the Meyers family. 

"Woah what?" Maska gasp, "Wendy comes from family of mages?"

"This is Araquu, most families here are families of mages, why are you so shocked by this Masky?" Yue wonders.

"Even my father's side of my family are mages," Cecily offhandly mentions.

"Yeah, but they're pleabians" He opens the Powerful Mage families emigrations on a different tab, "Says here they're crazy powerful, this I gotta see."

Which one(s) are you looking into?

"Hrm, let's start with Wendys family" He clicks on the Summers Family.

The Summers family is currently composed of: • Mikhal Summers, aged 58. An expert at tracking magic and capable of using various other assorted magics. • His son, Matthew Summers, aged 26. Rather talented in the art of plant magics. • Matthew's husband, Mark Summers, aged 25. Rather talented in the art of song magics. • Their adopted daughter, Wendy Summers, aged 10. She's too young to practice magic.

"I'd expected the current family be bigger, then again Wendy’s fathers are gay" Maska rubs his chin, "Plant Magic, Song Magic and Tracking Magic... her grandfather's magic could be useful provided he lend us a hand, what do you guys think?" He turns to Yue and Cecily.

"Well we can certainly add that to the things to consider," she cuffed her chin. "...Check to see if there's anything else worth looking into to broaden our options."

"Let me check to see if I can find a connection to the Summers Family and those darn relics," Maska searches the entirety of family to see if there’s a link.

You search the article for a while but don't manage to find anything. Apparently it's not online for everyone ever to see?

"Nothing, let's check the Meyers Family" He goes back on the site and clicks on the Meyers "Never heard of these people."

You have learned that an old lady named Geraldine Meyers is the owner of Shimmering Fabrics.

"Oh hey, it's that old lady from Upper City" Maska shows Cecily the picture of Geraldine, "The one we got the pin from."

"I recall her," Cecily said, flattening her expression. "Reminds me of something else I plan on doing later. Anyways, see what it says about the family."

"Oh right, I should actually look up the actual history of the family." Damn it Maska, anyways he reads the history of the Meyers outloud.

Geraldine lives on her own with like, 50 dogs, she has no family.

"50 dogs? Living the dream right there, good shit." He looks over Geraldine's profile once again, "For someone who comes from a powerful mage family, doesn't seem like she has magical abilities."

"So you're saying that they're nothing to note besides working at one of the locations we've been to?" Cecily asks.

The problem is, no one really knows much about her. She lives on her own and doesn't socialize that often. There's not much information available online.

"Nope, well if you count that she had the relic in her shop and having come from a prestige family" He goes back and clicks on the last family to emigrated to Araquu, "But I don't think that's a connection."

THE NOAH FAMILY, aka Councilman Noah's family, probably his parents or grandparents? That's like all you can find, the council is pretty damn secretive.

"I forgot how secretive mages were with their history, it's really fucking annoying" Maska lets out a sigh with a grimace on his face. Fucking mages.

A sigh only comes from Cecily. "Great," she says. "In terms of people that doesn't leave us with much. How about any other places that relate to the date? Some we haven't visited?"

"Give me a sec, you know you can come and look see yourself instead of trying to blend into the wallpaper" He closes the tab of TreeAncestry dot com and goes back to the google one. He clicks on the page relating to the business that open during 1944.

Before you can investigate any further, the door opens and Navi walks in. "...WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK WHY IS MY HOUSE YOUR HANGOUT!?"

"Hey boo, we just invited ourselves in hope you don't mind" Maska waves at her.

"...if it makes you feel better, I brought food over," Cecily says, pointing to some left over donuts in a box. "You can help yourself."

Navi mutters something about having sworn she locked the door before going to grab a donut. "Any luck with those last few relics we don't know about?"

"No, but I did find out that Wendy’s gonna be a powerful mage when she grows up" Maska stretches a bit, "Right now we're looking into the business that open during the 40s."

Navi takes a few bites to eat her donut, munching as Maska searches. Unfortunately there are too many Dank Memes on the interwebs right now, so he can't find anything that they don't already know.

Cecily, it suddenly dawns on you that perhaps it wasn't so much businesses that were given relics, so much as people who were entrusted to take care of them and put together something they could use to hide it. A lamp at a cafe isn't something that draws attention; nor is a hatpin at a clothing store.

"...There is a connection I do notice," Cecily thought to herself. "Perhaps it's not so much as locations, as it's actually people we should be more concerned with paying attention to. Like, people the Emperor must of knew or trusted."

"Huh- oh uh" Maska quickly closes the Bill Wurtz video he accidentally clicked on, "Right Emperor, question; how do we figure out who he knew? The guy is a well guarded secret."

"That... is the tricky part," Cecily sweatdropped. "I mean, we could ask one of the councilmen. After all, Councilmen Noah is tied to the year 1944."

"Hang on I'm gonna check this article for a hot minute" He clicks on the search result on how the current emperor became as such.

It seems to be a 'picked by the council' thing; and they usually have a sort of trial of their own design to figure out if the person trying to become Emperor is capable of the tasks that would be set before them. Also, you've found a forum where people try and theorize what kind of magic the Emperor uses.

"They do a trial to see if they're fit to be the Emperor, huh i always thought it was more of  a 'who the most powerful mage of them all' cue lightning crackling-" He pauses at what he found "Oh hey! Look, conspiracy theorist!"

Navi groans. "Maska for the love of god no, when has anything useful ever come from conspiracy theories-" boom shakalaka

"Shut up! I'm listening to crazy people!" He clicks on the link to the forum.

Cecily facepalms. "...So, Navi," Cecily says, deciding to small talk while Maska is wasting time. Maybe he'll get back on track soon. "What have you been up to while we were in the Upper City?"

Maska, you can't find any signs of intelligent life here. There are approximately thirty different theories about what kind of magic the Emperor uses, although only two of them seem to be actually trying to present any evidence. There's also a running poll and betting pool about what gender the Emperor is, which is basically neck and neck for Male/Female right now.

"Mostly been runnin' deliveries and what not for Willow. Helpin' her out. She's expectin' a new shipment in soon and wants to be careful it doesn't get stolen again."

"Hm.... I should come back and bet on this when we find out," He mutters to himself and opens both theories that are at least trying their best in their own tabs.

"Robbed?" Cecily asks. "What was stolen?"

"It happened a while ago, she said it was some or other ingredients she doesn't actually sell 'cause they're usually illegal to hang onto," Navi explains. "Said she has permission to use 'em in her own private work though. Actually, she spoke to Aldrid 'bout it, I'm surprised he hasn't told y'all this happened."

 Maska, the two primary theories are that the Emperor either uses some form of Body Manipulation Magic (that is, manipulating their own body) or that they use some form of Time Magic. The argument for Time Magic seems to have more proof - various photos of things and locations in places the Emperor has apparently been that indicate time changed somehow - although a lot of the photos and things are "I took a picture here with my mom at this point in time, and then a thing happened and now it looks like THIS" or something similar so it's hard to verify the validity of any of those; on the other hand, Body Manipulation Magic has a very strong following and many people have pointed out that surely it HAS to be that because of all the photos of the various damaged areas from the scene, or the fact that no one fucking knows what the Emperor looks like so they have to be able to change themselves at will... tough to say, really! However, based on your own investigations of these things, you're more inclined to think the Emperor is some sort of time mage; a lot of the things being argued as going under Body Manipulation can actually be viewed as time magic if looked at from the right angle, and with how secretive the council is it's really no surprise that people don't know what the Emperor looks like either; especially if he or she could just, I don't know, pause time and go where they need to go and then unpause it or something similar!

"Pft maybe Wu Hou is the Emperor, or maybe related," He re-reads the time magic theory again. Hypothetically, a egg inside of Maska’s head begins to crack, crack, crack, and hatch to reveal a chick. Maska stands up and shouts "OH MY GOD WE NEED TO FIND WU HOE" frantically.

"AAAAH, JESUS!" Cecily replies, jumping a foot into the air.

"AAAAAHHH!" Yue falls off the couch and sits up looking around. “I'm awake totally.... what happened who's yelling?"

"It makes somewhat sense" He re-reads both theories on the forum he found "Maybe we really need to find Wu Hou..."

"Huh? Why?" Yue asks standing up and brushing herself off.

Maska explains to her the theories he found and his after thoughts on how the Emperor could be using it, also he brought her up to speed on what they had found out "...So, if we do find her, not only could we find more about people that are connected to 1944, we could find out more about the Emperor themselves."

"Assuming that this Wu person would be interested in even bothering to help us. What makes you so sure we can count on her?" Yue puts a finger to chin in thinking form.

"Same goals? Cecily did mention she was trying to 'save the city.'" Maska opens up a new tab and goes to youtube. Might as well get some music in the background, the silence is the deafening, "Besides, I trust this Hou person very little but I do trust Cecily's judgement. Most of the time."

"Huh, Well, glad to see you're not taking that at face value." she smiles, "I've run into so many people that claim the same thing in this line of work that it's hard for even me to trust everything someone says. Besides how would we find someone that could travel through time, and not alert HQ?" Yue sits down cross armed, "What about talking with the council again, maybe they can help us figure something out?"

"I think that’s the point, even if the Emperor would use time magic, wouldn't their magical signature already be notified by the police?" He clicks on some random music and lets it play on low volume, "And true we could take it up with them again, but remember they can't always help us. When was the last time we even met them again in person? Still, not denying that we could go talk to them."

"Did you have a reason to meet them again in person before now?" Yue wonders leaning in.

"Beside seeing Fira again, not really" He leans back on his chair and yawns, "So we can either find the Hoe person or talk to the councilmen."

"I feel like it would be in our best interest to go after the councilmen, if we wanna continue finding the relics. I feel like we could stop this relic running round thing easier if we go after the person hunting them down first. Any ideas on who we could try and track down?"

"I don't know about them anymore, it feels like we're going on a wild goose chase." Maska scratches his head. "What would that even accomplish? We have the Relics then what?"

"I don't think we should be collecting the relics right now." Yue flat out states.

“Well, what do you suggest we do then?” Cecily turns to Yue, while rubbing the back of her own head. “I know we’re a police force that also deals with small crime too, but that still doesn’t mean there’s no sense of urgency either.”

"No no, hear me out here, why would we need to collect all of the relics? Can't we use what we have now as bait to lure out the enemy instead of gathering all the trinkets to make things easier for the opponent?" Yue smiles.

"That sounds flawed, you want to use all of the relics we have to bait out the bad man?" Maska pipes in.

"Pardon my askin'," Navi pipes up from where she's cleaning up a bit, "But have we figured out WHY these guys want th'relics?"

“Nothing concrete if that’s what you’re asking,” Cecily groans. “The only thing I could think of is someone destroy them because of that ritual hiding warehouse we came upon. The relics are tied to the city, right?”

"The relics are tied to the shield that protect the city" Maska leans back on the chair, "If you destroy one the shield weakens."

"Finding the reason as to why they wish the barrier destroyed..." Aldrid starts to say as he walks in "May be part of our primary objective."

"I didn't say use all of the relics Maska, why are you jumping to that conclusion? We would only need to use 1 of them like my hairpin." Yue is stuck on that conversation, "It would help us try and figure out why they're going after these relics and determine if we'll be falling into their plans by just taking all of the relics ourselves."

Cecily crosses her arms and only looks downward. “It could also give us the chance in catching my mother as well...”

"So, we're doing that instead?" Maska rocks himself on the chair he was already leaning on, "We're going to lure out the baddies?"

"I don't see why not, and I have an idea on how to get the word out about the bait too." Yue smiles.

"I swear to fuck if you tell me you're gonna make a god damn video about it then I'm leaving."

“You’re gonna leave your own house?” Cecily deadpans.

"WELL WHY THE FUCK NOT YOU PEOPLE HAVE TAKEN IT FOR YOURSELVES"

"You seem upset," Maska observes.

“Were the donuts not enough as an apology?” Cecily asks.

"Yeah we brought you donuts, isn't that enough?" Maska asks.

Yue goes over to Navi, "Aw, come on, So, what's your bright idea then?"

“Correction: I bought donuts,” Cecily looked at him. “You just shrugged and walked about nonchalantly.”

"Yeah, but I got her this laptop so suck it" Maska that's your own laptop.

“I’m not sure Navi wants whatever you already have stored in there,” Cecily assumes.

Aldrid just kinda stands there, awkardly, like usual.

Navi lets out a deep and clearly frustrated breath through her nose. "We're trying to keep people from panickin', ain't we? Publically announcing something to an audience that may not even include who we're looking for isn't a great idea," she points out. "Also food as a bribe only really works when I actually taste things."

“Fine, I’ll just make it up to you another way then,” she sighs. “But... Navi does have a point. We don’t want a city crisis, and given your popularity...”

Yue sighs then smiles with a thumbs up, "Do you really think that I would state something like 'This is a relic, one that holds the city barrier together. Protecting us from the outside world. Hey baddies come and get it if you dare.'" she states the script like statement in the most sarcastic tone she could muster making sure to emphasize that if this is what you guys were thinking then you're kind of dumb. “I was going to make a video about showing off this pin that could resize clothing. It's a cool parlor trick and any bad guys that seem to know exactly what each of the relics are, would know that this is a relic. Also on the point of if they would watch the video, I have a big following in the city and people do talk about my videos, so while yes it is a long shot that the opponents would hear about this, it is still worth the shot. This way no one knows about any relics that shouldn't know, also they won't know about who the baddies are or heck about the barrier. There wouldn't be a city crisis or anything like that with this idea." 

“Okay, so stating you have a relic, but not flat out saying it is one,” Cecily followed along. “And the only people who would know about and make it known, that’s how we know the bait worked.”

"Well, the word would get around, and we would probably have to make a location known of where I'm live streaming or something... and we'll know if it works if the enemy shows up either at my home or on the stream, I guess really we'd have to wait and find out if it worked." Yue nods.

Navi stares at them. "...well, it's more thought-out than I thought it was, but it still seems stupid. Where would you be broadcasting from, first of all?"

"Unless you have a place, or we could use one of our houses," Maska rocks too far back and ends up flat on his back.

"Oh, I have a place we could use." Yue grins.

"Do y'all need me along or can I opt to NOT participate in this stupidity?"

"NO! You've been gone too long!" Maska struggles to get up a bit.

"It would be nice to have you along, Navi You're our friend, but if you don't want to join I won't force you." Yue says.

“We’ll need all the friends and help we can get,” Cecily says with a reassuring smile. “Please?”

Navi's eye twitches. "All right, all right, fine! I'll tag along on this stupid idea, but only so I can bail you idiots out when it backfires."

"Yay!" Oh he finally got up, "Thanks boo"

“We’ll owe you one if you have to,” Cecily smiles warmly.

"Can I use that to request that Maska never calls me 'boo' again?"

"Fine"

Yue does a quick hug on Navi, "Thank you, Navi. You're a true pal." she lets go with a smile.

"Let go of me," Navi bluntly says.

“Well in the downtime, might as well prepare for confrontation,” Cecily says, grabbing her sword and turning to everyone. “Need anything from me before I head out?”

"Let Eiriol know what's happening, then tell Willow I won't be able to make it to work for a bit, since I don't know how long this'll take."

“Sure then,” Cecily nodded. “Anyone else?”

"Nope, I'm good in fact I need to set up! See you around everyone." Yue smiles as she waves goodbye then leaves.

[[END OF JOURNAL SESSION]]

[profound-boning]

Something Special

@thecuriouscrusader’s 1k challenge prompt: “I was just scared that you were gunna realise you’re way better than me.” pairings: destiel word count: 2.5k tags: no warnings apply, canonverse, sam’s pov, dean/cas post break up, poor sam, happy ending only on tumblr

The phone rings a couple of times before Sam picks up.

“Hi, Dean,” he says, resigned.

“Hey, Sammy.” Dean’s voice is that weird, forced chipper that Sam hates, but that’s the only way Dean’s voice sounds lately. “You doing anything?”

“Just cutting up some vegetables for dinner.” He pauses. “What about you?”

“Oh, you know,” Dean says. “Same old.”

“Right.” He pauses again, waiting for Dean to elaborate. The other end of the phone is silent for a little while. “Dean…”

“It’s just not the same, okay? I don’t—I don’t really know how to cook for one anymore. Can I just come over—?”

“Dean, you know that I love having you here.” Sam sighs. “But you can’t hide at my place forever. Why won’t you talk to him?”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Sam.” Sam can hear the frown Dean must be sending him. “I told you that. We’re—it’s over.”

“Okay.” Sam draws out the vowels so Dean can really hear how disbelieving he is. “Well going forward, can you at least start coordinating your calls or something so you don’t try to call me in the middle of his again.”

“His—? What? Is Cas calling you, too?”

“Bye, Dean.”

“But what—?” Sam hangs up on his brother before he has to hear another word. He honestly never thought it would end up like this. Sure, he’d had to deal with a lot of sappy lovey-dovey stuff from those two. When they were all still living in the bunker, he’d even gotten an eyeful a couple of times and had to have a stern talk with both of them (separately) about common courtesy.

Sam getting his own apartment in the city had been an amenable solution for everyone. He’s still at the Bunker more often than not; they still collaborate on bigger cases and take road trips when they have to attend to something in person. Partial retirement suits them: Sam is working in construction and helping other hunters with lore, Dean is part-time at a mechanic’s garage and also managing an online forum about classic cars, and Cas can be found manning the desk at the library. They’ve got a pretty good life now.

Or they did up until Dean and Cas (and Sam is sure somehow that both of them managed to screw this up with a general plethora of stubbornness and not enough communication or patience) ended their relationship.

Sam had woken up late one night to the sound of knocking on his door. It had turned out to be a very sad-looking Cas, asking if he could please stay the night. He’d had a large suitcase with him though, which told Sam that Cas was anticipating being away for more than just one night.

But Cas is his friend—was practically his brother-in-law—so he’d had no qualms about letting the guy sleep on his couch. The following afternoon, he’d helped Cas locate a weekly motel near the library and he didn’t press for details.

He’d gotten little more from Dean, who called him while very drunk right after Sam had seen Cas safely to his new accommodations. But Dean was mostly just angry with Sam for ‘siding with Cas’ instead of him.

“You know that isn’t true,” Sam had said. “He asked for my help and I gave it. He’s my friend, too, Dean.”

“Shit, I know that.” Dean hiccups. “Fuck, I really—I really fucked this up.” He’d hung up quickly after that, but not before Sam heard a sob. Sam dropped by the Bunker in the morning with some Aleve, expecting to have to peel Dean off of the kitchen floor. Instead, he’d found his brother curled up in bed, clutching a pillow so tightly that it had made Sam’s chest ache to see it. He’d left the painkiller and a bottle of water at Dean’s bedside anyway and went to wait for him in the kitchen. Once Dean lumbered in, he made a pot of coffee and sat with his brother for a while. Didn’t get much out of him, just silent brooding and a muttered, “it’s over.” The puffy eyes said Dean was more affected than his words let on.

That was two weeks ago now, and Sam is at the end of his rope. He fields phone calls from both of them every day, has to make sure Cas is eating enough, and that Dean is getting enough sleep. It’s exhausting and it’s frustrating because he just wants them to be a happy family again. He was fine with being the third wheel when it was apparent how happy they were together.

So Sam plots. Neither one of them will talk about what happened; Dean gets teary-eyed at the mention of Cas’s name and Cas gets this look like he’s about to break something. Maybe if he can get them to meet up in a neutral location? They’re both wary of the Bunker and Sam’s place of course, and there’s no way he could trick one of them into going to the other’s place of work.

In the end, he is saved from having to come up with the perfect scheme by a nasty cold.

First of all, Dean insists that Sam come back to the Bunker in order to recover. What Sam had not anticipated was that Cas would agree with Dean on this, and so he was almost immediately ferried over by Cas while Dean was working. Cas helped arrange some things in Sam’s old bedroom and then told him to rest. From there, both Dean and Cas take it upon themselves to fret over him; taking turns with bringing cold medicine, hot soups, and other ‘necessities’—which is even more ridiculous given that newly human Castiel has never been around someone with the common cold. However, his gifts (suggested by the Internet) are much appreciated as warm socks are always useful at the Bunker.

One day, they accidentally arrive within minutes of each other. Sam can hear their startled yelps from his bed, where he is nestled under several pillows and blankets. They seem to accept that neither one is going to leave, however, and fast-walk to Sam’s room to deliver their gifts. When they push open the door they practically stumble in their haste to push past the other and reach Sam’s bedside.

“Here, Sammy, brought you mom’s tomato rice soup,” Dean says cheerfully.

“Sam, I noticed that you ran out of ginger ale yesterday, and I decided that getting more would be most beneficial for you,” Cas intones.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sam mutters under his breath. These two will be the death of him.

Dean’s forced smile doesn’t falter. “It’ll be fine Sammy, just a little cold is all. Is, uh—is there anything else you need? I can head out—”

“That’s not necessary, Dean.” Cas puts the case of ginger ale cans on the floor by the bedside table where Dean’s soup is resting. “You stay here with your brother, I’ll—”

“Well, no, I mean… Cas, you don’t have to—”

“I insist, Dean, it’s—”

“Will you two shut up already?” Sam glares as best he can while his head is spinning. “I want you both here but not bothering me while I’m trying to sleep.”

They pause.

“I could go see what’s in the kitchen?” Cas wonders. “Or straighten up a bit?”

“That’d be great, Cas. We can take turns.” Dean smiles warmly at Cas and for the briefest moment, Sam feels like things are back to normal. Then the skin around Dean’s eyes tightens and he drops his gaze, staring at the blanket covering Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll see—see you in a bit, then.”

Cas had been smiling right back at Dean but, noticing the shift, drops into a frown, too. But he agrees and slips out of the room quietly. Sam lets his head drop onto the pillow.

“Honestly, Dean, you’re—”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Too tired to argue, Sam pulls the blankets tighter around himself and dozes off. He stirs once when he hears his bedroom door open. He wakes up a bit later; Cas is sitting in the armchair nearby with a book open in his lap, but his eyes are clearly not focused on it. Sam clears his throat.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Oh. Hello, Sam” Cas closes the book. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Not particularly.” He eyes the table and notes that Dean’s soup has gone. “Soup’s in the kitchen?” Cas nods. “And my ginger ale?”

“Ah, no, there’s one here.” Cas rises and takes a few steps in order to grab a can from the case on the floor. Sam appreciates the gesture.

“Thanks, Cas.” Sitting up, he takes a careful sip. “Dean’s still around?”

“Yes,” Cas replies. “Cleaning, I think.”

They’re quiet for a moment and Sam observes his friend. Cas is sitting again, his shoulders hunched, and his whole demeanor droopy. His hair doesn’t look as soft and shiny, he has bags under his eyes, and his skin is kind of pale like he’s not really getting enough sleep or drinking enough water.

“How are you feeling, Cas?”

Cas looks up at him, and Sam tries to convey with a look that he doesn’t want to hear anything about ‘I’m fine’ or that nothing is wrong. Cas seems to get the message, and he sighs. “I’ve been better. This… It’s been difficult to adjust.”

“Adjust to what?” Sam prods.

Cas closes his eyes, a pained expression crossing his features. “To a new life. A new identity, even. I’ve… Being part of your family was my identity. And now…” He trails off.

“Cas,” Sam starts gently. “First, you are still my brother. No matter what.” Cas opens his eyes and meets Sam’s stare. “I care about you a lot. Pretty much like how I care for Dean, to a certain extent. That’s why I can see how much this is hurting you two.”

“Sam—”

“No, I know that it is. I don’t know what happened since neither one of you will tell me. But I know that it sucks and that Dean is hurting just as much as you are.” Sam takes another sip of ginger ale. “Maybe talking to him about it could help.”

“There is… nothing to discuss,” Cas says. He’s so sad and Sam wishes he could strangle them both. “Dean has made that very clear.”

“Talk to him,” Sam insists. “He’s hiding it from you but he can’t hide it from me. At the very least you both could get some closure.”

Cas looks thoughtful but he doesn’t respond, and Sam doesn’t either. He lies back a bit on his pillows and is quickly asleep again. The next moment that he’s conscious, he’s curled up on his side, facing the wall instead of the rest of the room. But he can hear both Cas’s and Dean’s low voices coming from that side; he doesn’t dare change his breathing, praying that they’re actually going to talk to each other instead of driving him crazy.

“You said this wasn’t what you were expecting. That it wasn’t what you wanted.” Cas audibly swallows. “That I’m not what you wanted.” If that’s truly what Cas was led to believe, Sam is going to smack Dean.

“What?” Dean nearly cries out but he seems to stifle himself at the last minute. “Cas, no. No, that’s—that’s the opposite of what—. I didn’t mean you, Cas, damn it.”

“Then what were you trying to say, Dean, there’s only so many ways to interpret—”

“I’m not what you want, Cas.” Oh boy. There it is. “You may not see it now but you will and I—. It’s killing me to sit here just waiting for it to happen.”

Sam knew that Dean has some lingering self-esteem and abandonment issues but this is far more serious than he’d feared.

Cas sounds livid but he’s still trying to keep his voice down. “Is that a joke? Since when do you get to tell me what I feel? What I want?”

“Cas—”

“No, you listen. Everything that we have been through together and I was just biding my time waiting for a chance to leave you? That’s ridiculous. That’s so stupid and you—you broke up with me because you thought I was going to break up with you? What kind of logic is that?”

When this is over, Sam is going to give Cas the biggest hug.

“I was just scared that you were gonna realize you’re way better than me.” If Sam could see Dean’s face, he’s sure his brother looks like a hurt puppy, and Cas probably looks like he’s going to start throwing punches. That or the kind of soft, concerned look he gets when he fusses over Dean. Turns out these two have been pining for the other all this time because of a simple miscommunication. Have been making Sam miserable over nothing.

“There is not a single way in which I am better than you, Dean. And you’re not competing for my affections and I’m not settling for you.” Sam can picture Cas making air quotes with his fingers. “We’re in this together.” There’s a beat of silence and Sam thinks he can hear Cas shift in his seat. “I mean, we were. When we were… together.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees sadly. They’re silent once more.

The silence continues.

When are they going to make up? Sam waits.

It’s still silent.

Is—? Seriously?

“Oh my God, are you two for real?” Sam wasn’t going to say anything but holy shit if they can’t figure it out after that little revelation he’s going to go out and find a wraith or something to kill him on purpose. Put him out of his misery. He wraps himself up with as much dignity as possible since he’s smothered in several layers of blankets and kind of stinky from sweating out his fever. But he still musters up a good glare and points at his brother and his best friend. “You two are going to go to Dean’s old room and talk about how you’re still madly in love with each other, then you’re going to kiss and make up, and then we can all move past this bullshit.”

Dean and Cas look first at him and then at each other, eyes wide. When they make eye contact, they both blush and look away. It’s like dealing with teenagers.

“I’m serious,” Sam threatens. “I’m not fielding one more phone call from either of you about this.”

“You… would you want to be together again?” Cas peers over at Dean. Dean stares back at him, mouth agape.

“Of course I want that. Why would you ever think—?” The rest of Dean’s sentence is swallowed by Cas launching himself out of the armchair, planting a kiss on Dean’s mouth and cradling his cheeks. Sam has a brief moment of finally before Dean starts responding enthusiastically.

“Guys,” Sam barks. “Dean’s old room. Go. And don’t wake me up again until dinner.”

“Okay, Sam.” Dean is a little too distracted to actually look at Sam, he’s too busy beaming at Cas, who is blushing bright red. “We’ll be—”

“Would you just get out of here already?”

They stumble out the door, hand-in-hand.

Sam sighs and gets comfortable again. He definitely is the long-suffering younger brother and really deserves some special recognition for his contributions, but at least he gets to see Dean and Cas this happy. And after everything they’ve been through, that is truly something special.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 4: Lima-Iquitos - In Which I Am Accidentally Quite Racist

We were due to fly from Lima to Iquitos today. Under normal circumstances an 11am flight may just be dancing on the peripheries of being a bit of a faff, what with transportation times to the airport and Sam's absolutely rigid insistence on arriving no later than exactly two hours before flight time under any circumstances, meaning that alarms would generally need to be set for around 8am. This wasn't an issue today, however, as due to the magic of time-zones and the whimsy of sporadic insomnia, we were both wide awake, fully ready to go and honestly, even a little bored by quarter to five.

When the approximate time to leave did finally roll around, we made the short, ten minute walk to the vague location of where the airport express bus was supposed to depart from and then, as is apparently customary in lima, spent a genuinely silly amount of time looking desperately for its exact stopping point - because honestly, even after having now actually caught the bus, I'm still not exactly 100% sure of where that is. According to the website, the pick-up point was outside 'Hostal Torreblanca', a place which, for the life of us, we could not find. Google maps told us that we were standing at it, but there was absolutely no sign that we could make out that we actually were. It wasn't until the bus had arrived to drop passengers from the airport off, before making the circuit around Miraflores to eventually come back and pick us up that we noticed that Hostal Torreblanca was actually right next to us, though had apparently long since either shut down or just stopped maintaining its signage, and allowed all of its letters to erode away, leaving only the faintest outline of the name on its banner. Still though, basically found it first try, even if entirely by accident, so I guess in a way, I win twice?

Passing through airport security was...not a difficult experience. We breezed straight through the security metal detectors, despite me still having a fistful of coins, which I had forgotten to remove, still jangling around my exceptionally cool security-bum-bag, which was thoroughly reassuring and Sam even received a lovely compliment on her bottom from a charming Peruvian security guard, who made a kissy face at her and called her a pretty lady as she bent over to re-tie her shoe. They really do go all out to make you feel special at Jorge Chavez international. Take note, Gatwick.

We boarded yet another fucking flight and were soon whizzing off to the tropical paradise of Iquitos, which to be honest, I was shitting myself over. I decided to spend the lion's share of the flight time working on a blog entry, as, even then, I had fallen quite badly behind schedule – a habit which has clearly only worsened in the following days. I didn't manage to get very much vitriol down on paper, in the end, however, as I was distracted by the genuinely quite impressive view from the window as we cruised over, what I assume was the Pacaya Samiria national reserve.

...It does make writing about being served a plate of squid that you didn’t really want seem a bit silly, I suppose...

After around an hour and a half in the air, staring moon-eyed at the scenery like some giant man-sized bush baby we landed in Iquitos and walked directly into the airport and also a torrential tropical downpour. I've got to say, I enjoy the rain at the best of times - to an almost freakish degree, it has been said - but this jungle deluge really was absolutely choice rain. Premium drizzle, it was. Premiere sprinklage. I walked as slowly as I could without looking properly fucking mental into the airport, with Sam shooting me a look back at me the entire time, as if to say that I'd have to walk a little faster than that to convince her. Once inside, we looked for a stall for the company Taxi Green, which we had been informed by the never-ever-wrong-about-anything Tripadvisor forums were the safest bet in order to not get ripped off or killed and have your still twitching corpse dumped in a storm-drain. We could not, however, actually find any trace of Taxi Green in the airport and so Sam, being the patient and measured person she is, immediately asked the first vaguely trustworthy looking person (i.e. one with a badge) to take us to the city, proper, after – of course – pre-agreeing a price (Which was, as it turned out, double what we should have paid, anyway, so fuck even trying, I guess.). We were whisked away through the storm to his taxi immediately and, crucially, before I could connect to the airport's WiFi to regain my google maps signal, so we really were at his mercy, which was nice. Sometimes it's good to relinquish any control in a scary and unfamiliar place. Keeps you on your toes. Or perhaps dead in a storm drain. It can really go either way

Driving through Iquitos in the rain was pretty cool, though. It's very unlike anywhere I've ever been (because it is) and travelling during a torrential downpour really did make the place seem immediately very tropical (because... it is).

I'm sure you've figured out by now, that the taxi driver did not murder us and leave our still twitching corpses in a storm-drain; instead he delivered us right to the front door of our hostel an even unloaded our bags for us and everything. If he hadn't ripped us off, I might even have called him a gentleman. But he did, so he isn't. Prick.

We buzzed the door of The Amazon Within; the hostel in which we were due to stay a single night before venturing into the actual, for real jungle which would definitely be great and not at all scary. Around a full minute later, a shirtless, gruff man, who looked a bit like a brown Jerry Stiller answered. He said nothing. Unsure if I had buzzed the right place, I told him I had a reservation. After a brief moment- although still far too long a pause for it to have been comfortable, given that I didn't know if I was talking to the right person – he answered back

“Ah, si, reservation, come inside!”

Phew.

He unlocked the door and ushered us in to the building. As it turned out, brown, shirtless, gruff Jerry Stiller was named Julio and he was actually a treasure of a man. He was affable, helpful and welcoming beyond any expectation I would normally have had while checking into a hostel and we spoke for around thirty minutes about the twenty five years he had spent living in both London and Bournemouth (which he pronouncd Baown Mut). Not once did the conversation feel particularly forced, or awkward, or like he was putting on heirs for his guests, it was just very nice and very genuine (A bit of a rarity out here, I feel, as it does seem a little bit like everyone is either trying to get you to give them money for something, or hamming up basic Peruvian culture to a ridiculous degree in order to impress the gringo, usually.)

However lovely Julio was, though, the room he had given us more than ...whatever the opposite of made up (made down? Surely not) for it. It wasn't by a very long way the worst place I have ever stayed (that crown still goes to the Bosnian fire ant palace), but it was certainly not among the top either. It was sparse; four plain white walls and a single, half-broken fan plugged into a crackling socket was all that we had to play with in the bedroom. The bathroom sported a little more colour in the form of brown tiling and with a shower that seemingly was only ever designed to pipe out cold water. Given how absolutely maddeningly hot and humid it is in Iquitos, I suppose a cold shower wasn't the worst thing in the world but still, a little heat, purely so I didn't have to acclimatise each part of my body individually to being under the shower head, would have been nice.

Seeing no great reason for us to hang around in what was definitely starting to remind me of a Colombian prison cell, we ventured out to the hostel's patio, to soak up a little sun, before heading out to a supermarket for some toiletries and a restaurant to eat some food.

We hadn't been sat for more than a few minutes before we were approached by an American lady, whose name I instantly forgot. She spoke at us for a while about her experiences in Peru and how long she'd been travelling and how life-changing doing Ayahuasca, the hallucinogenic peruvian drug tea, had been and so on. All very friendly, yet still somehow utterly intolerable. Eventually though, she got bored of us after realising that we didn't really want to talk about drinking a mind-breaking soup with her and toddled off to sing Tom Petty songs to herself, whilst occasionally loudly affirming just how good Tom Petty is. Again, to herself.

With her out of the way, the coast was clear for us to be bothered by some of the other guests. A chap from Edinburgh and his Irish girlfriend struck up a conversation; him having overheard that we were from Glasgow. He asked what part of it I was from and I told him. He didn't know it. We briefly discussed how it was hotter in London a few days ago than it was in Iquitos and then he told us all about all the travels he had been on, continuously for the last year and a half; only ever venturing back to Scotland once every few months to get his mum to do his laundry for him or something. It was all incredibly boring and nearly exclusively an excuse for him to talk about himself; a subject about which I categorically did not care. Soon, again, the conversation fizzled out. I turned to Sam and asked if she wanted to head out, she replied in the affirmative. As I did, Edinburgh man turned to his own girlfriend and loudly exclaimed “fucking people, man...”. Now, I have no idea why he might have said such a thing, nor to be honest, if that was directed at us or not at all, but if it was, I would very much like to use this blog as a tool to reach out to that man to apologise for not single handedly, artificially keeping the deeply tedious conversation you were having at me, about all the places you've been and drugs you've done afloat. That was wrong of me. If you're reading this, please email me a list of both of those things and I will make sure I read every single entry. Namaste, brother.

Now slightly perplexed, but with a quiet confidence growing that we had accidentally booked ourselves into a proper wank-hostel, we left to go to the supermarket. Neither the heat, nor humidity of Iquitos was sitting well with me. I immediately began to feel quite woozy, though, now I think about it, inhaling the exhaust fumes of about a million tuktuks, all driving around on any bit of the road (and sometimes off it) they damn well pleased and honking their horn non-stop as if trying to appease a giant, angry goose god, probably wasn't helping me feel any better, either. Either way, I was sweaty and unhappy (which you'd imagine I'd be used to by this point in my life, but somehow it still came as a surprise)

After a quick traipse to the supermarket, via the main square (which, while lovely, I did not take any pictures of for fear of having my phone snatched off me by a crime man), we doubled back and walked along Malecon Maldonado; the very, very very touristy little riverfront boulevard, wherein we found the restaurant Dawn On The Amazon, which Sam had heard was highly recommended and was- and this is just a little flavour here-founded by an English man, who had since died in a flood. The food was delicious, though, as was the banana, coffee and chocolate smoothie I accidentally ordered and the view across the Naney river (not quite the Amazon river, but probably close enough to count)

...Acceptable...

Was a genuine delight to eat across from, even if I did end up losing eleven of my twelve pints of blood to mosquitos in the process of sitting outside to look at it.

During our meal, we were approached by (and I swear this is pertinent to the story) a brown man. He asked us if we were going into the Amazon jungle. It being Peru and both Sam and I being on edge about everyone trying to sell us something or steal our money, we told him politely, yet firmly that we had already booked our excursion, thank you very much. He looked baffled and asked

“...So you're going, right?”

We again told him we were so we didn't need to book anything with him. It was only then that I noticed that his accent was very clearly quite Indian. Sam had apparently noticed as well.

“Oh, no, I'm not trying to sell you anything. I just wondered if you had any advice about what we should take into the jungle?” he gestured to his wife, sitting at the table directly behind us.

Fuuuuck. Is that racist? Pretty sure that was at least a little racist. I'm not totally sure what a micro-aggression is, but I was pretty sure I just committed one.. regardless, he took it in good stride, laughing it off and telling us he was proud that he could pass for a local, which, if anything, only made me feel worse. Sam, as helpfully and politely as she could explained to them what they might need in the jungle and then we quietly finished our meal as quickly as humanly possible and left, to pull our own skin off in embarrassment. The only solace that either of us could find in the entire situation was that we would definitely, definitely never see either one of them ever again in all our lives. This is foreshadowing. Did you get it? It was terribly clever.

After a warm, sticky walk back to the apartment, during which my low ebb of health somehow ebbed even lower, we took a couple of lovely ice cold showers and, excited for the adventure the following day (Sam) and/or positively shitting ourselves at the thought of sleeping in the spider capital of the world (me), headed straight to bed.

...For about two hours.

I woke up, coughing. My head was spinning, my body aching, I was drenched in sweat (like, an unusual amount of sweat, even for being in the amazon) my throat glands were inflamed, swallowing was painful and my sinuses were jammed up to all buggery. There was no denying it any more; what I thought was some innocent run-downedness (Which, unlike anality is definitely not a word) was actually something far more sinister. I had the flu. The jungle flu... (Note: not malaria; just a regular flu that I happened to catch in the jungle; calm down, mum.).

The rest of my night consisted of getting around two hours of sleep at a time, followed by my getting up to refill and then completely consume the entire contents of my water bottle from the communal supply, take another freezing cold shower and empty the frankly unusual amount of effluvia that had collected in both my sinuses and bladder, over and over again, before finally my alarm went off and it was now basically fine for me to stop pretending that I was able to sleep. Good thing I had nothing strenuous planned for the next day...

[july-19th-club]

Century 12

aka, My Very New Very Unfinished Immortal People Short Story, bc some of you asked for it and let’s be honest, I wanted to share it anyway

read ON

One of us has died.

          The strangest part about it is that the dead woman—she was a woman, from Argentina, short and stout and always wore her hair in a thick bun and sold handknit products online—was one of our youngest. Only on Century 3, she’d been doing well. That we knew of. She kept in touch, had been saying on the forum that she was going to bring treats to the meet, something homemade. And then three weeks before, when most of us were planning or packing or already en route, we all got notices on our group messages—she was dead.

         Suicide, of course. It’s all my seat partner on the plane talks about on our way over. He’s a long-legged guy from New York—long enough for it to give him an accent, anyway. He’s businesslike and well-dressed, but looks cramped and crumpled in the airplane seating. He’s doing good right now, he says. He’s in a stable relationship; they just adopted a new cat. He shows me pictures—a young, impossibly handsome blue-eyed man proudly holding up a disgruntled orange tabby. 

          “Found him in an alley. His name’s Mewcutio,” says my seat partner—and then he cracks a grin. “The cat, not my boyfriend,” he amends.

          “It’s so good right now,” he adds, looking at me earnestly. But I don’t know whether he’s trying to convince himself or what. Relationships—I gave up on those a long time ago. And this guy looks like maybe he did too, for a while. His face, when he talks about his blue-eyed boy, is a mixture of adoration and mourning.

          It’s not hard to guess why.

At the meet, we don’t sit down and break out a session immediately. That’s what local groups and semilocals are for. The coping, the therapy. This is a celebration for us—the precious few, to gather every ten years and remind each other that we’re still here, that we can and will and must by nature endure. For some of us it’s the thing that saves us. For others, it’s a reminder of how unsavable we really are.

          Upon arrival, we split up in the entrance to the hotel—we’ve booked over half of it for the occasion, as we do every ten years in a different venue in a different country—and we look for old friends. My seat partner and I walk in opposite directions, and in my head I wish him a good fifty-sixty-seventy with his blue-eyes. It’s the best they’re gonna get. I watch him jog down the steps and I take the elevator upstairs. Julie and Kim Mbege are already in the room they’re sharing. They’re sisters, which is rare. It’s not like anyone picks this—it just…happens. Family members who both get it are as rare as…well, as rare as the Argentinian doing what she did. As awful as it is, who we are, what we have to look forward to—it’s rare that we let go of it.

          Except…as the Mbege sisters and I sit on the made-up beds and chat and drink ice water from the minifridge, we can all taste it. The atmosphere has changed this meet. What normally feels like a giant, strange, supportive family reunion has taken on the tone of a tense political summit. Whispers are everywhere. Julie and Kim tell me that on their flight over—from Johannesburg; I can’t imagine the layovers—they were joined by the groups from Lesotho and Botswana. It’s all anyone talked about there, too. When we head downstairs we’re interrupted by Brazil and Chile, which is uncomfortable mostly because the Argentinian was apparently the only one of us from her country. That meant that these people were her semilocals; they actually knew her. In the crush of gossip and discussion, they’re subdued. They don’t know how she did it, they say, and they don’t want to know. It must have taken an enormous effort. They don’t think she left a note of explanation, or if something in particular in her recent life drove her to it.

          I tell them about my new pal from the flight over. “He’s dating,” I say. I suddenly feel worried for a near stranger. “But his partner, he’s not one of us. He says he’s so happy. Do you think that’s what happened to the Argentinian? She got too happy?”

          Getting too happy is a real concern for us. It leads to all sorts of shitty things, like engaging in relationships that are headed for the cliff edge. I haven’t dated seriously since…has to be…who was on the throne then? George II? I want to say it was. I was in Scotland, then. After that time I swore off closeness to people who weren’t us, very deliberately. We discussed it in my local group. And I realized that the only way to survive—the only way to not pull an Argentinian—was to swear off things that brought me to that place of sharp darkness, the pit you can’t claw out of. I spent a long time in that place. I know how bad it is to be there and have no discernible way out. I know how to avoid it, how it’s the worst feeling in the world, as easy to enter and hard to leave as quicksand, which I was once ensnared in and which is the only natural, physical thing that has ever really made me scared for my life.

          So now I avoid it, and I spend most of my time with others of us or with people who won’t worry if I don’t stick around. I’ve gotten close a few times to missing them after I’ve gone—but that’s how it works. It’ll always be like that. And I’m lucky in that I have a fairly big local and semilocal, and that I have friends out elsewhere in the world. We keep each other together. We call each other at four in the morning when we’re having a bad one, and somehow, we make it work. Even if we’re missing something all the time—faith, like Julie’s friend Clark—love, like…well, me—a sense of reality, like my new buddy on the plane—we find ways to fill that gap, for long enough that we can survive it.

          That’s what it’s really about.

Julie and Kim and I take on the bar downstairs dressed up, and we mingle with the non-meet guests at the hotel. They look breakable to me, always have. There’s a—speed—to them. Like hummingbirds or the clear, slender bugs you can find skating on the surface of a pond. Across the room, there’s a lot of whooping and hollering and synthesizer, someone’s trying to start a party—Kim points, and we all stop and stare, right in the middle of a tourist gang also staring. 

         “I think it’s The Stuntman,” Kim says.

          I’ve never met The Stuntman in person, but I know him by sight. He’s somewhat famous, not just among us but in the rest of the world too. He’s not much to look at—a tall, scrawny Irish teenager with wild hair and a frail figure—but when you get a close-up, you see big mournful eyes and delicate facial structure, boyish and brittle, like an early Bob Dylan. He’s really quite attractive then, mostly because he looks so mortal.

          That couldn’t be further from the truth. The Stuntman is one of our newest, and everybody knows who he is by reputation. His personality is said to be infections—filled with manic, hyperactive energy. He’s vulgar, unflappable, loud, YOUTHFUL, arrogant. It’s understandable. The first ten or twenty years are always like that. You’re drunk on the future because you don’t yet fully grasp exactly how heavy that future will settle on your bones. But The Stuntman has another gift that contributes to his particular reckless abandon—not only can he not age, he cannot die period. It’s a rarity so extreme that some people refuse to believe it’s actually possible. Some people even say that Jesus himself had that ability—regenerative immortality. Of course, since nobody’s seen Him for two thousand years and only a handful of us are old enough to have lived parallel to Him, it’s likely that the Jesus thing is faker than The Stuntman.

          The Stuntman is nothing if not visible. He blared onto the sensation-TV scene eight and a half years ago, hailing from a tiny factory town and quickly rising in international notice. Now he’s got this show, Live to Die, in which he tests rumored ‘killer acts’ and then, if it turns out they’re actually fatal, resurrecting himself over and over and over and over again. He doesn’t seem to care if most of his viewers think it’s an elaborate magician’s act. He knows that some of us see everything he does.

          The rumors are that he’ll probably stage something this week. It’s his first international meet, and he won’t be able to resist the attention. And before the Argentinian, we were looking forward to it, everyone talking about how he’d try to top his biggest tricks.

          But this is after the Argentinian. And watching him downing inhuman amounts of booze, the alcohol poisoning negligible when you know for a fact that you’ll wake up eventually, I think that he’s dancing a fine line between performance and something far more dangerous.

          The girls and I make our way through the buffet-style dinner spread, and bring canapes and drinks out to the poolside. I set a little plate of lemon-scented mussels and a glass of champagne in the special holders on my deck chair, and we stick our legs out long and coconut-oily to bask in the evening. Julie tosses us pairs of neon-rimmed sunglasses, and we lounge. The pool gradually empties while guests go back inside for food, then fills up again as they come outside for drunken games of chicken in the water. The smell of chlorine rises up past the bubbly and anchors me down, its sharpness clearing my head.

          There’s another commotion around 8:30, as the sun starts to sink past the bluffs beyond the resort. “He’s here,” somebody says, and Kim waves across the pool to the speaker.

          “Who?”

          “HIM.”

          “Oh,” says Kim, raising her sunglasses onto her forehead, and flips a few stray twists of hair back over her shoulder.

          I don’t need to know what they mean by HIM. Rembrandt – sorry, Mounet – sorry, Reeves – is the rarest of birds. Despite being Century 7-plus, he actively relishes his eternity, not in the brash, destructive way the Stuntman does, but in the way that you’d think we all would. He puts himself in the spotlight – as an artist, usually – never enough to be overwhelmed with celebrity, but enough to be memorable. There are even rumors out there: he’s a vampire, he’s immortal, he’s a time traveler. They’re idle rumors, the kind of thing people create conspiracy photosets of when they’re bored on the internet – but they’re rumors anyway. It’s not about vanity, I think, for him: just proof. I exist in a way that I should not. I have been and am still here.

          The downside, I’d imagine, is that to be visibly immortal, one must be constantly reinventing oneself – not just moving to new locations with slightly new papers, but changing identities entirely, complete with fake deaths and paper trails that aren’t just ruined, but burnt away completely. That’s got to be harder now than ever before, and soon enough, the man will have to come up with a public ending for himself. A plane crash, maybe, or a mysterious accident. In the Victorian times, if one of us got too heard-of and had to disappear, then illnesses used to be popular. Tuberculosis. Cholera. The ever-ubiquitous Brain Fever.

          In the meantime, he’s the closest thing we’ve got to a unanimous leader. Generous, tall, striking, adjacent to universally handsome, friendly to all – the kind of person you’d put your trust into in a crisis, believing that they could, if not fix the situation themselves, at least make you feel better about it until the proper authorities saved the day. As he enters the deck, long-haired, neatly bearded, holding a wine glass, we all turn, consciously and subconsciously. The atmosphere quiets down a little, the desperate fun-having slowing its pace. Tension dissipates. It’s all right, the new mood says, to mourn or be afraid. You don’t have to put on a brave face. The One Who Is Comfortable Enough For All Of Us is here.

Author’s Notes: ayyyyyyy hope you liked it don’t be dicks and repost this shit it’s original content right here 

[chasingballoons]

SPOILERS

Lots more detail for you thanks to kerrycec03. Taken directly from the forum

Cold Open: stairs, all 4 guys carrying take-out, Leonard asks Raj how things are going with the girl he is dating and Raj says he ended it with her, when asked why he says because she didn’t want to see him anymore. Sheldon says some people are not destined for a mate like Newton who was a virgin till death, Raj says he is not a virgin. The guys express sorrow to Raj who says “I’m fine” to which Sheldon continues on. Howard says what Raj means is he is clearlt not fine. And Sheldon says if people mean the opposite of what they say, then Howard could be wrong. The guys walk in and the girls are there (yea all 7 scene) and they ask what the guys are talking about. Sheldon goes into it and Raj says again “I’m fine which means I don’t want to talk about it”. Sheldon is frustrated because he wishes it was easier to know what people are really feeling without words. Howard tells him there is a trial experiment going on for a human emotions detector. At first Sheldon is leary but everyone thinks it would be great. Meanwhile Raj says maybe he should ask his ex-girlfriends what went wrong, get them all together. Everyone agrees thats a bad idea. Next scene: comic book store, Raj asks Leonard what he plans to do with Sheldon’s old room…he says game room. Sheldon tells Leonard he wanted a game room but Amy said no. Howard comes over and excitingly tells Sheldon he got a hold of the machine for him. Next scene: 4A (pink coffee maker now there and liquor bottles on top of fridge) penny is on her tablet and Leonard comes out from the bedroom says he measured his new game room and his dream tv will fit (if he removes boards OR that is so big he can see it from work). Penny asks him to hold off aa Randall might come stay with them. Leonard asks why and Penny says her Dad wants her to help get him an interview at her company. Leonard asks won’t they mind an ex-convict drug dealer and Penny says Pharmaceuticals is just a fancy word for drugs anyway. Leonard is clearly miffed so Penny asks him how long would he be staying, Penny says few days, more, who knows. She asks Leonard if he has a problem, he lies and says no, they hug and peck and Leonard says Randall will enjoy carrying his drugs in a brief case better than a balloon in his rectum (this was re-written a few of Leonards like and 2nd-3rd takes had the sitting hug as 1st didn’t..to me they softened it up) Next scene (playback) Howard/Bernadette kitchen with Raj. Bernadette asks Raj if he really thinks its a good idea to contact all the ex’s together, it will crush him, (meanwhile Raj has already begun plan the event). It was a quick scene. Next scene: Sheldon’s office (Sheldon, Amy, Howard). They are beginning to try the emotion detector machine that monitors the persons lines and expressions and such and an app on Sheldons phone determines the basic emotions by a smiley face system. Howard jokes it can determine if Amy wants to think about her choices (impling dating Sheldon—eyes roll). Amy has a laptop and begins looking a pics and the machine will pick up her emotion and Sheldon will go by that. First he says “happy” and Amy excitingly says yes cause its a pic of puppys, Sheldon sorta agrees but not with their tiny pointy teeth. Next pic he says sad and Amy says softly yes its a picture of her Grandma to which Sheldon says makes sense you probably miss her and you worry about getting her turkey neck. Amy’s emotion change and Sheldon says “oh wait now you are angry”. Back to 4A, Leonard at kitchen island, Penny walks out and asks Leonard to help look at her brother’s resume. Leonard makes a crack about Randall’s prison career. In walks Shamy and Sheldon is holding the detector saying “If you’re happy and you know it no need to clap your hands, I’ll know it”. Shamy walks to the Island and Leonard says he is happy for Sheldon and Sheldon says he knows its true because his phone shows a happy smiley. Amy sees the resume and asks Penny whats she is doing, Penny tells her and Sheldon says Leonard is angry about it. Leonard denies but sheldon’s machine keeps picking up angry faces. Penny asks Leonard and he finally says “fine, I am angry, how could you not ask me if its ok to have your drug dealer ex-con brother stay with us”. penny now gets defensive saying she didn’t think she would have to check with him since its her brother. Sheldon’s machine shows them both as angry. Lenny make a few jabs like Penny defends that Randall wouldn’t live with them forever, he would eventually get his own place. Leonard says when has he ever lived alone, Penny says he has, Leonard says where aside from a place with a nearby metal toliet (implying prison), Penny says that still countd. Amy tells Sheldon to stop and he points the machine at her and he says “then stop enjoying this too” (implying they are both enjoying this). Then Penny says to Leonard consider this payback for making her live with Sheldon (2 versions, one Sheldon says she was lucky to live with him, 2nd is he let her share his honeynut cheerios to which Penny snaps back that she was invoiced for those). Sheldon is offended and Amy pats Sheldons back and says they should go, Shamy proceeds to leave and Sheldon says can he storm off and Amy says it looses its impact if they discuss it, so he says instead he’ll give them the finger (which is an angry thumbs down), Amy gives a half one and stop. They exit. Next: Raj’s apartment (Lucy, Claire, Emily and deaf Emily, Howard & Raj). Ladies are seated around the coffee table. Raj explains he gathered them all together to find out what went wrong in there relationships. He explains that Howard is there to translate for Emily and take notes. Deaf Emily signs and Howard says I agree this is crazy. Raj then says its confusing there are two Emilys so he said emily Sweeny is red-head emily (but deaf Emily is also a red head), 2nd take called deaf Emily “Emily Jr”. She signs angrily and Howard says “hey you dates him”. Raj suggests they go around the room introducing themselves and why they broke up. First up is Lucy. She admits she has severe social anxiety and Raj kept pushing her into uncomfortable situations to which Howard says “like this one” and she shakes her head yes and sinks into her seat. Raj tells him to right he has personal boundary issues and Howard says/writes Shmuck. Deaf Emily says he was too dictated by what his parents said and Emily Sweeny agreed saying he was a mamas boy. Raj tells Howard to write good son. Then its Claire who said he was too needy, and then said he was too into his look with shaping eyebrows and Raj’s cuts her off. Then its Emily Sweeny. She says she is uncomfortable saying it in front of Howard. Raj says he doesn’t mind so she begins to say “well when we were in bed” and Raj says “leave”. (Done a few different ways). Clearly Raj is getting upset so Lucy says “there is something good about dating Raj”. Raj jumps in and says “thank you and yes I’ll go out with you again”. Lucy says “no, I mean I learned what not to do in a relationship for my next one”. All the women agree and Emily Sweeny starts talking about her new man Gary and Howard asks for his spelling. Raj cuts him off and asks them all if they moved on to better relationships and they all agree (and Claire says a little before actually). Howard steps in to defend the deflated Raj. He says he is proud that he is putting himself out there and trying to fix it, both sorta one arm hug and Emily Sweeny says “I’m actually surprised you two (howard/raj) never got together. Howard says "like you ladies I had to ho through this to find Bernadette” and Raj weirdly agrees. Next scene (playback) 4B. We see Amy at the island mixing a salad calling Sheldon out for dinner saying she made beefloaf not meatloaf as she knows how much he hates non-describe meals. He doesn’t come out so she walks into the bedroom and we see Sheldon cuddled sorta diagonal with a pillow. Amy asks whats wrong and he is disappointed because he really thought he was getting better at reading peoples emotions and she says he has, look at all the times he knows when she is upset to which he says she’s sorta a downer and he quickly apologized for that. Amy climbs over behind him and says they all have challenges like you and says “although probably cause of my dad” to which she takes off her glasses and says without these all I see is a blurry blob. She rubs his arm and tells him to stop using the machine, then lingerly kisses his cheek and says she loves him to which he turns and say “I Agree with that, I love you too. Can you put your glasses back on you look like a weirdo”. Next scene (4B door). Lenny knocks, Sheldon answers and Lenny says they owe him an apology and Sheldon says I forgive you for taking my suitcase when I wasn’t home. Leonard says not that, but for yelling at him because he was in the middle of their fight. And Leonard says also the suitcase to which Sheldon said he had to throw it out as a sock was in there. Sheldon asks are they ok now and Lenny says yes, Penny said she will tell her Dad its just not a good time to which Leonard rubs her back and says “he won’t get mad at his little girl” to which immediately Penny says he won’t because it was Leonard’s idea, Leonard says “you’re going throw me under the bus?” And Penny says “I’m gonna throw you so fast I’ll break windows”. Sheldon says “wait are you getting angry again” and they look snarky back and he shouts “yes I can read emotions I don’t need the machine, and slams the door”. Tag: whole gang at 4A eating and Sheldon is still a little bummed about reading emotions, so Amy (or Raj) says pregnant women have a great insight into that. Leonard says “but they can’t get Sheldon pregnant” so Sheldon asks Bernadette what he is thinking and she says “you think you are better than us, we are all be beneath you”. He is shocked and tells Howard to keep having babies. Ok I am exhausted so probably typos and errors. Will try to review later. BTS: everyone very chatty. Jim was Jim with pacing so no toe hangup. Kaley said at railing “not sure what you’ve all heard but I for one want this to keep going. Never heard her word it that way. Mayim kept making like clawing motions toward Jim and others. All messed up except Melissa and Mayim. While filled studio, there were still some seats so my guess everyone got in of standbys.

[rebeccahpedersen]

Will The 2019 Federal Election Be All About Housing?

TorontoRealtyBlog

Remember that infamous list of the three things you don’t talk about at a proverbial dinner party?

Politics, religion, and money.

Wow, that’s, like, soooooo 1988.

If we had more time, maybe we could add to the list, or at the very least update it for 2018.  Mind you, that list could be depressing, as I really, truly think it would comprise every single topic on the planet, one of which is sure to offend somebody.

So long as we’re banning clapping in university, to avoid causing students anxiety, I think we’re going the way of bubble-wrapping ourselves, and plugging our ears every morning.

But your average TRB reader doesn’t offend so easily, right?

So we can still talk politics on this forum?

As you all know, I’m a die-hard NDP supporter.

Wait, sorry, that was incorrect.

I’m a supporter of Die Hard.

But only Part 1 and Part 2.  I give Die Hard With A Vengeance a pass, but the ones thereafter were just awful.

I’m also a die-hard breaker of the rules when it comes to talking politics, and since your average TRB reader is equally likely to support Liberal, Conservative, or NDP, I’m always bound to have a few detractors.

I have mentioned on multiple occasions that I thought the 2018 Ontario Provincial election was simply a contest to see who could promise to give away the most stuff, for free, between the Liberals and the NDP.  The NDP used to be the “leftist” party, but when the Liberals began to give away free stuff like they didn’t have a $15 Billion deficit hidden by creative accounting practices, the NDP said, “Oh you think that is how you give stuff away?  Just watch…”

A few readers politely pointed out that the Conservatives made many promises of their own, and whether you’re spending, or making cuts, it’s going to cost the taxpayer in one way or another.  Totally fair, and totally true.  All three parties focused more on giving people stuff and things, rather than explaining how they would lead the population forward.

Oh, voting!  What’s the point?  It’s only one vote.  Show me a single election that’s ever been decided by one vote.  And don’t mention the movie, “Election” where Tracey Flick beats Paul Metzler by one vote, because that’s a movie.  And because the guy who played Ferris Bueller rigged the election so Reese Witherspoon would lose, but we can discuss this later…

The 2019 Federal election is bound to be one for the ages, and there are reasons a plenty for this.

For starters, Justin Trudeau has had his ups and downs over the last three years, and has been, at times, the most popular Prime Minister in decades, but also the most laughed-at.  He could win in a landslide, or fall on his face as his opponents look to exploit his gaffes during his tenure.

Maxime Bernier killed all the momentum that Conservatives had built up, when he decided to start his own, and soon to fail party, which will take precious votes away from the Conservatives, and simply dump them in the Ottawa River.

And oh yeah – for the first time EVER, millennials will represent the highest proportion of voters.

All of a sudden, the first two reasons don’t even seem to matter.

Millennials will decide this election, isn’t that something?

You senior citizens must be shaking your canes in an angry fashion right now, ready to throw your VHS collections of M*A*S*H through the pigeon-proofing on the window, and out into your extremely well-manicured lawns.

The thought of millennials riding their Segways into voting booths while live-streaming their “pick” on InstaFaceChat, stopping periodically to look at photos of their friends’ lunches on social media, is hard to stomach for many of us, whose stomachs aren’t filled with Avacado Toast.

But like it or not, millennials will decide the next election, statistically-speaking.

And what, aside from donating money to Kylie Jenner to ensure she can join the billionaire club, are millennials primarily concerned with in 2018?

Housing.

Housing, Housing, Housing.  I really do expect this to be a major theme in the upcoming election, and if it’s not one that voters want to raise, I still see politicians using it as a springboard.

Crime is a boring story, and even those who read about it, don’t feel “affected” by it.

The economy sounds interesting in theory, but again, you have to give a you-know-what to really dig deep enough to see how it matters to you.

Jobs?  Meh.  Let’s just typecast and say that those people who don’t have one, don’t vote.

Climate change?  Let’s get real.  Canada is responsible for, what, like 2% of world greenhouse emissions?  Psssh!

Electoral reform?  What is that, anyways?

I could go on, and on, and be equally as sarcastic.

But on a truly serious note, I believe, with all my heart, that the election issues that voters really take seriously are the ones that affect them the most.  Election promises that voters will benefit from, legislation that will help them, and any and all words coming out of a politician’s mouth that will have a tangible affect on one’s livelihood, will win votes in 2019.

During the early-going in this year’s Provincial election, I saw a comment on Facebook that said something to the extent of: “Free daycare?  OMG!  I mean, I don’t like the Liberals, hate them, in fact, but if this is really true, they’ve got my vote!  ‘You do you,’ ya know?”

That was the moment, folks.  One stupid comment on Facebook, from a person I don’t even know, brought me to a realization that I should have already come to sooner: people will always do what’s best for them.

As much as we should care about electoral reform, as concerned and involved as we should be regarding climate change, as passionate as we should be with immigration, or violent crime in poor neighbourhoods, we’re still going to look long and hard at election platforms that directly affect and benefit us.

The Canadian Real Estate Association recently hired Abacus Data to conduct a nation-wide survey of 2,500 people, all millennials, with respect to their feelings on all things related to housing.

The results were published on Monday, and you can read the whole article HERE.

The study is eye-opening, and I say that both as a voter, and as a real estate agent.

Take a look if you have time.  It’s a fast read, and you’ll thank me.

But if I could borrow a couple of their graphics (and I’m letting myself do so because of all the money I pay to CREA which goes to waste…), I think the points really drive themselves home.

First, consider what I said above – that the millennials will be the largest set of voters in the 2019 election:

Take that, Boomers!

God.  My poor mother, what must she be thinking?

The study goes on to look at just how much housing is an issue for millennials:

Now if I could be humble for a moment, let me be honest: there are several things on that list that I can’t imagine millennials calling a “top or very high priority.”  And not just millennials, to be fair, because this list is about millennials, but do 37% of people really care about trade relations?  Or are they just trying to sound smart?

But if 64% of millennials believe the federal government should prioritize housing affordability, as the top, or very high priority, what does that say about our three major political parties’ focus in the coming election?

Amazingly, affordable housing was the top result in all nine provinces that were part of the survey:

Just look at B.C. wow!

A whopping 80% of millennials would put housing at the top of the list?  I’d have suggested that the 67% in Ontario was a big number, but it’s absolutely dwarfed by B.C.

There are a slew of other graphics in the article, but the only other one worth exploring is this:

Note the fine print at the bottom – respondents were given options as to whether the factor was big, moderate, minor, or had no impact on affordability.

Interesting that downpayment was at the top of the list, since there’s a prevailing sentiment among the public that millennials are all rich kids getting money from their Baby Boomer parents to buy their first home.

Also interesting that 41% of Vancouver millennials still think “foreign buyers” are a very big factor.  I’d love to see what that percentage was in Toronto.

The idea that 33% of millennials believe “loan approval” is a very big factor shows me that a third of all millennials haven’t done their homework!  Pre-approvals are the easiest part of the home-buying process, and I rarely, if ever, come across a potential buyer that can’t get a mortgage.

I’m also not sure I understand “taxes/fees.”  Yes, the $4,000 in property taxes you pay per year sucks, but it’s not really a factor on its own, especially if “afford monthly payments” is another factor.

I could blame Abacus Data for these silly options, or blame the respondents for not really knowing what’s what.  Either way, I think the fact that “downpayments” and “affordable monthly payments” are at the top of the list are the major take-aways here.

Now as luck would have it, after I started writing this blog, yet another article with the same major theme hit the newswire:

“Poll: 94% of GTA Millennials Concerned They Won’t Be Able To Buy A Home”

This poll was conducted by Ipsos Reid, and commissioned by the Building Industry & Land Development Association, and the good ‘ole Toronto Real Estate Board.

Geez, what’s with organized real estate and polling millennials, eh?

Further 86% agreed with the statement that “it is important that young families can afford to live and work in the GTA without having to commute for more than an hour to get to their place of employment.”

And how about this great quote from the President of TREB, Garry Bhaura:

“The best public policy is proactive, not reactive. We hope these poll results demonstrate that the time for municipal decision-makers to start thinking about housing choice and supply for all GTA residents who want to own a home is now,”

Conspiracy theorists, put on your tinfoil hats!  CREA and TREB are lobbying government!

As for the millennials, relax, you got this.

Or should I say we got this?

I was born in 1980, after all…

The post Will The 2019 Federal Election Be All About Housing? appeared first on Toronto Realty Blog.

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Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

"Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

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Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

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is there a chance that insurance companies are taking advantage of obama-care and increasing costs more than they really needed? looks like a % of insured are getting hit but what is the % of uninsured or insurance denials that are now covered? any good stories?

What insurance is the cheapest a month?

for a 16 year old that drives a 98 ford explorer 4 door 4wd. 4.0L V 6. it has a lift on it i dunno if that effects it at all. i;ve looked around but all it shows is like 2 grand. and i know it aint 2 grand cause my cousins 17 and she has an 05 mustang gt. by the way i live in tn. dunno if that helps. and i have 230,000 miles. no wrecks or sitations.""

Is Mitsubishi Lancer Coupe considered a Sports Car in Insurance?

Hi, im in australia planning to get a lancer coupe, not the sedan. they range in late 90 models. I cant tell if theyre a sports car or not by insurance companies. (sports car are more expensive). a small low budget economical 1.8L car wouldnt be classified as a sports. But then lancers were originally used in rally races. Can anyone tell me if this lancer would have higher insurance costs than a 4 door sedan version.""

How much will my insurance go up if I am at 100% fault ?

I was in a car accident that was found to be 100% my fault. Accident itself was not too bad -- other car's front bumper( one side) dent.. so how much should I expect my insurance to increase ?

Automotive Insurance?

Insurance designed to protect an insured driver or owner from the claims of others is called: collision insurance financial responsibility insurance liability insurance comprehensive insurance

Auto Insurance ? Never had it. Can anybody help.?

I have called for quotes.. to many auto insurance companies. But since this my first time purchase I am confused, Can someone break down the features of a policy, what am i to have, what is reccomended. thanks , any details will help.""

Convertible insurance?

I'm a new driver and have been browsing car dealerships for an affordable car. Right now I'm interested in a 1998 Chrysler Sebring Convertible LX. I was just wondering on average how much more insurance is for a convertible than a non-convertible?

Estimate for car insurance for 18 year old?

I live in Houston tx, like the top said I am a 18 year old male, I have a 2012 ford mustang v6. It is paid off, and I want to sign over the car from my parents name to mine cause they live in a diffrent city but that means I would have to start paying for insurance. Which is fine but do any of y'all know about how much I would be paying. I will only want liability, or if I can afford it full coverage. I don't want to get quotes from the insurance companies themselves because after that they constantly email call and mail you stuff and its annoying. Anyways thanks for the help""

Affordable health insurance??

I asked before but i am looking for a health insurance that covers meds, eye checks, dentist, womens problems, in the united states.""

What is the average cost of mobile home insurance in California?

What is the average cost of mobile home insurance in California?

Does my car insurance help me get another car if my car is totalled?

I was in a car accident last week, which wasn't my fault. The auto body shop said my car is totalled because of the damages, it can't get fixed. The other person's insurance is going to pay it off because of the loss, I have full coverage and my question is, can my insurance get my another car or do I have to get it myself? I got it in April, gave a down payment, and have only made one payment. I need a car badly for work!!""

Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

How can I put my girlfriend (8 1/2 years and still going strong) on my health/dental insurance?

Hi guys, so I have asked my job and it seems the only way I can add her to my health/dental insurance is if 1) we are married or 2) if i provide proof of living with her for a certain amount of years. There has to be some loophole because I really think it is ridiculous that we have been to together since we were 16 and I cant add her or help her in such a way. There is no possible way, in timeline, for us to qualify for such rules. 16-18 years old (in high school and lived with parents), 18-23 years old (Attended separate universities and lived in different cities), 23- 24 1/2 years old, (both living with parents back home, we alternate and stay at each others place, so have no set home or bills in our name, such as direct tv, electricity, internet, you name it. we are blessed with awesome parents) and yes we have though about just getting married, but no way... we are waiting until we are established and can fend for ourselves to make a decision like that, but yes we do want to get married some day, but not over screwing the government or other reasons. Also we live in california if that helps, since i know every state varies, thank s guys!! ^_^""

Insurance for second car?

hello i ma a taxi driver with psv insurance my son has recently bought a car and wants me to put me down as the main driver to keep the premium as low as possible. what i want to know is can i have two policies one private and one psv???

Would it be a good idea for insurers to give a % of income they give out in claims?

We all look for the cheapest premium, but we have no idea how they would perform if you had to claim. I heard somewhere that car insurers give out much more that household insurance (or vice versa) and can't understand why.""

""Would this health insurance be accepted in my ares ,lubbock and shallowater texas?""

i need to know if this health insurance would be accepted in my area,lubbock and shallowater texas?""

How Much is a car note usually for a 2006 Chevy cobalt or any 2006 model? and car insurance for a 20 year old?

How Much is a car note usually for a 2006 Chevy cobalt or any 2006 model? and car insurance for a 20 year old?

Arizona Law on insurance pulling your driver record ?

does anyone how long (in term of years) can an insurance company pull your driver record? i know here in Arizona i can pull my record from servicearizona.com for 39month. but some people tell me they can pull up to 5 years from your record.

""I need some cheap car insurance. I have a 2005 suburvan, a 97 chev pickup and a 97 mercury tracer.?""

I need some cheap car insurance. I have a 2005 suburvan, a 97 chev pickup and a 97 mercury tracer.?""

Poll: How much do you pay for auto insurance per year?

could you do me a favour and also tell me what kind of car you drive, age, and gender? don't worry not trying to stalk anyone or something, I just want to see what do most people pay for insurance. I don't know much about what's a good or bad price, all I know is the rate for the car I want and I want to see what it is compared to other people's rates. if you don't want to answer you don't have to because I know some people might not be comfortable saying this stuff to strangers. also any offences? thanks!""

Found a nice place for those who need free auto quotes?

Hey there just wanted to let everyone know i found this great site for free auto insurance quotes, its saved me $32 off of my montly policy. Read some of the auto insurance articles to help you save more. Http://www.free-auto-quote.com""

What is the best life insurance for seniors?

age 53, will retire in 2010 - federal employee""

Are there any Uk car insurance sites whose multiple car insurance quotes actually do work out cheaper than?

separate for each car

Insurance cost for Corvette?

Hey I'm 16 and have quite a bit of money saved for a car so im gonna get a decent one nd i was thinking a corvette. I was wondering about (I know no one knows exactly) how much the insurance is going to be on like a 00 or 01 model. Also if you know insurance cost of a 350z too that would be great. Thanks for the help

If i cancel my car insurance will the rate later go up?

If I cancel my current monthly car insurance plan for my car, will getting a new play later down the line increase its premiums? i am wondering a few months down the line, or other time frames. i will not drive my car after this cancellation. currently my annual insurance is around $5,600.00 I am 24, male, live in toronto.""

How much is it to include your teenage child in your car insurance plan?

My daughter is going to get her license soon and will be driving the family car with us.. how much will it cost to add her to our insurance plan?

How can I find out what my employer pays for my health insurance?

My employer tells me that they pay 70% of my health insurance premiums, but looking at the amount my 30% portion is and calculating the total, it would be a ridiculous total premium. So I think that my employer is lying to me about the percentage they pay. I tried calling the insurance company to find out what the total premiums are, but they would not tell me. Is there a way that I can find out what what the total premiums are on my health insurance plan?""

Cheap Car Insurance For Young Adult?

I am 19. I just bought a car that needs to be plated. Its a 2002 Daewoo. (model name Lanos). I need to know the cheapest insurance I can put on the car. Ive never had any tickets or violations or trouble with the law. Ive never even been pulled over. I live in Indiana. Any suggestions please let me know. Also, I just moved to Lake Station from Elkhart. I guess you have to go through emissions to get plates but since its an 02 I dont believe I need to do it this year. However, I may plan on going back to Elkhart & thats where my lincence is from. Could I tell the BMV that and they plate it as Elkhart? & I wont even have to go through emissions?""

Self Employed Health Insurance?

My father just quit his old job, he couldn't work there anymore (Too long commute and we lost a parent, so he had to stay closer home for the family) So now he is self employed. We are trying to find insurance that will cover him, 4 children, vision (we all wear glasses) + dental. Does anyone have any suggestions? (We live in PA)""

Where can I find a comparative listing for auto insurance rates?

Where can I find a comparative listing for auto insurance rates?

I am 19 and own a 1978 camaro in Michigan what would be the cheapest insurance company?

I am 19 and own a 1978 camaro in Michigan what would be the cheapest insurance company?

Insurance and juniors lisence?

My son just got his Jr's license will my insurance go up? Or does he need a Senior license for that

What is the best but most cost-efficient insurance for a 22year old male driver who just got his license?

Used, older car (either 1990 honda or 1995 toyota). Just got his license. Want decent insurance but not outrageously price. Any help greatly appreciated - thanks!""

Can any body tell me what is the lowest online car insurance company?

i have an old car and sometimes i use it but i think i pay too much to insure it $55 a month and it is just liablity insurance and i am looking for an online insurance company that can give me a very low rate

Car insurance?

my car insurance is $1537 i dont know why im 18 years old have a kia spectra 03 drive 2 hours to school everyday can anyone pls help me

Does not paying car insurance affect Credit score?

I haven't paid my car insurance on time. But I haven't gotten mail saying last notice or the company hasn't even bothered me about it. Will this make my credit score horrible? how do i go about fixing it? thanks!

Is there affordable private health coverage available?

My husband lost his job and my autistic son takes strattera($640) and abilify($220) a month. Is there any programs that help with cost or a good private insurance plan out there?

Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

Evanston Illinois Cheap car insurance quotes zip 60209

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