JoTV: Getting In Jo Feelings

As promised esteemed Muses we are having our second and final broadcast on the Couples Awards, think you for tuning in tonight! I know I haven’t been around for a while but for this extra, extra special segment I just HAD to come back and host it myself. I’m Victoria and let’s get to our footage of the happy couples! We’ve even had a new entry this week!

The screen behind Victoria comes to life with an Image of Bet and Brink, the shot is filmed from overhead, and they seem to be at a café, having a warm tea together

Ahh there it is, aren’t they cute! They have married couple vibes that rival that of our Impressionable husbands!

The camera zooms in and you can hear them discussing the need for a balance between heroes and villains in a story, Bet is such an elegant lady that it seems like Brink can’t keep up. But she laughs at his endearing antics, like how he didn’t know which spoon to use to stir his drink. He also has plenty of well thought out ideas on villainy, likely from experience. Bet seems to be listening intently

The smile across Victoria’s face is infectious as she switches the channel.

And with our newcomers introduced, let’s see how they stack up against our old favourites, ooh here come a couple of rugged men~

The audience squeals and Cyrus and Archie appear on the screen, both looking a little worse for wear, a crack in the sky looms behind them. Cyrus looks troubled, glancing at Archie but not saying anything. You can tell he wants to go though. On the other hand, Archie only manages a weak wave at the camera this week, his smile is tired, but sincere looking – making the audience swoon.

Looks like this is what happens when you put two heartthrobs together, I wonder what adventure they went on this time? It looks dangerous~

And now Lovely Muses, for our last couple, the fan favourites, let’s look at how Dave and Jack are doing!

As Victoria spoke, you can tell there is a hard jump cut in the broadcast, like an entire section was omitted

An oily rain falls over far dream, a promise of the storm to come. The normally stark white dunes of far dream are made grey by the thick, black clouds that choke the sky. Together, against the storm, the Muses of the FIF huddle.

They have waited for this moment all of their lives. Outcast, hated, feared: for being different. For years they have talked about a better world, a fairer world, a free world, a world most never believed they would see. So now, as they are only moments away from the Glorious Revolution, their lives seem far away. Dreamlike. It can’t really be here? It can’t really be now? The identity of the Forum, of the Muses who are the Forum, is one of resistance: they are characterised by the fight, and as the triumph seems but moments away the Muses assembled teeter on the precipice between what was and what could be.

Into the breathless anticipation, the great uncertainty, steps Ten of Masks. He mounts the debris of a long forgotten Vignette, a stone outcropping jutting from the desert.

“I know you are afraid.” He says. “I am afraid. Not of the AOT, or PI, or any of the forces that have conspired to oppress us and all the Muses of Spindle. We are stronger than them, we always were.”

“No, I am afraid because today we leave behind the only life we have ever known. It was a life under the heel of an uncaring tyrant, but it was ours and we learned to fight for it every day. Tomorrow I will reach for my mask, I will raise it to my face, and I will stop. Because I will not need to wear it anymore. Tomorrow we will live in a world where we, who have hid all our lives, must show our faces. A world where we must be free.”

“So yes, I am afraid. I am afraid that I will not know how to be free. But it is not better to live in fear. We owe it to ourselves, to every Muse in Spindle, to fight! No matter how afraid we are, we must fight them! We fight for our freedom to love, for our freedom to think, for our freedom to choose our own fate!”

“We must move forwards. We must sacrifice everything if need be, because it is better to die a free Muse than live a slave to the AOT!”

And it is all suddenly so real. The press of Muses, the weight of their bodies is heavy, the sounds of their voices raised together is loud. They fall away from the dreamlike precipice into the new world. With one voice they cry and the Revolution is born.

The screen flickers again. There is the sound of scuffeling from the studio.

The Cafe is busy today. Visitors new and old chatter at tables, discussing the latest ideas brought to the philosophy cafe. Longue-Tongue Jack watches the clock on the wall anxiously. He taps his foot. Only a moment now.

The room is plunged into sudden darkness. Madame Song apologises, and can be heard fumbling about for the lights. As the lights blink back to life the room has changed. Many of the Muses now wear masks: some gay, some austere, some frightening. Jack stands and makes his way to the front of the cafeteria.

He coughs politely, “I would like to apologise for the inconvenience, but I’m afraid I must requisition this space on behalf of The Revolution.”

Many of the Masked Muses produce weapons of various descriptions.

“Those of you who want to leave are, of course, free to do so, although I think you’ll find it safer in here.”

Blake Skye stands up from the crowd: “What the hell is going on Jack?”

“Even as we speak, FIF freedom fighters advance upon the stronghold of the Academy. Today the tyranny of the AOT comes to a close.”

Zeno sits at their table, staring placidly at the armed Muses that surround him. After a long moment of consideration he addresses Jack. “Is this freedom?”

Again the screen leaps.

Long-Tongue Jack stumbles away from the inert body of Principal Inquisitive Morta Lipwig and retches onto the street. Debris is strewn across the road, smoke fills the air and from all around the sounds of fighting echo.

The battle is brutal. Muses regenerate too quickly to be left intact after being dropped, so the moment ones goes down their foes surge over the body like a hungry tide.

Long-Tongue Jack, wounded, stumbles back into the cafe as his lieutenants quickly take control of the battle outside the cafe. The Muses huddle as far from the doors as possible, they shriek as the building rumbles with explosions both distant and near; they cough at the smoke drifting in from the street; they cringe at the patrols of the masked Muses who have occupied the cafe.

Madam Song quietly moves over to Jack’s table, a small pot of tea in one hand and a cup in the other. Jack nods his assent and is served. Then she turns away from him without a word, the breach in her normally irreproachable hospitality a damning indication of her thoughts.

Jack casts about the room, “This… this is necessary, to build a better world. We are here to end the Academy’s reign of terror.”

No one responds. They only look upon him with frightened eyes.

He grits his teeth in frustration, “I know you are afraid, but soon you will be free! Don’t you want to be free? Don’t you want to have your voice heard? We’re building a better world!”

Madam Song sets her tray down at the counter, the rattle betraying the force of the motion. “Better for who? Most Muses do not strive to push the boundaries of creative expression, few chafe at the restrictions The Academy place on them. You forget your history: the Muses of Spindle welcomed the Academy’s protection, we accepted the need to Censor those whose radical behaviours might bring about another devastating Memification.”

Jack simply shakes his head, “That was then. That is not the world we live in anymore. I believe we will be absolved by History.”

Madam Song looks about at the ruin the battle he has wrought on her cafe. “You know what? I agree. It looks like you will be the ones writing it.”

The screen fuzzes. There is angry ranting from behind studio.

Representatives of all the factions, minus the Academy of course, mill about anxiously before the stage erected in the Exhibition Hall. Ribbons and garlands decorate the hall, and the air swells with triumphant music. However, the trappings of glory only highlight uncomfortable details: red stains bleached but not faded, rubble swept into dark corners but not yet carried away. No one has forgotten that this was only days ago a battlefield. Everyone remembers who won.

Dave From Finance, recently revealed as Ten of Masks, strides out onto the stage as the music rises to a crescendo. Many in the crowd cheer with honest joy. Others, however, cheer with the panicked fervour of those afraid to be seen as less enthusiastic than their neighbours. At his sides are Morgana Shadestalker and Long-Tongue Jack.

Dave holds up a hand for silence. “The Tyranny of the Academy,” he begins. “IS OVER!”

“The Academy has been decimated, their strength broken, their command smashed. The only survivors are imprisoned or fled into Far Dream. No longer must Muses fear Censorship, simply having the audacity to invent. This is the beginning of a new world, a better world, for Muses of all factions.”

He smiles beneficently.

“We look forward to working with you all as we move into a new, democratic future, one in which the power is placed firmly,” he spreads his arms gesturing to the assembled Muses, “in your hands.”

“Now we are keen that the Revolution is minimally disruptive to Spindle, so we won’t keep you any longer. Thank you.”

But as they leave they whisper. With The Academy gone, who will stop the Memification? Who will save Spindle from the broken sky, from the churning earth? And when they think the agents of the FIF cannot hear them, when they do not fear the sword of the revolution, they ask who wanted revolution?

She clicks a remote and Dave and Jack are having a stiff drink together, toasting over the end of the world. Outside there are rioters in the streets, and the Food for Thought café looks a little worse for wear. Neither smile, but yet they are here together. They don’t look at the camera, but when the angle accidentally catches their eyes, you see the expression of two people who have come to accept the fact that their days are numbered. And this, is how they’d like to spend their time

The audience themselves is silent, not a word is uttered on or off screen until the footage ends. Victoria stands a little stunned

they finish their usual drink, which is where it typically ends, but Dave orders a second, single shot, by the phrase “For my greatest light in the darkness”. He slides it over to Jack with a knowing look, blood splatters on the windows outside.

Well that was… intense. In a good way that is!

You see her eyes waver off camera and back again

Jack and Dave have always had an understanding beyond that of words, s-so this is just a show of it! They can just… look into each other’s eyes and tell what the other is thinking! I wish I had a love like that, don’t you?

The audience mumbles in agreement, one girl bursts into tears as the camera cuts away

Aaaaand that’s all for tonight folks, remember our final winner will be decided by you! The public! Votes will be cast and tallied at the next brainstorm, where our winner will be announced! Fantastic, never before seen prizes including rare trope cards are up for grabs, so make sure you choose carefully! I know who I’m voting for, what about you???

The image shows a small cloud in a stadium, recognisable as the stadium that has recently appeared on the outskirts of Spindle. Squirrels and goblins can be seen sparring on the floor of the stadium far below.

SQUIRRELS VERSUS LIZZARDS. Who will win? Find out on New Year's Day, when we will finally see which is the superior species that shall reign supreme! It shall be the spectacle of the century! The match of the millenium! The EVENT OF ETERNITY

And it's all for the low low price of one trope! And if you can't afford that, low quality seating is available for one halftrope!

The following text is spoken so fast it's difficult to make out, as well as scrolling quickly across the bottom of the screen.

The Halftropes and Squirrels Banking Corporation may exchange two halftrope banknotes for a single trope of any rank. The Halftropes and Squirrels Banking Corporation will pay the bearer of the Halftropes and Squirrels Banking Corporation banknote on demand the sum of one trope, the rank and type of which being of the Halftropes and Squirrels Banking Corporation's choosing.