#When I was his age I asked for a Nintendo DS and never got one. So I swear to god and all of hellif my father gets him one

[astral-catastrophe]

If they get my brother another fucking gaming console I’m going to make a poor choice that’s gonna just remove me from existence.

[euphoricfilter]

For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!

youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:

tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3

notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.

notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺

𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.

𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.

𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.

𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore

𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.

𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.

𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation

𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing

𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.

𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.

𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.

𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom

𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face

𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.

𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”

𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.

𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.

𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon

𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help

𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye— a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening

𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.

𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”

𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background

𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in

𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)

[calliopewayne]

The Strike

Getting blindsided by Mr. Matchmaker was not Bruce’s idea of a fun Saturday night. Though if he had a therapist, she’d probably tell him fighting crime did not qualify as healthy ‘fun.’  

He was happy with the way things were. Once a month Clark would drag Bruce out to Metropolis for some ‘Much needed socializing.’ According to Mr. Matchmaker, a gala didn’t count as ‘Socializing.’ It was networking. Bowling should have been Bruce’s first red flag. You needed at least five or more people for a successful bowling game. The usual suspects didn’t cut it. 

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Dick asked eying the interior of Cowtown Bowling Alley critically. 

Cowtown Bowling Alley was located in Hamilton County, a small farming town 300 miles North of Metropolis. It felt like he was back in Kansas, minus all the homey charm. He supposed Clark liked it here because it reminded him of home.     

Tables were strategically placed apart in a way that gave the illusion of roominess. The Cowtown Bowling Alley could fit snuggly inside the Kent farm with spare room remaining. Once upon a time, the tables might have been a brilliant shade of blue, but they were so dirty they looked brown. The place reeked of greasy food and a hint of manure. Bruce recoiled from the smell. He sure hoped this was the wrong place. In all his twenty-five years of life, he had never been in a more dinky bowling alley, if you could call it that. There were only eight lanes, each occupied by hillbillies. There even was a cowboy in the furthest lane trying to teach a goth girl how to line dance. 

The petite girl hooked her arm through the cowboy’s arm, laughing as she tripped over his feet. The cowboy caught her before she fell, twirled her around, and then spontaneously kissed her. 

“Watch it punk!” the girl punched him in the face, knocking his glasses off. “Just because I got all dolled up for you, does not mean you get to lay one on me, Rodeoman.”  

“I thought that’s what. . . sorry Leslie.” 

The cowboy dove down to retrieve his glasses and it dawned on Bruce that the cowboy was no other than his dorky friend. He should have known Clark would come clad in full cowboy regalia. He fumbled around on the floor looking blindly for his horn-rimmed glasses. Bruce rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night. He crouched next to Clark, and plucked the glasses off the floor, shoving them back on the Kryptonian’s red face. 

“Bruce, you made it!” Clark’s eyes lit up with giddy joy. He surged forward and enveloped Bruce in a rib-crushing hug. “Everybody this is Bruce!” Clark announced to the gang, sounding drunk on happiness. 

Bruce’s stomach twisted into knots when he saw the clutter of people seated around the lane. A gawky redhead wearing suspenders balanced on the armrest of the bench. Bruce vaguely recognized Jack Olsen, the thief turned photographer, who was always glued to Clark’s side. He made Bruce nervous. Jack’s track record wasn’t exactly clean. He used to make a living selling stolen goods on the black market before meeting a certain optimistic alien. It was only a matter of time before Jack snapped the wrong photo and put two and two together. Clark needed to be more careful who he allowed to get close to him. 

A stunning Italian woman sat next to Jack, primly sipping a margarita. He almost didn’t recognize Zatanna without makeup. She had traded her usual fishnet stockings for a pair of sensible black leggings and a concert T-shirt. The younger Olsen brother sat on Zatanna’s lap, showing off his new Nintendo DS— the kid’s name escaped him at the moment. Sammy or Timmy? Something that ended with a ‘y.’ All Bruce knew about the kid was that Clark spoiled him rotten and wished he were his brother. 

 A young man, probably around Clark’s age, sat at the opposite bench scarfing down nachos as fast as the Flash. Bruce frowned at the blonde. There was something familiar about his movements. According to the badge clipped over his pocket, his name was Barry Allen. The angry, goth chick, AKA, Leslie Willis, Clark’s latest blunder, sat next to Barry. She eyed Bruce like a slab of juicy steak that was bad for her cholesterol. Bruce didn’t usually hate women, but Leslie did not deserve Clark. Nobody punched Clark except for Batman. And he certainly did not approve of her wondering eyes. This wasn’t the first time she made a pass at Bruce Wayne. Of course, Mr. X-ray-Vision was blind to his girlfriend’s harsher nature.     

“And me!” Dick pouted. 

Clark ruffled the kid’s locks affectionately. “Of course Dick, how can I forget you?” he smiled. “There’s actually someone I want you to meet.” Clark steered Dick toward the younger Olsen brother. “Jimmy, this is Dick Grayson, he’s around your age.” 

“Dick?” Leslie asked. “What, your parents took one look at you and thought, ‘That dick is going places.’” 

Barry spit out a nacho, choking on his laughter.   

“Leslie,” Clark warned. “There are children present.” 

“And?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You expect me to dumb things down for the little humans?” 

“For the last time,” Jimmy jumped off Zatanna’s lap causing Zee to spill her drink. “I’m not little. I’m a decade old,” he said importantly.  

“You’re fun size,” Jack ruffled his brother’s hair, much in the same way Clark mussed up Dick’s hair earlier. 

“Jack, come on,” Clark wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Help me set up the game.” 

“But it’s a one-person job!” Jack protested. “You just type the names in. It’s not rocket science.” Clark looked between Zatanna and Bruce meaningfully and then back to Jack. “You sir, are playing a very dangerous game,” Jack wagged a finger at Clark and followed him to the bowling console. 

Curse Clark and his rom-com-obsessed heart. He was certain Clark was under the impression, that Zee would spill a drink in his lap, they’d bump heads, exchange some awkward, predictable dialogue, and then be smitten with each other. Real life was a bit more complicated than that. Bruce dutifully sat down next to Zatanna, who couldn’t seem to stop smiling in amusement. She wasn’t dumb either. She saw what Clark was trying to do.  

“Hello, beloved,” she teased, mimicking Talia expertly.

 He was starting to regret confiding in Zee at all about his complicated ‘love’ life. Exchanging deadly blows and diffusing bombs hardly could be classified as ‘love.’ 

“You look purr-fect tonight,” she purred softly into his ear, her breath smelling fruity and minty. 

Zatanna was a very stunning woman. She was built like a professional swimmer, her body muscular and fluid. Her long, inky hair smelled of lingering sweet incense. She had a diamond-shaped face that was more attractive than beautiful, her features sharp and alert. He was not totally blind to her charms. In another life where he never studied under her father and she wasn’t the younger sister he always wanted, they might have been a possibility. At twenty-three Zatanna was closer in age to Clark. He honestly thought the two of them would end up together, but Clark had poor taste in women. He liked to punish himself with abusive relationships since he thought that was all he deserved.      

Bruce scowled. “Enjoying yourself?” 

“Immensely,” she winked at him. “You need to relax,” she reached over and pushed back his shoulders. “That frown is going to give you wrinkles, Brucie.” 

Through the corner of his eye, he could feel Clark and Jack watching them by the console. Damn Clark and his stupid superhearing. This would have been a great opportunity to pick Zatanna’s brain about Jason Blood. He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around the demon/human body switch. But. Bruce Wayne didn’t associate with temperamental monsters. One whisper of his nightlife and Clark will know the truth. Superman will be even more insufferable than usual. 

Zatanna whispered a soft word and the room froze as if she had hit the pause button on a movie. Leslie stood marble still facing the lane, her arm outstretched, fingers clamped on a pink bowling ball. Clark leaned behind her, no doubt whispering words of comfort. Barry Allen’s mouth was agape as he held a greasy slice of pizza to his mouth, inches from taking a bite out of it. Bruce frowned at the preppy blonde. He knew that guy from somewhere, he was sure of it. This was going to bug him all night.  

Dick and Jimmy sat at their feet mid-laughter; Jimmy showed Dick his Mythomania cards. Bruce’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of his ward. He seemed so young and carefree. He rarely got a chance to hang out with kids his age.  

“Based on Clark’s sunny disposition, you haven’t told him the truth yet.” Zatanna raised a bushy eyebrow at him. 

That question was a double-edged sword. Had he told Clark about his nocturnal activities? Clark was better off not knowing. He could live with Superman hating Batman. He didn’t want to live in a world where Clark viewed Bruce as the enemy. Had he revealed their familial ties? It was on a need-to-know basis. Zatanna only knew because her father worked closely with Power Girl back in the day, before the fatal night in Crime Alley. Bruce’s throat closed up with sudden fear. His mother once was endowed by the sun’s rays, just like Clark, but her alien genes did not save her – one of the mysteries Bruce was never able to solve. Clark wasn’t invulnerable. He could be killed. His mother was proof of that. 

“He doesn’t need to know.” 

“You owe him the truth!” Zatanna swore. 

Bruce promised his mother he would protect her nephew. Part of protecting Clark was protecting him from himself. If he knew they were cousins he would risk his life to keep Bruce safe. And that meant recklessly fighting the Joker so Bruce wouldn’t have to. If Clark knew, it would open a can of worms Bruce wasn’t ready to face. Clark will surely have questions, questions Bruce didn’t have the answers to. Like, how did she survive Krypton’s explosion? How was it possible for her to get shot? How was it possible for Bruce Lor-Van Wayne to exist? Martha Wayne was a riddle wrapped in a mystery. 

“The truth will only hurt him,” Bruce said. 

“How can you say that?” Zatanna snapped. “You know better than anyone the scars losing family leaves behind.” 

“Clark has a family,” Bruce reminded her, his voice colored with envy. The Kents loved that alien more than life itself. He didn’t need Bruce. He would only bring Clark down with the darkness inside him. 

“You at least have the memory of your birthparents,” she softened her tone. “Clark thinks he’s the last Kryptonian. It would mean the world to him knowing you’re . . .” 

“I’m not Kryptonian,” Bruce growled. Not where it counted. There was too much of his father in him. Sure, his photographic memory was a bit more advanced than your average human, but that was the extent of the gifts Amara Lor Van passed down to him, which was just how he wanted it. Someone like him would abuse that much power. Clark was better off thinking he was the last Kryptonian. 

“You’re still family,” Zatanna persisted. “He needs that now more than ever.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bruce frowned.  Zatanna pursed her lips, forming a hard, ugly line across her face. “Zee, if Clark is in trouble, you need to tell me right now!” Bruce instinctively grabbed the magician’s shoulders and squeezed threateningly. 

“He found his ship,” Zatanna said in a dead voice. 

“That’s good right?” Bruce wondered, releasing her. His heartbeat gradually returned to normal. 

“His father’s hologram only speaks kryptonese,” Zatanna smiled sadly. “He’s been coming to me to speak to his mother—in hopes her spirit will translate,” she said. “Let me clue you in, it’s not working . . . and I’m tired Bruce. I don’t think I can survive another session. He needs you.”  

The dead language was another reminder of what he had lost. Mother used to spend hours upon days teaching Bruce Kryptonese and customs from her home world. It was one of the few times he saw mother smile. That, and when they visited the Kent farm after she realized her sister’s son survived the eruption of Krypton. As a kid, Bruce didn’t understand why his mother didn’t just take Kal-El back home with them. Now he realized she was right in leaving him with the Kents. It allowed Clark to live a normal life, free of any burdens of the past. 

“I will talk to him,” Bruce decided. 

And by that he meant Batman would talk to Superman. In Clark’s mind, Batman was this immovable force of justice that could do nothing wrong. He was even convinced Batman could cook. It was entirely plausible that Batman would spend his free time learning a dead language in preparation for a Kryptonian invasion. Clark wouldn’t need to know the full truth. 

“Thank you,” Zatanna embraced him gratefully. “You won’t regret telling him the truth.”  

She snapped her fingers and breathed life into the room once more. Leslie threw her arm back and rolled the bowling ball across the lane with surprising agility. The ball rolled to the side, skidding alongside the gutter. At the last second, the ball veered to the left and slammed into the pins. Against all odds, she got a Strike. Bruce felt a gust of cold air settling over their small corner of the room. Sure enough, when he looked at his baby cousin, his cheeks were puffed out as if he were blowing out birthday candles. 

The damn idiot. Bruce strutted forward and grabbed Clark by the ear. “Hey– watch it that hurts . . .” 

Mr. Kent blubbered and tripped over his feet, falling against Bruce.  Bruce winced as the Kryptonian’s weight slammed into him. That was going to bruise in the morning. Bruce scowled but didn’t release Clark. Petty bitch. He dragged the overgrown child to the food court and only once he was sure there were no eavesdroppers did he release Clark. 

“What the hell was that?” they both said simultaneously, Clark needlessly massaging his earlobe. 

“You’re being a dick!” Clark roared. “Leslie is my girlfriend!” Clark protested. “I can kiss her if I want to!” 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who you decide to snog!” Bruce thundered. “But don’t stand there and pretend you’re innocent!” Bruce chided him. “There are cameras,” Bruce lowered his voice. “You’re being careless, Kansas. Is this girl really worth ruining your life over?” 

Clark’s face colored with annoyance. “It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime,” Clark matched his righteous tone and crossed his arms, pouting. 

“You’re being reckless and irresponsible. What if she saw you? I fucking saw you!” 

“Only because you’re a paranoid, obsessive, egotistical butthole,” Clark’s eyes flashed crimson and Bruce was forced to step back. Clark furiously shut his eyes and combed his fingers through his slick hair, sucking in a fortifying breath. A few whispy curls bounced over Clark’s squared forehead, steadily transforming him into the iconic Man of Steel. Anxiety pumped through Bruce’s veins. He didn’t understand how a pair of dorky glasses could hide what was so obvious to him.      

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” Clark shrugged sheepishly, shoulders slouching once more. Mr. Meek-and-Proper was back. “It’s just . . .” Clark swallowed audibly, his eyes filled with anguish. “They never see Clark,” he said mournfully. “I might as well not exist . . .,” Clark reached over and clapped a hand over Bruce’s shoulder. “You’re worried about nothing, man,” Clark said. “Even if someone did see . . . we’re among friends. I trust them all with my life.” 

Clark trusted people way too easily. His friends were human. Humans by nature are a greedy, envious bunch. Fear of the unknown will push them to hate Kal-El or if Clark is lucky, the envy will doom their friendship. Yep, that was Bruce. Mr. Gloom and Doom to the rescue.   

“I’m not sure you can trust Leslie,” Bruce said. 

He wouldn’t be doing his duty as the older, much wiser cousin, if he didn’t point out what a crazy bitch Clark’s girlfriend was. The fact they met online didn’t exactly instill confidence in Bruce. He had the misfortune of meeting Leslie twice, and that was twice too many times. The first time he met her, she had been screaming at Clark for cooking her breakfast in bed. Then there was the time she accused Clark of cheating on her with Lois Lane. Honestly, Lois would be a step up from Leslie. Sure Lois and Clark didn’t always see eye to eye and argued a lot, but Lois was no bully. Deep down she truly cared for Clark and won’t dream of hurting him. If Leslie learned the truth, Bruce very much doubted it would end happily. 

“I know she can be a lot, but her heart is in the right place,” Clark reasoned. “She likes Metallica also.” 

“Clark, you like lots of different music,” Bruce pointed out. “Liking the same songs is not a recipe for a healthy relationship.”

“I hardly think you’re one to be giving relationship advice,” Clark crossed his arms.“Your longest relationship lasted three weeks!” 

“Yeah because I’m not going to settle for abusive, psychotic, arm candy!” 

“I agree with the moody billionaire.” 

Bruce jumped out of his skin, stepping on Clark’s toes in his haste. Barry Allen had appeared out of nowhere wearing an easy, amused smile. Barry looped an arm around a very annoyed Kryptonian. “She’s psychotic. Have you heard her broadcast? She wants nothing to do with you.” 

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Barry with mistrust, noticing gravely how Barry said ‘You’ not ‘Superman.’ Leslie Willis was so loud and obnoxious, you’d be hard-pressed to find a vehicle that did not have her Superman hate-speech spewing from the radio. Even if Clark did not actively follow her show, Superman most definitely had heard it. 

“People change,” Clark brushed Barry’s arm off. “You know that better than anyone.” 

“Aye,” Barry relented. “But Leslie isn’t going to wake up one day and be okay with her man . . .” he bit his lower lip, looking nervously at Bruce. 

“Her man being an alien,” Bruce finished for him, glaring at Clark. “You told him!” he wheezed with fury. “He’s a cop!” Bruce accused. “You can’t trust him.”   

“It was kinda a dead giveaway when he kept breaking his alarm clock,” Barry shrugged. “Don’t worry Papa Bear,” Barry laughed. “My lips are sealed.” 

“This,” Bruce’s hand flew out passionately. “Is exactly what I’m talking about. At the rate you’re going, it’s only a matter of time before Lex Luthor finds out the truth. I guarantee the cop has a file on you.” It’s what he would have done if the roles were reversed. 

“Barry was my roommate in college,” Clark supplied, his face red with anger. “Stop being such a paranoid, overprotective ass,” Clark’s mouth formed a thin line. “You’re not my brother. Who I trust or don’t is none of your damn business.”

His talk with Zatanna replayed in his head. He opened his mouth to set the record straight and closed it sharply again. This wasn’t the time or place for hard truths and there were plenty of reasons to keep Clark in the dark. 

[themissingleftsocks]

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON: Eyes

Word count: 1k

Authors note: First chapter of take two of a fic! I'm super duper excited because it explores a show I very much enjoy.

There’s a body on the steps of the church. Daniel Meyers, Forty-Two, father of a ten-year-old son. He doesn’t– didn’t know the boy. He lived with his mom, and she divorced Daniel when their son was only a year or so old. Next of kin is listed as his sister in Star City. The clock reads close to 11:45 pm. The blood is still there even though a drizzle casts down from the cloudy sky, coating the ground in a constant dew. This was recent, not too recent though because CSI and any decent detective or officer who got some look at the body, and has been around the block a few times when it comes to seeing dead bodies, knows that it’s in Rigor Mortis. This meaning, it’s only been between two to six hours since death. The blood is cold, but the body is still warm.

Gotham City Police Department Commissioner James “Jim” Gordon ducks under yellow tape, red and blue lights flashing across aging features and his long tan coat with the smell of cigarettes clinging to it. He’s been doing this job for too long, Barbra says he should look into retirement but Jim doesn’t listen. He’d carry the weight till his eventual death. They’d tried to put him out of the position before, but hell, it never worked. Some parts of him want to be done, but he still gets up for the odd hours each day and faces the night. His steps are even, subtle thumps on the concrete as he weaves through the people. The ones that aren’t busy part for him, everybody knows Gordon, and everybody respects the man enough to make way for him without a hassle. Lord knows he already deals with enough shit.

“No respect,” Jim murmurs, looking down at the body. The eyes are empty, staring up at the starless sky filled with too much light pollution and just general pollution for stars to be seen anyway. Daniel hadn’t been a bad person, just involved with bad people. It’s a song and dance he knows too well. Something had just finally gone wrong, and Mr. Meyers was caught in the blast. Hopefully, he got to meet God, seeing as he was dumped on the steps of his house. He doesn’t look all that bad, lying on his back and limbs spread. If it wasn’t for the blood and bullet hole through the skull it almost looked like he was asleep. There’s a new noise beside him after a pungent beat, the sound of aggressive clicking, and then an audible huff. It doesn’t take much effort on Jim’s part to know who that is. “Are you playing Animal Crossing, detective?”

Beside him, Kristen Bester looked up for only a moment before focusing back on the red DS in her hands. “It’s fucking depressing here, Commissioner. Give me a break.” Jim can’t help but chuckle. Kristen has only been here for a few months, not even a full year yet he trusts her more than he probably should. She’s young, twenty-one years old with messy bleach blonde hair, fair skin, and brown eyes that look creepy if you stare too long. Kristen is an oddball, too. Always carrying that damn Nintendo DS and the gloves– black leather clinging to her hands at every given moment. He thought she might be germaphobic, but he’d seen her rummage through trash for evidence. And, it’s been months since she joined the force, asking now just seemed so impolite. So, he leaves her be.

Saving the game and pocketing the DS within a trench coat pocket, Kristen kneels beside the body, eyes narrowing and head tilting just slightly as she looks over the bullet hole. “Done with a pistol is my guess, close up. This was personal.” She speaks, standing back up and turning to face Jim. It’s not a difficult assessment to make, he’d made the same one earlier. The question is who did it and why. Probably get the guy’s phone and– oh. Kristen is already ahead of him like she’d read his mind. She’s beside the body again, gloved hands prodding the body to find a phone. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Jim reiterates, surprised. This wasn’t just personal, this was personal and thought out. Kristen is pulling out her DS again, flipping open the screen as she walks, ducking under the yellow tape. Jim follows next to her, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket. He slips a stick from the box, exchanging the package for his lighter, and carefully balances the cigarette between his lips as he cups the lighter flame and holds it to the end, lighting it up successfully and depositing the lighter once again. Kristen gives Jim a side-eye, and he's pulling out the box again, handing one to Kristen. She doesn't light it, instead switching out her DS for an old Altoid container and putting it in there amongst others she's bummed off of others in the GCPD that smoked. Gordon doesn't know what she does with them exactly, but again, he doesn't ask.

“Nothing—” Kristen reiterates, shutting the container and slipping it back into her coat pocket. She stops walking away from the crime scene, turning slightly and looking over her shoulder, up at the church being soaked gently by the drizzling rain.

“Which means there's something more.” Gordon finishes with a sigh, looking back at the body. CSI had finished, and the clean-up crew was moving in to get it all gone by the morning. “See you back at the office, Bester.” He bids Kristen goodbye, walking away further, puffing on his cigarette. She only gives Gordon a hum in response, continuing to stare up at the church. Its facade is dark, like everything in Gotham, with simple stained glass murals visible, even though the street lamp is lit semi-dark. However, something isn't right and it's making her mind buzz in a way that isn't the normal cacophony of broken hums that she can't ever get to stop. Her eyes trace upwards, landing on another pair hidden in the darkness. Sharp, pale white, attached to a looming figure that blends in too well with the night around it. Kristen can only give a small nod, watching as Batman disappears soon after. A cold breeze nips at her face, and Kristen takes that as her sign to leave, hands shoved in her pockets as she continues on with her work shift.

[yellowocaballero]

The Crow’s Funeral Snippet: Jon Gets Involved In Local Politics, Regrets It

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side of the door. 

Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?” Jon stared blankly at her. “There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.”  Written for no real reason besides for the fact that I know too much about my own AU and I care about Annabelle. This story takes place both pre- and post- story: six months after Jon enters London, and six months after the events of the story. We talk about childhood/adulthood, stagnancy/growth, good/evil, and the inherent metaphor of a Nintendo DS. Sometimes...found family...is bad. Rest under the cut. 

In the third month, boiling and bubbling over, someone knocked at Jon’s door. 

Not the door to his office. The door to his flat, which had a very large ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ sign on it, and was always locked. The employees were, granted, Jon and Daisy, but the message was conveyed. Jon saw the sign in stores and copied it, as he copied many aspects of business models. Jon didn’t quite understand how to run a business, but he had read both ‘What they teach you in Harvard Business School’ - whatever a Harvard was - and ‘What they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School’, so he figured he was set. Daisy had also grabbed him a Girl Scout book on starting your own lemonade stand, which helped more than the other two books combined. Harvard Business School could take notes. 

Jon rolled off the bed, where he had been downloading knowledge of string games and trying to figure out how to do them. Omniscence was closer to reading an instruction manual than actually knowing how to do something, but at least that left Jon with plenty of time to learn skills. Even if it wasn’t necessarily his favorite activity - he was bad at a lot of them, which would frustrate him and make him wreck the craft. Daisy kept on saying he needed a hobby other than reading but what did she know, anyway -

Daisy, from where she had been sleeping at the foot of the bed, lifted her head and barked sleepily. 

“I’ll get them to go away,” Jon promised. Or eat them. Maybe just eat them. 

But when Daisy bristled and jumped off the bed, barking heavily, he knew who it was. Jon sighed, hastily shoving a shirt over his head, and undid the three deadbolts before unlocking the door. 

Annabelle, of course, was standing on the other side. Slightly less obviously, she was dressed in a finely tailored suit, complete with high heels and a gorgeous dripping silver chain-link necklace. Her hair was tied up in an up-do of braids piled neatly on top of her head, and there was even a briefcase. 

She looked Jon up and down critically. He was wearing sweatpants and a holey shirt. 

“You forgot,” she condemned, “didn’t you?”

“No I didn’t,” Jon said reflexively. He paused. “Forgot what?”

Annabelle pinched the bridge of her nose. Jon noticed that she was even wearing her usual all-black lipstick and winged eyeliner. “The council committee for London I planned for today. Remember? The one with a representative for each Entity?”

Jon stared blankly at her. 

“There was an invite?”

“Oh, that. I don’t check my mail.” Jon looked at Daisy, who was now pressing aggressively against Jon. “Did you open up any mail recently?” Daisy barked. Jon looked back at Annabelle. “She ate it.”

“...of course she did.” Annabelle glanced down at Daisy, whose fur was standing on end as she growled lowly. “Have you had any success?”

“You would have noticed if I did,” Jon said shortly. 

“Have you tried talking to -”

“Yes,” Jon snapped, “but apparently some of us have better things to do than attend meetings and cure dogs.”

Annabelle intelligently dropped the matter, instead frowning at Jon. He crossed his arms, fighting the urge to hunch over away from her dark and perceptive stare. But instead of pushing him, she said, “Go get dressed in something a little appropriate, please. You look like you crawled out of the Buried.” Daisy barked, which Annabelle ignored. “What are you doing to your hair?”

Jon hunched defensively. It was a little matted and frizzy, but who was counting? “Daisy can’t exactly shave it anymore, and I don’t really...know what to do with it...am I doing something wrong? I bathe.”

It was very important to Daisy that he bathe and brush his teeth. Jon didn’t know what the big deal was, but if it was important to her then he did it.

Annabelle just pinched the bridge of her nose again, checking her wrist-watch. “Buzzing your hair is a crime against God, and letting your hair look like that is a crime against me. I’ll take care of this later. Just get ready in the next five minutes, or I’m filling your fridge with spiders again.”

Jon got ready in four. Annabelle didn’t joke around with that stuff. 

He didn’t really know what a council committee was. He didn’t know why he had to go to one either, seeing as Jon only tended to concern himself with Daisy. Daisy had been taking up a lot of his concern lately. Then his mood had plummeted again, and in the last month they’ve both been recalcitrant to leave the flat for anything but eating, and he was capable of noticing when he was hunting a little vindictively, and - anyway. 

He downloaded the knowledge, and then made a face when it didn’t really help. One of those nasty little political things. What was with his fellow Avatars and politics? Just torture anyone who bothers you. If they were one of those freaks who liked being tortured, then just smite them. Life was easy and very simple once you remembered that basic rule. 

But Annabelle was really into it - she kept on saying something about ‘order’ and ‘regulation’ and ‘first dibs’ - and she tended to drag him along into these things. She thought it was ‘important’ that Jon ‘know what was going on’ or something. Jon liked Knowing things, but once you know everything you realize that some things aren’t really interesting enough to know. 

When he asked Daisy if she wanted to go with, she feigned sleep. She had been hyperactive lately, compensating for her months of starvation with unbridled and frantic Hunting. Jon had taken her to one of those little pockets where people were running around and screaming all the time, and let her run wild in the rainforest for a while. It was the kind of fun bonding experience they hadn’t had in ages, and Jon had the opportunity to pluck his own grapes from the vine too. 

There had been an old man who really hadn’t been happy to see Jon, which had freaked him out a bit. He had started going on a little bit about how Jon had ruined his life, but he only got a few sentences in before a giant, carnivorous plant had eaten him. That was lucky. 

Jon had ripped the dimension apart as he left. Nasty little place. Nothing good there. 

So Jon left the house without Daisy for the first time since she had been well enough to move around, and with Annabelle. Daisy had been waiting at the door with a rucksack packed with his favorite book and his Nintendo DS, which made Annabelle ask her where the juicebox was. Daisy tried to bite her again. Jon didn’t know why everybody couldn’t just get along. 

There was a cab waiting outside, driven by another skeleton, and Annabelle quickly bundled him into it. Jon slouched in the corner and started playing WarioWare as Annabelle leafed through typewritten documents, lips pursing and making notes on the margins of each one with a red pen. She was muttering to herself, somewhat entertainingly. 

“My fourth arm for a computer, I swear to Jesus. My fourth and fifth arms. My sixth arm for a computer…”

“Are those the internet machines you told me about?” Jon asked, scribbling his stylus on the screen. Ashley cheered him on. He loved Ashley. “Do council committees need the internet?”

“The internet’s for a lot more than council committees Jon,” Annabelle said tightly. “They’re for video games. Ememoharepeegees -”

“Gesundheit.”

“ - bitcoin mining, instant messaging, online dating, freaking Google Docs -”

“Do you want it back?” Jon asked, bored. “I can make you the internet.”

Annabelle’s pen froze on the paper, hovering over a bullet-point list. “The entire internet? You can just do that?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jon poked his tongue out his mouth in concentration as he pressed the monkeys in a rhythmic order. Rhythm games were his jam. “That’s, like, the pocket nightmare dimension from Tron, right? I can do that. Addictions are easy. Put people inside, trap them inside a video or something. It’d be mostly for torture but you could probably use it normally.”

Annabelle stared at him, expression blank, for so long it made Jon a little uncomfortable and defensive. What had he said wrong? Daisy was usually good at interpreting these things for him, although sometimes when people went on about ‘violence’ she was just as confused as him. Finally, she said, “No, that’s alright. I always hated Black Mirror anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a telly - never mind. I don’t want you getting any more ideas.”

***

The council committee was held in the stupidest building Jon had ever seen in his entire life. And he had been in London for six months. He knew stupid buildings.

‘London City Hall’ or whatever was this awful giant, lopsided, obloid monstrosity. All glass and windows, with nary a brick in sight, Jon hated it instantly and severely. He was immediately filled with the urge to turn to somebody and commiserate with them about shitty architecture, but there was nobody else in the cab but Annabelle - and, well, she seemed to have other things on her mind. 

The neighborhood around it was filled with a mix of equally stupid buildings and perfectly respectable buildings that looked as if they had been made a long time ago. The sidewalks were relatively abandoned, and the streets were empty of everything but the endless rotation of tourist double-decker busses. Jon knew that this wasn’t one of those districts where people actually lived and roamed - instead, it was one of those business districts that people only stepped inside for work or city business. Like that silly little Palace of Westminster building that Annabelle had taken him to months ago when she was showing him the city. 

That building Annabelle had especially loved. It was filled with old white men with sagging jowls and liver spots, looping in endless routines and miniature atrocities. Annabelle had asked him to take as many Statements as possible, and Jon had needed no encouraging. 

That had been a strange trip. Normally people found his little monologues boring, because they were idiots with no taste, but Annabelle had listened to every single one. She had been enraptured, excited and triumphant. She had dragged him into some “Lord’s Chamber” or something and posed on the throne as Jon obediently took polaroids. Well, so long as she was happy. 

Jon was already seeing that London City Hall was no better. Annabelle dragged him through it, anxiously checking and re-checking her files, as they effortlessly weaved between shambling zombies of old white men in suits. Jon tasted the ripe air of trauma from them - a similar taste to that spiralling academic building, but rather a little more tart - but Annabelle dragged him away before he could stop and eat them.

There were parts of London that were safe. Maybe even most of London - although nowhere was truly safe, not really, not every location was absolutely haunted. The grocer’s was the grocer’s; the chemist still sold your medication. Not that you really needed it anymore, but habit was habit. 

But some buildings, which were entrenched so firmly in hundreds of years of evil, could not be dissuaded from their nightmares. In that respect, the safest city in the United Kingdom became the most dangerous. Some buildings had been nightmares even before the end of the world. 

Jon, of course, gave very little shits about this beyond in the academic sense. Annabelle refused to let him duck out of her meeting to go snack, and she ended up dragging him in front of what looked like a smallish conference room. 

Annabelle stopped in front of it, taking a second to breathe in and out and check her makeup. She seemed to be hyping herself up for it, shaking out her arms loosely. Jon slouched behind her, hands jammed in his trenchcoat pockets. Annabelle had asked him to put on a less raggedy suit, but - well, he sometimes had nicer suits, but they got raggedy very quickly. She had also asked him to leave the trenchcoat at home, but no way. It was part of his Look. 

“You’re frightened,” Jon noted with interest. Annabelle was scared of less than he was, and she had much less of a reason. “What about this room scares you?”

“It’s not the people in the room,” Annabelle snapped, flashing her compact shut. “It’s what I’m trying to do. If this world’s going to last more than a few years before it devolves into fuckin’ Mad Max we need leadership. I didn’t put all of this work in just to -” At Jon’s blank look, she sighed. “Never mind. You don’t care. Just - try to trust me, Jon.”

“Of course I trust you,” Jon said, baffled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She stared at him, expression inscrutable, for a long moment, before opening the door and pulling him in. 

It was a nice conference room, all wood panelling and that specific green shade you only saw in lawyer’s offices. There was a large rectangular table in the center, and more than a dozen luxurious chairs arranged around it. There was a big pull-down screen on the far wall. Jon didn’t know what it was for, but he knew that if he downloaded the information it wouldn’t help. Omniscence was so useless. 

In a move that horrified Annabelle, most of the attendees seemed to be there. They had been chatting - talking, actually, quite loudly - before Annabelle strode in and Jon slumped in after her. But in the second that they both stepped in, an abrupt hush swept the room, and every eye swiveled to them.

If Jon was honest with himself, he’d say that they didn’t quiet when Annabelle stepped in. He’d say that they quieted when Jon stepped in. That it was Jon who they were looking at. 

But Jon didn’t particularly feel like engaging with that. He didn’t like being stared at by people he didn’t know, and he didn’t like being out in public with people he didn’t know. He didn’t enjoy being in buildings or meeting new people, much less going to boring meetings. Jon decided all of this instantaneously, as every eye swiveled to him.

Rooms full of humans were fine. It was just humans. Nothing even vaguely intimidating about that, unless the humans were teenage girls. But these were Avatars - Jon could taste their nature in the air, a sharp and electric tingle - and when they stared at Jon he felt something heavier in their gaze. Oh, lord. There was a teenage girl here. 

Jon tried slumping to the back chair, but Annabelle grabbed his collar and dumped him in a comfortable chair to her right. Jon saw a little placard in front of it that read ‘THE BEHOLDING’. Great. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle said crisply, and suddenly every worry was gone. She was calm, poised, confident, and professional. A perfect imitation of the officials and politicians who once really walked these halls, who passed laws and rubber-stamped policies. She could have passed for an assistant or junior staff member, bright and intrepid and ready to climb her way up the ladder. “Are we all accounted for?”

It seemed so. Every chair but one was filled. When Jon peered around at the placards, he saw that each one had a different Entity on it. One of the seats had no placard, and was occupied by said teenage girl. Four were unoccupied: the Spiral, the Slaughter, the Hunt and the Extinction. 

Annabelle sat down in the head chair, which seemed just a little fancier. She put her folder in front of her, eyes flickering down the room. “It seems that Helen couldn’t make it. The Hunt duo seem to have...recently met unfortunate ends. The Slaughter Avatar called ahead to say that they couldn’t make it - it was high school picture day? And...I suppose the Extinction Avatar still doesn’t exist.”

She glanced at Jon, who shook his head. “Do you want one?” Jon asked. “I can go find a climate change denier in this building and make one for you.”

That also disturbed Annabelle, as well as everyone else. Jon abruptly felt awkward, and hunched in his seat. He defensively pulled out his DS, his plans to fall asleep in the back of the room already foiled. 

Above him, Annabelle continued droning. “Still, I appreciate you all coming. I know that we haven’t all gathered since a bit after the apocalypse began -” Wait, they had? Since when? “ - but I hope we can agree that further coordination is necessary. We’ve already begun having serious territory and jurisdiction disputes, and it’s best that they’re resolved sooner rather than later.” Nobody looked very impressed, but Annabelle looked seriously at them all anyway. “I want us all to have an equal voice at this table. Save the fighting for another time. And please try to keep your powers out of here. I’ve already sworn to avoid using any of my Mother’s gifts in this room, and I hope you all can do the same.”

“Yeah?” A woman drawled. She was unfamiliar to Jon, like most people in the room, but she had a teenage girl sitting next to her who seemed to be paying rapt attention to Annabelle. “How are you going to enforce that?”

Annabelle stared at him for some reason. Jon jabbed at his DS and won the Mona minigame. Nothing more was said. 

“Alright, then. I’ve already collected motions from all of you prior to this meeting.” Motions? Annabelle hadn’t said anything like that. Maybe it was on the invitation Daisy ate, but somehow he doubted it. Annabelle looked down and traced her finger down to her first point. “Many of you suggested this, so I would like to introduce it as a general discussion. Territory disputes, apparently, are a point of contention between many of us.” She opened her briefcase and pulled out a large map, and if Jon looked over the top of his DS he could see that it was a map of London. She also pulled out a red marker, uncapping it. The sheet was laminated, and there were already circles and markings all over it. “We’ll go one at a time. Amherst, you’ve motioned that the Stranger is intruding within Camden.”

A foppish looking man on a dumb little top hat scowled, as the young woman sitting behind the Strange placard looked annoyed. “It is gentrification. Every apartment complex occupied by artist studios are stealing food from the plate of my insects.”

“You haven’t had Camden for a decade,” the Stranger woman said, rolling her eyes. The Omniscience informed Jon that her name was Sarah Baldwin. Vaguely familiar - had he seen her at a cafe? “Nobody lives in those rat-infested tenements anymore. Now all the rats are performance art. Which is us. Get over it.”

“What is performance art -”

“Motion for no more Avatars over the age of 40,” Sarah Baldwin said. “I hate how Amherst and Wakely are in this room.”

“I wish I could second that,” Annabelle said, to the great affront of two grimy old men, “but unfortunately we do have to deal with this. Amherst, I’ve heard several complaints from other council members that you’re infiltrating their territory.”

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

Instead, he surveyed the room a bit. Nobody in it was really interesting, just a meaningless collection of self-important people. The only person in the room other than Annabelle who he recognized was Oliver, who was sitting at the very back doing his best to fall asleep. When Jon Stared at him a bit he took notice and subtly waved. Jon shyly waved back. Jon liked Oliver. 

Oliver mouthed something adjacent to ‘what is wrong with your hair’, offending Jon grievously. He didn’t look that bad, did he?

He glanced to his left, then down, to ask Daisy’s opinion, but he realized too late that she hadn’t come with him. Stupid. She could have come as part of the Hunt - they didn’t have anybody, it wasn’t as if they could complain. Not to Jon, anyway. 

But she wouldn’t have wanted to. Daisy hated being an Avatar, for reasons that Jon had just never understood. She tried explaining it to him a long time ago, trying to talk about how guilty it made her and how much harm she had done, but it had just confused him more. She had tried to explain up until the end, as Jon had grown more and more angry at her for her refusal. He had never understood. 

She had stopped talking about it lately, though. Which was good. Jon didn’t know what he’d do if she starved herself twice. He wouldn’t have tolerated it.

Daisy had told him that the most important thing in the world was to make your own choices. So he let her make hers. No matter how much he hated it. 

The others weren’t familiar at all. There was a woman with wild dark hair sitting behind the Dark placard, which confused Jon slightly until he decided that they likely hadn’t wanted to send the thirteen year old. There was this really wrinkly and gross old man for the Vast, a younger looking but older feeling man for the Buried, a deathly pale woman for the Lonely, the muscular woman and the teenager for the Desolation...why did they have two…

The teenager was staring at Jon. She had intense orange eyes, the kind that bored into you and never blinked. She looked away every few seconds, as if she was being subtle, but when her gaze drifted back to him again he met her eyes with an unimpressed stare. She squeaked and looked away firmly, hiding behind her curtain of long red hair. 

Okay. Whatever. Kids were weird. Jon was glad he had never been one. 

Jon swapped out WarioWare for Pokemon SoulSilver, opening back up where he left off catching another MissingNo. His entire team was full of the things. He wanted a Mareep, damn it. 

Finally, Annabelle rapped the table sharply and said, “It’s agreed, then. Everybody submit specific written documentation of your territory by city block, and fax it to me by our next meeting. Please abide by the resolutions to the conflicts we discussed here. Any objections to moving onto our next order of business?”

“I have an objection to the Dark’s questionable behavior,” the Buried guy rumbled. He was dripping dirt everywhere. Why didn’t anybody complain to him about his hygiene? “In the words of the lad Brody, they are kill stealing. If they do not withdraw their nightmares from our embrace of the Earth, we will unleash retribution with extreme prejudice. The dirt is a holy place, and we will not be polluted by -”

“Oh, stick your shovel up your fat ass, Wakely,” the woman with wild black hair said. “People aren’t afraid of the fucking dirt, they’re afraid of the darkness in the tombs. Walk into a mausoleum sometime.”

“You poach the End’s territory now too, wench?”

“Please leave me out of this,” Oliver said. 

“If you call me wench one more time, you’ll be watching the back of your eye sockets for eternity,” the woman said pleasantly, “so royally fuck you.”

“Um, not to interrupt, but that’s not really how it works,” the teenager said, and the death glares between the two turned on her. She hunched her shoulders, but her expression stayed firm. “The terror is going to overlap. That’s just how it is. The Buried and the Dark are not entirely...separate things, they’re gradients that overlap. If you get all finicky about what belongs to who, then you’re just going in circles…”

“The last thing we need is the coward Messiah of the Eternal Flame telling me how to worship my god,” the woman snapped. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Manuela,” the muscular woman said flatly.

Then they were glaring, and Wakely was saying something else snide, and Manuela was making another dig at the teenager as the muscular woman bitched, and Jon abruptly wanted them all to shut up. 

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said. 

The entire room shut up immediately. The teenager opened her mouth, but the pale woman caught her eye and shook her head. 

Annabelle clapped her hands in the silence. “Onto the second motion, then! Infrastructure! Right now we are sorely missing a great deal of essential city infrastructure, and it’s becoming a huge problem. We’re still figuring out what’s mystically maintained, and what’s just being maintained because the humans haven’t figured out how to stop doing it yet, but there’s some work that’s being neglected. The Vast has motioned to reinstate the postal system.”

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said. 

“You can’t do that,” Annabelle said blankly. “We need to vote.”

“I’d like to make an argument for the motion, dear,” the Vast man said, making Annabelle’s eye twitch. “My argument is this: Amazon Prime is so convenient!”

“We have every Amazon warehouse under our control,” the representative from the Flesh said. He was...very fleshy. “It’d be no issue to go back to production.”

“Jared has a point. The Eye’s been feeding through Amazon for years,” Annabelle said thoughtfully. The mention of the Eye piqued Jon’s attention, but then he finally ran into a Mareep and he stopped paying attention again. “We can tap into the people who are living 1984 and get them back in industry.”

“Can we begin producing again?” the Desolation woman asked, interested. “We have all these people miserable at work, but nothing’s actually being made. If we let a little reality break into the nightmares…”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” the Lonely woman asked sharply. “It’ll make it easier for them to escape.”

“They all escape eventually,” Sarah Baldwin said. “They all break out in days to months. We can afford a little more permeability if we actually get things working again.”

Then conversation was off and running about something that Jon didn’t really care about, so he checked out again. He didn’t know what all of this production and infrastructure stuff meant. Going Postal meant that he had a very good understanding of a mail system, but he didn’t have a personal interest. Who he would send letters to?

Jon quickly downloaded what Amazon was. Oh, that would be useful. Wait, he could get any book delivered to his door? Without having to go out hunting for it? How would this work without the internet - a catalogue? 

Everybody seemed invested in getting the internet back up, except for the two hundred year olds. Jared kept saying something about porn, whatever that was. If enough people felt like Annabelle, then maybe they would make it a priority. Jon didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He didn’t know how he felt about the fact that it was impossible. 

But everybody - or most people - genuinely seemed excited about it. They even seemed to be working together, intent on the same goal.

Sarah Baldwin wanted to know if we have enough people constantly under camera to have footage for television. Maybe we could get cable back up? DVDs were a lost cause, but if we could just start airing the VHS tapes…

Annabelle had a look of hook-ups (literally) in the film industry, maybe they could do something like that?

The Hahns are highly involved in production and distribution, Jared pointed out. There was no need to produce food, but if we wanted to increase access to goods it might be possible. 

Why? Why did they care? This world provided them everything they needed. 

For some reason, Jon felt a little defensive. What did they need all of these things for, anyway? All of this entertainment - cable and movies and internet. The world had books. What was so wrong with books? There were even old VHS tapes liberated from charity stores if you really wanted to get fancy. The most high-tech electronic Jon had ever found was the DS in his hands and a couple of games, which Salasea had given to him as an exotic artifact. Only Salasea owned these things now: trinkets and curiosities, hallmarks of an antiquated time. 

What was the point of these supply lines? People didn’t need to eat or shop or consume. Nightmares provided the facsimile, and since they got a little crazy if they never ate they were provided the security of food. Buying towels and shoes and toys...it was a waste of time. People had towels. Nobody outgrew their shoes or wore them out. Children’s toys didn’t break, and anything that made happiness a little easier to come by was discouraged.

Nothing was ever subtracted. Nothing was added. The world was frozen, captured in the amber of time, and it would never move backwards and forwards.

They knew this. Didn’t they?

“We have to make this place livable for us,” Annabelle was saying. She spoke oddly intensely, with a fervor that Jon had seen in her a few times before. Annabelle didn’t like to give off the impression that she cared about things, but once you knew her it was hard to miss. “It’s easier than ever to stay powerful and feed our Forces, but that doesn’t mean we can grow complacent. We have to work together to eat sustainably. To live sustainably. If we don’t try to rebuild, at least enough to get the world moving again, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a boring and decrepit eternity in a world we will all see die within our immortal lifetimes.”

Everyone at the table was nodding. They looked determined. United. Almost...they held an expression that Jon just couldn’t name. An emotion he didn’t understand.

He had seen it in Daisy, once. She had called it hope. He hadn’t understood back then. He still didn’t. 

“Liar,” Jon said, as his minigame timed out and the game over music tinkled across the tinny speakers. 

Annabelle looked at him, expression inscrutable. “These problems are legitimate, Archivist. The writing’s clearly on the wall, and -”

“You’re all so stupid,” Jon complained, and Annabelle abruptly stopped talking to glare at him. Whatever. Jon had lost all patience. He closed his DS and dropped it on the table, resigning himself to talking. Jon hated public speaking, especially in front of so many people he didn’t know and, frankly, creeped him out. “You can’t build anything in this world. If you try to impose a cute little government then it’ll break down into cannibalism or something.”

“Would you know, Archivist?” Jared asked evenly. 

“Jonah didn’t enact this world through myself for living,” Jon said, bored, and everybody stared at him with wide eyes. “We created it for suffering. Suffering isn’t living.”

“One might say the opposite,” the Vast man said, somehow twinkingly. “Suffering is an unavoidable side effect of living, isn’t it?”

“Is that philosophy? I don’t understand philosophy.” Jon wasn’t very good with anything that required extensive and complex thought. Which made sense - Jonah hadn’t exactly created him to think. “Humanity has clouded your minds. Makes all of you irrational and sentimental. Release your attachment to the old world. Just accept the way things are now.” Jon shrugged. “It’s not as if you can do anything about it.”

“Nobody in this room is exactly human, Jon,” Oliver pointed out placidly. 

Jon snorted. “Wanting free porn back? You’re all dripping with it.” It was honestly a little sad. “The only ones in this world free of that weakness are Jonah and I. And he’s the only one who could do any of this.”

“Then where is he?” the Desolation woman snapped. She leaned forward, hands gripping the table in anger. The teenager watched her anxiously. “Why doesn’t he come on down from his high tower and explain what’s going on? We’re in the fucking dark here!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said coldly, “who are you?”

He rubbed his bad hand. For some reason, everybody watched him do so. He stopped, self-conscious. 

“Prejudiced remarks aside,” Manuela said. She had been hostile all day, but she now spoke cautiously. “Jonah Magnus needs to take responsibility for this. We don’t even know how the world ended.”

Several people glanced at Annabelle, whose lips thinned. “I shouldn’t say.”

Of course she knew. And of course she wasn’t about to tell him. Whatever. Jon didn’t care. Past was the past. 

He found his hand clenching. There was a strange tension in his throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t. Rehashing the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, even now, wasn’t really worth the time or energy. He didn’t care.

“No use crying over spilled milk,” the Vast guy said lightly. “But it is a relevant question. Jonah frequently spoke of his plans, and I realize now that he had never truly shown all of his cards. But he had always held an intention to...well, rule. It’s only in this moment of his victory that he shows no interest.”

“Jonah’s busy,” Jon snapped. “Trust me, you don’t want that arse around. He never even gives me directions, and I’m his right hand.”

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered. 

It was fair. Probably even true. So why did an intense and burning fury shoot through Jon?

“What gives this child the right to dictate us?” Wakely demanded. Jon’s hands clenched on the table until his knuckles turned white. “What gives Jonah Magnus the right to rule us?”

“He’s not much of a ruler,” Amherst grunted. “My vote’s that we rule this world in a council.”

“Administration is important,” Annabelle said, impossibly terse, “but unless anyone here actually has the means to seize control, then there’s no use voting on it.”

“There’s only one Avatar here who has those means,” Manuela said darkly, crossing her arms and looking straight at Jon. “So why doesn’t he do anything?”

They were feeding on each other. They wouldn’t have said these - these treasonous things by themselves. But when one person spoke up, the next felt empowered, and they felt as if they outnumbered him. Jonah Magnus was hardly there to press him into obedience - why buckle under his oppressive gaze? What could he do?

The stupidest people in this world all gathered in one room. It took a special level of arrogance, pride, and stupidity to assume that one was more powerful than Jonah Magnus.

“I’m not in charge of anything,” Jon said tersely. “I don’t even have a domain. I’m just trying to live my life.”

The Desolation woman snorted. “Typical. You’re rolling over for Jonah.”

Jon’s eyes widened - not in surprise, but in anger. 

The teenager seemed a little uncomfortable. “Jude,” she hissed, “I don’t think -”

“Jude,” Jon breathed. “So that’s your name.” 

He was standing up. Jon didn’t remember standing up. Everybody was leaning away, their own eyes wide. Some just looked confused, slightly perturbed - Wakely, Amherst. Others looked ready to bolt - Manuela, the old man from the Vast. Jon knew, in a flash of insight that grew hotter and hotter, that he preferred to be called Simon. 

“Sit down, Jon,” Annabelle said, as authoritative and no-nonsense as ever. Normally he’d listen to her, respecting that she usually knew what was going on far better than he ever did. But the words barely reached him, drowned out by the rushing in his ears. “Look, we can talk about this rationally, alright?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jude said. She snorted, burning red eyes never leaving Jon’s. “As if I’m scared of this baby prick.”

“Maybe we can move on from Jonah Magnus,” Simon said quickly. “A discussion of airspace rights, perhaps -”

“Jon,” Oliver said, voice creased in worry, “are you okay?”

“This is the all-powerful demigod you all warned me about?” Amherst said. He was dripping with condescension, just like - just like everyone else - “He’s little more than a child.”

“Guys!” the teenager’s voice rang through the room, close to scared. “The walls are melting!”

So they were. It was as if the stone and wood was made of wax, sent guttering by a sputtering candle. Wood and finish were already pooling on the floor, melting the rolling wheel of Jared’s chair and forcing him to jump up from it. 

“Jon!” Annabelle said sharply. “Don’t throw a tantr -”

The table cracked sharply. It was warping, twisting in on itself as if it was a wrung towel. Jon realized, too late to care, that his hair was rising. He knew his eyes were spinning, an eternal churning wheel. 

“Fuck this, meeting adjourned.” Manuela stood up sharply, pushing her chair back into a melting bubble. The floor was beginning to bubble and warp. “See you all next month.” 

“I’ll walk you out,” Simon said quickly, standing up too. 

“You have two minutes,” Jon said, voice heavy with static. “Don’t bother me about this shit again.”

The signal was clear enough. Jude rose from her chair, grabbing her teenager’s elbow and pushing her out the door. The others followed in their wake, expressions carefully neutral. It was useless: Jon could taste their fear, their trepidation. Even better: their anger, barely brindled fury, and disgust. 

They couldn’t do anything about it, Jon thought giddily. No matter how much they hated or were scared of him, they couldn’t do anything about it. Jon was powerful. Jon couldn’t be hurt. Jon couldn’t - 

Jon couldn’t reign this in. 

Before he knew it, the conference room was empty. Only two other people remained: Annabelle, expression as inscrutable as ever, and an uncomfortable Oliver. His hands were stuck in the pockets of his pea coat, and he was looking around with disaffected interest - as if he was standing in line at a Starbucks in rush hour instead of in the epicenter of a melting building.

Jon knew. The entire building was dissolving. It was teeming with humans, lost and trapped and defenseless. He didn’t want to kill them. Jon didn’t like hurting people. He heard a voice speak in his head, foreign and familiar. Bring it in, Jon. 

But he couldn’t. His hair would fall back around his shoulders, and the static rushing through his ears just wouldn’t abate. It felt like everything was pouring out of him, a relentless faucet that wouldn’t stop churning out thick streams of putrid water. 

Jon fisted his hands in his hair, groaning. “Where’s -”

“She’s at your flat,” Annabelle said calmly. “Do you want me to get her?”

No. No, this was too embarrassing. He was an adult, he could handle this. Jon groaned again and sank into his seat, saved from the toxic waste of glass and brick. “No. Focus on getting the humans out of here.”

“What do you care?” Oliver asked, vaguely curious. “You don’t seem that fond of humanity.”

“Just do it!” Jon snapped, instead of admitting that he didn’t know either.

Eventually, the room stopped melting. Jon didn’t even want to think about how difficult it would be to leave the building. He could probably straighten out the hallways just enough to help Annabelle and Oliver get out.

Ugh. This place had sunk straight into Helen’s domain. He could taste it in the air: any future human who wandered in would be stuck in an endless spiral of twisted, melted hallways. Probably flavored with...powerlessness and fear. Feeling very small, as someone very large loomed down on you. Tories. 

At least he hadn’t sucked flattened the building into one plane again, robbing it of all spiritual and metaphysical dimensions. Jon had done that to a graveyard once. The place was putrid now. He had accidentally fallen into a grave and panicked and - anyway. 

He rested his forehead on the warped and splintered conference table, waiting for his throat to open back up and the rushing in his ears to die down. Finally, after what felt like forever, his hair floated back down and he felt his eyes resume their normal shape. 

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

“I worked hard to arrange this, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Yeah.”

“I am not happy with you, Jon,” Annabelle said. 

“Sorry,” Jon said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I mean,” Oliver said, after a beat, “that’s kind of terrifying. That you can melt a building on accident. Like, what would happen if you got really pissed at Manchester or something?”

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered. 

Jon lifted his head, glaring blearily at Oliver. “If you think that’s crazy, you should have been there the one time I opened up an extradimensional gate and unleashed nightmare terrors into the world, rendering all of humanity immortal and eternally trapped in endless infernal hellscapes.”

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point. 

But Annabelle just looked thoughtful. Probably reworking five billion plans, knowing her. Jon didn’t want to know, because he didn’t care. Let her do whatever she wanted. None of his business. Hopefully, after this disaster, she’d keep it out of his business. 

Finally, she asked, “Was that true? That there’s no moving us forward?”

Jon sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. But if he didn’t tell her then she’d just bug him about it later, or find some way to get the information out of him that would be both convoluted and unpleasant. “I’m not saying that people can’t...live their lives. They’re obviously still going to work and typing in every digit of pi into their spreadsheets for eight hours and then going home to stare, hypnotized, into cable television. But I am saying that there’s no achieving more than that. There’s no going backwards, and there’s no going forwards. The past is closed to us, and so is the future.” He eyed her warily. “If you have any cute time travel ideas, forget it.”

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently. 

Yeah, sure. Liar. Jon scowled. “You’re all hampered by your humanity.” When Oliver opened his mouth, Jon just shook his head. “Even Avatars are still people. We’re all conduits for eldritch Forces, hollowed out to serve as a live wire for their power, but we - you all remember a human life. You care about things. You have relationships. You love. It makes you weak. Some of you don’t even like your lot in life - some part of you aching for something familiar, when you felt genuine happiness instead of the cheap facsimile induced by causing pain.” Jon looked down at his hands, reflexively picking at one of his many scars. “You should be more like me. You’d be more focused.”

“Are you capable of...changing, Jon?” Oliver asked curiously. “Or will you be this way forever?”

“Most of Annabelle’s plans hinge on that not happening,” Jon said, not even aware it was true until he said it, “so I suppose we’ll find out.”

Of course, Jon knew what Oliver had tactfully not said. He had wanted to know if Jon would ever grow up. They all thought he was a child, even Annabelle. Jon had the feeling even Daisy did, sometimes. 

It was stupid and they were wrong. Child would imply adult, would imply birthday parties and learning to talk and learning geography. Jon didn’t have to learn geography. He knew geography. He didn’t age. He was born being able to talk. Jon was above all of these things. He was mature. And even if he wasn’t, who cared?

But Annabelle just smiled at Jon, a polite mask. Annabelle hadn’t made a genuine facial expression in - well, longer than Jon’s memory. Or maybe that was the wrong way to put it. Maybe it was more accurate that she never expressed an emotion that she didn’t mean to. “Well! That wasn’t entirely a disaster, was it? I think next time could go really well. Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t drag you out of bed again.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, the three of us are going back to your flat and doing something about your awful rat’s nest.”

Oh, lord. This was going to be terrible. “Do we have to?” Jon whined. 

Annabelle smiled again, but this time it was so dangerous that Jon couldn’t help but quail. “My spiders are collecting the avocado oil and coconut oil now. My best friend in secondary had 3C hair too, I think I know what to do. Oliver, bring the buzzer, scissors, and satin wraps.”

“Three cee?” Jon asked, confused. “What’s that?”

Oliver grimaced. “Why am I involved in this?”

“Because I don’t know what to do with a guy’s hair, and you’re probably the only guy I’ve ever met who knows what to do with hair? Keep up.”

“I’m feeling pigeonholed, but fine. But we are not buzzing that hair. It’s a crime against god.” Oliver looked thoughtful for a second. “I think Jon would do a nice, loose afro. I think I still have some hair masks and vinegar rinse -”

“Why is this so complicated?” Jon asked, completely freaked out. “What are these things?”

But Annabelle just smiled sweetly at him, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Jon. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Well. It seemed easier than figuring things out for himself. Jon didn’t like responsibility. Today was his first taste of responsibility in ages, and he had already decided that it sucked. Better to let somebody who actually cared take care of it. 

That way, he didn’t have to be powerful. Didn’t have to be anybody’s demigod on Earth, capable of murdering whoever he liked. He could just be Jon, Private Detective, Archivist. He could have fun. Just live. Didn’t he deserve that, despite everything?

He stood up too, summoning a shaky smile for Annabelle. “So you aren’t mad about me ruining your meeting, then?”

“Water under the bridge,” Annabelle said. “Now come on, we have to stop by the chemist’s and pick up a decent hairbrush.”

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

Suspicion immediately loomed. Jon didn’t get mail. Not due to any kind of impossibility, but just because he didn’t pay bills and none of the mimic junk mail was brave enough to try their luck with him. Maybe invoices, sometimes, but mostly those were dropped off in person. The invoices were scarier than the finger-biting mimics: he still didn’t quite know how they worked. Sasha kept insisting they were important, but Sasha also insisted face masks were important. She didn’t know everything. That was Jon’s job.

He grabbed the singular envelope anyway, elbowing his door back open as he inspected the envelope. Thick, rich, and creamy, it reminded Jon uncomfortably of Annabelle’s party invite from a while ago. In the front, he saw that it was addressed to...Agnes?

The living room was noisy and busy, entirely due to the recipient of the letter and her brother. They were playing Mario Kart on the Wii, and apparently disowning each other. Jon watched Agnes hit Gerry with a blue shell, slightly bemused, and saw Dry Bones spin out into the center and make a pitiful noise. Baby Peach loomed supreme. 

Jon almost felt bad interrupting. An opened bag of chips scattered dust around Gerry, and Agnes had a half-empty pack of uncooked hot dogs next to her. They had both been at this for a while. “Agnes, you got a letter. And try to keep it down, Sasha’s working and Daisy’s sleeping.”

Agnes turned around, half a hot dog hanging out of her mouth like a cigar. She swallowed it quickly, holding out one hand and letting Jon give her the letter. She frowned down at the front, ignoring the way Gerry craned his head to take a look, and when she checked the back she frowned deeper. There was a wax seal, its details out of sight to Jon. 

“Is it that time already?” Agnes muttered, putting her controller down and letting the parade lap on the screen continue. 

Gerry frowned too as Agnes carefully broke the seal. “Is that from…?”

“Yeah. Weird, though. Guess it’s about time for the follow-up to the emergency meeting.” She pulled a letter out of the envelope, embossed on creamy paper. She scanned it quickly. “Downing street this time…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, it’s not as if Jude can,” Agnes said diplomatically, refolding the paper. 

Jon cleared his throat, making the kids jump. They had half-forgotten he was there. Far too late, Agnes hid the invite behind her back. “Care to explain?”

“Oh, you know,” Agnes said vaguely, casually tossing the invite behind her shoulder and letting Gerry snatch it out of midair. “It’s the invite to the Avatar council meetings. I think they’re held once every three months, but since months are a theoretical concept it’s occasionally hard to tell..”

“Not these days,” Gerry said excitedly. “It’s cold! The leaves fell!”

“The leaf thing is dope,” Agnes agreed. “Anyway, I should go. I have, like, serious words. I already submitted ten motions. I want to run for Treasurer, but Jared keeps saying that anybody who isn’t old enough to open her own bank account shouldn’t be treasurer.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Jon asked blankly. Was this some kind of youth league? Baseball? Was this baseball?

Abruptly, Agnes looked very sketchy. “I...it’s really nothing you’d be interested in.”

“I am interested in everything,” Jon said. He was offended beyond all belief. “Don’t keep secrets!”

“Jon’s not a big fan of secrets,” Gerry stage-whispered. “Did Annabelle say that we shouldn’t tell him or did she just say not to bother him about it?”

Agnes abruptly started sweating wax. “I can’t remember.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Jon said flatly. 

They gave up very quickly. Teenagers loved hiding things, but they also loved drama and spilling secrets. “It’s the Avatar council meeting thing,” Gerry said eagerly. “You know, where you guys all get together and re-enact the British empire by making government decisions and imposing made-up laws on the people you’ve conquered and are currently subjugating under your big stompy boots?”

“I’m changing the system from the inside,” Agnes said proudly. 

Gerry shot her an unimpressed look. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Because that’s a thing that makes sense in an inherently corrupt system with an inherently unethical existence that exists to be profitable at the expense of the marginalized.”

“I don’t understand anything children these days even talk about,” Jon said. 

“I’m surprised you don’t remember it,” Agnes said to Jon. But she had a strange expression on her face, one hard to decipher. “It’s where we met.”

Jon stared at her blankly. “I don’t remember talking to you.”

“I was sitting next to Jude?” Agnes hinted. “Teenager? Red hair?”

Wait. Jon snapped his fingers. “Annabelle’s idiot thing! Right! Right, of course, Oliver made me sit still for five hours afterwards, it was insufferable.” 

Wait. Jon abruptly remembered the rest of that day. It seemed like so long ago, even though it was probably objectively only about three years. It must have been about...yes, a few months after Daisy had gotten stuck...

He barely remembered those tepid and awful months. He had been on a bit of a hair trigger back then. It had been really tough, with Daisy leaving and his terrifying encounter with Jonah. He remembered everybody had been annoying and mean and made him feel bad…

“First time I ever remember feeling fear, honestly,” Agnes said to Gerry. “Scariest moment of my life. Remember when we first met Jon? All I could think about was that he was going to melt us like he melted that building.”

Hot shame flared in Jon’s gut. Right. Other people were real, and existed, and were probably more important than his...what had he even been upset about? He didn’t remember. 

He melted a building and he didn’t even remember why. 

“I’m going too,” Jon said, and both kids startled. “I’m coming with you.”

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes. 

“Uh,” Agnes said finally, hesitant, “there’s about a 50/50 chance Annabelle said not to tell you about this, and you definitely didn’t get an invite, so statistically you probably aren’t -”

“She can’t exactly stop me from coming,” Jon said, and both kids quieted. 

Power-tripping had lost all appeal for Jon - assuming role as a conduit for global and absolute power did that to you - but he couldn’t deny it was useful sometimes. The world probably could have stood a little more power-tripping from him, actually. At least, it would have been helpful if he had ever done anything helpful with it. But he had never really bothered. 

But Agnes still looked perturbed, almost worried. “Annabelle’s like one of two people you used to ever listen to, so if you don’t really care what she thinks anymore -”

“I think Annnabelle knows better than to complain these days,” Jon said. 

It probably was for the best that Jon didn’t listen much to Annabelle anymore. 

****

Jon hadn’t really told the others about Annabelle’s worse-than-murder attempt. 

It didn’t really seem like any of their business, and he had spinned a vague explanation of how the situation happened. He didn’t lie, just - withheld information.

For the first time, the truth didn’t seem so important. He had the feeling it would have just upset them. It wasn’t as if he would take revenge against Annabelle. The world needed her, and Jon was a little tired of murdering everyone who upset him. The others (Daisy) would insist on the little murder attempts if they knew, but that was probably part of why he didn’t tell them. If they never knew about the one unselfish thing he had done in his life - well, one unselfish thing didn’t make up for three years of selfishness, so there was very little point.

Martin suspected. Actually, Martin seemed to know, which terrified Jon slightly. It was impossible to get anything past Martin. Jon was deeply intimidated by the man. Sasha laughed very long and hard when he told her that, for unknown reasons. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if he felt betrayed. Even if the last time he had attended one of Annabelle’s little council meetings he still trusted her, that had faded quickly in favor of complete apathy. Even then, as young as he was, he had never expected the truth from her. Just friendship. Whatever she was doing, it probably wouldn’t affect him, so there was no use in worrying. Even if Annabelle slightly terrorized every other person in the United Kingdom - well, Jon was fine, so what did it matter.

Jon couldn’t decide if he was stupid or naive. Or, even worse - if he was just lazy. 

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore. 

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James. 

Two weeks later, the date of the actual meeting, Jon was stuck explaining himself to his entire house, who doubted all of his decisions. Which was just unfair. Jon made good decisions! He had made tons of good decisions, like -

Anyway!

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sasha said, freaking out Jon. “Displaying interest in your local government’s fantastic! Did you do any research on the relevant issues?”

Jon, in the middle of pulling on his trenchcoat, started sweating. “I was just planning on showing up.”

Agnes, who was wearing a gauzy skirt and blouse as Daisy helped a whining Gerry with his court buttons, gave Sasha the thumbs up. “I’m going to propose motions and Jon’s going to say ‘yeah what she said’ and it’ll be great.”

Jon let Agnes believe that.

“Well, you’ll have to share Jon’s political weight,” Sasha said cheerfully. She was in sweatpants and one of Jon’s pilfered t-shirts again. She had recently designated herself a writer, and had joined some sort of recent artist and activist collective where they did mysterious things that Jon didn’t understand. There’s a zine involved? Jon didn’t know what a zine was and he was scared to ask.

Georgie and Melanie had spent a week teaching Jon in laborious detail what exactly the internet was - information Jon could have just downloaded, but they had been intent in their mission of creating ‘the perfect internet’ and had gone through great effort in teaching him what the ‘good’ internet was (Ravelry, Spotify, r/HobbyDrama, YouTubers but only a very specific list) and what the ‘bad’ internet was (social media, the rest of Reddit, every other YouTuber). Jon wasn’t sure if the new internet was to their specifications, and he hadn’t quite been able to avoid parts of it spiralling into nightmare dimensions and hellish breeding grounds for violence and trauma, but Melanie assured him that Twitter had always been like that. 

Jon also secretly added a nightmare filter to Melanie’s screen reader, after he made sure every inch of it was accessible, after he roughly recreated screen readers. Melanie said that the voice sounded uncannily like the aunt she had hated, but that it was no big deal. 

Anyway, Sasha was a blogger now. After a few meltdowns to Sasha’s computer he had to install a nightmare filter for her too, which made her complain about feeling like an old woman whose grandson had to install AdBlock on her browser. Jon was a little scared of the whole blogging thing, but everybody seemed much happier, so maybe that was the important thing.

“Wait,” Jon said, finally recognizing what Sasha said. “Share with who?”

There was a knock on the door. Jon felt intense fear.

“She’s here!” Sasha said cheerfully. “Come in!”

Jon watched in horror as Basira Hussain casually strode into her house. He knew he couldn’t stop her. She had a key to the place, because Jon had no control of his life. 

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately. 

“Hey honey,” Daisy said lovingly, releasing Gerry from her clutches.

They stared at each other, as if this was any kind of greeting whatsoever, before ignoring each other. Jon did not understand so many things. 

Basira, terrifyingly, was dressed like she was about to go defend her client in court. She had a briefcase, and Jon recognized her most important looking crimson hijab. Very abruptly, Jon had a flashback to the way Annabelle had dressed when she had picked him up in his old office. They even had the same expression: determined and resolute, in a way that Jon could never understand. 

Basira nodded at Jon. “Hey. Sasha invited me to this thing. She told you I was coming, right.”

“She did not.”

“Whatever. Are we going to get going? We’re going to be late.”

Jon looked at Sasha pleadingly. Cold and resolute stone, Sasha showed no mercy. She smiled brightly, giving Agnes a final hug and pushing her forward. “You kids have a great time! Terrorize the bourgeoisie!”

“I am the bourgeoisie,” Jon said blankly, but the situation had already spiraled out of his control. Agnes and Basira were already comparing lists of notes, seriously discussing the motions Agnes had raised and how she was going to help Basira. 

That was it – how Agnes could help Basira. How Agnes, and the role she had in the council hall, could help Basira and the people Jon knew that she intended on representing today. 

They hadn’t even looped him in. Had they assumed that he wouldn’t care? That he wouldn’t help? Agnes hadn’t even wanted him there. Only Sasha -

He felt a cool, small hand grab his arm, and he turned around to see Daisy. Gerry was already enthusiastically capturing Sasha about the concert he and Agnes were going to later, and Jon knew that they weren’t listening. Daisy’s expression was somber, her body tense. Daisy wasn’t one for facial expressions at the best of times – not even a new development – but something about this…

“I should go with you,” Daisy said. 

“I already told you no,” Jon said, miffed. “I can handle this by myself.”

“I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself last time,” Daisy said. Jon could admit that things probably wouldn’t have spiraled out of control if she had been there, but that didn’t mean – “Don’t terrify yourself just because you feel guilty.”

Daisy hadn’t aged any more than the rest of the world had. As an Avatar, she likely never would. She even looked young for her mid-forties, with her short stature and broad, unlined face. Sasha had assured him that she was ‘Kristen Bell-ish’, whatever that meant. But she always seemed so old to him: larger than life and not even reaching his shoulders. Wise and world-weary even when, as Jon was beginning to see, she didn’t know what she was doing any more than the rest of them did. 

It scared Jon, almost: if Daisy wasn’t the person who could swoop in and make it all better, then who could? 

If Jonah wasn’t the omnipresent god, then who was the most powerful person in the world?

Jon shook her off, fighting the pull in his gut. “I’m not scared of them anymore.”

She didn’t look impressed. “You’re always scared.”

“Look at the time, going to be late, gotta go!” 

He still couldn’t win an argument against her. 

They took a taxi there, as Jon had cheerfully informed them that the Tube was delayed due to infernal leaves on the line (Work-from-home was the hot new thing these days). Basira was clearly on edge, tense and constantly keeping an eye on the taxi driver (a friendly skeleton) and the street. Agnes wasn’t any more relaxed, reading her notes over and over. 

Jon leaned back in his plush seat, closing his eyes. What would Martin say? He would probably be cuttingly pointing out how Jon was in denial over how he really was secretly afraid of the Avatars and now it was even more dangerous because he was much more willing to power-trip. 

Forget about what Jon wanted. Forget about his fear, his insecurities, and every rationale he had constructed for himself as to why Jon deserved a life free of these worries.

Jon was above politics. The Avatar with no need to defend their territory, who held no fear of death or failure, had no need. Jon could not lose the affection of his patron. His domain was the world, and it could not be attacked no matter how hard he tried. Jon was not a politician, so of course that meant he could not be manipulated by politicians -

“What’s your plan,” Jon asked, without opening his eyes.

They told him. Basira was clinical; Agnes excited. Jon didn’t say anything about it, and let the conversation die down until the taxi was rolling in front of 10 Downing Street. Didn’t the prime minister live here? Boris...something? Jon quickly downloaded the information, before he found that Boris Johnson had been the world’s most convoluted psy-op by Annabelle and had never exactly existed. Thank goodness.

Right as the taxi idled in front of the building, Jon opened his eyes. He let them flare up, an intimidating spark of toxic green. “You two follow my lead.”

“Excuse me,” Basira said flatly, as Jon waved at the driver in lieu of payment. He hadn’t found out that you were supposed to pay taxi drivers until...a few months ago. In his defense, they never asked. “This is our operation.”

Jon glanced at her, and something relaxed around the corners of her eyes. He wondered if his expression was familiar to her. He couldn’t help but smile weakly, and that softened her expression even more. “Will you trust me?”

Basira stared at him for one long beat, then two, before grimacing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Do I usually make you regret it?” 

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said. 

“Then it’s a pretty stupid decision to trust me again,” Jon pointed out. “You don’t seem the type to make stupid decisions.”

Basira stared at him for a long moment, before leaving the car. 

Jon and Agnes silently watched her leave, before glancing at each other. 

“And I thought you ran from your feelings,” Agnes said finally, before following her. 

Jon, left with nothing else to do, followed Agnes.

10 Downing Street, Jon quickly found, was just like every other pretentious old British home. With lots of grandiose rooms with furniture shoved into corners so everybody could appreciate the gold-plated tile, or sitting rooms with the most uncomfortable places to sit Jon had ever seen. Each wall hosted gigantic portraits of famous British figures, who were all so ugly that Agnes incinerated one for fun. Jon respected her choices: he had been wearing a stupid wig. 

Jon, unfortunately instinctively aware of the layout and history of this sordid place, led them through the halls. He opened his mouth, instinctively about to funnel a Statement regarding the decades of human suffering and imperialism, before forcing his mouth closed. Basira wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the Statements had been easier to ignore lately - like curious dogs nosing at his hands rather than insistent children demanding to be fed. 

Instead, he settled on casually updating them on the choice of location. “A year ago, this location wouldn’t have been safe for Basira at all. This building was a nightmare pit of despair.” He led them up the ridiculous flights of stairs watching carefully as Agnes jumped up them. Trick steps, you know. Basira proceeded far more cautiously. “It’s...no less a nightmare pit, but like the rest of London it’s now safe to navigate. I’d keep clear of the residential rooms, however. The Prime Minister and his family haven’t escaped their nightmares since the apocalypse, and they never will.”

Basira’s eyebrows skyrocketed up. “David Cameron’s stuck in hell? No surprise there. What’s he having a nightmare about?” 

“Well, there’s this pig, right, and you’ll never guess what he’s doing -”

“Never mind,” Basira said quickly. “Not interested.”

“I’m interested,” Agnes said. 

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

Jon, who also wished he didn’t know this information, quickly directed them towards the conference room.   

But he found himself stopping in front of the intricately carved oak double doors. The wrought golden handles were grimy and dull with dust, but Agnes and Basira did not hesitate to open the door and walk in. They didn’t hesitate; they weren’t frightened. Or, if they were, they didn’t let it stop them.

But Jon stopped. He felt like Annabelle, in that moment. Annabelle, standing in front of that conference room door so long ago, unable to admit that she felt any fear at all. 

She had been desperate. Jon saw that now. Only a desperate person would have ever concocted that plan against Jon. He was the sole person capable of murder in this world, and the sole person who was so vindictive and petty that he would kill anybody who said something that he didn’t like. 

Annabelle was arrogant. She thought herself the most intelligent person in every room. She was petty, manipulative, and power-hungry. She thought that the world was so broken that somebody had to fix it, and that she was the only one who could. She was desperate. 

Jon didn’t particularly want to do this. But Jon really, really had to grow up. 

Jon opened the door. 

It was a far cry from the nice, professional conference room in City Hall. The floor was some ugly light brown hardwood color, and the walls were tudor-like and panelled. Old man ribboned curtains, an intricate rug woven from human rights abuses, and a claw-foot long conference table with an array of chairs made up an incredibly ‘antique’ room. The British found ‘antique’ and ‘wealth signalling’ to be the same thing. It made for some very ugly buildings and very uncomfortable chairs.

 Nobody else had entered yet. Jon checked the time with his extradimensional psychic powers and realized that Sasha had hustled them out the door fifteen minutes earlier than necessary. She was so intelligent. 

Agnes was already moving to her uncomfortable seat, and Jon tapped Basira on the arm and silently pointed to the seat with the ‘EXTINCTION’ placard. She raised an eyebrow at him, but followed his direction. Maybe that was what her trust looked like. 

There was a placard stamped ‘BEHOLDING’ in big letters. Gone unoccupied since the last time Jon had been here. 

He ignored it, and sat down at the head of the table. Likely where Annabelle usually sat, as director of the meetings. Historically, where the leader of Britain had once sat and directed the affairs of the country.

Jon kicked up his heels on the polished antique wood, pulling up an episode of The Twilight Zone in his brain. He identified with Rod Serling. 

The other Avatars filtered in, one by one. All of their eyes widened when they saw Jon, but none of them said anything. Jon wondered what had filtered through the Avatar grapevine. They always knew all of the gossip on each other. It was impossible to miss the Earth’s paradigm shift, and Agnes mentioned that they had convened an emergency meeting on it. Doubtlessly, his name had come up. They likely knew he was the instigator. Who else could?

Annabelle was the fourth in, as fashionably on time as usual. She was the only one who stopped in her tracks when she saw Jon. A surprise, to a woman unused to surprises. Jon’s house didn’t have insect problems. 

Her eyes widened. Her jaw clenched. That was all it took. And Jon Knew, in the way that he Knew things, that she was wondering if this was when he finally killed her. 

She didn’t know why she was still alive. It was stressing her out. It was a move that made no sense - an unforeseen reaction. Jon was predictable. When Jon wasn’t predictable, and when Jon’s actions weren’t being very precisely controlled, then she was left with a vindictive and irreverent steam train on her hands. She hadn’t predicted his presence here. 

Jon was also sitting in her chair. Scuffing the wood. Leaning back in the chair, and definitely scuffing the floor too. 

He pointed to the chair at his right, with a placard that now read ‘WEB’. Annabelle sat down in it. Everybody noticed. 

Everybody also noticed Basira. She was receiving some glares, or some pointedly unwelcome expressions. But Basira’s glares and unwelcome expressions were more powerful than any demon could ever offer, and one by one each Avatar looked away in shame.

Only Oliver actually talked to him. Which made sense, as Oliver feared neither life nor death. When he walked in he was just as surprised to see Jon as everyone else, but he offered Jon a smile too. Jon smiled back, which made several of the other Avatars lean back.

“Hey, Archivist. I thought you hated these things.” 

“I do!” Jon said cheerfully. “I wasn’t even invited.”

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda. 

As usual, Helen didn’t show up. Jon waited patiently for everybody to filter in. Sarah Baldwin didn’t show up either, and Jon searched for the information before realizing that he really didn’t want to know. He saw some other new faces, as well as some faintly familiar ones. It wasn’t that strange: no position of absolute power was forever. Where was that bloke Wakely?

Wait. He was the Avatar who had talked for too long about burying people alive at a party in a ridiculous skyscraper. He had upset Daisy. Jon had seen red and lost his temper. Jon had...tossed him over the side of the roof. Let him keep falling. Left him to waste away. He was probably gone now. 

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops. 

Now uncomfortably reminded that Jon had murdered two people at this table, that everybody was aware of that, and that Jon had completely forgotten about one of the semi-accidental murders because, in Sasha’s words, he was “a bit of a psychopath, what the hell”.

This distressed her, because apparently Jonathan Sims had always been a “sensitive boy” with a “tender heart”. Daisy had said that he was still a sensitive boy, just prone to power-tripping. Sasha said that this was also very consistent behavior. Martin said -

Martin said that Jonathan Sims had been a good person. And, more importantly, that Jonathan Sims had wanted to be a good person. That was one thing that Jon didn’t want to change. 

Who just buried people alive -

Jon waited until everyone was settled down. Nobody was chatting or talking to each other: just sitting silently, avoiding eye contact. 

He could see Annabelle preparing herself to say something. Better get this ball rolling, then.

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive. 

Jon didn’t stop to savor the looks on their faces. That wasn’t the point. Enjoying this wasn’t the point. Jon had all the power he wanted and - and he didn’t want it at all. He hoped that nobody here would make him have to prove it. 

Jon did not want to melt anyone. He wasn’t going to melt anyone. Life had started feeling a little valuable lately. These people, the soulless demons surrounding him, weren’t any different than he was. Humans with delusions of grandeur. Infighting and power plays weren’t going to fix it. 

But Annabelle had been right, as she always was. Jon couldn’t keep ignoring this. If he could do something, he had to. Even if it was something he didn’t like doing. 

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing. 

“Jonah Magnus is dead,” Jon repeated pleasantly. “The world has changed. These two events are related, of course.”

He didn’t elaborate. Jon didn’t lie, but he didn’t have to say everything. 

“The chains which bind this Earth have loosened,” Jon continued. He folded his hands over his stomach, relaxed and casual. “We now exist in the third age of life. I ask that you do not resist.

“The seasons have begun to change, our eternal placid summer ripening into fall and sinking into winter. Our world turns yet again. Babies are born, grow old, and die. The apocalypse as we’ve always known was rooted in its stagnancy. Life and growth has bloomed, and will continue to subsist. Change is once again thriving, and we must adapt with it.

“You’ve noticed that your power has weakened. You will have to fight harder than ever to maintain your food supplies. What was once a conquest is now a battleground. The playing field is far from even, but the enemy and harvest now have a fighting chance.” Jon smiled brightly. “Of course, I’m sure that this was all discussed during your emergency meeting. Great job with your repeated warfare attempts against humanity during the last six months, by the way. How’s that working out for us?”

Silence loomed. Of course, their repeated attempts to quash the new human uprising had not gone very well. At the end of the day, for every one Avatar there were thousands of humans. 

“You are no longer strong enough to allow these divides into factions,” Jon continued. “We must present a united front if we’re going to maintain the ground we have. We can’t continue on the way we have. And I’ve realized…” Jon glanced at Annabelle, catching her eye. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been helping the situation. There’s more I can do. That’s why Annabelle has handed over moderation of these meetings to me.”

Nobody looked impressed. 

He could see it: the way Jon had become an unpredictable, dangerous nuisance towards them. Almost everyone in this room would be much happier if Jon dropped dead. Nobody had really liked him because nobody had ever felt safe around him. Only Annabelle and Oliver - the person who had nothing to fear from him and the other person who did not feel fear - called themselves his friends. 

But they would have preferred it if Jon was hostile or dangerous. If he had even admitted his power. But Jon play-acted at harmlessness, unwilling and afraid to make enemies, and in that way he became a nuisance rather than an enemy. He couldn’t even pretend that it wasn’t on purpose. No matter how many Avatars brushed him off or ignored him, it was better than feeling their eyes on him. Or feeling the fear rich on their tongues. 

 “Also I invited a human to work with us on human affairs,” Jon said cheerfully. “Diversity hire! Any questions?”

There were a lot of questions. Basira didn’t look very pleased at his remark, either. 

Simon leaned forward first, pale and watery eyes intent for the first time. “What happened to Jonah Magnus?”

“Natural causes,” Jon said cheerfully. “Next?”

“What does this mean for us?” the Lukas matriarch said. Her eyes skittered away from him. “Are we in danger?”

Jon shrugged. “Only if you’re incompetent at feeding.”

“What caused this?” Manuela demanded. “The children are running wild, we can’t control them. We’ve lost a major food source.”

Jon scratched his temples. “What caused it...sustainability efforts.” He sobered abruptly. “You could never control the children, anyway. This is the generation of the apocalypse. You’ll find that very little frightens them now.”

“Does this have to do with those humans you’ve been running around with?” Jared asked, scratching his chin as Manuela’s expression contorted in rage. 

As usual, a frighteningly insightful observation from such a brute. “It is actually directly their fault!”

Everybody turned to look at Basira, who was completely unapologetic. She crossed her arms. “Don’t ask me. First I’m hearing about this too.”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?” Oliver asked, morbidly fascinated. “How?”

“We humans didn’t kill him. We showed up at the Panopticon to kill him, only to find Jon there and Jonah Magnus already dead.” Basira scowled as Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Jon subtly shook his head. Annabelle’s lips thinned. “It looked like he’d been dead for years.”

An unfamiliar young man with a thick mop of clumped black hair peered at Jon, expression contorted in grotesque interest. He was one of the Avatars who had been born in the Apocalypse, who were all recognizably weird. His name was - right, Geoff Anjou. Some French man who had made his mark in the Parisian Underground before moving to London and conquering his next terrain. A Parisian to the bone - or, a great deal of bones, as the case may be. So many bones. Jon had always meant to take Daisy to that wonderful little nightmare and let her run loose. Chase people through the tunnels. Munch bones. Perfect vacation. 

“So did the Archivist kill him?” Geoff asked, in the same way you would ask who won the World Cup. “Steal his Watcher’s Crown or whatever?”

“Are you the new queen bee?” a young woman asked Jon. The new Slaughter Avatar, Henrietta Something-or-another. A Cambridge legacy college student, Annabelle had intoned, and Jon had been afraid to inquire further. She was cyberbullying someone on her mobile, which seemed to be bleeding. “Cuz, like, you don’t seem qualified.”

“I did not kill Jonah Magnus,” Jon said, for the five hundreth time in the last six months. “And I’m uninterested in filling his shoes. That’s enough questions, I think.”

“Are you as weakened as the rest of us?” Amherst demanded. “Surely this destruction has affected you worst of all.”

“He probably ate Jonah Magnus,” Henrietta said. “The Archivist’s probably god now.”

Geoff snorted. “No way. He brought a human as back-up.”

“Why is there a human?” Another woman asked, with long brown hair and a broad face. Something about her was unquestionably severe, from her bulging muscles to her incredible height. Jon had never seen her before in his life. Her name was Julia Montauk. Something about her stank of life and undeath, same as Amherst. “We can’t exactly work with the prey, here.”

“I’m proposing an emergency motion,” Amherst said suddenly, shutting up the rapidly overlapping voices. “I vote that a leader is elected democratically. And that representatives are limited towards loyal patrons of the Forces.”

“I second that motion,” Geoff said immediately. “We can’t afford a chaotic uprising in our government right now -”

“This really isn’t a vote,” Jon said. 

“Isn’t this a democracy?” Henrietta asked, with the self-righteous assurance of a twenty year old. “We vote on things in a democracy. And leaders.”

“Annabelle was voted in last spring,” Julia agreed. “No reason to change things.”

Well. Basira said that she trusted him. He’d have to rely on that.

Jon pressed down. 

It felt just like that: pressing down. Reaching out a hand and squashing. Sometimes it was like ripping someone into shreds, and other times it was like plunging your hand into their chest and ripping out their heart. But this was just a press: a heavy static, bearing down over your shoulders like a ten ton weight. A sight so horrible that it was too eldritch to even look at. The realization that the hideous sight was you, and that it was all you would ever be.

Some - Geoff, Amherst - gasped, as if they were choking. Others - Lukas, Henrietta - gasped at their hearts, as if they were having heart attacks. Jon carefully kept it off Oliver, Annabelle, Basira, and Agnes. He couldn’t help but remember what she had said a few weeks ago, about being so frightened - 

But Basira winced anyway, clutching her temples, and Jon carefully released the static until the inhabitants of the room could breathe again. His eyes did not stop glowing, and Jon didn’t bother to turn off the light show. 

Jon put his feet down on the floor and rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward. As everyone shuddered and gasped, he spoke slowly and pointedly. “This is not a democracy. It never was. It is a monarchy, and the line of succession is clear.”

Annabelle’s eyes widened, and she abruptly clenched her fists before loosening them. An uncharacteristic show of emotion from her.

“This coalition has never been a democracy,” Jon said severely. “This is a house of lords. You are uninterested in representing any needs but your own, and I know Jared failed level eight government, but I’m sure all of you know that democracy represents elected officials. Nobody here has ever lived in a true democracy, and in your human fallibility you have recreated the only system you have ever known. The seats at this table are determined by power - all of you, the most powerful conduits for your Entity. I am the inevitable consequence of this system. I am your natural disaster. All of you bought me. Now you have me. And you are no longer powerful enough to make me leave.”

Agnes’ hand was covering her mouth. Jon dearly hoped Basira was holding onto that trust. He dearly hoped that he wasn’t speaking from anger. 

But he couldn’t stop. It boiled and bubbled. It was an anger and a powerlessness that had subjugated him for thirty two years of his life. It had served as the cloud hanging over his head for three more. 

“If you want someone to blame for the Archivist who now moderates this meeting,” Jon said, his voice the thin lid over this boiling pot of hurt and anger, “I now know their names. Jonah Magnus. Jude Perry. Nikola Orsinov. Twice. Breekon and Hope’s coffin. Peter Lukas. Jane Prentiss. Maxwell Raynor. A strategic book.” Jon tilted his head, having effectively made his point. There were others, but he had forgiven Daisy and Melanie a long time ago. And Jared had been polite about it. “Bring up your complaints with them. Good luck with that.”

Jon clapped his hands, closing the lid on those memories. Maybe one day the pain would leech from them like a sun-bleached painting, but that day hadn’t come yet. “Now! If you have any further complaints about my position here, or if you want to continue debating political theory, feel free to stand up and tell me so. We’re all interested in you regurgitating your life story until you die. Anyone?” Crickets. Jon leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. “Can we go onto the motions now? Ms. Hussain first, then clockwise from her.”

As if they had planned this, with the air of a well-choreographed actress, Basira stood up and spread out her papers in front of her. “The human contingency requests neutral zones in essential areas. Maternal wards in hospitals are highly vulnerable locations, and when assaulted by parasites the mortality rate of children is very high. If you want a self-replenishing food source, you have to allocate space for safe living. The next essential zone is a daycare and a school for children -”

And she was off. Jon had nothing to say, nor was anything necessary. Raging debate sparked after she finished speaking, and Basira effectively crushed the opposition. Agnes spoke up in her defense, and to Jon’s surprise even Manuela contributed a solid understanding of the necessity of children. When the debate started spiraling in an unhelpful direction Jon cut in and shut it down, before forcing the vote. 

It did not pass, obviously. 

“By the way,” Jon said. “Ms. Hussain proposed five different motions today. At least two of them have to pass. This debate is about picking which two you want.”

Then that started up all over again, and Jon tried not to fall asleep.

Moderating was hard. He actually had to pay attention and focus, and he hated focusing. He was effective enough at shutting down conversations, but sometimes shutting down conversations wasn’t helpful - he just needed to steer them in a more productive conversation. And Agnes’ political theory and Basira’s almost-definitely-made-up statistics started flying so thick and fast above his head that Jon was starting to almost completely lose the plot.

Jon chose his moment as the Lukas woman was complaining extensively about how Henrietta’s digital bullying was intruding upon the Loneliness of her adherents. Henrietta had argued that social media made people more lonely. Jon was afraid that Henrietta was his fault. Maybe the Eye’s fault, holistically. Jared wanted to be friends with Henrietta and co-host Instagram events, which Jon enthusiastically supported despite Basira’s glares.

He leaned over to his right, gesturing slightly at Annabelle so she would lean in closer. She raised an eyebrow at him. Annabelle’s eyebrows were crushing. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon whispered to her, as quietly as possible. 

Annabelle mouthed very clearly at him, ‘Wow, really? Shock!’. 

“I was making a point,” Jon hissed. “An important point. But I don’t - I still -” Jon faltered, uncertain, as Henrietta began sneering something about Lukas’ hairdo. Finally, he weakly said, “You care. They need you.”

Annabelle stared at him for a long, silent moment, before turning away from him. 

For the first time that day, she spoke to the room. “Let’s keep ad hominem attacks out of this,” she said sharply. “Madame Lukas, if you’ll make your closing remarks we can bring this to a vote.”

She really was good at it. Just like she had always wanted. She had never directly admitted it, but Annabelle had always wanted to be the kind of person in rooms like this. 

A politician sitting in an uncomfortable chair at 10 Downing Street. Rich, successful, important. Powerful and respected. Back then, she had wanted to be famous. Now, she was content to be controlling famous people. A dream out of her reach in life; laughably attainable in this stagnant after-afterlife. 

The dream had crippled her. In her search for a functional world, one that achieved and grew and provided a comfortable world, she had ended up recreating a world that hadn’t been functional at all. A world that was slow to change, and seemingly impossible to improve. A world passed down from the hands of the greedy and bloodthirsty into the hands of the uncaring and apathetic. 

The apocalypse had been inevitable. Humans driving themselves to extinction. And Avatars, possessed of human weakness, had been eager to do the same. Just a pathetic room of sour and bitter people power-tripping. 

For all that Sasha calls us bougie, Jon thought, we’re such deeply unhappy people. 

There had once been a young man, desperate for attention and acknowledgement. Dreaming of importance. He would stay up late at night, planning out his life as a famous researcher and well-respected philosopher. Everyone would tell him how smart he was. He would prove it all - with a scholarship to Oxford, with a sneer and a haughty air, with a boss who said that he had so much promise, here’s a job that will let you realize your potential. 

I deserve this job -

Something in Jon’s mind flared, a hot poker rammed behind his eye sockets. Jon hissed, one hand reaching unconsciously to his temple, and Annabelle glanced at him in alarm. She had - Jon had been thinking about her, and - what had he been -

Together, they managed to wrangle the meeting into something half-way productive. Most importantly, Basira had gotten three of her proposals passed, and Agnes’ arguments were stirring the other Avatars into serious discussion. Conversation itself would be stilted by his sheer presence, and they weren’t quite all working together yet, but they would. 

It was really all the same to Jon if the Avatars or humans won the war. He should care a bit more than he did, so he didn’t vocalize this to the others. But this conflict sparked life, a strange and frantic energy. Experiences and growth. That was what Jon had always fed on.

It seemed that Jon’s skill at prioritizing himself over all others was as sharp as ever.

Eventually the two hours wrapped up, and the other Avatars were eager to leave. Jon waved them off cheerily. 

“Meeting adjourned. Try not to do anything stupid until next time. And if any of you break the boundaries of the human safe zones, I’ll know! Annabelle, will you stay behind?”

The others filtered out quickly, uncharacteristically unwilling to see whatever carnage would be wrought. Agnes and Basira lingered. 

“That went so well!” Agnes shouted, the minute the last Avatar left. The room was now empty save for Agnes, Basira, Annabelle, and - Oliver, who was leaning against the doorframe. “I can’t believe you actually did something useful!”

“Ouch,” Oliver said. 

It was fair, though. Jon smiled weakly at her. “Hopefully I can help out a little more often going forward. But I’m not going to give any favoritism to you, Agnes. I’ll intervene to give humans a fair shot, but I really don’t want to be...king of a ruined world or whatever.”

“I know,” Agnes said firmly. She reached out and squeezed his arm, round and gentle face creased in determination. “You’d be terrible at it. So just be you, okay?”

Jon saluted her, before gesturing to the door. “Will you steal a historical British artifact from this garbage building for me? Daisy needs more targets to shoot.”

Agnes nodded eagerly and ran off. Jon silently hoped Basira would follow her, if also out of interest for also seeing British things destroyed, but she just looked at Jon intensely instead. Not quite a glare - just a searching, intense look, as if she was finding her own Statement from deep within him. It had always been disconcerting. Jon was still convinced she hated him.

“It’s not as if I knew you very well before we rescued you from the Panopticon,” Basira said crisply, pressing a folder to her chest, “but you’ve changed. What happened? What did Annabelle have to do with it?”

Jon and Annabelle glanced at each other. Oliver lifted an eyebrow. 

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

“I didn’t betray that,” Jon asked, “did I?”

Her expression didn’t soften. “You didn’t. We’re going to continue needing your help. But an ally with inscrutable motivations who does everything on a whim is a bad ally to have.”

“I’m trying, Basira,” Jon said, impossibly exhausted and just a little disappointed. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve been patient for three years,” Basira said, before forcibly cutting herself short from whatever emotion she was about to display. “What happened?”

A phantom pain pieced Jon’s arms, like chains threaded through bone. Jon fought the urge to wince, unconsciously reaching up to rub at a spot on his forearm. Everyone noticed. “It’s...family business…”

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

“Jonah Magnus killed me,” Jon snapped, far louder than he intended, “so he would have deserved it, wouldn’t he!”

He felt a little lightheaded, more than he intended. It felt like a hand was clenching inside his chest, more than he wanted. No, Basira is fragile, you can’t just - no, Agnes is a kid, Daisy said that we can’t -

“Basira Hussain,” Annabelle said, hands folded tightly in her lap, eyes serious and intent. Jon started, surprised to hear her speak again. “You should go catch up with Agnes.”

Basira stared at Annabelle for a long moment, lips thin, before she abruptly whirled on her heel and stalked out. Jon watched her go, exhausted. He waited for her heels to click down the hall, far away enough that he knew she wasn’t eavesdropping, before groaning and dropping his head down onto his desk. 

“They hate me.”

“They’re scared of you,” Annabelle pointed out. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Frankly, Basira could stand to be a little more afraid of you. She’s going to get herself in trouble one of these days.”

“She’s practically my sister in law, I’m not going to hurt her,” Jon snapped. “Your stupid plan relied on me never hurting people I love.”

 “Sorry,” Oliver said pleasantly, “is anyone ever going to tell me what’s going on? I feel like an NPC in Jon’s Dungeons & Dragons game.”

“You want to be an NPC, I found you working at Taco Bell.” God, whatever. Jon could tell Oliver. He wouldn’t give a shit. Jon sighed, lifting his head to twist around and look at Oliver instead. “You remember when I was asking around after Sasha James? Annabelle had put me up to it.”

“Obviously. And then Sasha James started following you around? You terrorized Annabelle’s party again?”

“Yeah, it was this whole big thing.” Jon waved a hand expressively. “Anyway, then Annabelle tried to trap me in an eternal limbo that would shred me from inside out so I could act as purveyor of the world, and probably also use her connection with me so she could take over affairs here, and probably either nudge me into shaping the world back into order or into sinking it deeper into hell. I broke out and now I’m mad at her.”

“I had at least twenty other reasons,” Annabelle said, “but that’s the gist.”

Oliver stared at them.

They all sat in awkward silence. Jon found himself winding a finger around a stray coil of  hair and letting it spring back into place. He had kept it the same the last three years, never bothering to change the style. A loose and bouncy cloud of hair, sometimes brushing against his shoulders until Annabelle kidnapped him to cut it again - him, as much as the trenchcoat was. So much as anything had ever been ‘him’. 

“Well,” Oliver said diplomatically, “I see that you skipped a lot of steps there. So why are you here, then?”

Was it just to spite Annabelle? Screw her out of her work? Did Jon genuinely care? Did he want to organize the other Avatars, get them mobilized and going? Did he want to protect the humans? 

Did he really only care about himself, and the people he called his friends and family? Did he really only care about himself, and those he possessed?

“There’s a person I want to be,” Jon said quietly, “but I don’t know how to be him.”

Annabelle stared at him, with dark and glittering eyes, expression as implacable as always. For a sudden, stupid, intense moment, Jon wanted to know if she cared about him. If one of the few people who had always helped him, who was always in his corner, had seen him as anything more than a tool. 

Like Basira, who didn’t like him as a person, but found him too valuable to alienate. But Basira was - she was deeply good, if not always kind, and Jon had the sense that she had fought to turn herself into that good person. It was something she chose. She was trying to push Jon into making that same choice. 

Jon clenched his hands in his lap, his fingernails digging into his palm. “There’s people I respect, and who I want to respect me. This person I want to be...I’m worried that I only want this because that’s what they want. They’ll deny it, but they want my power. Everybody just makes me into whoever they want. Whatever’s useful to them.” Jon’s gaze snapped to Annabelle, and he fought hard to keep the compulsion from his voice. It was difficult, when he wanted to know so badly, but - “The kind of person I used to be. That person I’m ashamed of. Is that the person who was useful to you?”

He didn’t want to force the answer from her. He wanted her to choose to say it. 

Annabelle didn’t react. She didn’t show anything on her face. Much less what Jon wanted from her. She just tilted her head, one of the few unafraid to meet his eyes. “I never made you be anyone, Jon. All I ever did was put you in the right place at the right time.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Jon said, and this time he couldn’t help the static creeping into his voice. “Answer me.”

Annabelle sighed. “Of course it was useful. Is that what you wanted me to voluntarily say, Jon? I didn’t bring you to the first meeting because I thought it would be educational for you. I needed your power to keep the others in line. I needed everyone else to see that I controlled your power. That’s the only reason why any of this worked. We both got something out of it. Don’t pretend that you weren’t happy with the arrangement.”

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

“So that’s why you didn’t bring him to any of the other meetings,” Oliver mused. “He wasn’t as controllable as you liked, not when there’s more than ten other idiots around needling him. There’s never been anybody who can always predict when Jon’s going to lose his shit. Besides the biggie, I guess.”

The biggie, which was his past. 

No wonder he had stayed so childlike, innocent, and cruel for so long. Jon took responsibility for his own laziness, but - but he had been most useful that way. Annabelle had liked him best that way.

Daisy had liked him best that way too. That cruel child - Daisy had wanted him, because he made her feel needed. Annabelle was just the same.

Everyone had liked him best that way. And if Jon became the kind of person who he wanted to be, nobody would like him at all.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Annabelle said, exhaustion seeping in through her voice, “just do it.”

Jon closed his eyes. He could feel it - Annabelle’s exhaustion, the way that she had just been waiting for him to do this. Everything she knew about Jon led towards an obvious course of action. Even though you nobody knew everything that set Jon off, certain things were pretty guaranteed that he wouldn’t forgive. 

Annabelle had never accounted for Sasha. She had brought Sasha into his life, and she had no idea the effect she would have on it. Sasha, who had been the first to tell Jon that she chose to care about him for him. For a brief, hot flash, Jon was jealous. He wanted to be someone unpredictably kind. 

If he only wanted that because he had found yet another person to give his wind-up key, then…

“You won, Annabelle,” Jon said finally, and he only knew it as he said it. “Congratulations. You played the perfect manipulation. You took a vulnerable, afraid man, who had been violated in the worst possible way and left to die.” He stood up, already uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “And you arranged him so that he loved you. I chose to love you. I’m making the choice never to hurt you, because I still love you. ”

He left the room. Oliver stood aside just in time, letting Jon brush by. 

As Jon met up with Agnes and Basira, summoning a smile and a wave for them, he felt uncomfortably as if he had grown up. 

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

[polygarnstars]

facts about me that you could state to my face that would hurt more than that ask did

I own three copies of Okami HD, and have beaten exactly zero of them

I paid $40 for Balan Wonderworld, knowing full well that any enjoyment I drew from it as a game would be ironic, and I plan to spend another $10 on the novel so I can be mad about the fact that approximately two percent of the story actually made it into the game

I played Kingdom Hearts as a kid and was attracted to Zexion, and given I am currently attracted to another edgy squenix bastard with emo hair in the form of Therion Octopathtraveler, my taste has apparently not changed since I was ten

I played Sonic 06 and thought it wasn’t terrible

I learned and did a partial speedrun of PMD Red Rescue Team for the sake of getting on someone else’s Let’s Play of the remake

I tried streaming once, only to have to stop because my capture card ate my sound card

The last week and a half of my Spotify history is comprised almost entirely of the Persona 5 soundtrack and various covers of those songs

I’m a furry who can’t even decide on his own fursona’s species or design

I spend so much time reading Nuzlockes, challenge runs of Pokemon games, games for children, I was brought on as staff of the official forums

I do the aforementioned work as Nuzforums staff knowing full well that it is a volunteer position while I am unemployed in real life

I watched the Kirby anime as a kid instead of doing my schoolwork. Years later, I plan to rewatch it in its entirety instead of seeking employment

I voted for Bandana Waddle Dee in the Smash Ballot

On that topic, I’m a Kirby main! I played through the entirety of World of Light using only Kirby! Like, I love Kirby, but who the fuck mains him unironically like that? I don’t even do that strat of succing your opponents and spitting them out over the blast zone where they can’t recover or taking them down with you, like, cmon

I was in anime club in high school

Despite owning it, I’ve never played Among Us, but I still watch other people play it regularly

I didn’t realize the Guardians of Ga’hoole series was a WW2 allegory until I read the TV Tropes page in high school

I got into Kingdom Hearts for the Final Fantasy stuff, and yet to this day the only Final Fantasy game I’ve ever beaten was the DS rerelease of Final Fantasy III

I 100%ed Breath of the Wild less than three weeks after it released, and proceeded to help various streamers do the same, because I had literally nothing better to do with my time

As a teenager I uploaded two mashups, one of All Star and In The End, the other of All Star and Lonely Rolling Star, to YouTube because in the summer the only device I had to get online with was a Nintendo 3DS, I wanted to be able to listen to them year round, and my 3DS would not play Soundcloud uploads

I’m currently making a mashup of the Balan Wonderworld credits theme and Wonderwall

I think Pokemon peaked in Gen V and I trust Spike Chunsoft with the series more than I trust modern GameFreak

I have owned literally every Animal Crossing game except Amiibo Festival, but I do still own Amiibo from the sets released for it

I’m still waiting for Pikmin 4!

I’m still waiting for another real Chibi-Robo sequel!

I’ve still not beaten the prior games in the series despite owning them, but I’m still waiting for Bayonetta 3!

I dip dill pickle spears in chocolate pudding Snack Packs and I enjoy it

I know all the lyrics to the opening of Pichu Bros. in Party Panic, that anime special that was viewable exclusively on Pokemon Channel

I plan to romance Ann in my first playthrough of Persona 5 Royal purely for the sake of cucking the cat. I do not plan to do this because I dislike Morgana, but simply because I think it would be funny

I say KEKW, Pog, OMEGALUL, and Sadge in real life, with my actual human mouth

I have spent money on microtransactions for mobile games

I bought well over a dozen packs of the Unbroken Bonds Pokemon TCG expansion in an attempt to obtain a rainbow rare Reshiram & Charizard GX. I found zero of them

Until earlier today, when I cleaned out my drawers of old clothes I no longer wear, I owned two Big Bang Theory shirts. Instead of burning them like a reasonable person, I donated them to my local Goodwill for some other poor fool to find

At the age of 23, I still cannot swim

I’ve gotten used to every other bug in my house, including the bees in the walls and the stinkbugs who refuse to just stay outside, but whenever I see a silverfish I consider committing arson

I collect dice but do not play D&D or any other TTRPG, I just think they’re neat

I’m too physically weak to take apart a PS4 controller

I haven’t ridden a bike in a decade, and at this point if I tried I would probably fall over or ride uncontrollably into the street and be hit by a car

I still have art on my wall of a Pokemon character I made in sixth grade at the absolute latest

I buy sketchbooks despite not drawing traditionally literally ever

I cannot draw on a normal tablet, because I look at my hands instead of the screen, and so I had to buy a 2-in-1 laptop to do art

I bite my nails

I compulsively pluck the hairs from my legs

Despite compulsively plucking the hairs on my legs, I cannot be bothered to do the same for the ones that have grown into a unibrow

When I was a child a goose whacked me with its wing

I’ve been bitten by two dogs, one of which bit me twice

Despite domesticated animals hating me, I’m the world’s worst Disney Princess, having taught a grey catbird to recognize Zelda music and having watched the entirety of Avatar the Last Airbender with a baby mourning dove perched in the bush outside the window watching with me

I spell grey grey instead of gray despite being American

I’m American

I’m still on tumblr in 2021

do with this information as you will

[babysizedfics]

Oo can we know about Roman's middlespace? I think it was 6 on the list??

Roman has a middlespace! for thise who dont know middlespace is another aspect of age dreaming and age regression - but in a more teen headspace! littlespace is 0-12 years, middlespace is 13+ years!

it's much less tapped into than his littlespace, and it's kind of hard to tell if it's just big roman since he almost acts exactly the same. But his middlespace is mostly defined by nostalgia!

so if theres a day when roman wants to watch old disney channel movies and listen to noughties music and play pokemon on his old nintendo DS then thats usually him indulging his middlespace.

honestly this headspace might be slightly involuntary! he doesnt really control when he wants to do these things, he just wakes up in this mood some days. but he is still self aware and understands he isn't a teen but he sure feels like one

again theres no defined age range for roman, he doesnt like fussing over it so the family dont dwell on it. but if you had to you could probably pinpoint his behaviour as typical of 13-16 years old. still though they dont focus on that part

one interesting feature of romans middlespace is he actually has more motivation to write!! when big he tends to gravitate more towards art for a hobby - his job as thomas' creative side includes scriptwriting so its hard for him to let go of that perfectionism and write just for fun. but when he's in middlespace he lets go of that a bit and writes!! he tends to go for fanfiction fix it stuff but also original work that tends to be fantasy worlds!

in terms of his relationship with everyone when he feels like this:

Patton

he loves patton a lot but he gets a little bit annoyed with his dad when he's in his middlespace. patton's instinct is to treat everyone like a kiddo and if he hears someone is little he likes to baby them. generally the childish treatement doesnt bother roman when he's big and he loves it when hes little, but when he feels like a teen its embarrassing and frustrating. this is probably the easiest way you can tell if roman is in middlespace - he will be a bit moody with his dad

Logan

middle roman is cheeky and is very very likely to play pranks on his mom. i cant think of any though :((

actually yes i can. inspired by my sister pranking our mum: he buys a life size cardboard cutout of danny devito and keeps hiding it around the house where he knows logan will find it. eg. in his closet - roman heard a muffled 'AAAAH! Roman!!' through his bedroom door before running downstairs cackling - and in the bathroom before he knows logan is going to jump in the shower - that time he only heard a gasp and then a deep deep sigh 'that damn kid'

but the time he is most proud of is when he knew they were running out of ice in the refridgerator and purposefully used it all then later asked his mom to get him some, knowing logan would have to go down to the basement for more. roman heard the stairs creak beneath logans feet as he went down. then while logan was down there roman quickly set danny devito up just around the corner of the stairs in a dark spot.

he heard logan come up from the basement and then there was a VERY loud scream 'aaAHH!!' and the ice got dropped all over the floor and roman started howling with laughter. it stopped when he heard logans heavy footsteps coming towards him 'LITTLE PRINCE YOURE IN BIG TROUBLE!' (dont worry he wasnt that much. he just got tickled)

Virgil

if virgil is big roman likes to hang out with him if he is in middlespace! this is actually a way for them to bond, virgil feels less intimidated by him (he's not much anyway but a little bit still) and can be more open about his interests since roman constantly goes on about these nostalgic things. they tend to spend most of their time together if roman feels like a teen because they bond over nostalgic stuff like music and games and movies and they actually end up in giggle fits!! me and my sister used to get these, when you fall down a rabbit hole of high school musical and bratz dolls and scoobies and you just laugh at everything and everything is so exciting and you end up losing your voices from laughing so much

also virgil tends to write as a hobby and never shows anyone, but roman likes to show him his writing he does while in middlespace!! and virgil feels comforted seeing how roman is so carefree about it. romans writing isnt perfect and theres spelling mistakes and plot holes but middle roman doesnt care and that gives virgil confidence in his own writing! i dont know if i want virgil to share his writing with anyone - i think it might be cool for virgils writing to be literally just for him. so much of his life is exposed to his family because of his regression - he doesnt even bathe on his own most of the time - so having a private hobby is sweet. but roman's attitude to his own writing still makes virgil feel better abt his own -- and if virgil was ever to share his writing it would be with middlespace roman!

if vee is regressed though it goes a very different way

middle roman is halfway between protective babysitter and teasing big brother. so yes he still loves his baby brother to pieces and will look after him if he regresses around him, but he loves to trick baby vee for a bit of a laugh (only harmless stuff, like the cookie monster bit he pulled a while ago!)

[carmen-sandal-eggos]

the gang meeting player irl! (fluff level overload)

Meeting Team Red

Ooooh

Also side note: by terminal here I mean whatever it's called for where you wait for someone to come off their flight at the airport

Carmen paced around the terminal, anxious to be in such a crowded place. Not to mention, Shadowsan had left her a minute ago and she probably wouldn't be able to use comms for a little while longer.

"I brought you some coffee," Carmen jumped at the noise as Shadowsan reappeared before her, holding a cup to her. "You seem stressed."

"Thanks," she smiled as she took the cup from him, looking around once more. "I am anxious. It's just... we've never actually met before. And what if the flight went wrong? What if something happened? What if VILE-"

"Carmen, Player will be fine." Shadowsan cut her off, reassuring her as she started pacing again. He looked at the screen displaying arriving flights, seeing that Player should be there in another minute.

Carmen looked at her phone as it buzzed, finding a message from Player.

"He's here," She looked around in the crowd, trying to find her best friend. "Do you seem him at all?" Shadowsan craned his next in search for the boy, spotting a white hat in the midst of the other passengers.

"Does he wear a white hat?" Carmen nodded and tried finding the hat, once more taking out her phone to send him a message.

Red: We're near a Starbucks shop. Shadowsan says he saw you so move in this direction if you can

White Hat: omw

Sighing, Carmen blew on her coffee before taking another sip. It was still somewhat early in the morning -9 a.m. to be exact- and it didn't help that she had been up all night, worrying about anything that could go wrong. She was brought out of her thoughts as Shadowsan nudged her, pointing to a familiar face.

Player was looking around, shifting his backpack to the other shoulder when he spotted someone with a red jacket and denim shorts. His face lit up as he saw the infamous thief and her former mentor. Carmen quickly handed her coffee back to Shadowsan right as Player ran at her in a hug.

"Woah- hey! How are you Player?" She chuckled, hugging back.

"Hi, Red! Hey Shadowsan! I- wow you two are tall." He said, looking up at the two. Shadowsan nodded as a greeting, letting the two talk.

"And you're short," Carmen smirked as he pulled away from the hug, once more taking her coffee from Shadowsan. "How was the flight?"

"It was good, I guess. Ooh what's that?" He pointed toward her drink.

"Coffee-"

I"There's coffee here? Where can I get some?" He looked around excitedly, trying to read the Starbucks menu behind them.

"You shouldn't be drinking coffee at your age," Shadowsan spoke up, causing the boy to pout. "And while you're here, I think it will be a good idea to have you get a good sleeping schedule."

"Aw, what? Carmen, you'll let me stay up, right?" Player switched his gaze to her, hopeful.

"We'll see. Now let's get your luggage and show you the base."

- - -

"It's even bigger in person," Player muttered as he got out of the car. Shadowsan retrieved his luggage from the trunk while Carmen stared up at the old warehouse. "So when do we get to go in?"

"Right now. But before we do," she turned to Player, her signature smirk plastered on her face. "I want to go in first to make sure the twins are in the living room. We kind kept this a secret from them, you see."

"Ah. Typical thief."

"Everything's out of the car. I'm going to go park it in the garage while you get the pranksters." Shadowsan made his way back to the car and drove it around the building to the other side.

Carmen opened the door to the base, moving to the living room. She found Ivy upside down on the couch with her DS.

"Where's Zack?"

"Ah... he's in the bathroom. He should be out in a sec," She replied, not looking up from her game. "So where were you?"

"Shopping," the thief replied casually. "What have you done while I was out?"

"Had to stop Zack from eating expired eggs. Partly why he's in there-"

"They didn't look expired!" Zack complained as he walked out of the bathroom. "Hey, Carm. What's up?"

"Well..." she gestured for Zack to take a seat. Ivy looked up from her game, righting herself on the couch.

"Is something wrong?" They asked in unison, concerned looks on their faces.

"No, no, no. Nothing's wrong," Carmen clasped her hands together. "In fact," she paused for dramatic effect. "I have a surpise for you two."

"A surprise?" Ivy questioned the thief, scrunching her nose.

"Ooh! Is it a race car?" Zack asked, standing up.

"It's not a race car, no. Here, just stay where you are." Carmen left the two on the couch, going outside to find Shadowsan and Player talking.

"Are they ready?" Shadowsan directed his attention to La Femme Rouge, picking up Player's bags.

"Yep. You ready to finally meet the rest of Team Red in person, Player?

"Yeah!"

"Follow me," Carmen lead the way toward the door, going in first. "Zack? Ivy? Ready for the surprise?" The two nodded, exchanging a look. Carmen opened the door all the way, letting Shadowsan and Player in. "Say hello to-"

"Player!" They yelled, getting up to greet the hacker.

"Hi! Zack, Ivy, I-" before he could finish his sentence, Player was wrapped up in a hug between the two Bostonians. Shadowsan dropped the bags in the doorway, closing the door behind himself.

"Don't suffocate him." Shadowsan had a small smile on his face, amused at the twins' reaction.

"I can't believe he's actually here," Ivy pulled away, looking at him. "And he's short, too."

"Best surprise ever!" Zack looked down at him. "Oh, wow. You were right, sis. He is short!" Zack put his finger on his chin for a moment, his face lighting up after a moment. "He's fun-sized!"

"I am not short!" Player stomped his foot, earning various sounds of awe from the rest of the team. "I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet..."

"Sure, Player. Maybe one day you'll be taller than me," Zack bent down a little, putting his arm around Player's shoulders. "Oh! Maybe you'll be taller than Shadowsan one day!"

"Pfft, I doubt that," Carmen smirked. "Do you two want to show him to his room?"

"Sure. And can play some video games after." Ivy grabbed one of Player's bags, Zack the other as they led him to his quarters.

"Ivy's right, Player. Y'know... I bet I can beat you at Super Mario Bros!" Zack usherrd him along.

"Fat chance," Player chuckled. "I'm a pro at Nintendo games."

"It would be easy enough to beat Zack," Ivy called from the front. "He can't even get past the first level on World 1 without dying in the first minute."

"Not true!" As the twins bickered about games Shadowsan crossed his arms and glanced at Carmen.

"Something tells me there's going to be more excitement in the house than there normally is. And noise." He scoffed.

"Never a dull moment on Team Red." Carmen replied.

- - -

By the end of the night, the team had watched two movies and ate all the popcorn in the base, leaving Shadowsan passed out earlier in an armchair. Zack had fallen asleep after hiding under a blanket from a jumpscare in the movie, having Ivy tuck him in a little.

Carmen moved her focus away from the movie, checking on Player.

"Did you like your first day here?" The boy switched from his upside down positon on the couch to meet her gaze, smiling.

"Yeah. It was fun," he whispered. "Have Zack and Ivy always been this... lively?" Player giggled.

"Always have been." Carmen grinned.

"Ah. I think I'm gonna like it here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 4,059 Warnings: Death Mention, Doctor Mention, Suicidal Ideation, Foster Care Issues, Anxiety Attack, Bad Self-Image, Bad Self-Talk, Self-Hatred, Stealing/Theft, Desire to be Punished, Food Issues Characters: Roman, Patton, Thomas, Virgil Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Angst/Family

Chapter 16 

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

   “Are you doing okay, kiddo?” Patton asked, sitting across the couch and looking at him with those damned kind eyes. Roman didn’t respond. He didn’t feel like he could even form the words without breaking apart. He didn’t even want to think about how not all right he was at the moment, much less articulate it. Patton seemed to get the picture after a lengthy pause, because he changed the subject. “So what were you looking to buy that you wanted a job for?” Patton asked politely. “If you need to sign it, just hold up the letters long enough that I can read it,” Patton added after a prolonged moment of silence. Roman held up his hand to sign the letters, but kept a hold of the glass of water between his legs with the other hand and didn’t look away from focusing on the melting ice cubes in the water.

   “D…S…? Is that right?” Patton said, sounding very confused. After a moment it seemed to click with him. “Like the Nintendo? Kiddo, I think Tomathy had one in his office he doesn’t use,” Patton said plainly, sounding like he shifted on the couch. “I don’t think he’d care if you wanted to borrow it. What game did you want to play on it?” Roman looked up and scrunched up his face, trying to remember that one what had dragons and farming one of his old friends really liked. It took a minute, but he eventually raised his hand to sign the letters. “R-u-n-e-f-a-c-t-o-r-y? What’s that? F-a-r-m? Oh, one of those farming games? Did you want to play something relaxing?” Roman nodded and signed yes. Patton smiled lightly, but his eyes were still laced with concern. As long as he didn’t vocally acknowledge it right now. Roman signed why he wanted to play it. “B-e-d? Not in bed, I hope. B-4? Oh, before. I don’t think Thomas has that one,” Roman shrugged. He was intending to save up for a DS in the first place, buying the game was assumed.

   “Thomas doesn’t have what?” Thomas asked, coming back down the stairs. He didn’t look too distressed, so hopefully that meant Virgil was okay. Part of him wanted to ask, but that meant that meant he had to acknowledge it as his fault and that he also wasn’t okay and Roman wasn’t capable of doing that at the moment.

   “Run-e… factory, I think? Roman wanted to play it to calm down before bed,” Patton explained and nodded to Roman.

   “Runny Factory?” Thomas asked, making a baffled expression and looked to Roman. Roman spelled rune again for him. “Oh! Rune Factory! No, I don’t have that. That’s a fantasy game, right? I’ve heard good things about it, the storyline and music are supposed to be superb,” Thomas said and Roman nodded silently. He just liked the fantasy element and thought breaking up the farming with monster murder would be more interesting than just farming. Breaking up the monster murder with something laid back also seemed cool. He took a deep breath and sipped his water again. His throat was still so tight it hurt a little going down, but he was feeling like maybe he could continue to be okay as long as nobody made him think about himself. “Hey, uh, Roman, did you know?” Thomas asked a little awkwardly and Roman looked up at him in confusion. “About… Virgil?” Thomas finished. Roman put the glass of water between his legs to free up his hand.

   ‘What about him?’ Roman signed.

   “Are you having trouble talking? I’m not any further than learning the alphabet yet, I’m sorry,” Thomas said, sitting next to Thomas. Roman motioned for him to come closer and Thomas complied and leaned in.

   “Know what?” Roman whispered. He could mange whispering right now. He was just trying his damnedest not to break down again. He was not stuck in the shitty boat Virgil was. He picked back up his water cup and held it with both hands.

   “That maybe he also has PTSD from… other homes?” Thomas asked softly, looking disconcerted.

   “What do you mean also?” Roman whispered.

   “The ER doctor thinks you have it. Do you remember being in the ER?” Thomas asked, sounding concerned.

   “Not much,” Roman said under his breath. This was going into territory Roman wasn’t so comfortable in.

   “There’s stuff about PTSD I guess we didn’t realize until now, I guess. Like that it wasn’t just about certain triggers,” Thomas clarified. “Did he say anything to you?” Thomas asked with concern.

   “He might have mentioned it,” Roman whispered. “He noticed I was… worried about you guys hitting me and he told me I was safe. Then explained that it’s why he noticed. He implied he didn’t like talking about it. I kind of agree with him,” He admitted. He didn’t want to talk about it right now, for sure, but talking about it any time wasn’t ideal.

   “I wish one of you would have told us, but I can’t fault you for not wanting to think about it,” Thomas looked frustrated for a moment, but his face softened again when he saw Roman back up slightly. “Have you heard of age regression?” Thomas asked. That seemed out of the blue. It baffled Roman enough that he no longer was shying away from Thomas.

   “That’s that thing perverts do, isn’t it?” Roman asked quietly and raised an eyebrow at Thomas, a little confused on why he would bring it up.

   “What?” Thomas looked just as bewildered as Roman felt. “Oh, I hate having to google these things,” He muttered. “Not that. This is medical,” Thomas said more clearly and sighed, shaking his head. Oh, well, that’s good, maybe? “Sometimes certain triggers can cause age regression in PTSD patients. Do you know how I know how I know you had a gun pulled on you?” Thomas asked, looking like he was examining Roman now. It unnerved him a bit.

   “No,” Roman muttered, watching Thomas nervously in return and gripping the cold glass firmly.

   “Because you told me. You were a very mouthy 13-year-old. You also thought I was Satan for a bit,” Thomas said, sounding kind of amused. Roman stared at him for a moment while he processed what Thomas said. When he realized he that he might have cussed out Thomas, his eyes widened and he shut them tight, trying to to freak out. Thomas didn’t deserve his defensive bullshit. He had to put up an aggressive front or people wouldn’t take him seriously. It didn’t pay off for him in the end, though, and he regretted ever doing it.

   “Sorry,” Roman choked out and tensed up.

   “No, no, it was kind of cute,” Thomas chuckled weakly and looked to Roman reassuringly. Roman took a deep breath and tried to settle down. Cute wasn’t exactly what Roman was going for, but at least he didn’t hurt Thomas’s feelings or anything. “Well, Other than the fact that you were disappointed you didn’t die. You don’t still feel like that, do you?” Thomas asked softly, sounding sad. Roman’s shoulders flinched, and he swallowed hard.

   “Doesn’t everybody?” Roman whispered, joking weakly. The small broken laugh that accompanied it wasn’t the most convincing thing he’d ever done.

   “No, Roman, that’s not normal,” Thomas said, putting his arm on the couch over Roman’s shoulder’s without touching him. Roman could feel the heat from his arm but appreciated not being touched. He was even closer to breaking down now, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out. “You got a referral for a psychiatrist at the ER and I’ll be making you an appointment, okay?”

   “No, Thomas, please! I’ll be good, I’ll try not to-” Roman started babbling loudly, shooting a desperate look up to him.

   “Hey, kiddo, it’s okay!” Patton held his hands up and cut Roman off. Roman held his lips closed tight in a thin line.

   “Why are you scared of the psychiatrist?” Thomas looked pointedly at Roman.

   “My… They’ll know- The foster people. That I’m a bad kid. And then they won’t be able to place me, and then I’ll be stuck in one of those holding centers, they’re worse than the group homes, they’re really awful and that’s… I just can’t,” Roman rambled choked on a sob. He sniffled and dropped back against his cup, a tear breaking loose despite how hard he fought against it.

   “Why are you worried about going to a holding center?” Patton asked, sounding concerned.

   “’Cuz having mental health record is bad and harder to place since I’d be special needs,” Roman mumbled between his legs, starting to cry.

   “Do you still think we’re sending you back on Friday, Roman?” Thomas sounded sad.

   “Maybe,” Roman breathed.

   “I missed that,” Thomas said. Roman looked up and glanced at Thomas.

   “You should! I don’t belong here! I belong somewhere crappy where I’m too busy trying to survive to have to think about things. I never… I never struggled like this. At least not until I got used to not having Remus around,” Roman sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He and Remus had a shitty time when the memories were fresh, but losing Remus was worse.

   “Actually, sometimes people who have been in a hard situation for a long time usually struggle in more positive environments because they’re not sure how to process love and support. Did getting separated from your brother really hurt?” Patton piped up, sounding very compassionate when he suggested an explanation. Roman barely understood what he meant, but he could follow the question easily.

   “It was like they took half of me away when they tore us apart,” Roman grumbled.

   “Maybe because it was the last bit of stability and support you had, you closed off and just tried to deal with the situation, and you’ve been doing that ever since,” Patton offered, continuing his explanation. Roman couldn’t completely follow, though.

   “What?” Roman asked. His head hurt and he didn’t comprehend a lick of that. Some more tears broke free, and he sniffled again.

   “I think you belong here,” Patton said resolutely. Roman could follow that much easier. Wait, what the fuck? No, he couldn’t!

   “What?” Roman asked more incredulously, wiping his eyes.

   “You love Disney and The Princess Bride and books and you’re kind and considerate and quick and Lita loves you. And Virgil’s opened up more since you got here, so I think he likes you, too,” Patton said, holding up a finger. “You fit in just fine! All the other stuff isn’t you. It’s what you’ve been through,” He smiled brightly, looking confident. That didn’t make sense, though. He was a fuck up for a castle keep full of reasons.

   “I wasn’t able to sleep or keep track of time or sit still or do well in school before everything else. There’s plenty of stuff that I’m bad at, that’s all me,” Roman grumbled in objection.

   “And there're ways you can learn to cope with all of that when you’re somewhere safe,” Patton provided.

   “I can’t stay here,” Roman rested his chin on his legs and stared forward, feeling despondent. He couldn’t stop the stray tears, but he was too empty to freak out anymore. Thomas looked bewildered and sad out of the corner of his eyes, but he said nothing.

   “And why is that?” Patton asked evenly, though his eyes looked sad.

   “I’ll…” Roman dropped his head into his legs again. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

   “You’ll what?” Patton urged him to continue.

   “It’s selfish, and it’s unrealistic,” Roman grumbled, shifting to sip his water. A timer in the kitchen dinged and Thomas got up. Roman flinched from the motion and sighed. He was so on edge it physically hurt. He was buzzing with restlessness but too tired and sad to even start figuring out how he could fix it.

   “How about I decide that?” Patton asked softly.

   “I have to get to go to a home that’s willing to take two kids when Remus also needs placement. I’ll never see him again until we turn 18 if I don’t. If he doesn’t hate me by then, anyway,” Roman sighed again and looked up to the ceiling.

   “I promise we’ll take you to see him when we can, Roman,” Patton said, and he sounded like he meant it, unlike most other times he’s heard it. Though he could never really trust adults meant it when they offered, though. He’d been burned too many times before. Patton probably only meant it at the moment, but it would be too much when the time came, just like always.

   “But I won’t get to be his brother again,” Roman said despondently. “Whisper nonsense words and have him completely understand me. Play fight like the fate of the world depends on the outcome. Write stories with him that turn into whole universes. All the stuff we used to have. The brother stuff you can only have when you’re a kid and you live together,” Patton looked somber but didn’t say anything. There really wasn’t anything to say.

   “I hope you’re hungry, Roman,” Thomas called from the kitchen.

   “You know I’m not,” Roman groaned loudly.

   “Too bad!” Thomas called back. Roman sighed and sipped his water again.

   “I would miss you guys… I’m not trying to say I don’t… appreciate you being nice and stuff. As much as it drives me up the wall,” Roman chuckled weakly and Patton pouted at that. “I just… I’ve been going this long on the hope I’d get him back. I got through everything I did because I never let go of the hope of being reunited, you know? I just can’t let go of that. And I don’t want to make it harder to be placed and then lessen my chances even further of getting to be with him again. I’ll be good, I promise, okay? I just can’t have that go on my records,” Roman begged him.

   “How about I talk to your caseworker about it when we see him Friday? See what we can do without it going on your state records?” Patton offered gently, looking strangely conciliatory for someone who did nothing wrong.

   “I’m a ward of the state who is just staying at your house. They own my ass,” Roman bit, though there was very little energy or aggression behind it, mostly just tired frustration with his situation.

   “Roman, I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to be mean,” Patton chided, frowning slightly.

   “Sorry,” Roman sighed heavily. “Right after I said I’d be good and everything,” Roman muttered to himself sourly. Roman wished he knew how to stop being a bastard already.

   “It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Patton said. “And I’m going to either way as your guardian, but I’d much rather you be on board with it,” Patton said gesturing with his hand.

   “Thanks for your honesty, I guess,” Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m on board as long as it doesn’t hurt my chances,” It was just asking, not acting in it. Roman leaned back again and put his cup down on the side table. He was so fucking itchy still. Thomas couldn’t see him, though, it was just Patton in the room. He probably wouldn’t freak out at a little itch. Roman scratched at the edges of the bandages and exhaled in relief as he itched at the adhesive, which stung slightly.

   “No scratching!” Thomas called from the kitchen and Roman froze in complete and utter bafflement.

   “What the actual fuck, Thomas?” Roman groaned loudly enough to project into the kitchen.

   “Dad powers,” Thomas said seriously. “Apologize for cursing,”

   “Sorry for saying fuck,” Roman huffed and dropped his arms in defeat to the couch with a light thud.

   “Roman,” Patton said firmly, furrowing his eyebrows at him.

   “Sorry for saying it again,” Roman rolled his eyes and saw Virgil come back down the stairs. He looked pretty okay other than kind of tired, which was relieving.

   ‘Saying fuck in front of Pat twice?’ Virgil signed. ‘Props,’ He fingerspelled.

   ‘Nice to see your dumb face again,’ Roman signed back.

   ‘Can’t say the same to you,’ Virgil signed and smirked at him before sitting back down at his controller and starting to play again. He glanced over to Patton, who mostly just seemed to be considering something. Roman was just glad the conversation was over. He turned his eyes back to the TV screen to watch the game again. He slowly loosened back up as he watched Virgil play. The long scarf physics were really eye-catching, and he just let himself drift to that.

   “Dinner’s ready!” Thomas called after an interminable period of silently watching the cloaked guy running through the level. Patton smiled at them and got up and headed to the kitchen. Virgil looked Roman up and down after he paused the game.

   ‘You don’t look capable of crime,’ Virgil signed and looked at him disbelievingly. Wow, Virgil didn’t beat around the bush.

   ‘Thanks?’ Roman signed, raising an eyebrow. Maybe that was a good thing?

   ‘Can you do anything other than sell drugs?’ Virgil signed.

   ‘You cut right to the point,’ Roman made a face at him. He wasn’t sure what Virgil was getting at, but it was weird to straight-up ask.

   ‘Can you?’ Virgil signed again.

   ‘I can pick pockets and pick locks,’ Roman fingerspelled. He could do other things, too, but he wasn’t as ashamed of those things as the others.

   ‘No shit?’ Virgil signed and some excitement in his eyes leaked into the disbelieving expression.

   ‘Seriously,’ Roman signed back and nodded.

   ‘You’re lying,’ Virgil frowned. Fucker. Roman wasn’t lying.

   ‘I’ll prove it,’ Roman signed, getting up from the couch. He had to talk carefully and tenderly to the kitchen on his fucked up feet, but found a stride.

   Thomas was still at the stove getting things on to serving dishes and Patton was putting water cups at the table. This was too freaking easy. Roman picked Thomas’s wallet as he passed and nonchalantly slid it in his pocket. He sat down and smiled at Patton, who smiled back and sat down. Virgil joined them at the table and stared at Roman, clearly waiting for him to do something. Roman smirked and pulled Thomas’s wallet out, throwing it at Virgil. He caught it and looked between the wallet and Roman. Patton looked up from serving himself food and saw them.

   “Virgil, why do you have your wallet at the table?” Patton asked, peering closer. “Actually, isn’t that Thomas’s? Did you find it somewhere?” Patton asked, taking it from Virgil’s hands. “Virgil found your wallet, Thomas,” Patton said as Thomas walked over with the last of the food and placed it down on the table, looking confused.

   “What? I don’t remember taking it out. Thank you, Virgil,” Thomas said, taking the wallet back from Patton and sliding it back in his back pocket before sitting down. Roman leaned on the table and smirked, raising his eyebrow at Virgil in anticipation.

   ‘You absolute bastard,’ Virgil signed, looking extremely impressed. Roman took a bow.

   ‘Careful, it’s not all I can do,’ Roman sat back in his chair, looking concernedly at all the food now.

   ‘Don’t threaten me with a good time,’ Virgil signed back before reaching over to serve himself a giant pile of tater tots. He served a single tater tot to Roman with a smirk before reaching out to grab a piece of chicken.

   “I’m not beyond serving you food and sitting here until you eat it,” Thomas eyed Roman. Roman sighed and grabbed a small piece of chicken and a single scoop of vegetables. “That’s half as much as Virgil is eating, Roman,” Thomas said critically.

   “I’m 100% positive he’s powered by a black hole,” Roman objected sourly, motioning to Virgil.

   ‘Thanks,’ Virgil smirked and started eating.

   “Teenagers are biologically hungry, and you are not exempt,” Thomas corrected him.

   “It’s fine,” Roman huffed.

   “I think we’ve successfully established you don’t have the best impression of what fine is, Roman,” Thomas said critically and leaned back in his chair.

   “Thomas, sassing Roman isn’t nice,” Patton chided him. “Just take a tiny bit more, okay, kiddo?” Patton looked at him pleadingly. Virgil served Roman another single tater tot.

   ‘There. More,’ Virgil signed and Roman laughed. This fucking guy.

   “Thank you,” Roman smiled and signed as he spoke.

   “Virgil, don’t encourage him,” Thomas frowned and chided Virgil.

   ‘Sure. You suck, Roman,’ Virgil signed with a lopsided grin.

   “Oh, I’m wounded,” Roman put his palm to his forehead and leaned back dramatically. It did actually start to smell good, at least. Roman began eating slowly, trying to get it over with, but the more he ate the easier it finally felt and the more his stomach woke up. It stopped hurting when he ate, and he ate more comfortably. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. Sanders,” He said absentmindedly as he reached out for another serving of vegetables.

   “Um, you’re welcome, Roman,” Thomas sounded a little confused, but the food was good and Roman didn’t bother looking up from eating. He grabbed a second piece of chicken, as well, after finishing the first one. Virgil knocked on the table and Roman looked up at him.

   ‘Are you going to tell them you stole his wallet?’ Virgil asked. Roman put down his fork and swallowed.

   ‘Why?’ Roman signed back, confused. Tell them he stole from Thomas? That was dumb.

   ‘Because they won’t be mad and I want to see their faces,’ Virgil signed. Maybe they wouldn’t and everything would be chill. But if they did get mad, maybe he’d finally get punished and fell right in the freaking world again. It seemed like a win-win scenario with a bonus of amusing Virgil.

   ‘Fair,’ Roman shrugged. He finally felt awake and feeling impulsive. Virgil laughs, well, as much as he does, and Roman gets sent to his room without dessert or something assuredly way too tame for what he did.

   “You didn’t lose your wallet, Thomas. I picked your pocket,” Roman said flippantly, eating one of his two tater tots. They both stared at him dubiously and exchanged a look before looking back at Roman. Virgil leaned forward to watch, looking amused already.

   “…Why?” Patton asked after a quiet moment of confusion. Virgil did that silent laughing thing behind his hand.

   “He didn’t believe me,” Roman pointed to Virgil. “I didn’t take anything. I don’t think it’s right to steal money. I just wanted to prove I could,” Roman explained with a smug smile and a little shrug. Roman had enough money stolen from him that he genuinely couldn’t bear to do it to anyone else anymore.

   “Why can you…” Patton started to ask but trailed off. He probably answered his own question as Roman raised his eyebrow and leaned on his arm.

   “I learned how to do lots of things,” Roman passed his hand over the tater tot on his plate and it disappeared. Roman passed it quickly behind his back and popped it in his mouth while they were all looking at the plate. “Magic!” He announced. Stoners fucking loved sleight of hand. He once got a fifty dollar tip from a guy who was completely blasted.

   Lita weaved under his feet and he shivered from the dog fur through his sock. His feet were still feeling raw from his run this morning. Roman pulled them up and went back to eating his vegetables. Thomas looked shocked and Patton beamed in delight. Virgil looked unimpressed as usual and returned to going to town on the pile of tater tots.

   “Do you know any other magic tricks, Roman?” Patton asked with a sparkle in his eye.

   “I know sleight of hand and card tricks, not any magic-magic tricks,” Roman shrugged. “Nothing fancy,”

   “Well, will you show me one after dinner?” Patton smiled, returning to cutting up his chicken.

   “Do you know the four kings in the tower?” Roman asked, interested in getting to show off.

   “No,” Patton shook his head, looking invested already.

   “Then that it shall be,” Roman declared regally, twisting his fork in the air. He rolled his eyes at his own idiocy and returned to eating.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15

the taglist repository:

High school:  @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra  @potatsanderssides

Roman Angst:  @k1ngtok1 

Hurt Comfort:  @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric:  @smileyzs  @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd 

Fostering AU:  @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll 

literally everything sanders sides:  @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun  @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven  @ananonsplace @ollyollyoxinfree

[kcllans]

( dylan minnette, cis male, he/him ) have you heard about KELLAN RICCI? they’re a 21 year old INTERN in the NEWS team. i don’t know what their last job was, all i know is that they’re originally from BOSTON, MA. carol in hr said that they’re kinda IMPULSIVE and SARCASTIC but jessica in marketing insists that they are HONEST and DILIGENT. at the end of the day, no one is worthy of the instant hype here. i just hope they get to achieve their dream of being A JOURNALIST one day. According to the latest Vibez quiz, their Disney soulmate is PRINCE ERIC.

heyyyyy nicole again and this is kellan!! (this is a sideblog to brady so kellan will not follow u back, don’t take it personally xoxoxo). his STATS PAGE with lots more stuff is here.

again, im unfortunately not really here here for opening, so i might not see tumblr messages immediately. you can add me on discord ( john ambrose mcclaren#1627 ) and hmu there to plot and everything!! or ill get back to u here later. i put some very basic connections ideas at the bottom of brady’s intro that apply to kellan too but id love to just plot based on our muses specifically! so yay ok here we go:

background

kellan is the oldest of three children, born to nico and vanessa ricci in boston, MA. nico is a nurse and vanessa is a veterinarian, so they both work a lot and have since kellan was young. it’s not a big deal, though; they’re good parents and do a lot for kellan and his 2 younger sisters.

all around the riccis are a pretty typical family. growing up, his parents always made sure to have Family Time™ when they weren’t working and the five of them could all be together. they’re really open and kellan always knew that he could tell them stuff if he needed to. but you know, as far as being a kid goes, he never had much he wanted to tell. they trusted him, though, and it’s not like they were home often enough to see what he was doing anyway.

as for his 2 younger sisters — one is close in age to him (this is a wanted connection so check that out !!). they grew up as very normal siblings, close one minute and hating each other the next, but now that they’re older, ofc kellan loves her and definitely feels closer to her than to his parents. then there’s their 14-year-old sister (obvs npc). kellan of course has the inherent desire to protect and be there for both of his sisters at all times.

when he reached a certain age, kellan thinks he probably just...got bored. so he started to act out a little. not much at first, just skipping a class here and there or going out way too late with his friends, but it escalated a bit as time went on. by the time kellan was in high school, he was def a bit of a delinquent. he and his friends would shoplift just for fun, or fuck with people purely for entertainment. he’s mostly grown out of that (especially after a certain incident in college where kellan very narrowly avoided legal trouble), but he still likes to cause a lil trouble. get a lil crazy. be a lil silly. maybe he still likes to light stuff on fire, idk, ask him not me.

fun facts and info!!

contrary to the fact that he is Dumb, he has always loved reading and writing. he has plans of becoming a journalist so he’s also working a lot on photography (to get good shots for articles), and often has a camera around his neck to practice that.

he initially started as an intern in the entertainment team, but he didn’t end up moving up in that department, so he transferred over to the news team and is interning all over again. a lil salty abt that, don’t txt.

he kind of gives off sk8r boi vibes, but he absolutely does not know how to skate. he owns a skateboard though. and sometimes he’ll carry it and never ride it. mind ya business.

his hair is absolutely always dyed fun colors (thank you dylan minnette for ur service), so it’ll probably fall out before he turns 30. currently it’s blue!

he is wildly bisexual. very much happy and open about that.

he’s def very ~in touch with his feelings~ so he and his homies say real men cry and that’s that on that.

he’s super romantic, but it all depends on the other person. he’ll do a lot to make someone he loves smile but won’t go all out if that isn’t their jam ya know? he’s good at reading people (and also just straight up asking, and that’s on healthy communication).

he knows when to tone things down and keep certain things private, but for the most part he really enjoys saying his piece/just being heard. so the journalism thing makes sense, really. like, listen to ME specifically talk about this thing. but of course that mindset has and will likely continue to get him into some shit lol. being too showy can get u in trouble. keep ya MOUTH shut, ricci.

omg beep beep ricci

i can’t think of toooo much else to add right now? i believe that is the essence of him and as i figure out more i will speak on it.

some aesthetics i think of for him (while i work on his pinterest board): worn out converse, laying on the roof at midnight staring at the stars, dogs wearing sunglasses, asking for nudes via nintendo DS pictochat, one of those spinning colorful disco ball lights.

[jasminwritesthings]

Fall Flowers and Other, Sadder Things That I Don’t Understand

Trigger warning: mentions of death, suicide, and terminal illness

He holds the gun to his head, and I can hear myself scream out. I’m begging him to stop, I need him to stop. This isn’t right. I have had twenty-four full years with my father, but Thomas has had only seventeen, and Lily only thirteen.

He is crying, I have known him my entire life and I have never seen him cry. He didn’t cry at his wedding to my mother, he didn’t cry when Lily and Thomas were born, and he didn’t cry at his diagnosis, although everyone else did. Though grim, he somehow managed to keep a wide smile on his face despite the verdict that he was only going to have months to live. 

I didn’t mean to walk in on him. I was on my way to pick up Lily from school and take her to tennis practice, but Mom had reminded me that I needed to come back to grab the instructor’s cheque. I entered their bedroom, she had told me that Dad was meeting her for lunch, she had left early to pick up his medication. The last thing that I expected was that he would be home, preparing himself for the final decision he would ever make. 

I am shaking, but I can hear him drop the gun to the floor. When I finally gain focus I notice that he is shaking too, and for the first time in my life I feel like I should be the one taking care of him. I hold him in a tight hug, not dissimilar to those he would give me as a child, when I would fall off of my bike and it would feel like the end of the world. 

Now I’m begging, but for different reasons. I need to understand why he wanted these to be his final moments. I’m asking for answers that I don’t believe either of us have. What about Lily and Thomas? What about Mom? Was he just going to leave us behind?

When I was much younger, Mom and Dad got into an argument so intense that Mom left the house. It was late, and I wasn’t even supposed to be awake, but I had asked Mom earlier if I could stay up later to watch TV. I didn’t mean to catch their screaming, but I did. I watched through the rail of the stairway as Mom grabbed her bag and left, taking the car with her. Dad held his face in his hands and I ran downstairs crying, yelling: where is mommy going? Are you leaving too? He picked me up, bouncing me high on his hip. We walked towards the kitchen and he placed me on the counter, so we could be eye-to-eye. 

After I had calmed down, he held my face in his hands, wiping the tears away. He told me that Mom needed to leave for a little while. At the time, it felt like she was betraying our family by leaving us without a goodbye, but as I got older I realized how hard it must have been for her, for the both of them, to be parents at such a young age. Dad said that he would never leave me, he would always be right next to me, and Mom would be too, she just needed to visit Grandma for a little. They fought every once in a while, and they managed to patch things up, but I had always held Dad’s words in the back of my mind.

The anger that had briefly coursed through my veins settled when I realized that Dad had been selfless for more than half of his life, and this decision, his final one, would be his only selfish one. I continue to hold him until we have both calmed down, and when we finally do, I take the gun, putting it back in its case with the intent to take it back to my car. I tell Dad to follow me, and I take him to lunch with Mom before picking up Lily. 

My Dad has already lived for six months since his diagnosis, he was only estimated to live for eight. When he explains what pushed him to hold that gun, his reasoning makes sense, though I wish it didn’t. Ramblings of a madman are easier to cope with than the truth, though harder to understand. I have gotten the best of my Dad for twenty-three of my twenty-four years, Lily and Thomas have gotten much less. The both of them are forming key memories now that will stick with them for the rest of their lives, and the last thing that he wanted was for them to remember him this way: sick and weak, unable to do most things for himself. 

We still have time, he can make more memories with them before he leaves. But even if he didn’t, I couldn’t imagine Lily and Thomas remembering him this way. Before he leaves, he says that maybe he will try to make more memories, maybe he has more in him. He asks me not to tell Mom what I’ve seen. I check the backseat for the gun. I agree.

The next time I see Dad, my Mom has asked me to join them on a weekend-long trip to the cottage. I have more than enough good memories at the cottage, it has been one of my favourite places since before I could even remember, so of course I agree. I greet Lily with a hug, Thomas is still in the stage of his life where he thinks he’s too cool to give or receive affection, but I ruffle his hair nonetheless. I remember when I was in the same stage, I was angry all the time, but I didn’t want to be. I know that I can’t blame him for the way that his hormones and school make him feel. I hug Mom and Dad, and I follow them to the van. 

To me, car trips have always been the best part of any trip. At home and at our destination there is nothing that requires us to be together, but in the car, we’re closer than we usually are, even if it’s only for a few hours. When we were younger, Thomas, Lily, and I would play Nintendo DS together during the car rides. Now, we sing along loudly to bad songs on the radio and watch movies on the car’s entertainment system. We each take turns annoying Mom by asking her if we’ve arrived yet, and Dad periodically joins in. When we finally do arrive, we all cheer with glee.

Thomas helps me unpack the trunk, and by the time we finish Lily is already in her bathing suit, jumping into the lake feet-first. Once I drop the things in the living room of the cottage I watch Thomas interact with Lily at the edge of the dock. I see her hand reach up and pull him down by his ankle, and he barely has the time to toss his phone into the grass, all of us narrowly avoiding his temper for the weekend. He’s angry when he surfaces, but it quickly dissolves as he starts to splash Lily. 

I feel someone walk up behind me, and I looked over to Mom as she watches out on Lily and Thomas. She tells me that she’s glad that they can still have fun, they haven’t let Dad’s sickness eclipse their joy in the same way I have. When we found out Dad was sick, I stepped up to help Mom with Thomas and Lily, becoming parental over Lily more than Thomas. I’m here now, though, I want to make more memories too. 

I pretend that I can’t hear it when Dad starts to throw up, he’s been doing it every day for weeks, but Mom rushes to help him. I open the screen door and sit on the dock, watching as Thomas and Lily splash away in the water, play-fighting and yelling. When Mom and Dad finally come out, Dad has a giant deflated pool float in his hand. He asks me to blow it up and I jokingly roll my eyes, telling him that it’s going to take me forever to blow it up, but I don’t really mind. 

We spend the day basking in the sun, playing in the water, barbequing, and taking the boat out. It’s the most fun that we’ve had since Dad’s diagnosis, and I can tell that my brother and sister are having a blast. 

The weekend passes by quickly, a blur of water, food, and laughter, and Sunday night we are back out again, taking the van back home. I dread returning to the twisted routine that my life has turned into, but for now I decide that it’s better to live in the moment, and appreciate what we have left. Thomas flicks Lily in the back of the head from the back seat, and she screams out, starting a fighting match with him. I break them apart, and I tell Thomas to chill out, and we’re quickly back to watching ET, a movie that had once been my favourite. I couldn’t imagine being in ET’s place, where everything he had ever known was taken away so quickly, but he returned home. Although sad, Elliot knew that ET belonged home in the end. 

I take my stuff out of the car, saying goodbye to my family as I prepare to go. Mom lingers outside for a moment, she tells me that I can stay the night if I’d like, but I have work tomorrow morning. I give her a hug and tell her that I’ll see her later this week when I pick up Thomas to take him to dance, and I take my stuff to my car. I’m not sure why, but when I start to drive I start to cry. I open the window and scream, I can’t help it, I’m just feeling so much at once. 

Three weeks later, after work on a day where I didn’t have to pick up either Lily or Thomas, I got a phone call from Mom. She was crying, yet calm at the same time, I didn’t want her to feel the need to act alright when she wasn’t, especially not for my sake. She asked me to come to the hospital, but it wasn’t urgent. I was there in twenty minutes despite the lack of urgency. 

I met Mom outside the room she had told me Dad was in, and she explained the situation to me. Dad was reaching his final days, and he wanted to go out on his own terms, with the help of the doctors. This time, I didn’t beg or scream or yell, I just nodded solemnly as I looked at my father in his hospital bed. She told me that he wanted it done today, and that it was now time to say our goodbyes.

I stood outside for a moment, silent and scared to move. My dad is not a perfect man, he never has been. He is flawed, he says the wrong things sometimes, and he has made mistakes, but that will never change the fact that he is my father. I have always loved him despite his imperfections and despite the yelling matches that we used to get into. Even though I caught him in his room, ready to take his own life, that will never be how I remember him. Just like how this will not be how Thomas and Lily remember him. The hot tears fall down my face, and I rapidly wipe them away, I don’t want to upset him when I enter the room.

When I finally muster up the courage, I give him a smile as I walk into the doorway. I wrap him in the tightest, longest hug that the two of us have ever shared, I never want to let him go, but I know that I have to. I tell him all of the thoughts from my head, I shouldn’t say them all but they come out anyways. I tell him that he has been the best dad that I could ever ask for. He has been there for me my entire life, and I could never thank him enough for everything. I tell him that I love him so much, more than words could ever hope to describe, and I will never forget him, my kids will one day hear stories of him. I can’t help the stream of tears as the nurse enters, and our final words to each other are ones of love. 

I wait with him, I’m holding one of his hands while my mother holds the other, she let Thomas and Lily say goodbye to him earlier, but she didn’t want them to see this. He gives us a sad smile, and I stand by his bedside for the full eighteen minutes that it takes. When we hear the flatline, I know that I should console Mom, but I have to leave the room instead.

I turn around and I shut the door, I slide down the wall and plug my ears. When he finally did pull the trigger, I forgave him.

[yeonchi]

Thinking about the future of EDGN

I’ve never asked a lot out of my fans over the years, but to some of my close fans (you know who you are), I’d really appreciate some helpful advice because this is an important decision I’m making that will affect both you, the fans, and myself.

To cut a long story short for a tl;dr, I no longer enjoy posting about the voice languages in localised Japanese games because of some recent events and realisations and I want to retire from the English Dubbed Game News page altogether.

It’s been about five years since I started all this with the Koei Warriors Rant Series and since then, everything I’ve done that’s related to English dub has brought me nothing but hate. I know it’s a bit of an exaggeration and some of my close fans may have something to say to the contrary, but I’ve been feeling quite negative lately and because of that, I think it’s a brutally honest summary.

After ending the Dub Logistics series, I thought the one thing I could do to repay my fans for their support over the years was to continue posting on EDGN. Personally, I think I’ve done enough already and also, as I said in a post back in August, I’ve been having doubts about the future of the page and what I want to do with it given my current interests. There are several factors that led to me having these doubts, which I’ll be outlining after the break. (I can’t even put horizontal lines in my posts with the rich text editor now, thanks Tumblr)

1. I was never interested in any game outside of the Koei Warriors series or any game I played in the past (eg. Dissidia Final Fantasy).

This really shouldn’t be a surprise to my fans because in the past, I’ve rarely posted anything outside of the series I was interested in, including the aforementioned series. If I came across something by chance and liked it, then I would do some investigation into it, but these days, the spark just doesn’t want to light up anymore.

I’ve never really taken the chance to buy new games because my family doesn’t believe in buying things that aren’t important and as such, I took that mantra to heart. While I never brought a PS3, I did get a Nintendo Wii, but I traded it in later for a Wii U and not a PS4, which I still regret to this day. I pirated my PSP, DS and PC games (let’s face it, who doesn’t) and played with emulators on my computer. I only got a Steam account to play Team Fortress 2 (laggy though it was on my shitty computer) and I never brought anything from it, which made it difficult for me to add friends on there (not that they really cared in the end).

By extension, this applies to anime as well, which is the reason why I never post anything outside of the same few animes on the Waifu Network or on my Facebook pages. My belief on sexism in anime has also contributed to this disinterest; the only reason why I’m still posting the same few animes is because I’m still somewhat interested in them and I’m grateful for how they inspired some personal projects of mine.

2. Various factors have led me to lose interest in video games, including the Koei Warriors Series.

The reason why I started my dub crusade in the first place was because of Warriors Orochi 3 (Ultimate) and Samurai Warriors 4 not being dubbed. The reason why I decided to jump ship was because of Dynasty Warriors 9 being dubbed, just not with the same cast I had grown to love. I know that there were extenuating circumstances for the latter, but given everything that happened between that time, my hope that the old English voice cast (since Dynasty Warriors 4-6/Warriors Orochi 1-2) would return to voice that game (and other future games) was gone.

In addition to the previous factor, I started to find myself with more commitments than I had in past years, along with some different interests that I picked up along the way. At first, I didn’t feel like playing games because of my commitments, but eventually, it got to the point where I didn’t want to play most video games again because of the disappointment I’ve experienced from Koei Tecmo. Learning about all the things that AAA gaming companies do to reduce expenditure and increase revenue turned me off from video games as well. In my opinion, it wasn’t so much a boycott (per se) than it was a loss of interest.

3. The original group of people who inspired me to start writing these rants are now gone.

I know I’ve had other fans since the start of all this, but the original group had a special place in all this because of it. There were four people in the original group, who I met on Koei’s original Facebook page, and they were as follows:

The first one did comment on my older stuff, but he left quite early, possibly since DW8E’s release. I saw that he deactivated his account some time in 2017.

The second one had a YouTube channel and he was an admin on one of my Facebook pages for some time, but then he left after a period of inactivity without any explanation.

The third one was the more prominent because of his LGBT status and mental health issues. In the middle of 2015, he announced to everyone that he was deactivating his Facebook account because it was a burden on his mental health. He reactivated his account some time later, but he deactivated it again in September 2017 and hasn’t come back since. During that time, I saw a post from him stating that he was going to take a lot of pills and commit suicide. I reported it to Facebook in the hope that it might encourage him to find some help, even though I remember him stating that nothing works for him anymore. When I noticed that he hadn’t come back to Facebook months after he deactivated his account the second time, I assumed the worst.

The fourth one, also known as the family man or “the last one standing”, deactivated his account in June this year. We never really talked much, but as I said in this post, I’m still grateful to him for helping me find the new weapon and Musou information in DW8E when the Koei Wiki didn’t have it yet (because the game was just released at the time).

4. The impact of the feud’s aftermath still haunts me to this day.

When I agreed to end the feud on a mutual understanding a couple of years back, I promised myself that I would quickly move on from the troll behind it and not keep reminding myself of everything that happened. However, I’m a person that’s prone to anxiety when I think of worst-case-scenarios and at times, I found myself thinking about what would have happened had my Facebook account been deleted just because a troll couldn’t take the L when he got owned by someone half his age (compare that to Leafy who made terrible criticisms of people who are older than him, then claimed that he can hide behind the fact that he is younger than them). Him coming back out of nowhere earlier this year didn’t do any favours for anyone either. Regardless of that, I’ve got my bottom ground and I’ll continue to live on it regardless of what anyone else thinks of me.

I’d like to take a moment to digress and talk about cancel culture and political censorship. Because both parties in the feud weren’t exactly that popular (we had our own little fanbases, but that’s it), me and the other party “cancelling” each other (admittedly) didn’t seem to have as much an effect as we had hoped. Other factors that contributed to this could be that cancel culture (an extension to call-out culture) wasn’t that much of a thing two years ago and when the other party tried to cancel me, he made no attempt to spread the word to his fans. It was likely that he was trying to show mercy, but that doesn’t explain why he kept reporting my posts relating to him and current events in Hong Kong, knowing that I would eventually get banned if I didn’t call him out on it. I was as much a victim than I admittedly was an offender of cancel culture.

Following the feud, I’ve become wary of social media censorship because I experienced what it was like for someone to get petty and get people deplatformed by mass reporting them. Other pages like meme pages have suffered the same fate in the past (mostly because people take certain jokes too seriously), but despite my hopes, it didn’t seem like Facebook was going to do anything about the petty mass-reporting of those pages. Recently, however, I���ve been seeing news on tech companies being grilled over the censorship of conservatives and President Trump criticising them for the same thing. I’m not saying that I’m supporting Trump backing the pages that are being censored (conservative, far-right, alt-right, you name it), but I hope that this can hopefully extend to random meme pages being reported for petty reasons.

5. Ever since I decided to stop being toxic, I found myself conflicted when confronted with more toxic comments to the point that I’ve started to become paranoid over negative criticism.

When I decided to change the #NoDubNoBuy page to EDGN, I hoped that the hate towards my page would be reduced somewhat, but I never expected that it would be gone entirely. Since then, three people have made negative comments on the page; one was a girl who saw one of my posts being shared on a private group, misunderstood the (new) purpose of the page and despite her attitude, was still somewhat respectful, one was a Europoor dub hater from Spain (from what I’ve seen and learnt, Europeans tend to be sub fans and/or dub haters because of their English comprehension and ability to read subtitles) and one was an Americuck soyboy dub hater who pointed out about “crybaby fans” (”fans” as in the gatekeeping term “fake fans”, never mind my theory that people, especially men, who call other people, especially other men, “crybabies” are actually spreading toxic masculinity) who liked stuff to be Americanised but didn’t acknowledge the Japanese origins.

I’m gonna go off on a tangent and do a bit of an ad-homimem here (but it’s alright because I’m going to rebut his point next) and point out that I called the Americuck a soyboy because he had quite a long beard, but to be honest, if I called everyone who had beards “soyboys”, that would make people like Count Dankula and Sargon of Akkad “soyboys” as well, so it’d be a pretty slippery slope if I didn’t clarify who I was talking about.

Now, I’m going to move back on another tangent and rebut the soyboy’s point, because I think this is a pretty important point to address. No one is saying outright that they want Japanese games to be Americanised in terms of cultural references (if 4Kids has taught us anything). Saying that Americanisation is responsible for bad dubbing is a bit like blaming video games for causing violence. If someone says that they would like a game to be dubbed into English in localisation, then it is presumed that they want the dialogue to be dubbed in addition to the text being translated (or “dublated”). Any cultural changes made to the game or the dialogue are entirely the responsibility of those who made those changes, like the gaming companies who censor stuff for Western audiences, so if you’re complaining about a Japanese game being too “Americanised”, don’t take it out on dub fans because chances are that they didn’t want the dub to be too “Americanised” either.

Completing the square and going back to the original tangent, I didn’t post any of their comments to the dub hater comments album because I had deleted it after the feud in the hope that I wouldn’t be as toxic as I had been before. You can probably already see how toxic I would probably be if the above responses were posted on the page and directed back at them, which would mean that I’m not upholding myself to the standards I wanted to follow.

6. I’m becoming more and more concerned about current events to worry about things like English dubbing in video games.

If you’re someone who has unironically thought that I was making a big deal over something you thought was minor, then this is going to sound very ironic for you. From all these years of learning and research, I’ve attained an expansive world view and while I have made jokes about current events in the past to lighten the mood or express my anger, deep down I’m actually concerned about these things, particularly in regards to Hong Kong during this politically sensitive time.

For some reason, my desire to make posts has decreased because in addition to the above factors, I’ve been getting more and more worried about current affairs. Granted, the point of things like anime and video games and the Internet is to provide an escape from reality, but in the end, I guess that you have to face it whether you like it or not.

Making the decision to stop posting on EDGN hasn’t been an easy one, but all the factors I described above have gradually made it easier. Like the Undub page did, I had considered changing the focus of my page to merely report on the voice languages of games without saying whether we approve or reject it because it isn’t dubbed in English/Japanese; that is, we report on them with an unbiased viewpoint. Not adding excessively biased pro-dub comments on our posts has made it more neutral, but in the end, it didn’t stop the dub hater cucks. I should point out that one of the reasons why I wanted to change the #NoDubNoBuy page to EDGN was so that we could reduce the amount of hate we were getting.

What was the original goal of me starting this dub crusade? If you have read my rants in the past, then you will have picked up my hopes that Japanese games would be localised to the West with full Japanese and English dubbing and that if game companies couldn’t achieve that, then they should apologise and explain why. Would I say that I achieved or failed to achieve this goal? Not really, because over the years, I learnt a lot about the video game and voiceover industries and gradually realised that it’s not as straightforward as I had initially hoped. To be honest, it was kind of stupid of me to hope that gaming companies would say anything straightforward about this, but on the other hand, I learnt that gaming companies are like politicians as well; they say the things they want to say and not the things people want to hear.

To my fans, particularly my close fans, feel free to send me your opinions about my decision, however if you’re trying to change my mind, then I’m not sure if it can be changed so easily. If you think that I haven’t lived up to what you expect from me, then I’m sorry, but in the end, I have to think of myself as well.

If I could say one thing to the dub fanbase, I want to ask why no one else has ever tried to do something like EDGN. You have your groups and pages on social media and yet, it had to take two people pissed off with the dubbing direction of gaming companies to do it. Granted, that was how the Undub page started, with the lack of Japanese voices in localised games, and yet they didn’t get as much hate as my page did.

If there is anyone out there who wants to follow in my footsteps and make a page like EDGN, let me be the first to give you my blessing because I’m not going to be like the Undub page when they discovered us and point fingers for copying their posts when in the end, games are the same to everyone. While transparency regarding voice languages has increased over the years, there was never a place where dub fans could know about what games were dubbed in English. You don’t have to be like me and make a series of rants about why some games aren’t dubbed, because I’ve already done it, but instead, I suggest going the unbiased route as I stated earlier. Of course, you don’t have to follow my advice - it’s your page, after all.

My plan is to retire from EDGN at the end of the year. I have 12 more games in the backlog, all with English voices, and I’m hoping to post them all on the page before then. I probably won’t remove myself as an admin (because I think there’ll be some petty, obsessed cuck who’ll dig out my posts and make a rant series on me or something), but I’ll probably have it so that I can forget about the page as time goes on.

With this, my dub crusade has come to an end. Once again, to the fans, I’m sorry and I thank you for your support. As always, it is your choice as to whether you wish to continue following me, whether on Facebook or Tumblr, after my retirement.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #380

Top Ten Favourite Moments at E3 2019

I have to concede it was a slightly disappointing year. Maybe I was just too excited and had set unrealistic expectations. But most of the big games were already announced, and Microsoft didn’t really say anything we didn’t know regarding their next console. But there were at least one or two really cool moments – one of which is probably going to be held up as one of the big E3 moments of the modern age. And so, with no further ado, here’s my list of favourite E3 moments. Nowt much to add, let’s get onto the list!

Keanu! Yeah, this is it. At the end of a pretty but very grim trailer for Cyberpunk 2077 (which, sadly, seemed to be a cutscene that failed to show anything about how the game played), all of a sudden a character appears talking to the player, and it’s only bloody Keanu Reeves. Then the doors parted, smoke billowed, and he is come among us. “You’re breathtaking!” someone shouted (less weird than it sounds in context). He was suitably hyped, seemed to have a vague idea of what he was talking about, and really just cemented his position as the grooviest, coolest, nicest guy in showbiz. It was during the Microsoft conference, and managed to steal all the thunder from Microsoft’s other reveals before they had time to make them; arguably, it even stole all the thunder from Cyberpunk, too. Who cares about violent Blade Runner homages when here’s Ted Theodore Logan to tell us that we’re breathtaking, too?

Game Pass Ultimate! I love Game Pass. I think it’s a really good deal. I also think it’s not really for me, not in the medium term; I have too big a backlog of bought games, not enough time, and, frankly, not enough money. I get my Gold and that’ll do for now. But Ultimate, which rolls in Game Pass for both PC and console, as well as Gold, sounds like it’s probably the future (especially once they roll in xCloud too). But really this is here just because they did the best deal I think I’ve ever seen in gaming. Try Game Pass Ultimate for £1, they said; cool, I said, gives me an opportunity to check out Void Bastards and get back on Crackdown 3. What they didn’t say is that, for £1, they convert your existing Xbox Live Gold to Game Pass Ultimate for the duration of your subscription; in my case, next May. So – having already paid for Gold – I’ve now essentially got eleven months of games for £1. £1. That’s crazy. Thank you, Microsoft.

Star Wars! They’d sorta shown Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order before E3, but the extended gameplay that they demoed during both the E3 presentation and the MS one has made me quite excited. I like both Titanfall games so I’m already fond of Respawn, and I’m a long-standing fan of Star Wars games. I’ve seen some sniffing at this, but I think it looks terrific; sufficiently like Jedi Knight (or, more specifically, Jedi Knight II and Jedi Academy) to whet my appetite. It looks more fun than Force Awakens; faster, frothier, brighter, and with better combat. In short: I have a good feeling about this

LEGO Star Wars! In a way, even more exciting, even if I’ve already played a LEGO version of two-thirds of this game. But my understanding is that this is all-new, a journey through nine films retold through the medium of LEGO. My near-religious adoration of LEGO games, plus Star Wars, plus the fact that LEGO Star Wars was the game that started this crazy franchise in the first place, means this will be a must-have next year.

Animal Crossing! I guess we all knew it was coming but it was simply delightful to see: the Switch version of Animal Crossing. Not being a fundamentalist Nintendo fan, I’ve not played a Crossing since the DS, but I am a big fan of the games (I remember insisting one December 31st that I ring in the New Year with my DS open, just to see what it was like over partying with the Animals). The new one looks gorgeous; beautiful, cute visuals, a really nice semi-tropical setting, little touches that I can imagine will just make day-to-day gameplay more appealing, and some great multiplayer options. I know everyone else is disappointed that it’s been pushed back slightly to next Spring, but that fits in better with other games I’ve got to play (including Fallen Order at Christmas) so job’s a guddun as far as I’m concerned. Roll on 2020.

Zeldas! Plural! I never had a Gameboy (or a NES, or a SNES; technically I never had an N64 or a GameCube either, although I did live with people who had them at the time); I never played the original Link’s Awakening. Everyone goes on and on about it but it holds precisely zero emotional attachment for me. But I do like Zelda games; even if I’ve never spent a phenomenally long time with any of them, really, I do like them, and I’d love to really sink my teeth into Breath of the Wild. The art style of the Awakening remake is phenomenal; it doesn’t look like it’s revolutionising the gameplay but it’s simply beautiful to behold. And then at the end, a darker-tinged Breath sequel? Even I find that exciting, and I’ve barely played Breath as it is. I suppose one of the true game announcement surprises this E3.

Watch Dogs! Yes, I know! I’ve never played a Watch Dog. They look a bit generic, if I’m honest. And dense. Another big open-world game for me to sink time I have into. The new one being set in London is quite nice, although prospect of playing a post-Brexit London just feels depressing, if I’m honest. However! The video they showed looked really good fun. True, the London they showed did not look recognisably London-ish, but the gameplay looked crazy. Helen, the geriatric assassin, flopping over barriers and tasering people? Yes please. More ninja grannies in games. And the lady who fought like John Wick, kung fu-ing mofos before shooting them once in the head? Incredible. I want an entire game of that. Will I get Watch Dogs Legion? Probably not. But I’d like to play it.

Scarlett! I know, I know. It’s not what I predicted, and not what I wanted. But when I think about it, I was being a bit unrealistic. I suspected, based on what I know about the industry and what I read about available technology, that in al likelihood the next Xbox console would be coming out Christmas 2020. So how much were they likely to show eighteen months prior? No name, no box, no price. Figures. So in that respect, I guess it was disappointing, but it was really nice to hear them talk about the future of Xbox. It’s interesting that, from what we know so far, it appears identical to the PS5. but, really, it’s the confidence of Microsoft in the future of the brand and the consoles we’ll play in years to come that’s reassuring. Bit bummed out that Nintendo didn’t offer any new hardware either, mind.

Double Fine! Microsoft’s rampant acquisition of companies continues apace, which reassures me when approaching a new console generation. It’s still too early, really, to see the fruits of these developer purchases: incoming games from the likes of Ninja Theory will have been well underway before they saw juicy MS dollars. Buying Double Fine is a surprise, and a welcome one for me; I’ve been delighted by so much of their output (Brutal Legend, Costume Quest, underrated puzzle game Scurvy Scallywags); and I’ve loved Tim Schafer since his LucasArts days. It was Schafer’s hilarious onstage appearance that most appealed though: claiming he’d do anything MS asked, “Halo stuff, Forza stuff”. A self-deprecating wit so rarely seen on an E3 stage.

Devlolver Em-Effing Direct! The Devolver Digital “press conferences” are a witty riposte to the earnestness of E3. Foul-mouthed, hyper-violent spectacles that lampoon sacred cows of the videogame industry and dare to ask questions of the way in which things are done – as well as actually announce cool new stuff – they serve as an amusing if throat-stinging chaser after days of corporate doublespeak. This year they turned their bloodshot gaze onto “Direct” videos; apt given the number of big publishers who eschewed a showfloor presence in favour of a tailored YouTube stream. A steady flow of deep-cut RoboCop references was the order of the day, along with some surprisingly dense continuity and another cliffhanger ending. Can’t we do these more than once a year?

There we are; not necessarily a banner year, given that it was the last gasp of a fading generation. But plenty to like and a few surprises. I guess it’s a bit weird that it’s not really the news of individual games that I will be taking away from E3 2019; rather, it’s moments and services and promises of the future.

So was I right about any of my ridiculous predictions? Well, a bit. Microsoft and Nintendo didn’t divulge any concrete details on their consoles; nor did Ninty really pull a classic out of their hat. But there was a second Star Wars game alongside Fallen Order (LEGO Star Wars: The Skywalker Saga); there will be “xCloud shenanigans” this autumn, if not quite in the way I predicted; there was a “Big game on Switch”, but it was The Witcher 3; no “Minecraft 2” but there was Minecraft Dungeon. Most of the other predictions didn’t really happen, however. I nearly suggested something big would end up an Epic Store exclusive, but I was trying to be positive, and I didn’t really want that to happen; lo and behold, here comes Shenmue 3. So – considering it was more of a wishlist than a realistic prophecy – I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out.

[namixart]

To start off 2019 with some positivity, I'm going to make a list of things that I absolutely love and make me happy in my favourite shows, movies, books, games etc. Small things, big things, no particular rhyme or reason. It was surprisingly therapeutic. Feel free to reblog and add your own!

Link being left-handed now let him use sign language Nintendo please

The entire Sector 6 Market section in Final Fantasy VII and the Honeybee Inn in particular

Zuko's character arc

The Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack

Final Fantasy X's worldbuilding

Everything about Disney's Mary Poppins it put me in a good mood for three days straight

How Percy absolutely adores his mum and is supportive of her relationship with Paul (after a while)

Edward Elric

(Yes. Just Edward Elric as a character, person, concept, actions...)

Major character design kink: boys with long (ish) blonde hair (see Edward, Link, Zidane, Howl)

Final Fantasy IX's soundtrack

Aerith and Tifa being close friends despite both being in love with Cloud

The Gentleman Bastard Sequence's worldbuilding

The fact that one of the characters in Zootopia speaks with my city's accent in the Italian dub (you never see it in any movie)

Final Fantasy IV's world being just vague enough that it tickles my creative bone to expand on it

Kingdom Hearts I using original storylines for the Disney Worlds

How Yato's eyes are very a very clear indication that he's a supernatural being in Noragami, being unnaturally light and bright

That one panel in the Kingdom Hearts II manga where an almost-naked Pete carries Maleficent bridal style out of the collapsing tower

Sleeping Beauty's art style and instrumental soundtrack

The fact that two super popular shonen manga/anime have leads who are super smart instead of being dumb muscle or the stock happy-go-lucky-not-very-bright protagonist (Fullmetal Alchemist and My Hero Academia)

How some of the Olympians like Hermes and Poseidon are so casual when interacting with mortals

The scene where the Spaceport is revealed in Treasure Planet and the look of the film in general

The first few chapters of the Yu-Gi-Oh! manga before card games took over the plot

People in the Gentleman Bastard Sequence being emotionally honest despite being literal con artists

The theatre motif in The Republic of Thieves

Cloud, Aerith and Tifa threatening Don Corneo, but especially Aerith saying that "she'll rip it off" if he doesn't cooperate

Locke and Jean becoming pirates in Red Seas Under Red Skies

The Hunger Games movies being the most accurate film adaptations I have seen in my life

The Kingdom Hearts soundtrack, especially the vocal tracks, Dearly Beloved and The Other Promise

Final Fantasy VI shoving you in what usually is the backstory of a videogame and literally destroying the world

Edward defending Mustang when he had his sight taken from him despite them having spent 90% of their screentime together bickering

Tony Stark and Peter Parker's relationship in the MCU

Sophie throwing a tantrum after she realises she's in love with Howl and creating deadly weedkiller to express those feelings

Darcy being a goddamn social Disaster in every incarnation of Pride and Prejudice

The relationship between Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye

The Once Upon a December sequence from Anastasia

The mere existence of Zamira Drakasha and Ezri Delmastro and everything they represent

Sokka's role as both the strategist and the goofball in the Gaang

Peter Parker sharing a hot dog with Loki when he could have asked for anything because Loki owed him a favour

How the plot of Kingdom Hearts is so ridiculous we don't even question it anymore

Enormous muscly men I can still categorise as "super adorable and sweet" (Major Armstrong, All Might)

Howl being the biggest drama queen in the book

My Hero Academia's fantasy AU ending

Spider-Man (PS4) nailing the Friendly Neighbourhood Spidey aspect of the character and letting him interact with civilians

That moment when I was sure Bakugou was going to join the League of Villains but then he didn't and I've never been happier about being wrong my entire life

Zuko practising before asking the Gaang to join them

SNAP SNAP SPARK SPARK

Harry's wonder at every new thing in the Wizarding World

The fact that Spider-Man's backstory could just as easily be that of a villain but instead he's a hero and he has the biggest heart

Jake and Amy being in an Adult and Communicative relationship while still being themselves and each other's best friend

Winry being just as much of a prodigy as Ed and Al and building Ed's automail at 11 years old

Percy Jackson starting out as a standard straight white kids' series and Riordan adding ALL THE DIVERSITY as soon as it got popular enough that Disney couldn't say no

Charlie Weasley just outright trespassing into Hogwarts to smuggle an illegal dragon out

The soul and essence of Pride and Prejudice being passive-aggressiveness and sarcasm

Apollo's haikus in Trials of Apollo

Every scene using Deep Canvas in Tarzan

Winry and Edward's diametrically opposed reactions to the realisation they're in love ("Oh I guess I've fallen for him alright moving on" vs "Fuckfuckfuckfuck oh shit no why oh god aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh")

Lilo & Stitch's watercolour backgrounds

The fact that Roy Mustang's womanising persona is a facade to hide the fact that he's a) a huge nerd, b) going to overthrow the government and c) in love with his lieutenant

The "makings of greatness" speech in Treasure Planet

Spider-Man (PS4)'s swelling score as you start web swinging

The Battle of 1000 Heartless in Kingdom Hearts II

Sophie proudly describing Howl to Abdullah, him assuming she was listing flaws and her getting angry about it

Edward and Alphonse being atheists despite having literally met their version of God

The fact that Amajiki is one of the top three hero students despite his crippling anxiety

Rubicante recognising Edge as a warrior and apologising for Lugae's horribleness

Edge unlocking new powers out of sheer rage

Sora throwing a tea party at the end of Dream Drop Distance while his best friend was still asleep

The backstory in Skyward Sword about Hylia and the first Link

The "immoral manga" omake in Fullmetal Alchemist

The School Festival arc in My Hero Academia, Eri finally smiling and Deku and Mirio being the best big brothers I've ever seen

Kingdom Hearts III finally coming out this month

McGonagall's cat form resembling her human form

Edward finally breaking down at the end of Fullmetal Alchemist god I love this boy so much he has such a big heart

The Enlarged Suit Scene from Howl's Moving Castle

Most of Howl’s Moving Castle is a delight to be honest

Kairi's reaction at the news that she would be training with Axel in A Fragmentary Passage

The bonfire scene in Cosmo Canyon from Final Fantasy VII

Uraraka deciding not to focus on her crush on Deku in order to grow as a hero

Rydia summoning Titan and raising a mountain at the ripe age of seven in Final Fantasy IV

The friendship between Percy, Annabeth and Grover

Kairi and Lea looking like they're going to be a team in Kingdom Hearts III

Greed (at least the second one) claiming that his goal in life is to have everything when in fact he only ever really wanted friends

The Main Theme of Final Fantasy playing during the scene where the characters not in the final battle pray for the party in Final Fantasy IV

The Overture from Phantom of the Opera

Locke Lamora from the Gentleman Bastard Sequence being named after Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI

Luna Lovegood never having to change who she is and remaining weird and happy

Terra Branford becoming more human by feeling not romantic love but maternal love for a bunch of orphaned children

The "You're not alone" scene from Final Fantasy IX

Darcy respecting Elizabeth's refusal of his first proposal and working to become a better person after she points out his many flaws

Neku learning to open up to people in The World Ends With You and literally saving Shibuya through character development

Bakugou's slow development into a better person

The sketchy animation during Disney's Dark Age

The official character artwork for Skyward Sword

Harry and Sirius's relationship

Spider-Man being a street-level hero and being super humble even though he can literally lift Thor's hammer

That little high-five between Sora and Remy in the 30 seconds trailer for Kingdom Hearts III

Rosa and Rydia immediately ignoring the boys' order to not come to the Moon and stowing away on the Lunar Whale

Plus Edge's adorable "Y-you're here too!?" in the DS remake

Cloud not being allergic to smiling and joking around in the original Final Fantasy VII ("Let's mosey!")

Thor and Loki starting to mend their relationship in Ragnarok

Into The Spider Verse has a scene where Miles uses Spider-Man comic books to figure out how to use his powers and it's the best and I love it

You know what, Into The Spider Verse as a whole because I saw it a while back and I'm still gushing

[the-punforgiven]

Tagged by: @valenshawke​, thanks dude!

Rules:

Answer the 11 questions you’ve been asked

Nominate 11 other bloggers

Ask your nominees 11 questions

Let them know you’ve nominated them!

What book or movie changed your view on how the world works?

Honestly? a whole slew of generic fantasy movies, but not for the reasons you’d think. My mother let me watch them at like, elementary-school age, but she also let me watch the special features and making-of’s first, and as dumb and corny as that sounds it really helped me as a kid realize that a lot of the evils and shit around aren’t necessarily huge unstoppable monsters. Everyone’s human, y’know? I don’t watch a lot of movies I get most of my life-lessons from other media lmao

What’s your favorite fictional trope?

God, that’s a tough one. I don’t think I’ve really got a favourite but off the top of my head I’ll name “That thing where there’s one character is really badly injured but won’t accept any help until the other character’s like Listen Shut The Fuck Up And Let Me Heal You”, the equally-interesting counterpart of “Holy shit you’re injured you need help!” “Eh it’s not that bad it barely hurts tbh” or like, those types of characters who’ve done some bad, and understand that they need to atone but also kinda spiral a little too far into that until a character eventually has to be like “You! Don’t! Need! To! Die! For! Us!” and they just

... Oh either that or the Big Scary Guy Who’s Unabashedly Open And Loving With His Friends, that one is absolutely 100% among my absolute favourites

Why in the blue-hell did you join Tumblr?

I was curious about the memes lmao

What career did you want to have in high school and has that changed or stayed the same now?

Back in high school I wanted more than anything to be in a metal band with my friends, but I knew that since that’s not exactly a valid career path that I could try my hand at breaking into the animation industry as well. It’s stayed exactly the same. The only thing that’s changed is that the buddy I had who wanted to be a drummer in high school has totally bailed on me.

What was the first band you got wildly obsessed with?

Probably Children of Bodom tbh, I’m not sure if Dethklok counts since they’re not real but I got super into both of them around the same time lmao

What song do you love but are completely embarrassed by?

I oscillate wildly between not being embarrassed by any music I listen to because that’s just a part of who I am and being incredibly embarrassed for listening to anything at all. I’m not sure where I stand today

What’s a TV show you can or have re-watched multiple times and not get or have gotten sick of?

I’m not sure I have one, to be honest

What’s your favorite quote?

Don’t give up, Skeleton!

What’s the first video game you finished to completion?

Lego Batman 1 for the Nintendo DS was my shit. I 100%’d it back in the day. My skills came in handy for 100%ing Lego Batman 2 when my sister decided she wanted to play every character in the game

What’s the weirdest conversation you’ve can think of having with someone?

A very serious and incredibly angry half-hour rant on centaur physiology which segwayed into centaur pregnancy and why a specific franchise I will never mention got it completely fucking wrong a friend of mine and I had. I think that’s the closest I’ve ever been to becoming a full-fledged mad scientist. 

No, I absolutely refuse to elaborate. Please forget this has ever been mentioned.

OH I JUST REALIZED IT DOESN’T ASK THAT PAST TENSE

I dunno I’m pretty uncomfortable with a majority of NSFW topics for the most part so probably something in there lmao

What’s your most prized possession?

God at the risk of sounding like the most cliche musician trope ever, and unfortunately since I can never pick a single favorite, it’s probably my guitars. There is a reason for that though!

The three I have are a really crappy super cheap acoustic, the first guitar or indeed musical instrument I have ever owned, I’ve had it since I was a kid and despite it being in worse shape than I am, I love that thing.

I’ve also got a Not-An-Actual-Strat, or as I call it, The Electric Guitar That’s Nearly Everyone’s First, which holy shit if you’d have seen me back when I first got it we were nearly fuckin inseparable for months lmao. It was another gift from my dad, and I really love the thought behind it since he promised me he’d never buy me something like this until I had proved I’d earned it, or at the very least proved I’d been practicing, and I fuckin did. That and on the Christmas Day I’d opened it he got one too, which unsurprisingly lead to my first honest to goodness jam session, which was cool as hell

My last guitar, and the one I play the most is a Warlock, and I fucking LOVE that thing for not only how it sounds, feels, and looks, but also because it was the first guitar that I fuckin bought with my own goddamn money. I scraped and saved, I fuckin bled for this thing, and god damn if it wasn’t worth it.

... I’m sorry for the 4 paragraphs about guitars lmao, I’m uh, real enthusiastic about music lmao

I’ve got no idea what questions I’d write or people I’d tag, so I don’t think I can finish the rest of this though, sorry...

[lasclfindyour]

Viva caligula in hell adult swime games

#VIVA CALIGULA IN HELL ADULT SWIME GAMES FREE#

I loved the art of the game, one of the features of the game was collecting illistrations for your gallerie and they were beautiful. When I got home I told my Nan and she rang my cousins mum, but her response was "she probably did it herself to get in trouble!" but my nan was on my side (she knew how much I loved that game) and I never had to go to their house alone ever again.ĮTA: They somewhat recently re-released the game on Nintendo DS but they re drew all the art for it, and it looked so bad. I couldn't say anything, she was older than me and her mum was evil. Then I was telling her about my game and we were about to put it on, and I opened it, and the disc was snapped in half. They had a Playstation, and when I got there, I took the game out of my bag and left it by the Playstation in her room and then just left it while we played in the garden and had dinner and all that. Anyways, I took my favourite game with me to her house, I hadn't been there for a long time and I thought maybe she's be ok, because she actually asked for me to stay. She used to say things like "ha ha, you don't have a dad/you're mum is on drugs/you're poor" just general nasty things, but considering she's about 3 years older than me, she really should have known better, she would also hit me any time she could get away with it. My cousin (STEP cousin) was always really horrible to me. I got stuck on one bit, it was really complicated, but it was because of my age, I couldn't understand what the game wanted me to do. I played it for months, compared to other games I had at the time it felt like I could do so much! I would walk the cave systems for ages, try to capture monsters to trade, I even made real life maps of the cave systems and towers, so that I wouldn't get lost in future. I picked it up and held onto it until my nan came back to get me. And the picture (this was before they started showing anime on children's channels in England) was like nothing I'd ever seen. Usually, there would be multiple copies but there was only one. We didn't go to the market often but when we did I would spend the whole time looking at the games, until time came to leave and I would pick the ones I wanted. There would always be a stall selling pirated games (we called them 'copy' games) and usually you'd get like 2 for £5, or 5 for £10. Every Saturday there was a market in this empty parking lot behind the hospital (which was like a 10 minuet walk from my house) and they sold all sorts of (usually knock-off) clothes, household items, music, jewellery, there was even a meat van selling cheap meat. Semarang report adult, Xhtml form design, Weller 8200 soldering gun manual, 2 poly warm form, Pictures high resolution.It was for original Playstation and it was an imported Japanese RPG. Help the new Emperor CaligulaĬastlevania symphony of the night strategy guide Rome has fallen into a city of Drunk, Violent and Perverse citizens. Full Repair Base 2008-2014 AllPlay Viva Caligula Hacked and Unblocked. Download or read online viva caligula weapon guide. Slaughter tortured souls with over twenty different weapons, and face down other dead tyrants viva caligula all weapons CALIGULA III - Imperator des Schreckens - deutscher Trailer - Duration: 3 viva caligula weapon guide.pdf. Caligula's reign on Earth is over, so now Hell must face his wrath. Gather 26 different weapons, destroy fellow Romans and discover the Orgy Room. Where can i find a weapon location guide for the online game viva caligula. Tiny adventures dungeons and dragons guide Want to known the locations of all the weapons in a handy map format? Click the following link! /25f20dz.png (PS: If

#VIVA CALIGULA IN HELL ADULT SWIME GAMES FREE#

Play Adult Swim's Viva Caligula, a free online flash game on. Why should Emperor Caligula have to pay for his sins? Pay them forward in Viva Caligula! In Hell! as you battle Hitler, Stalin and other evil dudes to take your Gather 26 different weapons, destroy fellow Romans and discover the Orgy Room. Best Answer: You ALREADY have the weapons! This is different from the original Viva Caligula, where you had to go around actually 'finding'