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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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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?”

Jon stared blankly at her.

“There was an invite?”

“...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.

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #tma fanfic #jonathan sims #annabelle cane #oliver banks #basira hussain #agnes montague #and a ton more #tcf was about deciding to change #and this story kind of hits at how difficult it is deciding who to change into #and how difficult it is to trust your own decisions when you've been manipulated since the second you were 'born'#jon and his choices and agency is becoming a big thing for me!

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benedicto-sinfiel · 4 years ago

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Crowds

Almost all the decisions we make in our daily lives have more to do with automatized rituals than with autonomous acts, much less with gestures of freedom. Our days are more-or-less predetermined by the voracious demands of the economic system. Since we are young, they teach us to love work and hate play, despise it even. Anyone with a job knows what I’m saying. As you might expect, my daily ritual during work days was the stuff of nightmares one would find in a J. G. Ballard novel, a form of terror grounded on perpetual boredom and minor yet pervasive anxieties. Daily, I somehow found the strength to leave bed, ate breakfast (if time permitted), and then rushed to catch bus 299 which leaves me two blocks away from the warehouse. I work alongside what they call mojados (undocumented immigrants), old chinese women with fragile skin, and some aging felons under extreme heat while being submitted to increasing forms of domination. We load boxes of regional citrus fruits for a living. Our work speed is defined by the capacities of the conveyor belt that moves the fruit laboriously through such advanced technology as to give one the impression that such marvels ought to lessen the burden of work rather than raise it. After we pack a box full of grapefruits or oranges, we place it on our worn-out shoulders and carry it to the back of the warehouse, where they check the quality of our work and keep tabs of our loads. We get paid by the box, not by the hour as is legally required. If we can’t keep up with the minimum speed allowed - 6 boxes an hour, at the least - you get pushed back to the street without a paycheck or a job. “There are hundreds just like you just dying to take your place, best not forget,” the managers make sure to remind us a few times a week. At 75 cents per box, 70 boxes per day on average, 430 per week, we ended up with around $200 come pay day, after the bosses had taken their cut for providing water and rotten foodstuffs. I thought, they give us water as a trucker feeds oil to his truck, all while denying us pavilions of dreams and spaces of hope, and they charge us for it! This is why, as the worker-poet T-Bone Slim wrote, this is why workers are broke everyday but payday. The thieving bosses pay us just enough to keep us alive, for us to show up at work the next day. It’s a losers game, and fewer and fewer are winning these days. The first thing I noticed while walking into Bodega Fruta Libre was a group of five new workers who, as usual, were being given quick instructions before being thrown to the aggressive orders of the conveyor belt. It was their first day, hell even before the official start of their first day, and their faces already carried the look of doom, the look that says - I know something bad is coming, I’m not sure what it is, but it is out there, waiting for me, like a yearning leopard waiting to devour his tragically easy prey. Later I learned they were from Ethiopia. During our 20 minute lunch break, they were already complaining about the work. “This is too fast. My arm - almost gone, man!” expressed one of them. Him and his friends began to laugh about it, making jokes only they could understand in a blend of Amharic, english, and some obscure sounding language. We waited at the bus stop looking like a murder of crows, silent, bleak, and essentially harmless. Our friends from Ethiopia were visibly uncomfortable, I knew the look, but after a week of being here they would learn what it feels like to be worn slam out by the violence of the conveyor belt, at least physically speaking. I decided to introduce myself, lest they get the wrong idea about us. “Rough first day?” I asked. “Yes, friend. Rough shit indeed,” said one of them with a grin, “by the way, my name is Ife.” “I’m Antonio, see y’all tomorrow,” I said and waved hello-goodbye to the rest of them. Their young faces looked exhausted. Today had been their initiation into the American nightmare - the seemingly invisible cruelty that underlies the rhythm, flow, and quality of our lives - and they didn’t even know it, yet. I got off the bus on the corner of Elsa and Fields street and decided to walk home the rest of the way, making a pit stop at the Montes’ corner store. Then, the nightly ritual began: a few shots of whisky and a steady stream of whatever drink was at hand, today it was rum and coke. I sat down and thought of better things to come. That was the only thing that made reality pleasant. Dreamin’, that is. The intoxicating effect led me down the royal road where memories, history, and dreams converge. I saw strange snapshot images like the flashes created by fireworks: tired detectives, piles of bodies scattered like leaves in a warehouse, machines engulfed by fire, the reflection of the moon. Then, a more familiar montage of despair and hope: visions of youthful torment gave way to the gleaming spark of the cold flame that lit within me during the eventful days of yesteryear. I stumble upon crowds, a sea of enthusiastic, exalted, and enraged faces trying to find words, each other, themselves. They did it with such urgency that made you think they had never attempted to express themselves before. The crowd was debating it all - work, cities, music, jokes, buildings, poetry, love, history, and the importance of games. “What to do? Where to go? Who will join me?” wondered the multitude aloud with piercing eyes. “Let’s unbury the dead and conjure the ghosts that haunt us!” shouted someone in an attempt to win over the crowd. “The tears of the bosses are the nectar of the gods!” said another as the crowd laughed and enjoyed itself, merging and blending in unexpected ways, giving way to new forms and shapes. “Society is a carnivorous flower!” announced someone else. The crowd went on debating and throwing everything into the destructive force inherent to the critique of everyday life. A strange sound began to engulf everything. The atmosphere and our mood mutated as the blinding red and blue lights of freedom captured the night sky, the buildings, and the faces in the crowd. The sound of police sirens benumbed us and we were forced to disperse by the burning shower of rubber bullets and tear gas thrown our way. The passing of time has the effect of demolishing everything that stands in its way. People, places, my own self, were constantly changing, but nothing new or better ever seemed to replace anything. Old buildings were demolished by the city and nothing was built in their place. We live among ruins in a forgotten border town. I sat on bus 299 headed to work. Last night I dreamt of crowds and today I am immersed in them as I make my way to work. Real life crowds seem to be united by their disunity, I thought. People walk past each other daily without ever stopping to think about how much we would gain by embracing each other, which is to say ourselves. Where are the starving, restless crowds of yesteryear?

#short story

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kingofthewilderwest · 6 years ago

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I don’t think it was wrong for hiccup to put his first best friend toothless over his people. Because I would do the same for my dog. Animal lives are far more important then human lives. Humans are horrible so why should someone who got bullied his whole life care about the people who tormented him over an animal who actually cares about him and doesn’t judge him. Humans judge you animals don’t. Thoughts on this?

Seeing a discussion topic like this gives me immediate flashbacks to my undergrad in Philosophy and those Ethics courses. XD

There’s several things that pop into my head about this ask, since you’re bringing up multiple topics that could be debated in depth ethically. I want to make several things clear in my response before I get the ball rolling:

I may be wrong, but you, friend, sound like someone who lives life through your heart. If so, I imagine that means you find emotions and feelings extremely important, and these are used to guide your life choices. It’d be the framework by which you see of the world. Your perspective is valuable and beautiful. <3 <3I do want to make you aware, though, I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum. I’m not able to respond to this question with the same emotive values-based discussion because I think differently. I navigate the world with a logic focus. The fact the two of us differ and have different ideas about us is beautiful! Please understand none of what I say will be dismissing, devaluing, or decrying your perspective, just supplying my own alternate framework.Now, sometimes people talk about ‘cold logic’ as though it’s separate from morality, but I believe logical choices require conscientious moral judgment. If you ignore morality when you make a choice, you’re not being logical because you’re not taking all important factors into account. This means that my discussion will be a LOT more logical than you probably think about this topic, or expected me to handle it. But this is the way I can respect and tackle the ethical questions! <3 I just want to give you the forewarning! But to answer any other way would be to deceptively lie about my beliefs here.

Interesting as the topic is, I don’t want to turn this into a back-and-forth discussion with anyone. But I do want to point out before I provide my thoughts: different ethical schools of thought have existed for millennia for a reason. Ethics is an extraordinarily nuanced topic and ergo, hard to arrive at a definitive “answer” for, even when we’re all acting out of love. And frankly, ethics is a topic I think humans are incapable of fully understanding.

As you discuss it, animals are worth more because you see them as morally pure. Humans, however, have moral failings and can do terrible things. The people of Berk hurt Hiccup, which makes them less valuable to you.

To me, this brings up three big relevant questions:

Is someone’s value based on their morality?

Can we judge animals on morality in the same way we do humans?

How immoral were the Hairy Hooligans?

But the final concluding remarks I’ll have (see Read More) will be looking at THW. I’m not 100% sure which part of canon you’re discussing, but since THW showcases Hiccup needing to make a choice between staying with Toothless or becoming a human leader apart from dragons…

In THW, it’s not a strict matter of putting animals or humans first. Either Hiccup hangs out with Toothless and puts both species in danger, or Hiccup gives humans and dragons and Toothless what is best for everyone. And if Hiccup wanted to stay with Toothless, he’d only be making a choice based on his own happiness, not on whether or not he’s actually helping his friend (Toothless will have a happy life even if he leaves New Berk). In the end, Hiccup’s two moral options mean his outcome is either “happy” or “less happy,” but the results for everyone around him is “saved” or “condemned” to war and possible death. And choosing a preference of happy vs unhappy instead of life vs death to me is something I wouldn’t call ethically responsible. Hiccup putting the people of Berk first before hanging out with Toothless is something I’d call the right choice.

The first question is one I care about a lot personally. It’s deep in my values, I mean. You don’t have to agree with me, that’s chill, but again: the reason different ethical frameworks exist is because ethics is complicated! XD

I have strong beliefs that all lives are inherently valuable. As I believe, neither productivity in society nor ethical choice changes the fact lives are innately valuable. When someone is evil, the reason that is disturbing isn’t because they’re “automatically bad” and “born horrible”; it’s because they have a valuable soul that they corrupted through their unseemly life choices. All of us are human and all of us err. All of us could have lived a life purer than we did, and all of us could have descended to worse evil than we did. We all have within us the potential to be horribly evil, and we all have within us the potential to be a thoughtful and considerate soul. Our value doesn’t wax and wane as we calculate our ratio of sins to virtue, because the tragedy of the sin is that our innately valuable soul is being used for evil instead of the good it could do.

This is also coming from someone who hates the idea that people “deserve” to have bad things happen to them. And I am also someone who hates ideas of revenge or “getting back at someone.” If a person hurt you, they hurt you and that’s wrong, but that doesn’t give you the right to stoop to their level and hurt them back. You’re just repeating what they did and making yourself as bad as they were in the first place. That’s petty and cruel. (Note: this is different than discipline, which is done with an intent to curb dangerous effects for someone’s actions, and to correct behavior to help someone grow.)

Humans can be horrible. Unfortunately, you’re right. Our species can be awful. I think that’s why we need to take actions to help our species grow. Helping other humans is a step we need to take to make society better and less horrible. The more we make choices to help people, the more we fight back on the horrible things humans do to one another - then in turn, the more we prevent those things from happening. For some, they’ll keep being evil. But for many others, they’ll be taught how to be better, and as they grow, they’ll become more acting agents working to make the world a better place. It’s to note that, in many cases, people make horrible choices because they were victims and weren’t put in an environment where they could fully learn to act healthily; this is unfortunately why abuse may continue generation to generation in families. Kids grow up to enact the same abuse their parents did to them. Ergo, someone can be both a victim and a perpetrator. Instead of condemning that behavior as an indicator of evil in human society, and say these people deserve to be left behind… I’d rather step in to prevent the cycle from continuing, and give the next generations a chance to grow and live happier, healthier, kinder, and more compassionate lives.

Hiccup abandoning the Hairy Hooligans makes no social progress and doesn’t give humanity a chance to grow to be better people; Hiccup helping the Hairy Hooligans does good work. This isn’t to say we’re morally obligated to help everyone who does a wrongdoing (we’re not), but it is something to keep in mind before we say that someone should suffer and/or be punished because they’ve done wrong.

And I think that Hiccup being the chief of Berk makes him especially responsible to them.

So for me, I don’t think that the Hooligans’ behavior toward Hiccup is any excuse for letting them suffer. The world is a better place by preventing a cycle of more suffering, not perpetuating it. And in the case of Hiccup’s conflict between him and Toothless, this is a matter of saving lives from an upcoming war - a pretty big deal.

But my ethical opinionating here can be sidestepped through the other two questions I raised. Whether or not you agree with me here, I think we can look at two other relevant angles fresh.

The second question deals with how we judge animal morality. I’ve heard debaters mention dolphins save lives and murder people, suggesting moral behaviors akin to humans. I’ve seen people talk about how dogs show guilt after they’ve done something they know will bother owners. I’ve seen people point out that whether or not humans can morally kill to eat meat is different than discussing whether or not carnivores like lions (whose entire biology requires meat) can morally kill to eat meat.

But honestly for me, I think it’s comparing apples to oranges, and we get nowhere by trying to put a human framework on a species that isn’t human. I don’t want to project my human values on their behaviors. Dogs, lions, and dolphins won’t have the same internal psychology as me on account of them being different species. I can’t judge a dog for acting like a dog because I can’t be a dog knowing how dogs think through choices.

So to say that one creature is more valuable than another on account of their moral perspectives… to me is impossible to do. To say one species deserves suffering more than another frankly bothers me. (And yes, that includes ants, spiders, snakes, and wasps. I squeed happily when I saw a snek the other night - what an adorable cutie <3 ).

The third question I think is the most relevant. How much wrong did the Hairy Hooligans really do to Hiccup? And are they irredeemable for it?

Hiccup felt ostracized from his tribe because he couldn’t kill dragons like they could. He didn’t feel like his father respected who he was, and was hurt by some of the things Stoick said about/to him. He was taunted by peers for being a screw-up. The adults of the tribe could speak harshly to/of him, too.

Now, I don’t want to defend the people of Berk in their bad choices. I don’t think it’s okay to mock your peers, for instance. I don’t agree with disowning a kid ever. But at the same time, I think it’s important to look at both sides of what went down in Hiccup’s situation in HTTYD 1.

1. Hiccup is not innocent. Hiccup’s struggles are understandable. He wants to fit in in a society that’s filled with dragon-fighting Vikings. He wants to be a dragon-fighting Viking too because that means he’ll no longer feel like the odd one out. The desire to fit in and be respected is especially prominent in teenaged years. Teens want to fit in badly, and they can emotionally struggle thinking “I’m different and no one understands or respects me.” Ergo, Hiccup wants to murder dragons, JUST like everyone else.

Hiccup’s desire to fit in with a warrior culture is so strong he makes VERY BAD choices. Hiccup repeatedly charges into battle. Hiccup is an untrained teenager who shouldn’t be in a dangerous dragon fight. He’s a liability, not just for himself, but for everyone in the village. He can make the battle harder for the fighters, and he can put himself in harm’s way so that now others have to save him. Hiccup trying to fight dragons is outright irresponsible, and puts not only his own life at risk, but the lives of the adults around him. I can sympathize with him wanting to fit in and prove his worth… his emotional pains are relatable… but he’s going about it the wrong way. Trying to fit in by putting others’ lives in danger is not okay.

There’s a reason the Vikings of Berk are annoyed at this kid. Hiccup is repeatedly instructed not to put his and their lives in danger. He keeps doing it, putting his selfish insecurities first and their safety last. When the Vikings grumble, it’s because this kid is making bad, selfish choices.

And let’s be real: it’s not so different a world where Hiccup could have killed Toothless with his first shot. And if he did, would he have become a repeated dragon killer like the others? He’s living in a culture where that is the norm, and his desires (as evident in the start of the first film) show he’s not separate from his culture. A unique set of circumstances was what allowed Hiccup to stare deep into Toothless’ eyes, reflect on what he was doing, and make a choice to be different (a hard choice that he derided himself for, and only grew to accept as his friendship with the dragon grew).

2. They’re at war. The Hairy Hooligans do not know about the Red Death. They don’t know that the dragons are being forced to raid the village. All they know is that their livestock, their homes, and their lives are in jeopardy because enormous winged beasts attack them. The dragons are attacking their settlement, not the other way around. The Vikings have never made it to the dragon nest and the dragons’ environment, but the dragons appear to be the aggressors.

The Vikings, as far as they can understand their situation, are defending themselves. They’ve had to learn to fight dragons to stay alive.

In the middle of a war, a kid comes up to you and says the enemy’s okay. How easy is that going to be to accept? Especially when the Kill Ring turns into chaos, and both a Night Fury and a Monstrous Nightmare are fighting humans?

Hiccup might be trying to show them that dragons aren’t what they thought, but to be fair, most wars don’t evaporate when one kid tells you everybody can be friends. For generations, the dragons have been a proven aggressive threat.

The Hairy Hooligans killed dragons. The Hairy Hooligans were very harsh when Hiccup stated that dragons weren’t the enemy. That’s not cool… but in this sort of circumstance, isn’t it easy to see that the people of Berk could see Hiccup as a traitor putting their lives in danger? A society that’s trying to defend themselves from death… is in greater threat because this wild kid is bringing up a wild idea that’ll probably lead to more death.

Is that actually widespread thoughtless bullying?

3. Parenting is HAAARD and the entire plot of HTTYD is a rift between father and son BOTH being imperfect. Stoick said a few harsh and unwarranted things to Hiccup, but in many cases, Stoick was doing his best with what a father should do: calling out his son for bad behavior, and trying to connect in positive ways. Stoick is not a Bad Guy Dad. He and Hiccup have a rift that makes it hard to understand and communicate with one another (but the difficulties go BOTH WAYS).

Stoick does live in a society which values dragon fighting, and Stoick (as a good dragon fighter) values it a lot. Hiccup understands that and knows his father will respect him if he fights dragons. While Stoick would be ecstatic for his son to exceed in the warrior ways, he’s also not a father PUSHING his son to be a fighter. In fact, he protests when Gobber suggests Hiccup goes to training… Stoick doesn’t want his boy hurt. When he fans over Hiccup being chosen to kill the dragon in the ring, it’s because he thinks his son is already a fighter.

We can understand why Stoick makes the choices he did, and even though they’re not 100% perfect, they’re also understandable things that a caring parent does in difficult situations with difficult kids.

4. People change. AND THE PEOPLE OF BERK *DID*.

Hiccup got taunted by Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut for being a screw-over. Now they’re his best friends and help him save dragons. Hiccup was dismissed as a nuisance by the tribe when he was a teenager. Now the tribe cheers his name and accepts him, with pride, as their leader. Hiccup was considered a problem because he wanted to befriend dragons. Now the tribe’s ENTIRE CULTURE changed because they realized the boy was right, and the entire tribe has taken on the duty of trying to protect, save, train, and befriend dragons.

You’re right that Hiccup got bullied and hurt by his tribe (I doubt this was his whole life, and I doubt it was the whole tribe, but yes, Hiccup had some bad interactions happen). But that’s not how it ended. The people of Berk profoundly revolutionized their society because they came to respect Hiccup’s ideas. They changed. They don’t bully Hiccup anymore, and the worst they do in THW is dismiss Hiccup’s ideas as youthful, naive, or impractical. That’s not some high level moral offense.

Tumblr is awful about decrying bad actions without understanding that humans constantly grow. What we once were isn’t who we are today and isn’t who we will be tomorrow. People grow, people become better, and life becomes better when a previously bad person learns the error of their ways… repents… and starts doing good.

If we don’t allow humans to change… then we can’t fully endorse moral behavior when it does happen. If we don’t allow humans to change… we’ll be punishing people for who they were rather than who they are. If we don’t allow people to change… we’re the assholes stuck in the past, not them. If we don’t allow humans to change… we lose allies, we lose friends, we lose agents who can make the world a better place. The Hairy Hooligans are agents of good change. As Hiccup says at the end of HTTYD 2, “We are the voice of peace, and bit by bit, we will change this world.”

So I suppose I don’t agree with your initial premise: that the Hairy Hooligans are bullies, horrible humans, tormentors who screw Hiccup over. On the contrary, I feel like the Hairy Hooligans are supporters of Hiccup, the Hiccup Fan Club, the people who believe in him, the people who follow him, the people who will leave their lifelong home and follow him on a quest to save dragons, because these are a people who value him. Are these horrible immoral people who don’t deserve help?

But I think the moral question all boils down to this:

In The Hidden World, Hiccup can either put his friendship with Toothless first, or he can put his leadership of New Berk first.

When Hiccup puts his friendship with Toothless first in THW, it starts by him trying to stay with Toothless. When Hiccup puts dragons first in THW, it starts by him wanting to protect over all dragons in Berk. Hiccup decides to leave Berk and search for the Hidden World because he’s thinking about the dragons. He thinks he’ll be able to live with humans and dragons together at peace, everyone safe, including Toothless. Hiccup isn’t thinking about the rest of his tribe so much as he’s thinking about how he can continue to save dragons and continue his friendship with Toothless.

Of course the solution in THW suggests that what’s best for Toothless is for them to part ways. If Hiccup and Toothless don’t part, the Hairy Hooligans AND the dragons (including Toothless!) stay in greater danger. Hiccup’s selflessness toward Toothless is letting his friend leave his side. It is a choice for Toothless, and ultimately, as THW wants to frame it, the best choice.

But of course, the conflict of THW is that Hiccup thinks that what’s best for the dragons is for everyone to stay together. And in doing so, Hiccup puts the Hairy Hooligans in danger. Because humans and dragons are still together, dangerous people like Grimmel and the warlords will be after them. Even if they defeat Grimmel and the warlords, more people will be antagonistic against them and the dragons. This means that, if Hiccup keeps putting his initial concept of “Toothless first” and “dragons first,” he puts the Hairy Hooligans in DANGER of war.

And this is where the moral choice becomes clear to me.

Putting you and your friend’s HAPPINESS over an entire population’s SAFETY is something I understand the desire of emotionally, but it’s something I can’t ethically condone.

You can either:

Save a city of people from tyranny, war, and possible death (while giving up hanging out with one friend, who’ll live a good life regardless) OR

Give you and your friend happiness, and in the process condemn the stability and safety of hundreds of people - who are the people you’ve officially sworn to protect as their official governing ruler.

One of these choices screws people over, the other doesn’t.

It isn’t a matter of animals over humans, because in one choice, the humans and the animals are both safe, and in the other choice, you get to have fun with one animal while putting everyone in grave danger.

Anyway! You got me pulled down a long response, haha! HTTYD is amazing because of how it gives us beautiful non-human characters like Toothless. I love that, too. Animals are important and beautiful! And so are you and I hope you have an amazing day! Take care!

#THW #The Hidden World #httyd3 #httyd 3 #How to Train Your Dragon 3 #httyd #How to Train Your Dragon #Hiccup #Toothless #Hiccup and Toothless #ask #ask me #awesome anonymous friend #anonymous #analysis #my analysis

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rawdiscordfic · 5 years ago

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cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

' legosi . ' his voice is accusatory yet flat in some rights , as it typically would be when legosi is the target . he's never been very kind to other carnivores , especially those like him , the dreaded apex . yet somehow , that isn't the reason he happens to be so cold . ' i'm sure you're wondering why i called you here . sit . ' his gesture is mild mannered at most , flicking his wrist to the chair across from him . his legs cross , closed off . ' i've noticed you're more distracted than usual during club hours . what are you so busy daydreaming about ? '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/18/2020

'yes ?' he looks a little nervous , but his voice is somewhat level . even while he seems to stumble into the room , like he knocked into something on his way in . he was wondering , but he wouldn't ask . he could swear he was jumping to conclusions with louis daily , mostly in his head : but the fact he wants to ask so bad eats at him . he clambers into the seat , his knees higher up than his ass like the chair was too short for him . 'dist --- oh , uh ... no . that's how i am normally ?' he tries to explain , random gestures of his hands given to himself . 'i'm ... sorry if that bothers you , louis ..'

cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

and then there's the arm cross . doubly closed off . his brows even furrow as his eyes follow legosi lowering into his seat , and angrily takes in how he doesn't quite fit in it , when louis himself fits just fine . his eyes pick up and lock onto legosi's with a fierceness , like he's judging him , or evaluating him in his head , whether or not he's even worthy to sit there across from him . his legs uncross and cross again the opposite way , while his gaze fixates on legosi's hands . ' so you take me as a fool ? i can tell when you're more lost than usual . spit it out . what's bothering you ? '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/18/2020

his eyes leave and return , flicking down to his lap , the painting on the wall , and back to louis . why did he have to look at him like this ?.. wait , who's the carnivore here ? 'a fo --- no , of course not !' suddenly he looks panicked , pupils decreased in size . the one time he looks at him , he's looking elsewhere . legosi shoves his hands in his pockets , almost self consciously . 'i ... um ..' oh god . could he really ask him this ?.. the answer's no . but ... 'louis ... d ... are you .... do you like males ? ... i'm sorry if that's intrusive ! i've just ... been wondering .'

cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

a brow raises in turn , skeptical . ' then don't lie to me . ' he replies , bluntly . index finger taps along his arm to an impatient beat , which picks up more the more reclusive legosi becomes . the lack of confidence bothers him so much . a carnivore , with everything going for him , pretending to be a coward . it's despicable . his mind wanders enough to lose track of the conversation , but the second legosi outs with his concern makes louis's finger freeze mid tap . his eyes widen . ' what ? ' the stun subsides in an instant in favor of hostility . he even drops his legs and arms and hunches toward legosi like he just might pounce on him for saying something so ' outlandish ' . ' you --- that's what you've been thinking about so much ? why would it even concern you ?? '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/18/2020

apparently , louis doesn't know this is normal for him : but legosi isn't aware he's bothered at all . he just assumes this is how he always is . he stops tapping and suddenly he feels like he's made a horrible mistake , only amplified by louis' what . he swallows , mouth opening before closing again at his open display of hostility . he even shrinks back a little , hands raised sheepishly in defense . 'w .. well !.. it .. it's ... n ... evermind ?' he knows he won't accept that . 'i mean !.. you - you asked me to bite you ... and ... no one's ever .. even wanted me close to them ---'

cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

and then he backtracks ? he asks something so rude and then just takes it all back ? louis's eyes narrow further , with an air of distaste to his expression , mixed in with the already tense air . he says nothing , and then quickly and abruptly stands , and it only takes one or two steps to enclose the distance between them . he takes legosi by the tie and yanks him to eye level , near nose to nose . ' you're a coward . i'm trying to bring out the animal in you . ' he near growls , but his voice is just too smooth to achieve it . ' your sheep's clothing annoys me . take responsibility for who you are . '(edited)

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/18/2020

he looks around stupidly until he's drawn in with a choked back yelp , blinking at the fact they were suddenly so close . a coward ?.. something about it angers him , but he's quick to hide it . in a world where being so ... feral was a bad thing , why would louis be mad he restrains himself ? the frustration is channeled into the hand that grabs his wrist , off of his tie , and takes him down in an almost literal sense . he realizes what he's done , and draws away just as quickly . '... sorry . but .. with all due respect , i don't think it's your place to tell me i should be attacking you . not in the world we're in now .'

cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

legosi's hand snatching his makes him gasp lightly and in turn back off , to the point where the back of his legs touch the edge of the seat he hastily leapt out of . it bothers him that when legosi stands he's forced to look up at him . so much so it registers on his face . he clicks his tongue and averts his gaze . ' as if i'd take criticism from the likes of you . all you do is pretend to be someone you're not . ' his head lifts again , as a impulsive decision parts his mouth and makes him say something he shouldn't. ' i’m making you angry. you’ll go as far as to salivate and tear me to shreds . am i right ? '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/18/2020

'i'm not critiquing you . you should be able to live however you want . i ... i want to do that too , and that doesn't mean killing anybody .' he replies , surprisingly level . he didn't even know he was so passionate about this until louis questioned him . he stops at his confession of sorts however , eyes widening and mouth parting a little bit . he blinks , like he doesn't know how to reply . he does so a little too late . 'i don't eat meat ... i stand by that .'

cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

there's a certain level of conviction in legosi's tone that catches louis off guard . it's near impressive , but not enough to convince him , unsurprisingly . legosi's stare inherently brings out his instincts , and his heart leaps , and his breathing shallows , if only slightly . he can't keep his neck muscles lax . ' so now you're un interested , are you ? ' he says , tone accusatory yet again . his head turns away with a huff of a laugh , and while it is , he brushes back his hair to expose his neck to him , offering legosi a fierce look and a smirk . ' what will you do ? ' his smile leaves in favor of a grimace , and he takes legosi by the wrist to tug him in toward him . ' you're lying . bite me , legosi . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/18/2020

he can tell he's nervous under his stare , but if he doesn't notice he's staring in the first place there's not much he can do . 'int .. you .. brought it up ,' he comments , but his voice wavers a little bit . he laughs and he looks even more confused , his eyes searching the room . it's unclear if he wants an out , or a reason any of this would be funny . he looks back in time for his neck to be exposed , eyes widening even further . his face is nearly red , but in truth , he is fighting the urge to drool right now . the face louis would do this is ... he barely even catches that confirmation when he looks him in the eyes again . he wants to say nothing , but he pulls him in and all he can do is gasp . he takes a while to tear his eyes away , gulping . 'l - louis !.. stop , i ... i'd kill you ---' he shakes his head . 'last time you got scared ... and i'm telling you i don't ---'(edited)

cock-hungry dog.04/18/2020

louis isn't having this passive attitude with his neck bared to a carnivore . his grip on legosi's wrist becomes vice in nature . seeing how legosi's complexion changes , and how he struggles to keep the saliva in his mouth over something as mundane as him flashing his neck ... makes louis' breath shallow . albeit his clasp is unwavering , he can't stop his god forsaken hand from shaking , and the frustration of that causing him to balance it with him yanking legosi in again , far closer . ' don't patronize me . do it . ' his voice is steady , but his brows knit . ' put your mouth against my skin . 'April 19, 2020

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

he wants to snatch away , but at the same time disrespecting the saint of the theatre weighed heavy . would he get put on curtain duty ?.. ugh . he does feel his hand shaking , though . maybe he'd let him go on his own accord . 'patr --- you're my friend , i don't want to --- .' oh fuck . his next statement makes him shake , and he swallows . he blinks at him , eyes a little more dilated , maybe . louis doesn't get a chance to blink before legosi's lunged across his desk , and everything falls off of it with a crash . he's ripped out of louis' grasp , which inevitably makes brings the smaller closer : close enough for the carnivore to have his upper body in a vice grip . he swallows again , and his adam’s apple can be felt against louis' exposed neck . he's looking past him with crazed eyes , until he seems to calm down . he sighs , but still hasn't let him go . 'louis .' he says , calmly . 'i'm . not . eating you .'

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

louis would have antagonized him more had he had the opportunity . before he's able to even comprehend what took place , he's thrown down into the desk with legosi's neck pushed flush into the side of his own , where surely his pulse would give away how quickly his heart was beating . ' ghhk ... ss .. ' he shudders , against his better judgement . every ounce of his skin screams for him to buck him away and run , yet he remains still , like he had no desire to . he isn't certain for what reason , even now . his voice makes him feel a chill roll up his spine . ' ... ergh .. you ... ' he's tempted to say beast , but he knows he was the one who provoked him to begin with . he feels dizzy enough to have his face redden . ' then ... don't . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

legosi has to take a moment more to come down from his high , even if he is perched on his friend's desk and knocked over all of his things : some that shattered . his immediate apologetic self seemed to be out of commission , and his chest heaves hard against louis . a moment passes . what is he doing ..? he says don't , and he pulls away . crawls off of the desk . has the gall to sit back down . he stares at him blankly , like he hasn't fully snapped out of ... whatever that was . though he could swear he was fully conscious if louis' throat wasn't in his mouth by now . '... didn't .. you ask for it ?' his eyes narrow , in an almost accusatory manner . the tables had turned for sure . 'what ... do you want from me ? why did you call me here ?'

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

his heart pounds so hard against his chest that he feels lightheaded , which leaves him to strain to control himself . his hands , once limp at his sides , submitting to his fate , raise and clasp at legosi's shirt at each side . no matter how tight her makes his fists there , his hands still shake . it's disgusting . yet when the larger pulls back it's like he had no grip to begin with , his hands peeling off and falling to his sides , barely strong enough to hold up his weight by the elbows just so he can sit up enough to see him . he's disheveled , his hair , his shirt . one leg hangs loosely off his desk while the other braces on top of it . he heaves , by instinct . ' ... what do i .. you ... ' is he that stupid or is he making fun of him ? ' ... come here , legosi . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

things are starting to set in now , the more he feels like he's sinking into this chair . he starts to panic , a cold sweat beading at his forehead , eyes glancing around the room again . this time he can see what's been left in his wake of destruction , and one of those things seems to be louis . he can't help but notice the wrinkles in his shirt and how messy his hair looks , and he wants to offer help or an apology before louis shuts him up by talking . he blinks , but obeys . anything to right his wrongs . he circles around the desk flippantly , brows furrowed in worry . 'l - louis i'm really sorry --- i .. why did you ... do .. i --- so .. r...'

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

the damage to the objects around him are the last thing he has on his mind at the moment . he looks relatively calm for just being pounced on by a carnivore , although frazzled in a different way . it registers in the furrow in his brow that almost looks like it'd upturn , and how his eyes lid , and how his breathing is still not quite under wraps still . legosi stands and meets him , and louis takes him by the tie once more , but clearly has no desire to provoke him over the same thing a third time . ' apologize to me another time . ' he says , and then tugs him in a bit firmer , but only enough for him to fall over him again . their lips are mere inches apart , and his breath is hot on legosi's skin . ' finish what you started . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

legosi can't tell the difference between afraid and ... whatever this is , so he just chalks it up to the former . it almost has him backing away again , but louis is quick to catch him by the tie . he's scared he'd do just that , and almost rips away because of it , but he ends up getting caught up in his eyes . the next second he's looming over him , and his leg has to part for louis' knee bent by his desk . he blinks down at him , red hot . still , this isn't processing correctly . 'wh -- what did i just say ..?' he stammers , albeit in a hushed whisper , brows furrowing . 'i'm not ... you don't want me to --- wait .' it clicks . he nearly explodes . '... uhm ... i --- uh ---'

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

while legosi is busy stammering and confused by his own interpretation of what he was implying , louis pulls his own tie undone and tosses it aside . his eyes narrow with a certain want to them , and his brows furrow . ' i said i don't . ' he repeats , until he sees it dawn on legosi like a gong went off in his ears . he takes his stillness as an invitation to continue , and takes legosi by the wrist once more , although his touch is more delicate in nature , simply a guide to his waist while he leans back , and hoists his leg up to brush between legosi's . ' i'll let you do what you want . take out your rage on me . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

his eyes can't help but follow ever minor move louis makes , and they struggle to fall back to his . his reassurance makes him sigh in relief , yet , of course , even more confused . when he figures it out and his arm's being moved he basically goes limp , like his conscious had left his body . he really doesn't know what to feel in this moment other than an impending dread he left the door unlocked . he jumps , louis' knee bringing him back to earth with a grunt . 'r .. louis .. i'm not mad at you ---' he says , gently even , despite his shaking voice . his hand creeps up under the button up that'd untucked from his pants . 'is .. this really what you want ..?'

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

in spite of being a rather conscientious person , louis doesn't even take the door into account with legosi hovering over him . whatever other things that'd serve as a distraction had been set aside for him , and legosi's little jump near makes his heart do backflips in his chest . his eyes furrow again , and his hand slipping under his shirt has his skin twitch and he himself gasp , quietly . he hates that he has to admit it straightforwardly , no matter ho essential it is . he was sure his body language would be plenty , but he's foolish to have forgotten legosi is an idiot . ' yes . it is ,' and has been , he fails to mention , because it only occurs to him in this moment . ' ... hurry up . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

his claws brush against his skin , but he's sure to be careful of them . he reaches to unbutton his shirt from the inside , but he can't even manage turning to look at what he's doing . he's sweating worse than he probably ever has , face stained completely red . he says yes and he looks at him , somehow still surprised . the last buttons done and he carefully takes off his shirt , definitely lacking all the rage louis seems to think he has . '... i'm sorry --- i don't ... normally do this .' he hasn't ever done this . he's a virgin . his eyes scream it . still , he soldiers on with an ever growing lump in his throat , hands shaking as they get to his belt .

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

he bites back the need to gasp and flinch away , his nails driving his instinct to kick in to overdrive . yet he stays , forcing himself to allow it . because he's decided he wants it . and even so , as legosi's hand turns to unfasten the buttons of his shirt from the inside , the back of his palm winds up brushing against the spot what louis's heart drums against . he grinds his teeth , watching it happen with furrowed brows , and then with his head still tipped down his gaze flicks up to meet legosi's when he speaks . his hand rests overtop of the larger's while it's shaking over his belt . ' relax , legosi . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

he can feel his need , and he feels sorry . he doesn't voice it however , because he knows in every other context he wouldn't have wanted him to . his heart is probably near the speed as his , but for an obviously different reason . again , he doesn't say anything . he fumbles until the loop comes undone , but louis' hand fills his vision . he almost thinks he's imagining it , but ... he was comforting him . he looks up , taking a steep breath . '... okay ,' he murmurs , and without thinking brushes his lips against the corner of his mouth in a light peck . still he doesn't know completely what he's doing , but he guesses it can't bee too much different than when he's alone ..? he lets his dick flop out , breath hitching noticeably before he takes it in his grasp , careful of his nails while he pumps it . his forehead rests on louis' shoulder . 'wh - why didn't you ... tell me earlier ?.. i asked you as i came in , actually ---'

cock-hungry dog.04/19/2020

it would be rare , but not unheard of . louis is particular , and doesn't grow fond of others very easily , and especially confuses his emotions when attachment seems so much like hatred . he seems to calm a tad , reflexively mirroring legosi's intake of air before quickly sighing it out . what he isn't expecting was the kiss --- albeit brief , it stuns him rigid for a moment at least . he doesn't have time to question it , nor the capacity to know the answer . he looks between them as his cock springs free , and his breath , too , hitches upon legosi's contact . he bites hard into his tongue so as to not give out any outrageous noises so soon . ' ghh .. wh --- ' his head turns away in spite of legosi obviously not being able to see him . ' don't interrogate me while you've got - ... ! your timing is remarkable , ' he returns , clearly evading it .

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/19/2020

he's really just going with the motions at this point , as well as he knows how to . it's not all to familiar to him even then , clearly . he barely even registers the kiss until his head goes to rest on his frame , practically being the reason for it . his fluster's hidden between somewhere in his neck and his hair , ear rested on his shoulder . his thumb drives into his tip while his grip tightens around his shaft , stomach light at whatever noises he could coax out of him right now . he almost doesn't hear him because of the strain in his pants . '... sorry .' he still doesn't address it even still , silently hoping louis would so he didn't have to .April 20, 2020

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

without legosi realizing , his nosing into his neck brings a natural shiver to travel up louis's spine . he can't tell if it's because of the instinct of terror of a carnivore having his lips to his jugular , or the innate tickle it causes . either way it gives him goosebumps , and he rather not hone in on it too much in the very real possibility of him chocking it up to be the former . his gaze lowers as legosi applies more pressure , and hisses . ' mmh .. ' he swallows , and while one hand lifts to cup over legosi's neck , the other slips to the very obvious growth in his uniform pants , tracing over it . ' you're more excitable than i thought .. ah . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

he steps a little closer , and ends up kicking his chair out of the way . the amount of noise they're making now without even having real intercourse might be alarming if either of them had the capacity to care . even the slightest noise out of louis makes his ears burn , but he soldiers on , panting against his skin the more contact is made . 'louis ...' he grumbles , which could even be seen as a little impatient . he grinds his lower half into his palm , a guttural noise to match the last while his wrist flicks faster . 'please . don't,, keep me waiting ...'

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

louis even acknowledges that they're being far too noisy for having left the door unlocked , but with legosi's hand wrapped around his cock he finds it hard to have the capacity to give a shit . he grinds into his palm and louis gulps again upon hearing his name , and grumbles out a frustrated ' fine , ' before he adjusts to push his hand inside his pants . it doesn't take much to have them burst open anyway , but that action seemed to be more than enough to give legosi some relief . he takes it in hand , trying to ignore the near growl against his skin he'd received , and strokes him too , albeit more controlled and precise . ' rrrh .. unh ... '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

fine ? why fine ? why did everything have to be an almost yes with louis ? it flusters him to hear it , but still he can't be distracted by that . he notices first his mouth hasn't moved all that much during this , and almost feels bad about it . should he be more versatile ? with louis , here , right in front of him , should he just help himself ?.. it sounds horrible to mull over while still in his head , like right now he was an object he was using incorrectly . but legosi doesn't have any other way to go about it , with a lack of experience . so , with most things , he acts on impulse , and with his newfound relief he's more tempted to give louis what he asked for . his unoccupied hand smooths up his stomach and to his chest , and he feels himself push his pier flat against the table . he stops stroking him , and grabs louis' wrist just as he begun : telling him he just needed it out more than anything else . he positions himself at his entrance , and without even thinking about it eases in . it's a struggle , to say the least . more than he anticipated . what was he missing ? he looks down at louis . 'are you ... ghmm .. alright ?..'

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

there's no question that even louis has doubts , in what he's committing , as if it could be considered a crime . he's left unsure of himself and what he wants , and being uncertain doesn't sit right with him . it pisses him off , not knowing if he can't stand the sight of carnivores and their immeasurable strength and animalistic tendencies , or if he might be in love with one . and yet still , his body seems to act on its own , putting him in this position with the one that angers him more than the rest . he can't think too hard about it , or he could be tempted to put an end to it before things get to regrettable territory . but now , he's flattened onto the desk with a grunt , blinking as legosi stops him from touching him further . inherently , he knows what it means , but still finds himself jerking when he feels his tip prod at his entrance . he steels himself , but it isn't really enough to prepare him for it . his head tips back with a distinct groan , laced with a strained sound . he bites hard into his tongue , gripping so hard at the edges of the desk that his knuckles whiten . ' rrgh .. ! ghh ... aahh ... ' he pants , stifling a shudder the best he can . his brows upturn , ' y .. yes ... f. fuck ... '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

he hadn't brought any feelings into this yet . it was ... very hard to , especially given he'd already mindlessly kissed him . he should probably be happy that it's difficult for him to , but not knowing louis feels similarly throws him off in a couple ways . how she he address him after this , even ? would they be friends anymore ?.. he really wasn't sure . he doesn't even want to think about that with how ... good this all feels . he doesn't want to ruin this for either of them . he leans over more , easily . anyone else probably would have needed to been on their tippy toes to reach louis' chest with their mouth , but legosi could do it just by hunching over like he normally does . his hands find his hips , and he's got him in a firm but gentle hold to feel him flinch and occasionally squirm under him . it fills him with something he hadn't noticed was there , and he moans lowly about it . he forces himself in a little deeper , but he doesn't want to rip him in half . or at least , he needs to restrain himself from it , even if a part of him did want to . louis replies and he feels his heart flutter , and subconsciously one of his palms rests against the back of his . his hand wraps around it gradually , and he lifts it from around the desk the more of himself he inches in , and soon he's locked fingers with him . 'j .. just tell me if i hurt you ,' he mumbles , and once they're hip to hip he pulls back just to thrust back in . he groans , and then continues .(edited)

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

were he and legosi friends at all to begin with ? there was some foolish rivalry between them before , self imposed by the next school idol . he did it without even realizing --- impulsivities seemed to be bared all whenever this large carnivore was involved , whether louis liked it or not . he just innately wanted to be a thorn in his side as much as legosi had been for him , and prove himself stronger to him , or ... perhaps himself . yet he somehow manages to be weak enough to give in to some weird internalized desire for him , right here , right now , with the very man he near deemed an enemy . he strains again , albeit he fights to relax . it's a lot to take in , and the idiot above him didn't even bother to prep him . he really must have been a virgin to be so stupid . at the time , it's awfully difficult to voice that , with him bending down to kiss his chest and push in further . his thighs quake involuntarily far after he's pressed himself flush into him . he's surprised he got through that without just shoving the other way before it got that far , but louis isn't much of a quitter . his hand twitches on the desk . he knows his left dents in his skin from how hard he clutched onto it until this point . but now something larger and warmer is gliding over it , and it startles him . his hand peels off as per legosi's direction , ironically enough , and he ... holds it . louis can't find the words to say about it , nor open his mouth in time to so much as complain , when legosi thrusts into him abruptly enough to force him to grip his hand in return by reflex . ' ghhk ! uuunh ... ! '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

he didn't mean for their relationship to be like this . he thinks , somewhere he wants to be friends , despite the provoking done to him and ways louis always manages to critique him when he's done something wrong . but even so , he has been there for him quite a few times . taking his side without him expecting it , buying him things , reminders of practice dates ... this internal monologue can't last too long with how dizzyingly tight he is around him , and he has to stop himself just to moan and pant . stop himself from slobbering , even . all of this is hidden against louis' chest at least , otherwise he knew if he had the breath he'd be corrected . even in a moment as critical as this ... maybe he liked him for that ? his noises just pile on the pleasure , and while he's pinning him down by his hip he can slam into him freely he's too ... afraid to go harder . maybe that wasn't the right word , but still . he grinds into him a moment before his hips pick up again , a little faster than before . his desk shakes with the force , and he feels light headed . 'ahh .. l - louis ..'

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

whether legosi tries to conceal it or not , louis can feel his hot breath against his skin and the perspiration left behind , and he can tell he's daring to drool on him . it's something typically louis would criticize through a harsh scolding , had this been a normal situation to begin with . instead that criticism takes shape in the way in which louis chooses to yank on legosi's hair , and grip at his shoulder . he can't think like this , and he hasn't decided if that irks him or excites him . he fights the urge to curl in on himself while legosi pushes flush into him and grinds , forcing him to strain , before the movement continues and louis drops back with a groan . he can't even maintain the strength of his hand in legosi's hair after , and instead it just rests in it , tremoring slightly . the desk wobbles beneath their shared weight , mostly the one doing the majority of the activity ; and briefly louis considers it breaking , but can't focus long enough on it to voice that . his pace picks up and louis sees stars , neck muscles going from taught to loose enough to allow his head to lull to the side with a dazed look in his eyes . ' gah .. ahh ! ff ... ll...egos --- rrgh ! '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

eventually his mouth is closed to press his lips against the skin again , still careful to keep all the spit in his mouth . the grip in his hair makes him groan and he squeezes his hand in the meantime , as if he's desperate to show affection , despite most of it being taboo to him . he's in a whirlwind of thoughts despite it all , and he can't stop talking to himself . is he only now seeing louis as attractive , or was it always that way ? he seems to remember swallowing drool over him in the past , but ... with the face he’s a herbivore , that might as well be the explanation . but what is there to explain wanting to follow him around like a lost puppy , or not being able to take his eyes off of him during practice or at a performance trying to man the lights ..? he's known of him for a while , being in the same year as him and all , but it's only his third year of university they've interacted that closely . the way he almost says his name snaps him out of his stupor to realize he's gone a little quicker than he anticipated . harder , even . the hand once in his is cupped loosely around his neck , and he blinks against his skin . there's only one thing on his mind , 'say it ..' he growls , eyes flicking up to him . 's .. say legosi ..'

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

how does he even have the capacity to be lost in thought while he's plowing into him like a wild animal ?? louis can't even keep a straight face , and his body is completely out of his control . something in which would be so in character of him to be frustrated about , he can't even take into account . legosi's hand is squeezing his and he just can't . fight it ? he supposes . no matter how his hand tenses , it just melts into his palm anyway seconds later . that softness seems to dissipate when legosi inexplicably ( in louis's perspective ) roughens up , and louis gasps , and his thighs shake and bounce off his force . ' gghhr --- aah ! hahh ... hhk ! ' his eyes change from shut tightly in a way that seems as though he's constantly bracing for impact , to cracked open in question at legosi's sudden choice of taking his throat in his clutches . louis's inclined to grip the same wrist , and for a second , briefly , he's afraid this session awakened legosi's desire to consume , but ... it's a demand . it's unexpected too , and louis becomes flustered under the pressure . it's either pleasure or pride , but all in all , pleasure prevails . ' le - legos --- ' SNAP . the desk crumples beneath them , and louis topples down with it , slamming abruptly onto his back with a aching grunt . he pants , and the pain of that in addition to legosi's weight piling onto him as him stuffing his elbow between them to shove him off . ' .. shit ! ahh ... '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

his reactions drive him into staring at him again , eyes wide at how every thrust of his hips elicits something different . the fact that this is the first time for all of this has his face cherry red , and his breathing still ragged and uneven . he starts to say his name again and he feels like he might explode , and the desk crumbling under them makes him think he actually did for a second , yelping as he falls on top of him . he doesn't have as much time to catch himself , and apologizes as he peels himself off of him , despite his eyes still set low and a certain growl behind his voice . he shoves him off anyways , and he tumbles back stupidly while still in a daze . of course , the loss of stimuli is just as shocking as the table collapsing , and it leads him to ... well , not care . he stares him down a moment . he looks vulnerable like this , still . bare , spread out for him on the floor ... yeah , he wasn't stopping . legosi doesn't have time to think before his body pounces on top of the smaller , and his hand moves under of his thighs . he pushes up as far as it'll bend and lets it over his shoulder , lifting louis' lower half in the meantime . he dips down just to go wild kissing and sucking over his neck , breathing heavily into it like he might actually take a bite now , but never does . in fact , his fangs never make contact . he plows back into him again , as if he never missed a beat to begin with , and this new angle definitely does the recipient some favors . 'ahh ..! rhhh ..'

cock-hungry dog.04/20/2020

louis is still dizzy from the sex alone , so this abrupt crash into the floor near winding him doubles that even after legosi is thrown off his person . he manages to sit up if only to groan with his forehead in his hand . only then does he realize . this is such a mess . the office is a wreck . and how is he supposed to explain to the staff that the desk is broken ? the stress of it is distracting enough for him to have forgotten about legosi altogether , eyes skimming along the destruction . everything about this interaction is a disaster . and his dick hurts . before he can grab his coat and put an end to this , legosi again does something louis couldn't predict . he lunges at him , and drops him back onto the desk with the sound of his bare skin slapping onto the wood . his instincts send his arm to lodge between himself and legosi's collarbone , but his strength is overbearing and he loses the leverage as soon as the larger hoists his lower half up to simply bend him in half . louis strains in time for legosi's mouth to latch onto his neck , and the ferocity of it is convincing enough that he might just have his jugular torn out any moment now . he struggles by dragging at legosi's hair in an attempt to pry him off , but then he buries himself into him , and all the strength is sapped out of his hands . his core feels like he'll pop , and before he knows it his tenseness falters again , and his head falls back . ' gihh .. --- !! unnnh ! hahh .. ! '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/20/2020

legosi hasn't once taken a look around since all of this started , and he doesn't dare to now , even with louis growing increasingly more and more concerned . he can't seem to read his willingness to leave , given he always feels like louis is close to running away from him but fighting himself from doing so . all in all , this interaction was very hazy for him , and something he can't vocalize is that despite how much thinking he's been doing , he can't justify this at all . it's like his arm isn't even there to begin with , the amount of weight piled onto him with legosi's natural strength too much to ignore . he's close too , evident in his creased brows and even hastier pace than before . his hair being pulled on just adds to the stimuli . as soon as his hand move away he snatches them up instead , both of his wrists fitting in his palm as he moves them above his head . 'mnng ..! a - ah .. louis !..' he sure makes up for louis' interrupted call of his name , mumbling those two syllables against his neck again and again . he reaches between them to stroke louis again while he feels himself edging , hoping to make him cum before he does and has to pull out . he's so limp under him he's careful in making sure a pop of his hips doesn't throw him off of him , straightening out to watch . 'fu -- uh ..!'April 21, 2020

cock-hungry dog.04/21/2020

was louis fighting off the urge to run from legosi , or ... was there something else that louis just hadn't accounted for ? right now , while legosi is growling into his throat and seizing his hands to hold them over his head , and murmuring out his name again and again into his skin , it's becoming clear what all the fighting was really about , bit by bit . it's not the kind of attraction he's accustomed to . he'll admit it explains his hostility and impulsive decision making when it came to this carnivore , and now look at him . since when would he lie down and take their aggression while laying in the rubble of the aftermath ? he hisses as legosi grabs his dick again , that stimulation pushing this far over the edge . his head lulls to the side , and he catches legosi straightening out just to stare , and the glare he makes in return is instinctive but weak at best . he grits his teeth , panting as his stomach muscles tighten , as well as the ones in his thighs . ' ah - ah .. rrgh ! .. ' he toils a moment , to the point his body coils in unison , and he bursts , cumming all over his stomach and chest . he shudders a second and folds back , panting to catch his breath . ' gah ... ahh .. '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/21/2020

he sniffs him , and it's weird in retrospect . that's not something he can process as anything but normal , anyways . but he does know he wants to remember this smell , to know where he is . protect him . he needed to . he pulls back and kisses him again , on the lips . his tongue pushes in and explores his mouth like he's famished , and by the time he's pulled away louis he's clamping around him , his mouth hangs open again , and he chokes before he can pull out in time for louis to cum first , like he had wanted . he strokes himself maybe one , two more times and releases a lot onto his lower stomach , panting down at the sight of him ... oh god , how would he go out like that ? before he says anything his eyes fill with panic and he straightens out , scrambling on all fours to find a box of tissues that was knocked to the floor . he gently places it in his hand when he returns , brows creased with worry . he grabbed his letterman jacket at the same time , and folds it beside him . 'i .. i think your shirt fell in the spilled coffee ,' he explains , and then takes a good look around them . fuck . 'l .. louis ... what are we going to do ?' he asks with tight lips , teeth gritting . the room was both a product of louis' taunting and legosi's own lack of control , which meant it was there burden to share . before anything else , he stumbles to his unusually weak legs to pull his pants and boxers up again , and fumbles with his belt for a minute before he has the mind to lock the door . 'sh .. should we just .. um .. window ?'

cock-hungry dog.04/21/2020

ugh , why is he smelling him ? and why is louis not shoving him away for that ? this dog is so annoying , he thinks , while legosi connects their mouths in a fervent kiss . so , so , so damn annoying . even so , he finds himself kissing back . he can't resist his body at this point --- it just does whatever it pleases . like legosi , in this moment . he draws out after louis climaxes and louis grunts , flinching as he coats him in his cum as well . he says nothing regardless , just trying to regain his consciousness after their session , and catch his breath . reflexively his hand feels his own stomach , and then he brings the residue to his mouth to taste . it's bitter , but he doesn't mention it . and then , he's sitting up on his elbows while legosi pulls back and begins panicking . meanwhile louis is fixated on the destruction beneath and around him and the taste in his mouth , eyeing the floor and then as legosi mentions it , his coffee stained shirt . he inhales , like he's angry . ' legosi . ' calls his name , like he's angry . looks at him with his head tipped down as he's wiping himself clean with those tissues . ' give me your shirt . ' he says , and then holds out his hand expectantly . ' i can't be seen without one . ' and then his gaze flicks to the window . ' i ... ' he looks reluctant of admitting it . ' i can't stand . '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/21/2020

he ends up staring at him before he can move away , eyes blown wide at the fact he'd even think to taste it . he wants to try , too , internally , pupils bugging out the more he stares but --- no ! he has to restrain himself . the tissues are to stop him , really , once he starts wiping himself down at his own volition . his inhale , and his voice would usually make him flinch . but , after all of this , it's almost like he knows better . he blinks , and then looks around for his jacket to hand him so he can keep his undershirt , slipping it over his head . he stands to open the window , but he stops at louis' confession , turning with a neutral expression . 'oh .' he re - routes , and kneels next to him , turning around . 'you can get on my shoulders . i figured we could leave through the window , and then since you have the key to this room we could clean up tomorrow since it's not a weekday and no one'd be here .' he explains quietly , suddenly hyper aware someone from the crew could have been standing outside the door the entire time .

cock-hungry dog.04/21/2020

louis accepts legosi's jacket but becomes much more aware of her large it is when it's in his hands . he stares at it , bewildered by how it drapes between his arms , and finds himself again swallowing his pride just to slip it on . ' ew . do you not bathe ? it stinks of sweat , ' he comments , sighing . his irritation is evident but not as sharp as it'd normally be , because he's tired or otherwise . he looks up again and legosi has his back to him , and he looks on wide eyed as he makes his suggestion . he looks disinclined , yet with a conscious push adjusts to grab onto the other's shoulders and coil his arms around them . as he's hoisted up , he can't help but feel more girlish in this scenario , which in turn irks him . ' just hurry up . if someone walks in there'll be hell to pay , ' he says , gazing past his neck . ' ... you can ... ' a pause , as it dawns on him . ' it's --- it's two stories down . if you drop me i'll gut you like a fish ! ' he yanks on his ear . ' understand ?? '

ever heard of inflation legosi?04/21/2020

legosi blinks at him . 'sorry .' is all he offers , because there's no other clothing for him to have . he hoists him up onto his back , but quickly realizes he wouldn't be able to grab onto anything with louis' legs in his hands . so , without asking he hoists him up to his shoulders , where he still feels as light as a feather . he also , inherently doesn't see the problem in any of this . 'we could just say we fought ,' he suggests while he walks him to the window . thankfully , it's very tall and arched , and legosi easily opens it from the bottom up . he kind of zones out while thinking of an escape route , and he's only brought back at louis tugging on his ear . he yelps , 'ah ! alright , alright !.' he doesn't know what he's agreeing to but he's going . he doesn't hesitate in swinging his legs out the window recklessly , and basically lets go to grip onto the next windowsill down . he feels louis wobble and moves to hold his thigh with an iron grip , and what looks like another story down is a safe drop to legosi . he holds onto the sill with one hand to sustain himself . 'louis , is there anyone under me ?'

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