#i have a very string need for someone to teach her how to play video games

[littlebunnywitch]

Fictional Agere Challenge Day 6

Day 6: an “unfitting” character (a villain, someone from horror, etc) that you hc as a regressor

Being a little self indulgent Imma go with Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things - one of my higher comfort characters~!

🩵 💙 🩵 ~ 💙 🦈 💙 ~ 🩵 💙 🩵 (Icon made by me) I first want to mention I choose Billy for day six not because i see him as a villain but rather because his show is light Horror IMO. I also HC Billy as Nonbinary Fem Leaning - who mainly uses He/him and but uses female titles by people Billy trusts.

AGERE Billy Headcanons

He's a premaregressor of 9 to 13 year old

He's also a Trauma & Vent Regressor of Baby to 5 year old

A lot of his drops are involuntary.

Pron to becoming semi or fully nonverbal when stressed or scared. But also not a huge talker most of the time when feeling little.

Gets VERY clingy when feeling on the younger side but is also pron to hiding when he first drops. He struggles a lot with touch though and should be the one to make first content or at least be asked first to before touching him.

Billy loves aquariums - Could spend hours there and one of the few places that doesn't trigger his anxiety. Aquarium and in the ocean videos can help calm him down. Beaches and sealife is a big special interest for him.

Struggles playing with toys after having all his toys thrown out when his mom left but does enjoy drawing. He also loves playing in water when little.

Secretly (Not really) has an oral fixation that he normally uses cigarettes (even not lit) or lollipops to keep it at bay but tends to need to be pacified when regressed because he'll suck his fingers or random items.

Billy barley had any little items before his CG takes him in. And he struggles a lot with being bought things because everything comes with strings attached in his world and it takes him time to get comfortable with things. He also feel guilty or bad when others spend money on him. Surprise gifts are not a positive for him and can lead to distress. It is a bit better when a Cg has him "work" towards an item.

Billy is rather hard to punish due to being physically abused, neglected, and having his things taken or broken - it can be a rather sensitive topic. CGs make it a point not to physically punish Billy because he already automatically assumes he'll be hit or kicked out for doing wrong. Time out don't really work well because it worsens his anxiety. Time-ins work the best because they help him calm down and being guided on how his behavior was wrong - rather then letting him stew in it by himself.

My preferred CGs for Billy (In order from the Best to Okay)

Joyce Byers~!!!! She would have taken one look at Billy and seen past his masks and see the abused hurt little kid he secretly is. And if he flirted with her - She would def not act on it and i don't know give him a cookie instead. I do feel like she could easily become the mother figure that Billy desperately wants. She also would be very accepting and understanding of Billy both his regression and more feminine traits.

'El' Jane Hopper, Billy and her have a rather interesting little/older sibling relationship were El takes on a big sisterly role to Billy when regressed but Billy also shows and teaches El a lot of stuff when not fully regressed and views her as a little sister.

Jonathan Byers, the two develop a oddly good relationship both when Billy is regressed and not. Joanthan keeps a kinda older brother role to Billy at all times - often removing Billy from situations that might end badly for Billy or others. Billy doesn't get violent towards Joanathan most of the time but Joanathan is able to deal with Billy without either of them getting to hurt if he has to.

Will Byers, the two were rather neutral to each other until Will found out that Billy was a rather talented artist in his own respect. The two draw alot and get into really painful conversations about their together more then Billy talks to Jonathan about it because the two just have more in common. The two don't really have defined role of which is the older sibling. Sometimes Billy feels rather jealous and envious of Will though because he had an older brother to protect him and a mom that didn't abandoned him and people who cared him when he was possessed. But this doesn't effect their relationship much - its more something that Joyce has to deal with.

Eddie Munson, Billy's favorite babysitter. The two were friendly before everything happened. Billy often bought from Eddie. Was at first disappointed at how tame the teen was when he first met Eddie based on the rumors. The two however get alone really well (and Eddie is the closest thing Billy has to as a real friend in hawkins before Joyce takes him in). Eddie also lets Billy paint his nails much to Billy's pleasure.

Jim Hopper, at first they were not close. In fact Billy was activily scared of him and would often "bark" at the man. But Joyce and El loves him so Billy didn't lash out to much. Jim often needs to make sure he doesn't take the bait when Billy tests and push him but the more he doesn't react in anger - the more comfortable Billy becomes around Jim. It takes much longer then his quick acceptance of Joyce as a mother figure but Billy does end up accepting Hopper as a replacement (and better) father figure.

Steve Harrington, it takes a good while before Billy or Steve gets comfortable near eachother. Billy still has a tendacey to stay away when Steve is around but is more likely to join the group if Eddie is also there. The two mange to come to a understanding about the fight with Eddie and Joyce's help. Both apologize for their parts.

[heart-ruled-moved]

🌸 “I have no idea what this animal crossing is...but it looks cute...”

We’re just going to ignore the fact that she’s never played a video game in her entire life, tho.

[hangovercurse]

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

 You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

[infinitewarden]

Okay I'm going to phrase this in a more coherent manner than I did on my main.

So we all know that weapon names often reflect the loretabs that come with them and I've been wracking my brain for the past two weeks on why "Wolftone Draw" would be connected in any way to the tab about Osiris's perspective while he's trapped elsewhere.

Then I realized it was a musical term. A "wolf tone".

A wolf tone, or simply a "wolf", is a sustaining sympathetic artificial overtone that amplifies and expands the frequencies of a played musical note. It is produced when the pitch of the played note is close to a natural resonant frequency of the body of the musical instrument. A wolf tone is frequently accompanied by an oscillating beating (due to the uneven frequencies between the natural note and artificial overtone), which may be likened to the howling of a wolf.

Wikipedia

For those who have trouble picturing what that may sound like here's a video: (That also explains it a bit more clear than wikipedia does.)

Wolfs are inherent to stringed instruments, and they aren't necessarily always bad. They're considered flaws but it's possible to work around them. Let's connect this back to the Traveler.

We know that the Light isn't perfect, we know that the Traveler isn't perfect. In fact, the one who first seems to come to this conclusion (from what we know of) is Osiris.

"Oh. Let him go." Osiris releases. The Ghost dissipates. "Sagira?" "He needed someone strong. A fighter." "Nothing more?" Sagira pauses. "The Traveler was… wounded when it created us. That pain echoes. Some of us make choices we shouldn't. Some of us are scared. The process isn't streamlined." "Flaws." Osiris shrinks against the forest's aphotic density. If there are flaws in the Light, then it could be corrupted. It is not indomitable, and so in time would be challenged. "We're pieces of a whole, but distinct. Unique. You're not Mr. Perfect yourself." He would need to learn patience.

5: Moths to a Flame Part II

Hmmm....

We also know that music is... inherent to Destiny's narrative. There's even the connection between Osiris pursuing the tones Vance discovered with the Lighthouses. How does Vance describe the tones?

There was a hum; the timbre consisted of two distinct resonating tones—one smooth and warm, the other sharp and cold.

Chapter 4: Reflections

A resonating tone... a wolf tone is often described as just that.

Now... what exactly does a wolf have to do with Osiris?

There's more than one meaning that can be drawn from this as well. We all are aware (or at least most of us are) of the Traveler's connection with wolves. From being called Alpha Lupi to even the vision Clovis Bray had of the Traveler speaking to him as a wolf.

At this point it's become a bit of a meme for me but... I believe that Osiris is connected to the Traveler in ways we have yet to see. A couple weeks ago I drew upon a parallel between Wolftone Draw and Dreams of Alpha Lupi

Very little was left, you are sure, because you feel insignificant now. The hard slick heart of your soul: That is what remains. A body small as a river stone, and just as simple. You picture yourself as a piece of indigestible grit, a nameless nothing hiding among other nameless stones. Perhaps you glitter like a gem, yes. Pride makes you hope so. If only you could see yourself. But you have no eyes. Not the dimmest sense survives. What lives is memory, and what slim portion of these thoughts can you trust? The knife stole much more than your body.

Ghost Fragment: The Traveler 3

The slithering dark is cold against my face. I cannot speak, cannot breathe, I reach for Sagira but then I remember… I form a fist but feel nothing, I am bound, and as I thrash the images cut fissures through my mind— Someone… the Awoken prince? He helps me to my feet… but still I struggle in the dark, and now SHE is standing, thanking him, but she uses my voice, MY voice— She has stolen my form, my voice, but someone will see my failure and cast her out… they MUST— ... I am weeping but I cannot weep. I am nothing, only heat and hate, only sickness and shame.

Wolftone Draw

Do you see the similarities?

And at this point I'm sure you've all heard me say the phrase "here's how Speaker Osiris can still win" at least once but... I truly believe that there is more than we realize happening between Osiris and the Traveler.

Osiris's Light was... honestly incredibly strange in comparison to literally everyone else's Light. From making reflections and echoes to all of his elemental Light abilities even outside of Solar Light being gold. It's STRANGE, and he has often had a strange sort of... wisdom and knowledge that seems to often reflect the Traveler's.

Here's an example:

“The best voices,” she said, with infinite grief and unending hope, “never let themselves be heard at all. This lesson is worth teaching again and again. The choice is never mine. It is always yours.”

Clovis Bray's Logbook — Missing Pages: Third Vision

You must say just enough so that the few who can listen will hear. I have done all I can. The rest is up to you. You must trust in me. You must trust in yourself.

Future Safe 10

(As a side, I think it's important to note the prophecy in Future Safe 10.

See who's robed as if a god, who stands with pride above the rest! Destroy this ancient nameless fraud! Destroy the one whose death was blessed!

hmmmm)

So yeah. Uhhh. TL;DR Wolftone Draw has a double meaning: one in its musical meaning and another in its connection to wolves that the Traveler has and it's Totally all connected.

[junicai]

Relationship with NCT Dream

➣ MARK ☾ mari

½ of the best friend crew

honestly at the beginning, mark and aria weren’t very close, having only really seen each other in passing or with johnny

but after being dropped into training together the two quickly became fast friends, and now they’re borderline inseparable

you thought you knew pain? watch aria’s reaction to mark’s graduation from dream :)

mark’s the reason why aria felt confident enough to pitch some of her lyric ideas to the team, after staying up until 4am to help her make some edits so she was as confident as possible

kinda just, rests his head on her shoulder? and wraps his arms around her waist when he’s tired

mari being confused in foreigner: ???

aria said once in a vlive that she finds mark really comforting to be around - when she feels stressed or worried about something she’ll go to mark’s room and just sit on his bed for a while

aria is so close with his parents - “ahh, how’s my favourite child” “i’m doing great mom.” “no not you, how’s aria?” “wh-hu-MOM?”

you’d swear sometimes mark is younger than her, considering the pout he puts on and how much he whines when they’re not on the same team together for promotions

mark big protecc boi but also little small cuddly boi

they’re so soft for each other ( ╥ω╥ )

in one of the fancams for mark’s solo stage during superm, someone zoomed into aria singing along with him in the wings and dancing to herself with the Proudest Smile™

he’s! so! proud! of! her! constantly! she could be walking and he’d be like “omg get it”

when aria refuses to get up and make herself food (this happens way too often, she just gets into the groove of her work and doesn’t want to move) mark gets her to by threatening to do it himself

consistently caught by czennies just standing behind her and holding her hand in crowded areas - airports, waiting rooms, etc.

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

mark and aria were standing off to one side as the mc explained the rules of the game they were about to be playing. mark looked totally confused, and elbowed aria in her side before looking down and mouthing “what?” to her. aria opened her mouth, before closing it and looking down at the ground, muttering to herself, “결합… 結合….. le chéile…. le… le.. oh oh - combined! we have to put them together, markie.”and thus, a new confusion meme was born

➣ RENJUN ☾ renjaria

renjun and aria room together while she’s promoting with dream

they were so awkward around each other at the beginning :(

only really spoke in passing, or when they had to

it was renjun that broke the ice at first, asking if she wanted to go shopping for the dorm together

now it’s their thing

“no aria, we can’t get more ice-cream we’re all supposed to be on diets.” “but  ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡ please”

he’s lowkey soft for her but he’d rather throw himself off the roof then tell her that

piano pals

he started teaching her how to properly play once he found her messing around on a keyboard in the studio one day

they actually argue quite a bit

not about big things, but about smaller things that push each other over the edge because of stress

the first time he yelled at her, aria spent the night in hyuck’s room 

hyuck yelled at renjun for making her cry 

now they’re probably the best pairing for talking through their emotions instead of blowing up on each other

they’re both quite opinionated people, and they’ve learnt to navigate that well so fights don’t happen as often

does that stop renjun from teasing aria an within an inch of her life? absolutely not

“i’ll kill you” “can you, reach?” “LISTEN HERE-”

he acts like he’s 10ft tall, excuse you sir you are barely 5′6″

renjun was her mandarin teacher for a while, but then kun kindly told her that her “introduction” was actually calling herself an idiot 

aria has a bad problem with saesangs go away bitches and renjun is iconic for going off on them for her because she doesn’t like to make a big deal out of it all 

he gets so angry on her behalf

that was actually a topic of one of their biggest arguments smh

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

aria was leaning on a pile of books to prop herself up as she leant forwards to try and hang a string of lights on her bedroom wall. renjun walked in, and immediately came to her aid, speaking with a teasing tone. “need a hand?” 

aria, without ceremony just elbowed him in the stomach and used his then folded up figure to push herself up higher. “yes, thank you!”

she got hate for that one, but it was all in good fun and renjun was laughing after it

➣ JENO ☾ nori

aria is his princess and everyone else can fight him

like they’re both doyoung’s children, but if it comes down to it he will lay down his life for her

and not even in a romantic way, just a “you’re too precious i have to protect you” kind of way

czennies thought he was in love with her for the entirety of nct 2018 promotions

this boy was hanging off of her at any given second, and there was an edited video of jeno “glaring” at lucas’ back when the taller boy walked away after hugging aria

it was faked, stan twt needs to chill out

he drags her to the gym 

he’s basically her big brother? but they’re the same age - its a weird dynamic but they make it work

they’re so LOUD together

not chaotic, but he makes her laugh so hard 

vlive 191030: “nono-ah makes my cheeks hurt so i can’t spend too long around him. my sides hurt too ~  ♡(｡- ω -)”

any and all fanfictions written about the two are definitely either coffee shop, university or library AUs

this man walks like a bodyguard around her - boy got the arm over the shoulder, tucked her head into him, covering her face, its a whole ordeal

dispatch released some pictures of aria one day and accidentally blurred out jeno’s face because they thought he was her bodyguard 

is so. so mindful of how long aria spends in the training rooms

like, yes everyone else expects her home before midnight (long story)

but jeno actively makes sure to ask people what time she left the dorm at, and texts her to remind her to take water breaks and to come home at a good time so she can sleep 

these two are the creators of so many iconic vlives - they have a bad habit of going live at 1 or 2 in the morning, just doing random things

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

“hi hi! so, nono and i- jeno stop it, stop it! - nono and i are walking down to the park to go feed the birds - yes we’re going to feed the bird- no! we are not going to feed the ducks, bread can kill the ducks! why did you bring brea-”

jeno pulled the camera from aria’s hands. “ari and i,” he looked at her purposefully, “are going back to the dorms because someone forgot to bring the bird seed, and apparently we can’t give bread to ducks anymore.”

*sounds of aria intermittently hitting and scolding jeno ensue*

➣ DONGHYUCK ☾ arichan

the other half of the best friend crew

absolute heathens to be around when they are together

donghyuck is the person aria is closest to, and someone she’d call her best friend (only when she was sure he wouldn’t hear her)

she calls him “the demon child i can’t get rid of” but will, and has definitely pouted when he ignored her for too long

generally aria is a pretty soft spoken person, but not with hyuck around - he brings out all her chaos energy (please pray for the patience of dotae)

the pair have a little tradition of kissing the back of each others’ hands before going on stage for good luck. they can’t even remember how it started, but now its an unnegotiable pre-show ritual

he’s so clingy with her absolutely everywhere its painfully adorable  (ಥ﹏ಥ)

interviews? hyuck has a hand on her knee, or if she’s wearing a skirt he’s tucked his hand in between their chairs so she can hold it discreetly. in the dorms? full body tackle onto the couch, where he proceeds to lay on top of her completely.

because of hyuck’s nickname being the sun, and aria always being around him, czennies gave her the nickname “moon” to go with him

fans thought that aria was older than hyuck for a good year and a half before she released her birthday on a vlive, because she’s normally the one tasked with reigning his chaotic energy in during promotions (that is, if she hasn’t already joined him)

but off-camera, aria is absolutely hyuck’s baby there is no disputing that. aria’s sad?he’s there with ice-cream and a blanket and a baseball bat.

the winnie the pooh character that is on aria’s bed was a gift from hyuck for her 17th birthday, after she made him watch seven episodes of the show on netflix with her one night

yes he complained, but he slapped her hand away when she went to change it to something else

a twitter thread of a czennie comparing their horoscopes together went viral when people realized that it was quite plausible that the pair were each others (platonic) soulmates

after an incident involving blueberries, donghyuck took it upon himself to check the ingredients of every. single. food item in their dorm to make sure it was ok for her to eat

hyuck clowns her for her irish accent, and aria curses him out in japanese

tldr: they cute or whatever

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

donghyuck was doing a vlive in his bedroom, sitting and talking to czennies when aria opened the door to his room quietly. she didn’t say anything, just waved slightly with almost closed eyes before she crawled underneath his covers and tucked her plushie underneath her chin. hyuck didn’t even blink at it - so it must have been a regular occurrence.

➣ JAEMIN ☾ nari

jaemin highkey flusters her

not in a oo you’re so cute, cute boy make nerves go eeee

but he’ll wink at her and teasingly compliment her and now she looks like a firetruck this isn’t fair

he absolutely takes advantage of this where ever possible 

“riri, can i have some?” “no, i just made these you should have helped me (-_-)” “riri~ but you looked so cute making them i didn’t want to interrupt you~” *aria.exe has stopped responding*

but when aria isn’t trying to get her cheeks to stop being red, they’re really cute together 

you’d swear aria is older, by how much jaemin whines for her attention

the mighty battles between jaemin and hyuck

hyuck’s just biding his time for the rooftop fight

kinda panics around her when she’s crying, but is always the first to offer up a hug 

has a period tracker on his phone but no one knows about it 

he doesn’t like to coddle her because they’re so close in age, but that doesn’t stop him from getting protective in certain situations *cough cough the fansign cough cough*

jaemin and aria cuddling when they’re drunk? more likely than you’d think

he definitely professed his undying love for her at one point while being drunk, and chenle caught it on video 

“noona we’re playing that at your wedding” 

designated blanket/pillow hunter at award shows, and if he can’t find one then he usually just gives her his jacket

the amount of coffee these two consume should be illegal 

aria prefers to call him nana and he prefers to call her riri in the dorms, so when either of them get called by their first name by the other it means A: they’re on a schedule, or B: someone’s about to die

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

nct dream on idol room were trying out jaemin’s death-in-a-cup (his coffee) and as the cup got passed around, aria grew more and more concerned with each face the members made. “jaemin if i die from this-”

he only smiled at her while passing over the cup. aria held it up to look at the black liquid skeptically, before sighing in resignation and bringing the cup to her lips to take a sip. 

and then another.

“wait this is good i like this”

➣ CHENLE ☾ leri

hide yo kids and hide yo wives because leri is entering the chat

*cue aria and chenle wearing 2000s rapper clothes with backwards baseball caps*

these two are so chaotically calm

its like the energy cancels out or something 

aria with hyuck is just so loud and obnoxious, and the same with chenle with jisung

so when you put those two together it just turns into le positive vibes

you ever meditated to those 132 hertz sounds? thats them in a sound 

aria will hold him like a baby kitten she’s expecting to try wriggle out of her grip at any moment and its comical because he’s a good head taller than her

aria definitely has a knack for making her groupmates’ parents fall in love with her

every two weeks or so she goes for dinner in chenle’s house upon his mother’s request

they have a mutual understanding of the mental toll it takes to be around the rest of the dreamies constantly

chenle and aria sitting peacefully, watching a cdrama: 

the dreamies, throttling each other: AAAAAAAAAAA

will never admit it but he misses her the most when she goes away to promote

he thinks of her as a big sister and the dorms feel empty without her there

aggressive proud hugs 

so aggressive, he legit tackles her

he had to tone it down after knocking her over once backstage and she narrowly missed clocking herself on a nearby soundboard 

“YAH ZHONG CHENLE YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL!”

he always gets a little bit anxious when they eat things outside of the dorms because he’s never seen her have an allergic reaction before and he’d like to keep it that way  (`皿´＃)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

chenle was particularly restless that day, constantly shuffling about in his seat to the point where renjun forcefully tossed an arm over his shoulders to hold him still while the vlive was still playing.

not one to be defeated, chenle then turned to press his lips to renjun’s cheek playfully, laughing when the older boy turned away in disgust. he turned to do the same to aria, coming closer to her cheek before aria turned her head to face his.

“AAA-” “EW CHENLE WHY”

➣ JISUNG ☾ jiri

oh god oh god oh god

if aria could take this boy and wrap him in a blanket and keep him in her pocket she would - no questions asked 

jisung knows she loves him the most out of dream sorry markhyuck and takes advantage of it every second

she used to coddle him a lot when he was smaller, but now that he’s older aria tries to rein it in as much as possible

that doesn’t mean it goes away completely though

“noona can you cook for me?” “of course jisungie! what do you want?” 

*jeno gobsmacked in the background* “you just told me you were too tired to cook tonight”

aria: big baby, must protect

jisung: tiny noona, must protect

jaemin and aria are really the only people jisung is ok with seeing him be super emotional - and he flip flops between the two depending on the reason why he’s emotional

self-esteem, feeling poopy side of it all? straight into aria’s bed, letting her roll him onto his side so she can tuck his head into her shoulder and covers the two of them with her duvet the way she used to do when he was shorter

this boy cannot curse around her unless he wants to get his ass Beat

dancing bros

they go so hard in their NCT Dance duet videos 

he keeps band-aids in his bag for her in exchange for her keeping an extra bottle of water in hers because jisung always forgets his own

jisung rests his elbow on her head a lot

but only briefly because the last time he stayed there for too long she stamped on his foot

tldr: aria is jisung’s emotional support gnome

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT. 

jisung and aria were doing the chicken leg battle (this one) to fight for first dibs on the rooms they were going to be sharing for the next week or so. just before they were about to start, mark started laughing and pointing at how high jisung’s leg came up on aria’s, with aria’s knee barely hitting jisung’s mid-thigh

“this is an unfair advantage! this is cheating!”

[jt-artsandfics]

Hello! Sorry for bothering but, if possible, could I have a matchup with the bad batch or any other clone from the clone wars? Thank you in advance!

I'm almost 17, my height is 5'4 feet (1.69 meters) and I use gender neutral pronouns (they/them). My body is a little curvy, I wear square shaped glasses (since my sight is pretty bad) and I have dark brown long curly hair. I have also green eyes.

My MBTI is INFP-T and my ennegram is 2w1. Most of the time I am shy and rarely I do start a conversation: I always wait the other person to say something and I only feel comfortable starting a conversation when I am talking to my best friend. I always act following my heart, emotionally and rarely I use logic when a problem shows up. I'm always up to fix somebody else trouble. I'm really kind and I never think twice when it comes to help people. Yet, it's very difficult to me to trust someone even if sometimes I have too much faith in people. When it comes to my emotions, it's difficult for me to express them and I end up ignoring them. I'm the mom friend of my group. I can be very tidy and I always need to be on time. I think I'm a creative person, in any moment people can find me up with a new project even though I don't finish all of them the most of the times. This is the reason why I don't really have a specific hobby, but many. I really enjoy playing video games, watching TV series/films and reading any type of book (even if I prefer the classics). I don't play any instrument even if I would really like to learn one day. I dance and I really like tennis. Also, I'm a very fan of nature and I spend my free time taking care of my plants

I apologise for writing so much, I hope it won't be a problem! Thank you again for your time!

I match you with.... Hunter

Hunter is very logical leveled headed one to your chaos in certain areas.

You both rush in to try and help others msot times wi tthout thinking about the consequences.

Hunter knows boundaries and tries not to over step them for the comfort of you and the rest of the Batch. Omega on the other hand will put herself in places so that you have to talk to her and hunter.

Omega really just wants to get you and hunter together, she likes playign match maker. And with her strategy skills she is very good at setting it up.

Hunter knows what it's like to store all his emotions away. It's only after you and Omega become big parts in his life that he opens up. He will confind in you and you will do the same with him.

Slow fuckin Burn romance all the other boys have bets going and Omega is the one winning with pulling the strings.

Hunter loves watching you read to Omega. She takes to you really quickly and just enjoys being around you and Hunter has found the both of you asleep curled up agaisnt each other.

He loves going on walks with you. Supply runs, scouting missions or just roaming when safe it enjoys being outside with you.

He's the warmest of the Batch man just resonates heat. And his hugs are just so soft. They are from and you can feel him agaisnt you.

Be prepared to wake up with his arms wrapped around your waist with both him and Omega curled up agaisnt you.

You and Echo being good friends. Man looking out for you becuase he knows how much you mean to Hunter.

Teaching Omega who to play vid games and late night holo sessions with her, hunter and the rest of the boys.

Hunter loves how tidy you are, the amount of times he's found the ship clean becuase both you and Echo binge clean together and just chat.

"So when are you going to tell Hunter you like him" Echo says from his spot moving around the different boxes of supplys and running a cloth up the side of the walls trying to get rid of as much grim as possible.

"I don't know what your talking about Echo" you reply back as you sweep the floor of the ship. " Oh don't lie to yourself you know exactly what I'm talking about" he snarked light flicking some do the dirty water at you.

You roll your eyes as you continue with the cleaning. "Your eyes go all wide and you smile more when your around him" Echo says and then continues.

"The both do you are really oblivious of each other and he's the one with the 'heightened awareness' " Echo quotes the last part laughign light as you turn to glare at him.

"Oh?, and what exactly should I Say Echo. Do i just go up to him and say. 'Hi Hunter I just want to let you know that I'm deeply in love with you and it makes me not able to think some times and I wish we could just have a normal conversation without me making it Awkward' " You snark back at Echo echo seems to laugh as he crosses his arm and points behind you.

"Don't think your gonna need too now" Echo states as he begins to talk off. You raise an eyebrow and turn around only to be meet with Hunter. "Well Cyar'ika, if that's how you feel I should have done this long again" Hunter call moving closer and pulling you in for a kiss.

Your eyes go wide as you grip his shoulders and pull him closer melting into his touch. He sighs lightly as you both pull away and smile at each other.

"... woah, ha I... i wasn't expecting that, sorry you took me by supirse Hunter. But a good supirse" you reply face going bright as he pulls you agaisnt his chest.

"It took you both long enough to figure it out. I was starting to believe that you both were blind" Tech calls as he walks past.

"Rack off Tech" "Kriff off Tech!" The both do you say jokingly only to laugh lightly between the two of you.

[yellowocaballero]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon stared blankly at her. 

“There was an invite?”

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

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

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

“Have you tried talking to -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gesundheit.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is performance art -”

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

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

“I am made of bugs -”

Jon checked out after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re being too loud,” Jon said. 

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

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

“Vetoed,” the Lonely woman said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They knew this. Didn’t they?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or his puppet,” Sarah Baldwin muttered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon couldn’t reign this in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Awkward silence loomed. Jon sighed. “Sorry.”

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Goodbye, Manchester,” Annabelle muttered. 

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

Oliver shrugged, conceding the point. 

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

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

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

“I would never,” Annabelle said innocently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hairbrush? What was that for?

****

Six months after time resumed its course

Jon opened his mailbox, only to find mail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to go?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agnes and Gerry stared at each other with wide eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon didn’t listen to Annabelle anymore. 

Unfortunately, he still listened to Sasha James. 

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

Anyway!

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

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

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

Jon let Agnes believe that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey honey,” Basira said, intimately. 

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

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

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

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

“She did not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I should go with you,” Daisy said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He still couldn’t win an argument against her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I usually make you regret it?” 

“Literally, every single time,” Basira said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m interested,” Agnes said. 

“I’d rather you weren’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon opened the door. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annabelle busied herself with her notes and agenda. 

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

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

The entire room had been at that party. Whoops. 

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

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

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

Who just buried people alive -

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

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

“Jonah Magnus is dead.”

The silence suddenly became oppressive. 

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

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

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

Or something he hated that he enjoyed doing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody looked impressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jon pressed down. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It did not pass, obviously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I deserve this job -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch,” Oliver said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Basira -”

“Don’t ask me to trust you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you kill Jonah Magnus?”

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

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

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

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

“They hate me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oliver stared at them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It...it wasn’t a surprise, but…

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

The biggie, which was his past. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t sure that he liked it.

[i-see-you-now-you-see-me]

Unintentional Coincidence /// Hungry for You

(oneshot/ DYVLONY series, can be read separately)

Pairing: Wayv (NCT) YangYang x Reader (you)

Word count: approx 7k (a long one, i know)

Warnings: smut, blood, violence, drugs usage (the reader get drugged), mention of prostitution, smuty smuttttttttttttttt

A/N: i had to do it though, had this idea in my head and there it is, enjoy

*10043567901;1102033149001. PLANET DYVLONY*

-You can load you gun as much as you like, Detective, - Yangyang smirked, his teeth poking out, lips licking them in anticipation, - but no silver bullets can kill me…

-We just want to talk, - Xiao Dejun spoke calmly not to anger the predator.

-Talk, I see, - Yangyang turned around, - you come into my house, my garden, uninvited, disturb me at this hour, full S.W.A.T gear? Came for a chat? Ha, - he laughed, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

With a swoosh, Yangyang moved across, disarming the weapons from their hands, standing back where he did before, silver bullets flying up in the air and then landing on the ground.

-With what do I ow the pleasure, – he smiled, teeth on full display, - gentleman?

* 48 hours before *

-She attacked me in my own home?! She is not human or alien, she is a monster, - Mr. Gibbs talked, while court magistrate Dejun listened.

-What happened after?

-When she beat me up, I saw her run through the door and that was it, called you straight away!

-Thank you for your time, we will find her ASAP, - Xiaojun spoke.

After Mr. Gibbs had left the building, Dejun dialed Ten’s number.

-We got a problem, - were his first words when the call connected.

-Is everything alright?

-Can you come to High court quarters? I will get someone to greet you when you come.

-I am on my way, - detective Ten spoke.

Minutes later, Ten was going down in the elevator, meeting Xiao Dejun by the door. Walking in silent room, where no one would disturb, they sat down. Xiaojun pulled out a file. Throwing pictures on the table, he sighed.

-She did this, - he said, - number two beat the crap out of Mr. Gibbs and ran. Look at the pictures Ten, tell me what do you think?

Ten was eyeing them carefully not to miss anything. He let out an approval breath.

-There is something not right, - detective said, - when we did the tests on girls none of them were aggressive, there is something more, also, I didn’t hear that she would have tried to escape when Gibbs collected her.

-Exactly, - Dejun spoke, - I think he might have done something to trigger her, that’s why she did this.

Ten nodded. None of the humans were aggressive, no disturbing behavior was seen, nor any they had heard of. Anna was perfect in every way, and Ten’s wife was pulling his strings on purpose, but not like this.

-I will get my team on it straight away, - Ten spoke. Xiao nodded.

-We cannot, - he sighed, - since about humans no one really knows, we cannot have more exposure to what is already out there. I must say, you should do this on your own, mind that, I will help you.

-Ok, we start with surveillance footage by Gibbs’ house, and see where we go from there.

-Yes, let’s do that.

Both of them were soon in a car, driving towards Gibbs’ house, uneasy feeling in Ten’s gut. He was sure Gibbs hurt the girl, and if he was right, surveillance will be useless, either way deleted or, he will hear another of – it must have broken down, I didn’t know - this bullshit.

-How come you are here? – Mr. Gibbs asked.

-We are here to check if we could see your surveillance recordings, I am Detective Ten by the way.

-I know who you are, - he stepped aside, - be my guest.

Leading them through corridor, soon they had reached the camera surveillance room. As a scientist, Mr. Gibbs had the newest technology, including cameras, speaker phones, all sorts of gears, that no one yet would be able to purchase.

Showing the first video, where you ran, into his back garden and then through the bushes, Ten was ready to push some buttons. He turned to face Gibbs.

-And the other footage?

-What are you referring to? – Gibbs asked.

-Where she beats you up?

Mr. Gibbs pulled another video, where it was clear, that you went fully ballistic on him. Kicking him in the balls first, then stomach, then his back with your elbow, until he was on the ground and you kept on kicking.

-And before this?

-What? – Mr. Gibbs felt offended. – what are you after detective?

-Just doing my work, - Ten said back, - if you are liable to information that could help us, it is your job as our citizen to provide us with it. If you fail to do so, we can ask the judge at the high court to write a legal document for it, or, if you won’t cooperate, ask for a lawyer, we can ask for a search warrant.

Ten was right, truth to be told, if Gibbs had nothing to hide, why just not show them. End of story. Gibbs bit his cheek. He knew Ten could be very pushing towards his goal, so he obliged. Playing another video, your body was attached to some system, and clearly Mr. Gibbs was experimenting on you.

-Sir, - Xiaojun spoke, - have you been experimenting on a human being, that you were supposed to keep safe and teach our ways?

Gibbs grit his teeth. He hated this.

-You have no proof!? – he nearly shouted.

-This is enough proof to be showed in a court, - Ten said. – if you tell us now, we might ask for a gentler punishment for you.

Gibbs stayed quiet. An hour later all of his camera footage, since the day you were brought to his home, was taken by police task forces, Xiaojun and Ten collecting evidence of experimenting, as well as trying to get more info as to where you might have gone.

24h later, Detective Ten and a search party had looked at any possible place you could have gone. Unfortunately, it was pointless, nothing had been found. You had showed up in a couple of DYVLONY citizen cameras which are mainly located on the corners of small shops and businesses, but after that it’s like you vanished.

Ten had proposed the GYPE beach to be searched, but lack of money and resources, stopped that idea from happening. He was biting his knuckles now, 24 hours had passed, and still nothing? Ten felt responsible, since he was the one who helped to give all then girls home to live in.

-It’s my fault, - Ten said, - if I would have known!

-Listen, no, don’t do that, he is a public figure, we didn’t know, - Dejun tapped Ten’s shoulder. – but we can find her, or try, like we are doing right now.

-I know, - he sighed, it had been a long day. All Ten wanted to do was go home to his wife and sink between her soft thighs.

-Go home, Ten, we’ll continue tomorrow.

They said their goodbyes and went separate ways. Ten had a feeling that when the morning comes, they will not be able to find the girl, and they will have to let her go.

*Morning after, 36 hours into the search*

-We have lost her, - an officer spoke.

Ten grabbed his hair in frustration. Xiaojun was banging his head against the search board. He sighed.

-We do have one option, - he said in a low voice. Ten looked up.

-What do you mean? – Ten asked.

-You know, - Xiaojun whispered.

-No, - Ten said, - I… I don’t think it’s a good idea.

-I know, but what choice do we have, he might be the only chance we got!

Deep down Ten knew, that Xiao was right, but that was a step he was not ready to take.

*48 hours search/// Lost case, file missing*

-I wish this was a road trip, - Ten spoke. Xiao was driving.

-I know, - he said, - if we would be able to get him to find her for us, that would be perfect. But I have heard many things, and I don’t think that’s how it will go.

-You are right, - once stopped, they both stepped out of the vehicle, Ten putting on a police vest, arming himself with guns that contained silver bullets and were made from silver too. Xiao made sure his silver bracelets are visible as well as a gun, that was secured around his hips.

-Ok, let’s do this, - Dejun took number 2 portfolio with him, to be presented, if needed.

Knocking on the door later on, no one answered. Ten proposed they would go around his house, search for him there. Since it was outskirts of town, there was no one around, but the beautiful nature that surrounded the place.

Taking a turn to go deeper into the back garden, Ten followed Xiao. There he was. Standing by a violet chrysanthemum, hands behind his back, head focused on the flowers, but eyes closed, listening.

-Excuse me, sir, - Ten started, - no one opened the door, so we came to look for you.

The person didn’t turn around, just chuckled.

-Sir, we were wondering… if you would… - Xiao didn’t finish the sentence, when the person turned around. His eyes were red, lips paler than normally, his fangs showing.

-Ah, you were wondering… - he laughed in their faces.

Ten loaded his gun, pointing it directly at the predator. Liu Yangyang, an immortal being, that has the ability to be reborn again, was the ultimate killer if he wanted to be. The best huntsman there was. His thirst is the only thing that keeps him out here, if he would make it to town, all of them would be dead.

-You can load you gun as much as you like, Detective, - Yangyang smirked, his teeth poking out, lips licking them in anticipation, - but no silver bullets can kill me…

-We just want to talk, - Xiao Dejun spoke calmly not to anger the predator.

-Talk, I see, - Yangyang turned around, - you come into my house, my garden, uninvited, disturb me at this hour, full S.W.A.T gear? Came for a chat? Ha, - he laughed, the sarcasm clear in his tone.

With a swoosh, Yangyang moved across, disarming the weapons from their hands, standing back where he did before, silver bullets flying up in the air and then landing on the ground.

-With what do I ow the pleasure, – he smiled, teeth on full display, - gentleman?

-We have a missing persons case, - Ten said, - we cannot find her and… - he didn’t finish, Yangyang looked hooked.

-It’s “her”? – he asked.

Ten looked confused.

-What is the matter? What does that do with anything…? – Ten arched a brow. Xiao felt saliva in his throat being stuck, he had a feeling this would not go well.

Ten was pressed against a column in Yangyang’s garden, by the neck within seconds.

-Why do you look for “her”? – Yangyang licked his fangs.

-I can show you why, - Xiao came closer, - she beat up one of our community members.

Liar.

-No, no, - Yangyang whispered. – you search for her because she is not guilty.

He let go of Ten, who fell to the ground coughing. The file that was in Xiao’s hands was snatched away, Yangyang’s eyes widening in seeing photos.

-So, will you help us? – Ten asked, Yangyang tsked.

-I will, - he said, Xiaojun and Ten looked at each other almost saying “this was easier than we thought”, until, - but when I find her, SHE IS MINE.

-What? No, we cannot, - Xiao was speechless, Yangyang had him by his neck.

-No, no, you listen, - Yangyang spoke, - you came for help, I am helping, and in return, you are willing to give me this “human” to feast on, I do not think it is that bad. You have your missing persons case closed, and I will have a plaything.

Yangyang bit his lip, closing his eyes, when some blood dripped down his lips, licking it up, his face lit up.

-I can almost taste her.

If it wasn’t for Xiao carrying a blood sample, they would think Yangyang is mental. Xiao took out the small ampoule with your blood and handed it over to the predator.

-You’ve done your research, - Yangyang said, - I am impressed. So what’s it gonna be? You both dying here or me having the girl, you choose.

Ten looked at Xiao once again. Understanding that there is nothing else nor a better option, nor they were willing to die, they both nodded.

-Excellent, - Yangyang smiled, walking away back to his starting point by the flowers.

When he heard them both leave, Yangyang went inside his home, sat down on his bed. The blood sample ampule was burning his palm. He again licked his lips, took of his long robe and shirt, made himself more comfortable on the bed. Opening the sample carefully he opened his mouth to stuck out his tongue. A simple drop of blood touched his tastebuds.

Yangyang breathed in and out slowly. Ampoule was closed and put aside and Yangyang felt a hot fire burn him throughout his body cells. A taste he tried first time, and a taste he would never forget. Yours.

His member twitched in his trousers, Yangyangs fangs dropped down even further, it would only happen if he was to attack someone, or during a high pleasure moment, such as this. His hand reached inside his pants, stroking his cock with eyes closed, he was already picturing you in front of him. Building up his own orgasm, since he was now in a hurry to find you, Yangyang used his super speed, jacking himself off, shots of cum was now painted on his stomach and hand, dripping down his thighs. Fuck.

“I don’t have time for this”, he thought to himself and went to have a quick shower and dress up.

Not knowing how to dress yet, Yangyang put on a simple clothing to blend in with the DYVLONY, the only thing hard to mask was his fangs. He used makeup to cover his face, he redness around his eyes and his lips that would change to different tones depending on the situation.

The more blood he craved the redder his lips became.

He was using transport. How odd for him. His own car felt strange, since he would rarely leave his house, all he needed was there. Driving to town was simple, fast, he sped through the traffic, leaving his car near the High court. The senses overwhelmed him when he stepped out of the vehicle.

He smelled her. You. It seemed like you had just gone past a couple of minutes ago. Yangyangs ability to track and trace someone was based on their belongings and blood, then he would picture where the person had gone.

Fast as a lightening, he was inside the court and out, nobody noticing that he even was there. He went to a house, smelling you on the way. Sneaking inside the house he was searching, then he heard a noise.

-Who the fuck are you?! – someone shouted, and he turned around. A girl greeted him with a pan in her hands. – answer me or I’ll use this!

Yangyang started to laugh. He pushed the girl against the closest door frame, his nose bumping against her neck, breathing in the scent. His fangs scraped the skin.

-Don’t hurt me, - she whispered, Yangyang looked at her, - I am pregnant.

Yangyang stepped back, feeling a barrel of a gun pressed against his skull.

-What are you doing here? – Ten asked, Yangyang turned around.

-Hello there, Detective, - Yangyang started, - the blood sample you gave me, led me to her.

-They are the same species, - Ten said back, - of course there is something similar, but she is not her. This is my wife, - Ten pointed at his S/O, - we would appreciate if you would leave now.

Yangyang nodded and with that he was gone.

Street after a street, and Yangyang felt your essence again. This time it was clear that it was you. A dying neighborhood. You might have tried to hide here, and then he felt a familiar sweet scent. DYVLONY perfume, and he knows only one person who has worn the same one for many, many years.

So, he knew, he had to do what he does best in a situation like this. Kill everyone.

He dressed up as a student, round glasses on his eyes, hair brushed back, even a couple of books in his hands to make it more believable. He felt it being harder to conceal his red eyes, he knew it meant that he would soon hibernate. A couple of streets away, he walked through a massive warehouse, it was empty, he walked further inside, till he reached a room by the far exit of the building. “EXIT” was burning bright red, so they were opened.

Yangyang opened the door and stepped through. Walking down the stairs, he heard voices, he was getting closer to his main goal.

The most popular brothel on DYVLONY was here. Hidden under the massive warehouse, it was filled with people having fun in each other’s company, having a laugh, a drink, and some fun on the way.

Yangyang reached the receptionist.

-No under eighteens’ here, - she announced, Yangyang pushed up his glasses from the bridge of his nose.

-I am eighteen, - he said, - just turned! I got ID if you want.

He really played well this character. Cute boy, no one would ever notice.

-Very well then, how can I help you? – the receptionist asked.

-I want to have some fun, - Yangyang said. – but I would like something different, something fresh, you know like… something extraordinary… I can pay for it…

He smiled without his teeth. His fangs were *this close* to poking out and snapping her neck, if she wouldn’t give him what he desired. He presented a card together with his ID.

-I don’t know what you are after, - the receptionist said, a knock on the door behind her made Yangyang squint his eyes. Another girl walked through.

-The evening auction is about to start, we don’t take no new customers at this time, - she announced.

-It’s a pity, but you won’t have a choice, - Yangyang sped around the table, knocking both ladies out, walking through the door. To everybody else he just looked like a schoolboy who probably came to lose his virginity, but to Yangyang everyone else was just a bag of bones, and he would have great fun soon.

A lady spoke.

-We have a special offer, - she smiled, there behind her back on a post, were seven women, and Yangyang recognized you immediately. – but only for the owner of the biggest dick.

It looked like everyone was near to fishing out their cocks, and Yangyang sighed. Then the DYVLONY lady walked towards you, it was clear to Yangyang that you were on some kind of sedative, your pupils were too dilated to be on normal sex drugs, not unless they still been using the ones who have been forbidden since dark ages.

-This is the tightest pussy we can offer, but only for the one and only, - Yangyang licked his lips.

-How do we know? – Yangyang shouted from the far back. – how do we know she is the tightest?

A man next to him snorted “how would you know what that means, boy”, and Yangyang held it in.

-Do you have the biggest dick to test that? – DYVLONY lady nearly laughed in his face. Your relaxed form on the stage opened your legs wider, your pussy on display, for everyone to see. Man whistled and some groaned seeing your parted legs and the treasure between them.

-No, - Yangyang said, - but I have the biggest fangs out of you all.

Before anyone could react, Yangyang ran down every isle, snapping necks of all the horny motherfuckers who eyed your cunt. The ladies shrieked, running away as fast as they could. Yangyang was on the stage, taking your almost limp, naked body in his arms. From afar a knocking sound seemed to be getting closer.

Another door from the side opened and a lady with a walking stick walked out.

-Liu Yangyang, - she shouted. – You have no right to be here and do this!

The DYVLONY lady was in her 80s, walking stick helping her up, her face angry. Two bodyguards were with her, both looking ready to fight.

-You don’t have a right to steal people from the streets and sell into prostitution either, but here we are, - he said matter-of-factly.

-You are banned from this house, - she said, - many, many centuries ago you were, and now again you strike to displease me, if it wasn’t for my fourth-generation ancestor carrying a baby, I might not have been here, because you killed them all! Your bloodlust and addiction got the worst of you, and you killed innocent men and women, Liu Yangyang, you have no right to judge or touch any of us!

-I am not sorry, nor have I ever been, but this here, - he looked down on you, - is mine. If you wish call the police and ask, add killing these bastards and I will sit in the prison, until I am reborn again, and do this again if I have to.

He carried you towards the exit, not looking back at the anger filled brothel owner. She was fuming. Once out and away from the brothel, Yangyang stripped of his student shirt and put it around you, to cover at least your naked butt. All of the sudden your hand touched his cheek.

-Fuck me, - you lazily spoke, drool forming on the corners of your mouth, it was the drugs talking, and you slapped his face, taking Yangyang by surprise, - fuck the living shit out of me, my pussy hurts daddy, do it all to me…

Your voice broke into a moan like breaths, moaning heavy against his face. You leaned closer to him, your tongue out first to taste his lips.

-I am your cum slut, use me as you want, - you groaned again.

-Nope, not yet, - Yangyang said walking towards his car. – once you are out of that shit, we’ll have a talk.

Bed creaked under your movements, as Yangyang tried to press your body back down on the bed. You were fisting the bed sheets, moaning, sweat forming on your forehead, nipples pressed through the clothing Yangyang provided you with.

Once in a while, he cleaned your forehead with a damp towel, the fever was going down, the drugs slowly, and I mean slowly leaving your system. Yangyang’s trousers tight as ever, watching you be in despair of your feelings, then he noticed your wet crotch. Your juices flowing in copious amounts, wetting the trousers on the way.

He then tied up your hands to the bed post, and removed the damp garment, lifting your ass up and putting a towel underneath.

-As much as I love a sight like this, - Yangyang sighed, looking at your entrance, - I am not an idiot nor a…- and then it hit him. Your smell, which he tried to ignore, suppressing it down to zero, in couple of seconds went up to thousand. His fangs plopped down, and animalistic growl left his lips. His eyes changed color and his lips became darker.

His lips attacked your cunt, tongue diving straight in your core, thirst taking over his mind. Slurping up your juices like mad man, Yangyang was lost, his tongue movements coaxing a scream from you. Grabbing onto your legs and pushing you towards him, he was drowning in your sex, his teeth scraping your skin, a bit of blood pouring, while he licked you up.

A pained expression left your mouth. You opened your eyes, your eye pupils becoming normal with every thrust of Yangyangs tongue, and probably because all the blood that had flowed down to your belly was leaving your system, where his fangs had bit you.

Then you felt it.

Your fear.

Where were you?

How did you get here?

What happened?

Did you manage to run away from that monster?

Tear escaped your eyes and instead of a moan leaving your lips, it was a sniffle of fear and shame and not understanding the situation you were in. The drugs were wearing off.

Yangyang heard this and looked up at you. Your teary eyes stared back at him, he looked down. Seeing your wounds from his fangs, he stepped away quickly.

-I’m sorry, this was not meant to happen, - he got on his knees, - I’m sorry, I’m sorry, - kept leaving his mouth, his own eyes shading his tears away. You saw his red eyes and cowered back closer to the bed post you were still attached to.

You cried. Whimpers leaving your mouth while you looked at him. Yangyang tried to shush you a bit, as he moved closer.

-I won’t hurt you, I promise, that was an accident, - he explained, - let me untie you first, ok?

You nodded. When he did untie you as promised, you kicked him in the chest and tried to run. Your wobbly legs didn’t let you get far, you were scooped up in Yangyangs’ arms again anyway.

-Shhh, - he tried, - I will explain, give me a chance.

He held you by your waist as you sat on his bed, you directly on top of him, sat in his lap. You were trembling.

-Police was looking for you, - he started, you relaxed a little bit, - when you ran, you must have ben exhausted, because someone had found you. An owner of a brothel had found you and you were drugged. I am sorry for touching you like that, I didn’t mean to. Not while you were on drugs.

-Drugs? – you re-asked.

-Yes, drugs that make you ache for pleasure of sex, makes you uncontrollable, your desires or sexual references on display.

-How do you know?

-Well…

*Long, long time ago*

-Ladies and gentlemen, - a female spoke, she was wearing a see-through night gown that was down to her ankles. – today, we introduce you to a beast. Beast of pleasure!

The curtain that concealed the make-shift stage was pulled down, revealing a naked Yangyang, his cock standing proud against his stomach, tip of his penis embellished with a piercing of a pearl.

-Ladies, since the night is all about you, he is yours, only for a dozen dyvo (DYVLONY currency).

She then walked over to Yangyang, pressing a cup to his lips, making him drink the liquid, his fangs were out, but he was clueless to what was happening to him. When the first woman approached him and sank down on his cock, starting a rhythm. Once he realized his purpose was fucking whoever was on top of him, Yangyang used his superspeed to get them off. Once orgasmed, completely fucked out from the act, the woman was helped down, she would not be able to walk straight or walk in general.

Yangyangs cock then would be cleaned down, and then the next one would take place. Since his metabolism burned faster, the more he used his strength, the more drugs he was provided with in the alcoholic drink that was handed to him near enough after a couple of hours.

The body count kept on growing, and as the night moved on, Yangyang felt burn in his chest. It was getting harder to breath, all he could focus on was the wet cunts and squelching noises, that at once started to ring loudly in his ears. Then he started to vibrate, and suddenly, his body exploded, killing the lady who was on top of him. Blood spluttering everywhere it was a sight that was hard to forget.

Exactly thirteen hours after the incident, in the mountains a group of men were enjoying a drink, while they lit up a firepit, ashes were still burning hot when a poof happened. In the middle of the ashes was a naked young man, shivering. The men helped him up, giving him a spare clothing, Yangyangs eyes burned red, fangs showing, as he sunk his teeth in the first victim after his rebirth. He killed them all, until he realized what had happened before, his memories flooding his mind.

When he walked through the makeshift door in the brothel, ladies who recognized him tried to run, the men however were ready to kick his guts. A young maiden stood at the end, Yangyang knew she was the performer who gave him those drugs that killed him. On his way, Yangyang teared limbs of DYVLONY coming for him, snapped necks of women and men, ripping throats out till he reached the lady.

-How are you here? – she asked, Yangyang didn’t respond but his teeth painfully sunk in her neck, she kept on kicking and punching him, screaming, - I have a child!

Yangyang stopped.

-I have a child in me!!! – she screamed, and Yangyang let go of her. She dropped to the floor, - now you have done it! You have had your revenge! You are not welcome here, leave and never come back! I therefore announce you to be banned from this place forever!

Yangyang stood back, turning around, seeing his victims, all of them dead in front of his eyes. He ran as fast as he could, but he ended up in the place he was reborn. The firepit only consisting of ashes. He touched them and cried.

What had they done to him?

Years later, Yangyang had built a home there, the firepit was near enough an altar for him to reborn into again, if/when he dies. A secret room on the ground floor, a room of rebirth.

*

-They would have used you while you couldn’t anymore, - Yangyang spoke softly, you nodded, - come on.

He then led you to the bathroom, helping you strip from the shirt, since your lower half was naked, starting a tap for the bathtub, helping you in. You still felt the effect from the drugs, in between your legs, your juices still pooling your lower lips.

-When does this stop? – you asked.

-Should be a couple more hours maybe, - Yangyang himself had used a drug on a lover of his before. He was so horny that he needed to dick down someone, later it turned to forty-six-hour sex with no breaks, constantly pounding his partner, who wasn’t able to speak, just drool in the covers.

He had not used that ever again.

-I… - you started, - I am a fugitive, I escaped from… my guardian.

-I know, - he said, - I also know you were not guilty of whatever crime you committed.

You nodded, bathtub was now full, and Yangyang helped you clean up, at that moment it felt like he was your boyfriend.

-Who are you? – you softly asked since he seemed to be opened to a conversation.

-I have classed myself as a vampire.

-A vampire? – you re-asked and he nodded. – then the red eyes make sense, - you let out a giggle, - and the lips.

You looked at him and Yangyang stared back at you. He swallowed and you looked away. His fangs were visible, but it didn’t scare you, also, you were naked, but you felt no shame. You had been examined before, when you first got on this planet, when they took you lab, did some tests, gave you a vaccine and a chip, all that time you had no clothing, till they gave you a onesie to wear.

Nakedness didn’t feel like anything anymore. It didn’t give you the blush to your face either, and you felt a rush coming to you. Memories flooded your brain, nothing significant, just a few things with hooded eyes, something that you must have said.

“Cum slut”, you went shades of tomato straight away. What the fuck?!

-Are you ok, - Yangyang asked, - you just went all…

-Uhm, - you turned the other way, facing the wall.

Who did you say this to? You were closing your eyes to remember. The boyish jawline, the glasses, ruffled hair, your hand on his cheek, you looked back at Yangyang.

Shit.

That was him.

-What is it?

You hid your face with your palms.

-I remember, - you said, and Yangyang looked confused, but your hidden face caught up with his mind.

-Ah, I see, - he laughed, - so, you don’t want me to fuck you that bad huh?

You didn’t look up either. This was embarrassing, on today’s episode of how fucked up is this, that’s fucked up, that’s exactly what it felt like. Yangyangs laugh rang through the bathroom.

-I’m sorry, - he said, - I know it’s not funny, but your reaction is just too cute.

You looked back at him.

-Cute? – you asked, Yangyang stood up taking a towel, you got up and he wrapped you in it, helping you out of the tub, walking you back to the room. He didn’t let you sit down on the bed, he just made sure you sat on the chair, dried yourself of, while he took of covers from the bed, put new ones on. It felt almost homey. – What are you going to do to me?

Your voice small, when asking this. Yangyang stopped what he was doing. Detective Ten and Magistrate Xiao probably thought that you would be sucking his dick about now, but Yangyang wasn’t sure himself anymore. The situation was scary, even for him. He would love to pound you into the mattress, of course, no question about it, but that would have to wait for now.

-I thought when I find you, I will play with you, bite you, drink from you, have sex with you, and all that over again…

-So… why don’t you? – your voice quiet. Yangyang stared you down and walked over. When eye-level with you, he smiled, his fangs showing, he licked them while you stared at him. Your eyes wide. Yangyang waited for a different reaction.

-I don’t know, - he finally said. – you still could be having effect from sedative, not unless you want to be my cum slut.

With that he cracked up, and you hid your face, leaning down, pressing your face against your knees.

-I cannot believe I said that, - you still hid, - I am not like that.

-And how exactly are you?

Yangyang was next to you again, his super speed not scaring you at all. He was on his knees listening to what you were about to say. Reaching to cup your face in his hands, he made sure you made eye contact. You bit your lip and tried to look somewhere else. He let out a breath.

-I am, well, - you started, and then there it was, your lips on his. Yangyang didn’t say anything, he didn’t stop, if what he led you on even more, grabbing onto your towel. Kiss was gentle and the type you would want to have with your future partner.

For some unknown reason, it felt right in all of the wrong ways. He was an alien, more so- a vampire alien, but you were an alien too. There was no rights or wrongs in a situation like this. The kiss got more heated when Yangyang pulled apart your towel, baring your body to him. He drank in the sight of you.

-I want to make all of this mine, - he stated, pulling you up on your feet, he pushed you towards his bed. Touching your hair, your waist, your hips, butt cheeks, hoisting your leg up to his hips, - inch by inch, mine and no one else’s.

-I’m yours, - you nodded and gave into his hot mouth again. His kisses and touches seemed to be everywhere, he pushed you onto the bed, lips traveling down to your breasts, sucking on a nipple, and then on the other one, he looked up at you.

-Can I bite you? – he asked, you watched him and nodded, you were up to this. To being his. He chose a spot just above your breasts, kissed the spot, and then slowly let his fangs sink in, piercing the skin, earning a yelp from you. Once bitten, he licked up the wound, that healed immediately, and returned to pleasing you again. His hands traveled between your legs, touching the soft skin, the shortly cut pubic hair, his fingers sliding through your folds, gathering the slick with his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean.

Then his mouth was on yours, his body making way to your parted legs. You felt the bulge of his trousers rubbing directly at your clit and moaned in satisfaction, your hand reached for him through his pants.

-Take them off, - you said, - take it all off.

Once naked, he was on top of you again, but you spun him around. He was lying on his back and you were hovering above him. You kissed down his chest, his lean stomach, your hand grabbing his cock, slowly palming him. Yangyang touched your hair, moving it to the side so he could see your face. Licking the tip of his dick, you swirled your tongue around it, your hand pulling the skin, the wetness of your mouth coating his member, so your hand could slide up and down.

-So… gentle… - he whispered, his hands reached for you as he sat up, turning your bum towards his face, he pushed your legs apart and positioned himself between them, your aching pussy over his face. You didn’t stop pleasuring him though, your mouth still sucking and hollowing your cheeks, as much as you could before choking, since you haven’t done that much before. Yangyangs’ hands held your hips and legs strongly, pushing you down on his face. You moaned out, letting go of his cock when you felt his tongue between your pussy lips. Sucking one into his mouth and then another, then licking you up and down, near your asshole, then sucking your clitoris. You returned to your own job, licking the underside of his cock, the thick veins, down to his balls, sucking on them, while your fist moved up and down.

Your orgasm was approaching, and you tried to move from Yangyangs grasp.

-I don’t want to come, - you stated, and he let go. You turned around, kissing him again. You were about to turn around, when he spoke.

-I want to see you as I claim you.

Hot kisses returned to your skin, and you were pushed on your back, your hand guiding his member through your folds, to your entrance, as he filled you up slowly. The stretch was a bit painful, your walls fluttering around him, to accommodate his length, you had to wait a bit longer. Yangyang kissed your chest, not moving till you would give him a green light. As soon as you nodded, he pulled out just a bit and gave a short thrust, just to do that again, your legs went around his body, tangled up, while your toes curled from the pleasure.

Short thrusts were his game, short and fast, but your pulsing cunt sucking him in from time to time stopped his movements. He gave you a look.

-What is this? – he asked jokingly, - what do you need, baby…

The nickname he gave you put a smile to your lips.

-Deeper, - were the only word.

-Your wish is my command, - he kissed you once more, and you were rewarded with a rich, deep thrust up to your cervix. Yangyang pulled out and did the same again. – let’s make it more exciting, shall we?

You nodded.

You weren’t prepared.

His super strength and speed, had you taken aback, then you felt what it meant – to be pounded into the mattress, an orgasm reached you and you cried out, never had you had an orgasm from vaginal sex only, but somehow this was different. Your senses overwhelmed, Yangyang’s movements not slowing down, your core clenching down on him, while he was nipping on your earlobe, biting it to draw blood.

The next thing you knew, you were up against the wall, hoisted to his waist, as he entered you again, this time, he was moving in humanly speed, lazily filling you over and over again. Your head against the wall, your moans filling the room, he was vocal as well, besides the grunts and groans, and silent words like “this pussy is mine”, he had dangerously “tasty” moans, at some point his hips went stuttering, and his voice got a bit raspy, as he came, giving you couple more strong thrusts, his sperm coating your walls, and dripping down your legs, he had much of it to give you.

You were on the bed again, your legs spread wide, and Yanyangs tongue diving in your mound again. His hot lips sucked on your clit, turning you into a frenzy of moans, his hand pressed down a bit on your womanhood and you reached your high, his lips not leaving your entrance before he had licked every drop up.

Your breathing was heavy, as you came down from your second orgasm, and Yangyang plopped next to you. Then he felt a pang in his heart. The ache unbearable.

-Oh no, - he moaned out, you got up to help him.

-What’s the matter?

He couldn’t speak, his breath coming out short, sharpened, his skin boiling, he squeezed out last words.

-Wait… for… me…

The unexpected happened. In front of your eyes, his body boiled up and exploded, covering you red from head to toe. Your scream leaving your mouth, eyes widening in shock. You got of the bed and onto the ground, tears in your eyes.

Your cries the only thing to leave your lips.

Somehow you ended up falling asleep hugging your knees, not being able to stand up and do anything from the experience. What felt like a day later, you heard rustling from somewhere. Your eyes widened. Who was in the house?

The door creaked open, a figure walked in, approaching you on the ground, covered in dust, while you were still filthy from the blood.

-Waited long? – you finally looked up. To your surprise Yangyang was staring back at you.

-Oh my… - you reached for him, hugging his body, crying again.

-I told you to wait, didn’t I? – you nodded into his shoulder.

-Let’s get cleaned up, yeah? – he pulled you both up, - don’t worry, babe, it won’t happen for at least twenty more years now.

You could only nod.

Maybe you were meant to escape a monster only to be in the arms of a predator, some people are just meant for unintentional coincidences. Universe has its own way of sorting things out, and maybe this was it. His universe became yours.

[vanderlindemangofarm]

The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each! 

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together. 

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”. 

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships. 

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on. 

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are. 

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls. 

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM. 

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not. 

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability. 

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits. 

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day. 

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room. 

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing. 

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward. 

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite? 

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine. 

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont. 

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers. 

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it. 

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job. 

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails. 

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy. 

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of. 

[alexthedrummerboy]

I Need To Forget You

pairing: platonic alex, luke, and reggie (and bobby but only mentioned!)

summary: Before his parents kicked him out, his sister had been trying to teach him how to play the acoustic guitar. Andrea hadn't been quite the musician that Luke is, but she'd tried her best. Alex remembers being 15 and sitting on the edge of her bed, her guitar in his arms as she told him where to place his fingers. He also remembers complaining endlessly about how much the strings hurt his hands.

Another exploration into Alex’s feelings about his family after his death.

(plus self indulgent guitar playing inspired by that video Owen posted on Instagram of him playing the guitar in the dark)

authors note: I JUST REALLY WANT ALEX TO GET A SOFT ACOUSTIC GUITAR SOLO IN SEASON 2

trigger warning: homophobia and bad parenting (mentioned)

ao3

The studio is cold when Alex walks in. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, it’s barely five in the morning and everyone is asleep.

They technically don't need to sleep but Luke and Reggie like to try anyway. Alex finds he's too wired to even do that; he’s been this way since before he died.

He eyes his drum kit and walks over, gently the tapping on the batter head with the pads of his fingers. He doesn’t really feel like playing right now. The morning feels too quiet for that.

Then, he sees it. A six string in the corner that Alex assumes belonged to Julie’s mom.

He walks over tentatively, keeping his footsteps quiet as he approaches, almost as it he's approaching a wounded animal. When the guitar is finally within reach, Alex reaches out and gently plucks a string, listening to the muted sound of it quietly ring out. He smiles, though it feels bittersweet.

Before his parents kicked him out, his sister had been trying to teach him how to play the acoustic guitar. Andrea hadn't been quite the musician that Luke is, but she'd tried her best. Alex remembers being 15 and sitting on the edge of her bed, her guitar in his arms as she told him where to place his fingers. He also remembers complaining endlessly about how much the strings hurt his hands.

His fingers begin to itch the longer he looks at the guitar and before he even realizes, he’s picking it up and sitting on the couch, balancing the guitar in his lap.

It feels instantly different from his sister’s guitar. It has a rougher feel from the unvarnished wood, and the curves in the body of it fit differently in his lap... but holding it feels like home.

It’s a different kind of home, though.

Alex’s drums are a warm-kind of home. They remind him of long rehearsals and laughing until he couldn’t breathe. They feel like long talks about dreams and hopes with his best friends at midnight, and crying about his parents while Luke, Reggie, and Bobby held him.

But the guitar... feels different. It reminds him of locking himself in his sisters room and playing Green Day way too loud while their parents stomped around downstairs, pretending to live perfect lives.

It feels like fear; the fear he’d felt when he’d told Andrea that he liked boys the way he was supposed to like girls.

He hugs Julie’s moms guitar just the slightest bit tighter when he remembers the way his sister had hugged him so tightly, when he remembers how she’d told him (for the first time in their entire lives) that she loved him.

Alex takes a deep breath as he positions his hand over the strings and presses down.

It stings in the same way that it had the first time Andie had tried to teach him how to play, but he finds that he doesn’t really mind so much anymore. He begins to pluck a gentle melody and winces when one of the strings buzzes under his grip.

“Pushin’ past the limits, trippin’ on hallucinogenics.”

His voice is quiet and the slightest bit gruff from rehearsing all day yesterday, but it feels good to hear it ringing out in the empty studio. He isn’t sure when his eyes slip shut, but all he can see behind his eyelids are flashes of his parents disappointed faces, of Andie’s teary eyes.

The rhythm of Alex’s strumming picks up and morphs into something more aggressive the longer he sings.

“Rippin’ with my sinners ‘cause fuck it, man, I ain’t no beginner.” Suddenly, Alex is 14 again, sitting in church and shuffling uncomfortably in his Sunday best as he’s helpless to listen to the minister as he tells them to cast out sinners; sinners that Alex is too afraid to admit he identifies with.

His parents had always taken the ministers word as if it had come from God himself, so they’d done just as he said.

When Alex had told them he was gay, they’d cast him out. They’d barely given it any thought at all.

”’Cause I just couldn’t open up, I’m always shiftin’.” Alex sighs before launching into the next line, a sour taste in his mouth. “Go find yourself a man who’s strong and tall and Christian.”

The gold chain around his neck burns, heavy with the phantom weight of the cross that used to hang from it. Alex swallows. His eyes feel suspiciously wet as he continues to strum through the end of the song.

He lets out a shaky breath and leans back against the couch, catching his breath and letting the guitar just lay across his body. It’s quiet mornings like these that make Alex hurt the most. Mornings that are cold and unfocused and quiet; mornings that give him too much space to think.

He hears the sound of someone proofing into the garage and shoes shuffling against the ground and he sighs. He wipes his eyes before he opens them, seeing Luke and Reggie standing in front of him.

Reggie is sheepishly fiddling with his fingers and Luke looks vastly uncomfortable; like he’s been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to... but seeing them makes a comforting warmth explode in Alex’s chest.

“Hey,” Alex says softly, lifting the guitar off his lap and putting it on the coffee table, being careful not to scratch the wood. “How much of that did you hear?”

”Pretty much all of it,” Reggie says, flopping down next to Alex on the couch. Alex leans toward him almost automatically.

Luke joins them. Alex knows he isn’t great with vulnerability, but he can tell he’s trying, and that’s enough to make the tears threaten to spill all over again.

“You alright, man?” Luke asks quietly. “It looked like things were getting kind of intense.”

Alex sniffs, shrugs, and looks up at the chairs hanging from the ceiling. “I think so,” he says. “I just started thinking about my folks... and Andie.”

Reggie winces and bumps their knees together. Neither of them say anything, but Alex knows they’re listening.

Luke reaches for Alex’s hand and he welcomes the touch, squeezing Luke back just as tight.

“I just...” The words get caught in Alex’s throat, “were they sad when they found out?” He clenches his jaw. “A part of me wonders, y’know... maybe they were relieved.”

“Alex—”

”No, Luke, they kicked me out!” He says. “I might as well’ve died right on their porch the night my Dad told me to pack my shit and leave!”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but it just happens. He gives Reggie an apologetic look. Alex knows how he gets when people yell.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“It does if it’s hurting you,” Reggie says quietly. “Have you thought about tracking them down?”

Alex tugs at his chain as Reggie’s question twists and turns in his mind.

Surprisingly, he hasn’t. Not really. The minute he stepped out of that house, his parents had stopped feeling like family. Luke, Reggie, and Bobby had been his family for far longer than his parents had been.

“No,” Alex says after a moment. “They aren’t my family anymore. You guys are.”

Luke bumps their shoulders together and Alex smiles, grabbing Reggie’s hand with his free one.

“What about Andie?” Luke asks, stroking his thumb across the back of Alex’s hand. “You told us she was chill when you came out.”

Hearing Luke say her name stings in a way he hadn’t expected.

“She was.” Alex looks at the guitar sitting on the coffee table. “I do wonder sometimes, I guess but... what good would that do? It’s not like I could talk to her. And even if I could, it’s not... I couldn’t hurt her like that.”

Reggie furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Alex sighs. “If she did mourn me when I d-died...” for some reason saying the ‘d’ word feels harder than it’s ever felt, “I couldn’t put her through that again just to ask her whether or not mom and died cried at my funeral.”

All three of them fall silent as the morning sun finally starts to rise. Alex leans his head back and feels a smile grow on his face; because for the first time since all of this started, he feels... okay.

He hates not knowing so much about his own life (or... death, he supposes), but... death gave him so much.

“I know dying sucked.” Alex looks down at his, Luke’s, and Reggie’s clasped hands and smiles wider. “But I think this was... the best worst-case scenario.”

Luke grins, too. “Yeah?”

A sunbeam streams into the garage and catches against the glass of the window, causing a rainbow to appear on the very edge of Alex’s knee. It’s so perfectly absurd that he can’t help but giggle.

“Yeah,” Alex says breathlessly, letting go of Luke and Reggie’s hands so he can wrap his arms around their shoulders instead.

Because they’re all that really matters.

His family.

[trashboatprince]

I saw a challenge to write something sexy about Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese from this post by @naniiebimworks and I’m not missing the chance to make content of them in written form. Love me some Crowley and Aziraphale’s personas.

Summery: Warlock is too old for his nanny, but he’s not too old to start having a private tutor. Make that two tutors, who happen to look a bit like the nanny and the gardener who followed her off the grounds.

And already there’s something going on between them.

AKA Crowley and Aziraphale are really into how the other looks for this next phase of the plans.

Warning: these two are already in a relationship. Not full on content, but there is touching and such, gotta keep it pg-13 cause some of my followers are young. Also, not beta’d, so forgive the grammar errors 

EDIT: There’s an extra mature chapter on ao3 

On with the fic!

--

Nanny Ashtoreth put in her two weeks without much of a fuss, politely telling the Dowlings that young Warlock had no need for her anymore, it was time for him to get his lessons from a professional and not a nanny who was smarter than expected.

She recommended someone she said she had worked with previously, that he was highly recommended.

The day after she departed from the estate, there was a knock at the door and a tall, sharp man in an even sharper, dark suit stood there, carrying a briefcase under his arm. “I’m Mr. Harrison,” he greeted the doorman with a voice that dared him to say something, “Nanny Ashtoreth told me that this is where I would I be teaching.”

Without waiting, he stepped past the doorman and into the foyer, where he greeted Mrs. Dowling, who stepped down the stairs to greet him.

Mr. Harrison reminded her greatly of Nanny, that they looked rather similar. The same red colored hair, same facial structure, though clearly Harrison his sharp cheek bones under a beard.

“We’re cousins.” He told her simply, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

He would start his lessons with Warlock tomorrow at nine.

--

The next morning, while Mr. Harrison was teaching Warlock his first lessons on the ancient armies of the world, there was yet another knock at the door.

The doorman was surprised to see a man with wild, near-white hair and an equally wild beard standing there, smiling. He was dressed in creams and golds, a stark contrast to the clothing of the other man who had been at the door the day before. “Good morning!” He greeted the poor employee with a Welsh tint to his voice. “I am Mr. Cortese, I was hired to be the private tutor to Warlock Dowling.”

“Uhh…” The doorman blinked, before making himself professional. “I am so sorry to inform you that Mrs. Dowling has already hired a tutor yesterday.”

“Oh?” Mr. Cortese asked, eyebrows raised high as he glanced about past the man, as if looking for the person who took his job. “I am sure that the young boy wouldn’t mind two instructors.”

The man at the door sighed and said he would get his boss to speak to the stranger. Ten minutes later, Mrs. Dowling hired Mr. Cortese to be Warlock’s second tutor, taking two days of the week and sharing one with his coworker.

She took note that he reminded her of someone, but she wasn’t sure. Sort of like the weird gardener who happened to leave right after Nanny Ashtoreth did, but house staff come and go.

--

“… And that, young Warlock, is why one must not draw on his books, you never know what their worth will be in the future.” Cortese sighed loudly as he finished with erasing the last of the doodles the young boy had drawn on the open pages of the history book in front of him.

“I thought it made it look cool.” Warlock replied in his defense and Cortese nearly rolled his eyes before removing his pocket watch from his vest pocket, looking at the time.

“Right, well, it seems that our lesson for history is over for today. Off you go, enjoy your hour break. When you return, we shall begin our coverage of literature.” He waved a hand towards the door and Warlock didn’t need to be told twice to run off for fun, there was a video game with his name on it that he couldn’t keep waiting any longer.

Cortese watched him run out of the room with a small huff, smiling as he started to clean up the books and papers on the table of the building’s library where he was to do his lessons. He paused when he smelled something, a strong cologne that covered a natural, demonic musk that he knew all too well. “Mr. Harrison, I assume?” He turned to meet the man who he had yet to be introduced to since arriving yesterday.

Leaning against a bookcase, Cortese stared from behind his reading glasses, feeling his face heat up just a bit as he looked at his counterpart.

Harrison was in a dark suit, fitting of him, opened jacket and tie just a bit loose. The angel inwardly cursed as he looked at how the other had styled his hair, pulled back in a tight short ponytail. He hadn’t seen Crowley since they left the estate, wanting to get themselves ready for their next personas.

Seems that Crowley miracled up a beard that looked too good on him, the littlest of changes to the demon always got something stirring in Aziraphale, be it a new haircut or the addition of facial hair.

And he did a combo, damn him.

Clearing his throat, Cortese straightened himself up, adjusting his jacket. “I almost didn’t get the job because of you.” He told the redhead, who only smirked, crossing his arms.

“You’d have gotten it anyway, and look, you did! Come on, you knew I was gonna show up first, made it less… suspicious, if we both showed up at the same time.” Pushing himself off of the bookshelf, Harrison sauntered over to partner in this scheme, the smirk turning more playful as he stepped around Cortese, looking him up and down behind dark lenses.

He stopped behind the shorter man, who froze up at the eyes that he felt on his backside, those hungry eyes…

“Nice suit,” Harrison commented, “suits you, love the colors. Golds and creams? A change of pace from the tartan.”

“Oh!” Cortese turned sharply, giving him a hard stare. “Must I repeat myself? Tartan is stylish! But, if you must know, I decided to change it up a bit. I do wear other clothing you know, Mr. Harrison.”

Harrison looked at him, before shrugging. “Of course, just… can’t help admirin’ how good you look when you mix it up a bit.” He was suddenly closer, when had he gotten so close? Cortese stepped back, feeling his backside bump against the table, he was pinned.

“You need to dress up more, angel.” Harrison then frowned before chuckling. “No, don’t do that, you become too much of a tease when you step out of the norm.” He toyed with the silk tie that Cortese wore, slowly, carefully loosening it as he tugged down on the knot with one finger.

Cortese’s face flared up red as a heat pooled in his stomach. “M-Mr. Harrison! You wily man, behave yourself!” He swatted at the hand. “You should be professional!”

“Oh please,” The demon rolled his eyes before leaning in closer, “it’s not like we didn’t have our fun as the nanny and the gardener, yeah? Won’t take these fools long to start rumors about us as well…”

Cortese paused, looking at Harrison’s face. Right, they had been a bit adventurous and frisky with one another when in their previous personas, what’s the harm of having a little fun as two tutors? It was like something out of his romance section, but he wouldn’t voice that out loud.

“We waited a few months as Ashtoreth and Francis before we got handy, my dear.” He finally replied and Harrison groaned.

“Wow, way to be a real buzzkill, angel!” He moved to step back, but Harrison found himself in place, hands on his hips that suddenly were pressed against Cortese’s. “Whu-?”

“Who said we weren’t going to have any fun?” The blond scoffed. “Besides…” There was a snap of fingers and Harrison heard a lock set in place.

Cortese leaned in close to his ear, he could practically hear the smug smile in the other’s voice. “We have less than an hour before my next lesson and I’d like to get my ‘coworker’ a bit better. Is that alright with you?”

The string of sounds from Harrison was all Cortese needed as an answer.

Someone, Harrison found himself flipped around, his own back pressed into the table with the angel pinning him to it, kissing him hard on the lips. Any coherent thoughts in the redhead’s mind were thrown out the window as he was snogged into next week, wrapping his legs around soft hips.

He pulled back, panting a bit as he looked at the hazel eyes that stared right at him. “Damn, angel, you’re in a mood.”

“You’re a terrible tease, dressing up like this.” Cortese huffed, kissing at his neck before working on undoing the already-loose knot of Harrison’s tie. “You know I love seeing you dressed up.”

“Mmm… sssshould do it more often than…” Harrison tilted his head back, lifting his hand up to snap his fingers, but a hand stopped him. “Come on, don’t go slow…” He groaned.

“No, I want to take it slow, I’m not going to just have your clothes vanish on me!” Cortese scoffed as he pulled back to start working on removing the suit jacket, taking note that he rather liked the pattern on it, Crowley needed to wear more patterns in his wardrobe.

Harrison pouted before his own fingers got to work on unbuttoning the vest Cortese wore, legs still firmly in place around the other’s waist. “How far?”

“Hmm… heavy petting?”

There was a loud snort. “Who taught you that?!” Harrison laughed before undoing the last button. He looked at the other man, a coy smile on his face. “Lovin’ the changes, angel. You look so good with that hair, almost feral, very you.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Just commentin’.” Harrison mumbled as he pulled him down, talking against the other’s lips before kissing him hard. Cortese mumbled a reply that fell on deaf ears, the two clearly distracted be kissing and the sneaky fingers playing with the tie the other wore.

Both were discarded on the table, and Harrison was vaguely aware that his hair had slipped from the ponytail it had been in. He would have made a comment, but he was distracted by perfectly manicured fingers playing with his freed hair, and by the body that pressed against him.

His own fingers busied themselves with groping a rather nice, soft bottom, earning a squeak from the angel who was still toying with his hair. Harrison smirked, pressing down on the ample flesh, keeping Cortese against him as he moved to suck on the exposed skin of his advisory’s neck.

The room felt hot and both angel and demon were feeling even hotter, fingers moving here and there, but never to what was going to be wanting some attention. Well, Harrison thought, time to change that-

There was a sharp set of knocks at the doors to the library and Cortese pulled back sharply from Harrison, losing his balance and dropping to the floor at the sudden intrusion.

“Ssshit!” Harrison sat up straight and worked quickly to straighten out his shirt, trying to button it back up from where Cortese had popped a few of the buttons.

“Y-yes? Who’s there?” Cortese called out.

“Mr. Cortese,” came Warlock’s voice from the other side, “can I come in?”

“In a moment!” The blond replied before trying to get his vest and shirt back in order. “Oh, this was a bad idea…!” He whispered towards the other man in the room, who was trying to get his hair back into place.

“Yeah, yeah, I know! Gotta wait until the kid’s asleep, ‘r somethin’…” Harrison jumped from the table, throwing on his coat, then grabbing a tie, tossing the other at Cortese who was quick to try and get it done up.

Once Harrison thought he had everything in order, he rushed to the door, the lock suddenly undone and the door opened to reveal Warlock, standing there with a confusion on his face. “We’ll continue our discussion of the plans later, yes, Mr. Cortese?” He spoke, as if nothing had just happened, outside of the flushed look on his cheeks and the rumpled state of his clothes.

“Y-yes, of course, do come looking for me when you have the chance, Mr. Harrison.” Cortese replied, swallowing as he straightened his jacket out. He watched the other man walk past Warlock without much word and turned to the child. “Yes, did you need something?” He asked, trying to act like Warlock did not just interrupt something.

“Wonderin’ if I left my phone in here.” Warlock replied before tilting his head. “How come you’re wearin’ Mr. Harrison’s tie?”

Cortese looked down, seeing that, yes, he was wearing the dark colored tie.

This was gonna be a long next couple of years.

END

--

They make up for lost time later, but make sure that it’s when no one will bother them. >.>

Anyway, first time every writing for Harrison and Cortese that wasn’t them as the Radio Omens boys, it was fun.

[kishimoto-did-us-dirty]

Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

[bitchesgetriches]

Hey bitches, let's dream. What would you do with a no strings attached $10k, $100k and $1m donation to BGR?

Oh. OH.

This question made my brain blush with serotonin. I will happily answer this.

If we had $10K, we would hire a part-time assistant to help us. The funny thing is: when you do something you really love, you only do The Thing Itself a small fraction of the time. We have all of Season 2 of the podcast recorded, but it takes us months to release because we’re doing all the research, editing, writing, and promotional stuff ourselves. I often sit down intending to write, only to end up working on taxes and updating security certificates. All that invisible administrative work is a drag, and it would be awesome to have a little help with it.

A lot of folks in our position have one or more virtual assistants to help them. It’s very affordable, if you hire someone in a low cost of living country. I’m not gonna say we would never do that, because I’m willing to do what it takes to grow our audience and help more people.

But...ugh. It just doesn’t jive with our ethos?

Like. BGR is a sisterhood founded in a shared dream of promoting economic justice and empowerment. We couldn’t add an assistant unless we found someone who was really fired up about our mission and we enough money to show them respect for their time. $10K would be enough to pay someone $20/hour for 10 hours of admin work per week. That would be totally life-changing for BGR.

If we had $100K, we would both make this our full-time job. 2020 is the first year we’ve paid ourselves through BGR. I cannot thank our Patreon donors enough for their support. It is so meaningful, ESPECIALLY now that Piggy has lost her job.

But, real talk: the last time I calculated it out, Piggy and I were paying ourselves about...$3/hour.

The overwhelming majority of our donors give $1/month. Those donations mean the world to us, because we know they’re likely coming from folks who don’t have more to give! But, you know, we write from our hearts, and that takes a lot of spoons. We have to balance against our day job (or hunting for a new day job, in Piggy’s case) and activities that refill the cup: eating, showering, sinking 200 hours into a video game I only sorta liked, etc.

We have considered lots of options for additional monetization, and rejected pretty much all of them, because we just can’t get away from the idea that it’s unethical to charge poor people money for advice on how to stop being poor. We’ve had lots of sponsorship offers; we’ve even had major financial companies inquire about buying Bitches Get Riches. Ego-stroking and wallet-filling as that is, we don’t think it’s in our fans’ best interest.

The donor model feels good to us right now. We hope that the people we’ve helped will remember us and pay it forward by donating. It’s not giving us rent money, but it’s grocery money. And we stan groceries. But seriously, if someone handed BGR a hundred geez, I wouldn’t even send in my letter of resignation---just fling my work computer onto the lawn of my old office and see how long it took for them to stop sending me paychecks. They’re awfully bureaucratic, it could take a while!

Telling you what we would do if we had $1M requires some embarrassing dream-disclosures, but hey, let’s do it! I had to leave home when I was 17. And I did some really risky things to get by on my own. Now, everything worked out well for me in the end! But I got help from a lot of strangers. Many of them were wise older women who never asked questions, just gave me what they could: a spare room, a job, a place at their table on Christmas. BGR is very much my attempt to do what was done for me, on the widest scale I possibly can.

But if I had a milly?

Ho mah gad, this is embarrassing, but...

My won-the-lottery dream has always been to buy land somewhere beautiful, and build a bunch of tiny-home style cabins around a big main house. Half would be rented out to artists working on finishing a project (writing their book, programming their game, whatever). The income from those rentals would subsidize the other half of the cabins, which would be free short-term housing for people who need help getting out of shitty situations.

I would live at the big house and manage the property. I’d cook delicious family dinners, and invite interesting speakers, and create a safe and inspiring environment for my guests. We’d have a bunch of old rescued animals around too, because animals can do so much to put life into perspective and teach you how to be kind to yourself AND ALSO BECAUSE ANIMALS ARE V. CUTE.

Obviously BGR would live on, with this sanctuary as its headquarters. With more opportunities to come together in-person, we could host seminars and retreats and conferences. (A pressing need, since the guy who runs our main industry conference took a hard right turn onto MAGA Alley and got canceled faster than a critically-acclaimed LGBT tv show.)

Sorry, Piggy, in this dream, you and Bear would have to come live with us. I know how much you hate the outdoors, loathe home improvement projects, dread serving huge Italian family-style dinners, despise the thought of teaching city people how to fish, and weep at the idea of playing your guitar out on the lawn while interesting, kind people talked quietly and sipped wine and tapped away on their laptops until the fireflies came out. You said I could answer this question, so you don’t get a say, tough titties.

Thank you for asking this lovely question. The time I wasted on this daydreaming has me fired up for doing all the other things I have to do today! Like editing all these dagum podcast files. I’ll see about getting episode one dropped tomorrow-ish.

What about you guys? What would YOU do?

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Tom and Sonic headcanons please. I love yours!

Aww! I can share some headcanons that I have of the two!

🤗And thank you so much!🤗

Tom and Sonic both have a fascination with old fashioned cars. There is an annual car show event that happens in the fall, both atom and Sonic go and explore the event.

(There was a car show pamphlet in Tom’s car, as well in a Greenhills newspaper).

Sonic and Tom booth have a sweet tooth. They have a weak spot for Jellee’s Donut Shop and visit the store every day. The owner knows them by name and and often gives them free donuts.

Both Sonic and Tom bond over comic books, old music, video games, Legos, and movies.

When days are slow and Tom is working, the two will reenact their favorite scenes from Speed, Transformers, Police Academy, and CHiPs. They almost never get any work done.

Tom has some fond memories of playing on the baseball team for Greenhills. When Sonic showed an interest in baseball to Tom, Tom quickly enrolled himself as a coach and coaches Sonic’s team.

Tom also tried to introduce Sonic into playing Ultimate Frisbee with his friends. That didn’t go very well...

Tom has tried to get Sonic to go ice fishing with Wade once. Long story short, Sonic hated the trip. Sonic ate all the bait, Tom lost the keys to the trailer, and Wade needed a trip to the hospital.

Tom traded in the Olive Garden gift card from Uncle Sam for adoption papers to make Sonic their legal son. No hesitations, Maddie was proud of him.

( @indieblitz and I came up with this one). Tom plays an acoustic guitar when he’s by himself. Sonic caught him playing it one day after a stressful day at work and asked to listen to him play. Tom will play the guitar and Sonic lays his head on top to feel the strum of the strings—he likes to hear and feel the vibrations of the music.

Sonic and Tom like to go the Burger Princess when Maddie is out-of-State to visit her sister. Burger Princess has fun kid’s meals where they give you a toy, a paper crown, and a cookie. They both go for the kid’s meals and pretend to rule the fast food chain.

Sonic, Tom, and Maddie will go camping in the woods for some family bonding time. Tom tried once to get Sonic to go fishing with him—that’s what Tom’s dad did with him as a kid. Sonic isn’t one to fish, but knows that it’s got a special place in Tom’s heart and fishes with him.

Tom is still teaching Sonic how to drive. Sonic isn’t the best at it, but he’s mastered how to stop at a red light—finally—and not crash into anyone. Tom is very proud of him!

Tom is very protective of Sonic. If Sonic wanders off in a store away from him, Tom is always trying to keep an eye on him and panics if he can’t see him. He will sometimes shout, “Marco” in a store if he can’t see him. Sonic always replies back with, “Polo.”

Every night since joining the family, Tom will pop his head into Sonic’s room just to check up on him while he sleeps. Sonic won’t admit it, but he has nightmares almost every night. Tom will sneak in, sit next to Sonic’s bed, and rub his ears until he calms down.

The race car bed that is in Sonic’s bedroom belonged to Tom when he was a kid. He saved it since then in hopes to give to his own kids one day.

Tom also did the same thing with action figures and comics. He gets a kick out of Sonic reading older comic books and compares the artwork to the newer ones. He also took him to a comic book convention in San Francisco. And yes, they did dress up.

When it’s Tom and Sonic home alone, the two will go nuts with “Guy Time.” They order pizza, play video games, build pillow forts in the living room, and they invite Wade, Spence, Zim, and Gil over to have a small house party. A goat is usually involved.

Sonic looks up to Tom not only as his hero, but as a father figure. He had spent many years observing the town of Greenhills, and him. He had always hoped that when he grew up to become a man, he hoped that he was kind-hearted and heroic like Tom.

Tom spent most of his childhood not know his mother. She passed away when Tom was younger, it was always him and his dad when he was a kid. When Tom opened up about that part of his like to Sonic, he gave Tom a hug and told him that he knew what it was like to lose someone that he loved.

Tom made the discovery one day at work that Sonic can produce enough energy to recharge a cellphone and tablet if he sits still. Anytime Tom’s phone is about to die, he placed his phone on Sonic’s head and waits for it to charge. Sonic can also pop a bag of popcorn on his head as well.

Both Tom and Sonic will sing (off key) the lyrics to their favorite songs when it plays on the radio. They roll down the windows and blast the music loud.

And those are all of the headcanons that I can think of for Tom and Sonic. I’m happy that you like my headcanons! Thank you!🤗

[poepoe-thebunny]

Rudy/Tony and Fam during Quarantine

Cause this is where my life is at, apparently. I thought I escaped the “quarantine fever writing” that everyone else got. Apparently I was wrong. 

After another visit to the castle, the Thompson’s end up there in quarantine once miss rona hits the world. Thank god for WI-FI and working remotely, even if his parents look vaguely like zombies due to time zone differences. Tony can’t talk, his online schooling schedule is all sorts of weird and he’s pretty sure his teacher just wants to sleep until the whole thing is over. Honestly Tony can’t say he blames her. 

The Sackville-bagg clan, as it turns out, is a surprisingly overprotective bunch when they need to be, especially now that they have accepted their humans into the fold. Even with catching up on modern medicine and germ theory, they won’t allow anything to happen to their precious humans. 

(AU/headcanons incoming??

Rudy/Tony: 

- Think Rudy was protective before? Think again. 

- Rudy is over 300 years old, he’s old by human standards and he has met people who are old by vampire standards. He’s seen Things(TM) ok?

- He has been through more than one plague in his life. He has seen what it can do to the sick and the poor. He knows it’s a different now, that life-saving machines exist, that they’re working on a vaccine, that soap is widely available. 

- But he also knows it’s not. 

- Tony? Not going anywhere as far as he is concerned. Say hello to your prince, Rapunzel, cause Rudy is keeping Tony up in that tower if it kills him (again). 

- He knows where all of Tony’s masks are, and where he puts the extras. 

- He’ even shops online for masks with Tony, finding cool hand-sewn, gothic looking ones for Rudy himself to wear. He’s not sure if Corona even effects vampires, but Tony likes finding stuff to match his “aesthetic’ and it keeps his mortal happy. 

- He waits on his mortal hand and foot in between videogames and watching Netflix. (Tony likes How to Train Your Dragon and Paranorman, Rudy likes The Little Prince and Kubo and the Two Strings.). 

- Rudy’s first introduction to Tumblr is through Tony, and at one point they reach the Plague Doctor Aesthetics. While Rudy hasn’t spent much time in Italy, he doesn’t think they’re very accurate, and complains as such to his mortal. 

- Rudy is surprisingly easily offended about historically inaccurate things, and it sends Tony into laughing fits. 

- Rudy is Bad At Memes. Like, just in general he doesn’t always get them, and when Corona Memes become a thing he’s just constantly confused. Poor Rudy honestly. 

- Tries to learn to cook healthy human food, except he hasn’t had any major kitchen experience in 200-odd years and it comes out as a disaster the first few times he tries it. 

- It turns into a teaching session between him and the other adult humans, turns out the old couple who owns the castle like to feed people. Rudy walks into Tony’s room with a tray piled so high Tony can’t see his head. 

-Always offering to fly around the castle to get things for Tony, even if he isn’t sick. 

- TikTok dances. Tony shows him, then teaches him. Rudy is shockingly good at them, but Gregory thinks he’s cringy. 

Gregory: 

(Not me flexing my love of the good big brother trope, absolutely not, nope)

- Surprisingly rather take charge about the whole thing, he’s come around to the Thompson’s and the old couple. 

- While his parents help when they can, they sort of take a step back, and let the three siblings explain what’s happening in the world to the clan (if they are there). Being the oldest, Gregory sort of defaults to being the leader. 

-Checks in with the Thompson’s, as well as Otto and Emma (The old couple who run the place.) Asks if they need anything while they work/are in school etc. 

- Warns the clan to be very careful when visiting, not just for the Thompson’s, but also because Otto and Emma are getting on in years and could become sick very easily. Always asks for a heads up before a family visit. 

- Won’t tell anyone but, late at night if he’s not busy, he’ll do things around the castle for the humans, especially upkeep for Otto and Emma, while they sleep. 

- Dusting hard to reach spots like chandeliers, organizing books in the old castle library, moving heavy furniture and stuff since he can fly. 

-Low key drags Rudy and Anna into helping him clean 

(”But Gregory, this is our home now too! I’m sure they don’t mind.” 

“Humans are fragile, and they’re letting us stay here out of kindness, so don’t be rude. Clean up after yourself little brother.” 

“He’s right you know.” 

“Of course I am. And don’t think you’re getting out of cleaning the rafters Anna, and stop leaving your books everywhere for them to pick up.” 

 ‘hmph.” )

- Of the vampires he’s lowkey the best at cooking human food. Tony, Rudy, and Anna just walk into the kitchen at night and Fredrick is just watching his eldest, genuinely amused, as he dances around the kitchen in a “Kill the Cook (Too late, I’m already dead)” apron, blasting out dad rock from the stereo. 

-Bonds with the Thompsons over cooking human food, especially Tony’s dad after he teaches Gregory what an “air guitar” move is. 

-Gregory discovers pinterest food aesthetics, and is a machine of baking, mixing, and decorating sweet candies/cakes/brownies. He wants his food to look pretty dang it. 

- Anna and Rudy just watch, silently judging him. 

Anna: 

- She’s just thriving tbh. 

- She has internet access now, and her brothers have never been more terrified. 

-If Gregory is the vampire equivalent of a pinterest mommy, Anna is the vampire equivalent of creepy diy aesthetic tiktokers. 

-Not like, bloody horror diy, but like, the subtly creepy but still sweet kind, like the Addams family or Coraline. 

- She learned needle arts with her mom, so she’s out here sewing Coraline dolls, or patchwork dresses a la Nightmare Before Christmas cause she CAN. 

-Makes her own handbag with those felt cartoonish vampire faces and big fake bat ears on the side. 

-Learns more modern patterns and stuff, but will make masks for the humans as gifts, cause she doesn’t want them to get sick. 

- After watching Coraline together, she made “Other Me” dolls of her brothers, button eyes included, and stuck them in their coffins. She would make them “move’ by flying them around to different rooms when her brothers weren’t looking, just to freak them out. 

- Spoiler alert: it worked. They ran to Tony for help and she laughed over it for days. 

- Anna loves adventure books to Rudy’s poetry and Gregory’s fables/folk tales. She hates being excluded from her brothers “adventures”. 

-Tony introduces her to comics and video games and she just lives her best life. 

-One of her favorite comic book character is Cassandra Cain/Blackbat/The Orphan.

- She loves books like Matilda, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Giver, as well as games like the Lara Croft/Tomb Raider series. 

-VICIOUS at video games, this girl has no mercy, she will blue shell you so hard. 

The Adults: 

-Life is Hard(TM) right now, but the Thompson’s try to make the best of it. They’re very grateful to Otto and Emma for letting them stay. 

-They’re both working remotely, so they’re a little messed up sleep schedule wise. But that’s ok, their vampire friends don’t seem to mind. 

- Freda teaches Dottie how to make proper tea, cause she likes it and Dottie is sort of addicted to caffeine. Dottie teaches Freda how to make mochas and smoothies, Dottie likes mango-pineapple smoothies and Freda likes hot white chocolate mochas with cinnamon. 

-Surprisingly, Frederick and Bob become pretty good friends. Frederick understands the stress of having to care for your family in very uncertain times, and the two men bond over unsure parental decisions. 

-Bob is also surprisingly good at making Frederick loosen up, much to Freda and Dottie’s amusement. While initially awkward, they have a surprisingly snarky and sarcastic sort of friendship. Frederick deadpans insults at him and Bob cheerfully annoys him into Being Nice For Once while being completely aware of the fact that he’s annoying Frederick. 

-Meals where Bob cooks often consists of him singing oldies into his spatula, making bad impression of certain singers, including Elvis and Cher. He is occasionally joined by Tony and Gregory, making the entire family laugh. 

- Anna’s bones may be old, but she can hand sew like a goddess, and has occasionally taken to fixing up the kids’ torn clothes, as Dottie can barely keep straight lines and Freda prefers knitting. 

- Someone (read: Freda) mentions that Frederick can play the cello, and after a rousing performance, it turns out that Otto can play an accordion, and of course Bob can play the guitar. A jam session occurs as the kids just stare in utter bewilderment.

- Tony’s grandparents were kinda hippies, so Bob and Dottie know a lot of oldies and folk songs, which while different than from what they normally hear, Otto and Anna connect too. They swap songs back and forth, and it turns out Dottie can do a mean Loretta lynn impression. 

- Dottie likes the Beach Boys, and teaches the others how to Twist. As in, the dance, and Freda actually likes it quite a bit. 

[dreamsister81]

 Jeff and MI:

By age, you fit in the G.I.T generation, but you obviously are not one of them...

These facilities are a mystery to me. There they tell you only one thing: hurry up! This leads you nowhere, afterwards your own children run away from you. Through these trainings you get to know women, you get to know men, music is inoculated into people who have no feeling for it; then they can only scare other people or insult them...

I was in this terrible place too, by the way-G.I.T That was a complete waste of time, apart from the theoretical lessons and the friends that I had there. Otherwise: an absolute wrong decision.

How long have you studied there?

One year, the normal program. They give you tons of material, you have to absorb everything, you practice, you are tested and you go to the next course. An intensive support with development is simply not possible. I did so many things: theory, single string technique, jazz class, rock class, all sorts of genres. My friend John was teaching bass there, and he once said that there is not a single teacher at the institute who says to the students, "OK, you're learning all this stuff here now, you're learning how to entertain people and you're learning to learn. But do you even know that there is no one in the universe other than yourself who plays the music you play? " John left the school then. For me it was all a joke that cost me $ 3,900. People interested in music should take private lessons somewhere, start a band, do something with people who like them and have what it takes. These schools are a scene in their own right, a very small, secluded world-the music, on the other hand, is gigantic and open. If you don't notice it, you miss a lot of magic, pain, development...(thinks) and rock! Apart from Paul Gilbert, there was no one there who really rocked. Session musicians are bred there; and at the end of the year you get a piece of paper that says, "Now you have the skills to become a professional musician." Well, congratulations! And then you look for jobs and play what other people want. But that's not all the music, there's something else isn't there? Where's the music coming from? From your own head or stomach, or the concepts of the people you work for?-Gitarre & Bass, October,  1995

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I had a friend named John Humphrey. I went to this really crappy guitar school for a year, and he used to teach there, he was a bass teacher. And then he left, and we ended up being roommates later on, after I graduated. This is the kind of school where you give them a shitload of money in order to spend a year learning their curriculum.

What was it, G.I.T. (Guitar Institute of Technology in Los Angeles)?

Yeah, it was G.I.T.. They give you their curriculum, and it's not too comprehensive, but it's just enough, and then you can [snaps his fingers] move on to the next thing. And pretty soon you have all this shit inside you and then they give you this paper that says you have what it takes to be a professional musician.

It's a rock-oriented thing, isn't it?

In the end, I think, the only true product of that kind of learning is to get you gigs on the studio circuit and to get you gigs on the session guy circuit.

So, Lee Ritenour went there or something?

G.I.T. was started by Howard Roberts, the guy who played the wah-wah guitar on the theme to Shaft. And this other guy named Pat Hayes. I don't know. It just seemed like a racket, really. John said a lot of things to me that stuck in my mind. He said that there was nobody who stopped you, sat you in a room and said, okay, we have all these artists that you're learning the licks from, you have your guitar heroes, your virtuoso lust objects. But there's nobody who can make the kind of music you can make now except for you. And you can make it now. You don't even have to know how to go fast. And that makes all the sense to me in the world. It's also kind of an unseen process, that concept, originality. It's like that in all the education systems; there's never any real...identity education, self-generative identity art sort of thing, to be yourself. If everybody in Melbourne had a Wurlitzer organ and had the passion to sing something or make something, you'd have hundreds of thousands of different styles, if they were coming exactly from only their DNA, only their makeup, and their emotional percepts, their idea about what art is. You could have way-removed genres from what is already accepted, avante-garde country-rock-punk-folk-whatever. It's unlimited. But for some reason, the conventions always take over and there's a very ready and powerful formula to step into...

Those are the type of [formula-derived] players who can say, "Well, I was listening to the radio in 1967 and I heard the guitar solo in Jimi Hendrix's 'All Along the Watchtower,' and that guitar sound, that tone, would work perfectly for this television commercial."

Yeah. See? "Stealing from the greats, that's okay." That's right. Once I stopped in [at G.I.T.] years later, when I was on tour going through L.A., just to see what it was like. They've got a completely high-tech, multi-million dollar facility...

More so than when you had been there?

Way more. When I was there, it was just a ragtag bunch of teachers, and they had all left by then. They had video facilities and a class for stage moves and all kinds of things. And I saw this guy who was working the desk, the guy who watches the door. He had a bass on, and he was practicing his Nirvana chops! He was playing "In Bloom" on his bass, way up on his chest, jazz-fusion style, to the Nirvana song. I thought, oh shit--he was practicing his grunge riffs! He was getting his grunge down! Best fucking thing you can do, if you have the interest, is go to a private teacher, go someplace, some college, and learn theory. That was something I really enjoyed, actually, something that wasn't totally pointless. Theory meaning the meaning of the musical nomenclature. I was attracted to really interesting harmonies, stuff that I would hear in Ravel, Ellington, Bartok.-Double Take, February 29, 1996

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Once the site of a seakeasy and a bra factory, the 30,000-square-foot quarters were now the home of Musicians Institute, a vocational school for anyone who considered himself or herself a serious musician. With its wooden desks and chipped-tile hallways, MI resembled any other urban school, but at those desks, student guitarists and drummers studied scales and power chords in hopes of becoming the next Eddie Van Halen or Neil Peart, the flashy drummer with Rush. On their way to class each morning, flaxen-haired guitar gods in training could be spotted holding their guitars and practicing licks as they walked down Hollywood Boulevard.

Jeff had heard about Musicians Institute (and its subdivision, the Guitar Institute of Technology) while in high school and told everyone it was his one and only destination. However, potential superstardom did not run cheap. The school charged $4,000 for its one year course, and by the time Jeff Graduated from Loara High School, Mary Guibert was beginning to fall on hard financial times as she went in and out of jobs. In need of money for herself and her two sons, she prematurely broke into a $20,000 fund earmarked for Jeff, but only after he tured nineteen. Once Mary proved to the courtsthat Jeff needed it for his education, he and Mary received it a year early. In a deep irony, the father Jeff had barely met and increasingly resented would be paying his son's way through music school.

On graduation night, September 15, 1985, at the Odyssey in Granada Hills in the San Fernando Valley, Jeff, Stoll, and Marryatt closed the ceremony by playing Weather Report's "Pearl On the Half Shell."-from Dream Brother

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With its 30-odd thousand feet of floor space and row upon row of "labs", where hopeful guitar heroes could jam with such shit-hot players as Scott Henderson, LA's Musician's Institute must have seemed like nirvana for someone like Jeff Buckley, trapped as he was behind the Orange Curtain. According to his buddy Chris Dowd, that's exactly why Buckley enrolled there, arriving just before autumn, 1984, bankrolled by $4,000 that Mary managed to squeeze from a Tim Buckley trust fund.

Originally known as the Guitar Institute, which in itself says plenty, the school was opened in 1977. Drawing on the educational philosophy of journeyman guitarist Howard Roberts, it was co-founded and managed by Los Angeles music businessman Pat Hicks, "a real shyster opportunist", in the words of Tom Chang, an expat Canadian who would become very tight with Jeff Buckley during their two years at the Institute. In 1978, thr Bass Institute was opened, followed by the Percussion Institute two years later. Desppite Hicks' questionable business ethics-amongst other things, he'd hire students as cheap labour to do essential maintenance work on the building, which led to Buckley being hired as an electrician's assistant soon after graduating-he did manage to persuade well regarded players and bands to lecture, and play alongside, the hopefuls who'd enrolled there.

What Buckley lacked up in "front" he clearly made up for in ambition. That was proved, in spades, by Buckley's graduation performance which was played out on September 15, 1985, at a venue called the Odyssey in Granada Hills. While the sonic crush and enviable chops of Rush and Led Zeppelin still rocked the world of this Orange County teen, Buckley had also developed a real taste for such "noodlers" as Weather Report.

The number chosen by Buckley for graduation was their "D Flat Waltz" (not "Pearl On The Half-Shell", as documented elsewhere, which they'd performed at a previous event), a typically complicated few minutes of Weather Report neo-fusion-a "really cool piece, very involved", according to Tom Chang-and a standout from their 1983 set Domino Theory. But Buckley, accompanied by Stoll on drums and Marryatt on bass, didn't just play the piece, he also wrote the individual parts out beforehand for the band.-from A Pure Drop

MI pics by me