[ the background of the video tells you that john is not on his planet anymore - in fact, who knows where he is. it's a new place. but more importantly, john is there, and he is... covering his eyes and grinning? what's going on here. ]

Hey, guys, it's John. I have a vitally important question for you all today! For the whole community. It is... [ he pauses for dramatic effect, and suddenly takes his hands away from his eyes. the shock is that his eyes are blank. completely white. no pupil, no iris. ] Who you gonna call?

[ he apparently finds his own joke very funny and he snorts. ]

I had always thought that I would be on the other end of a Proton Pack's Neutrino Wand, but I guess the truth is that, in the end, you never know if you're going to be the Ghostbuster or the Ghostbustee! Anyway, being dead isn't so bad. I think I might be getting used to it? Even dead Dave is a pretty cool guy to hang around with, hahaha.

But... I feel like we should apologise. For dying, yes, even though we're camping out in these dreambubble things now! Jeez, Charles would be so mad at me if he found out, heh... And, um, also to the trolls! We really fucked up. I know you probably think this is a doomed timeline, but... it's not. Dave is the time whiz here, so he would know if it was, and he says we're boned. Our current working theory is alternate universes! Like, maybe because we have the community, things changed and got messed up, so there are two different universes? Who knows. I am just a lowly dead ectobiologist!

Anyway, the point was, sorry! We're dead. We can't get out of here, either, so no more community parties for me. Lame, I know. Everyone should give me some suggestions on fun things for a couple of rad dead dudes to do!

And, hey, has... Has anyone seen Rose or Jade? They never turned up to the ghost party and we're kind of waiting around for them.

Sen Sajit is dead.

What, is that not enough to satisfy this place?

Fine.

He was thirty five years old, and a gifted composer. He was born on the pleasure world of Aarang, and was a child-soldier for five years before he met me. He wrote more than five thousand symphonies, traveled to more than a hundred worlds, and died a heretic, cut down against my wishes by the war-monger Ynoldeh.

I would rather the whole galaxy be silent, than to never again hear his voice.

He told me not to grieve.

He said "Inquestors live long lives, Ton Elloran. You will forget me soon enough."

I wish he wasn't true.

[There is an endless stretch of beach with an ocean that seems to go on forever. Ariadne is kneeling in the sand, arms and legs coated with the wet mud. All of her attention is directed at the building she is modeling from the sand. She doesn't even noticed being filmed as she carves out all of the intricate details that a real building might have. All the while there seems to be an unending sense of peace and tranquility, both in the area, and in Ariadne herself.

She smiles as she makes one final change to the design. Then she sits back and admires her work. As she does, a rumble echoes behind her, though not in a threatening manner. Ariadne does not react at all. Behind her, a mile or so down the shoreline, a live-scale building identical to the sand model that Ariadne had built grows out of the ground until it is complete.

Finally, Ariadne turns and admires the larger building. She smiles.]

Perfect.

[a fist hits metal close enough to shake the feed, settling to show the sharp face of a much older Yuca. he's clearly upset, teeth gritted and shoulders shaking in controlled anger. red eyes are intent on something off screen.

the monotone of a heart monitor can he heard, conjuring images of a flat-line to those of the modern age. he'd attempted to create his salvation, a venerable monster, but it had failed. his friend, lost. his chance, gone. who else would end this world for him?]

The dream closes, and continues. [too softly said, a mere murmur. apathy settles in like a shutter closing. whatever care he held for this world has gone with that last breath. his heartbeats without reason.

his shoulders loosen. his jaw unclenches. his head turns sharply to the feed, eyes staring directly at you, wide and unfocused.]

Do you fear death?

( This post contains drowning. )

((OOC: asfdedh I should mention Scrooge WILL be replying to this post!))

[The feed appears to be very small and very dark when it turns on. Then a grubby man enters. He looks about forty and his face is covered in dirt. His hair is about his shoulders and his beard is almost as long.

He takes a long look, holding whatever has made the connection very carefully. If you look closely, there might be a flicker of hope and possibly a smile before it dies away again. Leaning against the back wall, James Potter sighs.]

Took you long enough.