| The Ultimate Man blinks, and all existence is denied. |


My city of my dreams: the jackals A jackal is the advanced version of what subgenii refer to as the pink boy. Jackals are the guardians of mediocrity, the sovereigns of the broken, the regents of petty concerns and fools' errands. Like the Terrible Trivium, jackals seduce the confused soul into a mire of ignorance and worthlessness. Addicts, the abused, the victims of the world (whether professional or amateur)--these are prey for the jackals. They feed on them, whisper dark words into their brains, and send legions of hobgoblins and invisible tormenters to crush the victim's hopes of redemption ever further. This is why trauma and schizophrenia are so closely linked, why eatMy city of my dreams: the jackals by ~Zibraltar


My city of my dreams: the cinema My city is beset by Jackals, living in the sterile subways beneath it, funnelling my citizens through its turnstiles and ticket machines. The streets above are an earthy, sunlit joy of gorgeously conflicting modern architecture and Grecian pillars, bleached-white mediterranean stucco spires and cobblestone snickets, glassy shopping centres with giant hanging draperies of crimson and gold, curved Barcelonian structures 5 storeys high wrapping around the sidewalks, their heavy-lidded oval windows illuminating the watering holes they contain with searing neon reflected in the wet, glossy pavement. An old, worn out, loving-and-beloved cinema sitsMy city of my dreams: the cinema by ~Zibraltar