[locked from [Bad username or site: elecdouble title= @ livejournal.com]]

[fuckrobertfrost.livejournal.com]

Christ, I can't believe the day's finally come when I'm asking you assholes for advice.

So there's this girl I've been hanging out with and we've gone to like, a concert and shit, and we have a lot of similar interests I think but I can't figure out where I should ask her on an actual date. I hate the whole dinner and a movie thing, no good bands're in town no offense Dazzler I'm pretty sure you're not her style and museums... I don't know. She has kind of a, uh, exciting lifestyle? So I feel weird asking her to do normal stuff. Then again maybe she'd like the change. The point is, where the hell do we go and what do we do/see/whatever? Fuck you, okay, I didn't do a lot of dating while I was running from the fucking government.

log 35 [voice]

[chlorodermic.livejournal.com]

I always hated this part of summer. The middle of August where you realize oh hey, summer's practically over, you've done everything you wanted to do and ran out of stuff to kill the rest of your time with. I mean, I love having nothing to do. It's what I live for. Seriously.

[Somebody doesn't sound serious.]

It's times like these I wish something interesting would happen. I mean, anything. It's like this place has hit a creative rut or something and it's almost starting to feel normal over here.

...Ignoring that little robot stint. But that's old news, anyway.

[There's the sound of her leaning back in some kind of beach chair. Bet you any amount of money she's just relaxing under a UV lamp.]

Maybe I should just go rob a bank or something. But even that's not going to get me out of this godforsaken rut. Besides, I'll probably blow all that hard earned money on shopping.

// ooc : aaaand grandparents house. will tag back when i return! //

The beginning of the end

[mobius-bound.livejournal.com]

[ Text: ]

I have been told about second chances before, however, I am not certain I believe in them. As long as memory is retained, then there is no ‘second’ chance - you are merely being given the opportunity to possibly correct the mistakes you made the first time. If only one party remembers, those memories will still affect the outcome of the situation, the actions and reactions of those involved.

If no one remembers anything, then it is not a second chance - it is still the first.

I wonder why the porter machine only says ‘welcome’ instead of ‘welcome back’. She did not seem interested in answering when I asked her.

[ voice; | unhackable to Sarah Connor Reese ]

Hello again, Sarah.

[ A pause, but then Cameron decides to just leave it at that and see what the woman says. ]

[ voice; | unhackable to John Connor Baum ]

I do not require a ride, unless the location in which you are staying has moved.

Hello.

§ 032.

[symmachy]

[the video flicks on to show scathach dressed in black from head to toe. there's a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and she isn't looking at the comm when she first begins to speak; she's looking off to the side.]

I'm afraid I won't be able to greet my new students on their first day of class. I'll be leaving for... personal business for a week or so, and I won't be reachable.

[she finally looks at the camera. she looks especially young and rejuvenated today; it's easy for anyone who knows her to see that she's fed recently. she smiles, but it doesn't reach her green eyes.]

I hope that this school year will be fruitful for all at the Institute, staff and students alike.

[she pauses here, not sure what else to say. this last bit is said a bit awkwardly.]

Take care. Especially you, Josh. You're in charge.

[and she abruptly shuts off the camera.]

05 ✬ [voice]

[radiantly]

Okay, so school is starting here in a couple days, which means lots of people will be back on an early to bed, early to rise sleep cycle.  I bet some of you are planning on celebrating by having a night out on the town, so I wanted to offer an alternative to those of us who are homebodies.  I was thinking, maybe as a last hurrah for the summer we could have a movie night tomorrow.  There'll be popcorn and chips and sodas, and we'll watch 80's movies and visit and have fun.  And you don't have to be a student or a teacher at the Institute to come, you just have to be willing to have a fun night in. 

On a related note, I'll be offering my services as a tutor during the school year.   I don't have any real experience, but I like to think I know a thing or two about history and art.  Please let me know if you're interested!




[ooc: The log is now up here!]

£ 009.

[psychomancy]

[gemma has the comm propped up against a book or something as she sits on the rooftop of her newish apartment. she has her arms wrapped around her legs, and her chin resting on her knees. she's also conjured up a new dress for herself. there's a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. the dull glow of the sunset behind her casts a dim halo around her head. she tilts her head back, red-gold curls falling over her shoulders. she picks up the comm and turns her body so that she is facing the sunset.]

What frightens you?

[she makes it sound like an innocent question. and it mostly is. the next bit she says sounds as if it's been memorized; that's because it has been.]

Is it the dark? A fleeting memory of a bedtime story, ghosts and goblins and witches hiding in the shadows? Is it the way the wind picks up just before a storm, the hint of wet in the air that makes you want to scurry home to the safety of your fire?

[she pauses. but she doesn't feel like she can stop talking.]

Or is it something deeper, something much more frightening, a monster deep inside that you’ve glimpsed only in pieces, the vast unknown of your own soul where secrets gather with a terrible power, the dark inside?

[she stops suddenly. she sets the comm on the ground so the last picture is of a crack in the cement of the rooftop, filled with a bit of dirt. with a quiet, whispered word from her, something starts to push up from beneath the dirt; first a green stem, then leaves, and finally a bright red poppy blooms, a black center surrounded by blood-red petals.]

For most, I think the answer is the truth. Because that is what people have the hardest time accepting.

[the poppy begins to whither, but before it can completely die, the recording cuts.]

Voice Post: She's gone

[crackofthunder.livejournal.com]

Ahem. For those that knew her, and I know she had many friends... I think Rachel Grey has been ported out.

I found her comm unit in her bedroom.


...

...


I am now going to get a drink.