Apr. 7th, 2013

allbloodyhail: (just waiting on you)
[personal profile] allbloodyhail
[Spike's face is shrouded in darkness, though the ember of a cigarette can be seen most prominently. The frame opens up to a small, dank space; some might recognize it as the basement in the MAC. Perhaps the small washers and dryers in the corner give it away. Something about the scene seems ominous, at any rate.]

I had to get away from them. [He speaks softly, like someone might hear and drag him back upstairs. How ~mysterious~ ]

They've completely taken over.

[And now have a link to a cell phone video of not-so-little-anymore calico kittens destroying Spike's apartment. Apparently he has to haunt the basement (again) to get a little peace.

Another creak from his rocking chair and the whole stupid video fades away. Stay classy, City.]
deductives: (txt it)
[personal profile] deductives
[The text announcement is sent out at a relatively late hour, and the style of writing isn't familiar to Sherlock at all. This is entirely intentional, as it is his attempt to sound like the well meaning but poorly executed group of vigilantes he and John intend to infiltrate.]

i've been here in the city for a while now, but i haven't really thought about using these powers we're given for what the porter asks for. it always seemed so cliche, you know? and there's people who are experienced in it who are way better.

but the phantasm has me thinking. if even the natives can try and pitch in to fight crime, why can't i? i made this anon for obvious reasons, but i figured you guys could help me with theme ideas. i've never even been good at halloween, but i guess i better start thinking.

and does anybody know people from phantasm personally? i know thoughts on them are mixed but i guess i should think about how things might go for them over time...


OOC note )

[text]

Apr. 7th, 2013 10:41 pm
onmyneck: (if i'm wrong please correct)
[personal profile] onmyneck
Here's a story about my life.

Years ago, at my high school, a football player named Tommy Sherman managed to help our team win the State Championship. A week before, as he waving to the crowd while carrying the ball, he collided with the goalpost and went into a coma for six days. Thus, his awakening and subsequent victory were a miracle. Thank goodness for sports.

When I was at school, someone decided that a special break-away goalpost should be dedicated to his memory. As Tommy Sherman visited the school, he proceeded to insult everyone there, tried to solicit multiple girls for sex, and called me a loser. Imagine that. Then, due to the universe's appreciation for irony, he was killed in a freak accident when his very goalpost fell on top of him.

Everyone was very upset, most of all the people who had been joking about his death moments before it happened. However, everyone needed someone to turn to, and so they turned to me. The Misery Chick. Apparently, I was used to being unhappy. I should be able to tell other people how to be unhappy.

At the time, I was angry. I didn't want to be the Misery Chick. But someone told me the reason that people thought I was miserable was because I thought, and people wanted to know how someone can live with thinking all the time. I reminded myself that being sad and miserable was better than thinking and feeling nothing at all. I forgot that lesson until now.

Does anyone need help with something?

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