(no subject)

[heloise]

( Cesare, Ezio, Stephanie )

[Dictated][One - Right Through The Eye]

[the_effect_she_has]

( CUT for spoilers for Mockingjay )

((ooc: I apologize for all the errors. I wanted a cleaner first post than this - but if wishes were quarters I'd have enough for laundry for a year. >.<))

♈ Aradia: Have a growth spurt.

[psych0p0mps]

[At the last possible moment, Aradia Megido awoke from strange dreams to find she could fit in her old clothes again. The first sign of this change is a peal of shrieking laughter from Room 2001, which continues into the journal as she whips it open and doesn't even bother to filter because FUCK DA POLICE.]

-hahahahahahaha! Yes! Guys! Guys, I'm going! My loss ended! I'm coming with you!! WOO!

[There may or may not be a moment of singing here, to the tune of "Expediiition~ Gonnafindsome ruuuins~" - but once she's calmed down a little bit, she remembers something and comes back.]

Okay. Status report, everyone? We leave tomorrow at eight sharp! Are you all packed?

- Oh my God, I still have to get packed. UM - tell you what. I'll be in and out of the lab if anybody needs me, but the question stands!

[AND SHE IS LASS SCAMPERING OFF LIKE A HAPPY LASS.]

twenty-eighth

[siebter]

[ Dictated, as usual. He sounds very happy! ]

Guess what? I made myself lunch today, and I didn't even have to wish for it!

[ There's a bit of a pause as he...well, tries it. And then he doesn't really sound as happy. ]

...I don't think I did a very good job. I guess I'll try again.

[ And he will be in the kitchen. Trying that again. ]

[001] Lisa Reisert

[lisareisert]

[Lisa saw that face in her dreams every night. His face as he pushed her against the wall of that toilet cubicle with his hand around her neck. She can't seem to get it out of her mind no matter how hard she tried. She had shot him, the police had taken away...he's locked up for good and there's no way he can get to her. But clearly that's not true because he still haunts her dreams. He's coming towards her and that's when she jerks awake with a loud gasp.

Except when she opens her eyes she's not in her bed. No, she's on a cold stone floor in the entrance to what looks like some kind of medieval building...how did she get here? She's still dreaming. Great.]

Hello? Hello, can anyone hear me!

[She spots a leather bound book beside her with her name embossed in gold on the cover and she frown a little]

Alright, what's going on around here?

[ooc: You can find here sitting here on the ground or talk to her through the journal, whichever you'd prefer!]

36 traps filled with fried food

[ectobabble]

Afternoon, everybody! ... Geez, that fair was really something. There were a couple moments when I felt like I was right back home on Coney Island! .... I wonder if it'll come back again... I didn't get to go on all the rides, 'cuz I didn't really wanna get sick. There's not much worse than nausea at high velocity, in case you folks didn't know.

But wow, they had so much great food! I'd never even thought of some of it before... I bought a bunch of stuff I didn't have time to try, so I could have it later, if anyone wants to --

[and that would be the creak of a mini fridge door]

Oh, no...! It's all mushy. .... Well, that's no good....! Aw, geez.

At least the giant eclair still looks okay....

Mission 2.5

[ontheclockpro]

( Private )

( Zack Fair & Ino )

Treasure 017 | Going on a trip | Action & Written

[youhavebeenflynned]

[Harry was in his room doing the last packing for the expedition. He always enjoyed being prepared so he had wished up and placed several necessary items in his back pack. He was trying to pack lightly as well as he didn't not want to slow anything down. He was getting excited over the trip. It had been quite some time since he last went out on an expedition. If he was lucky he might find some valuable artifact to sell. He liked to be prepared but the influence the Dead Zone would have on his equipment had forced him to think a little harder on what to take which would not get affected by it. He still had to test if the gun worked but he was optimistic it wouldn't have any trouble. The lack of ammo was a bit more difficult however. He finished his packing and strapped it on before he headed down stairs. But before that he scribbled down some messages.]

( Friends )

[Written]
Is there anyone in the Castle who knows how to make ammunition? Or can I buy it somewhere? I doubt I can wish for it.

( Deathmatch owner/employer )

[After that is done he'll continue to the basement to look after the Outpost teleporter to test if his gun works in the Dead Zone]

((Feel free to respond through the journal or run into Harry on his way to the Basement or in the Outpost. He might need some help finding it though. He would never admit that however.))

Thirtieth Spell

[courageous_wit]

[this is one of those inconvenient times when the journal opens without her realizing. Hermione is muttering to herself as she sorts through things]

Let's see... Rope, matches, a few quills, bottles of ink, parchment, change of clothes, blankets... No, I suppose bringing any extra books wouldn't be very practical. I'll have to leave all my research material here.

230 is a common voltage in the European Union

[onlyanapple]

[Crowley had been rather distracted for the last few days. What with having that...moment with Zelman and all, he'd ignored the carnival completely. Not that he'd have gone to it anyway. Carnivals were considerably un-hip.

But stepping out into the grounds, to where his most prized possession had been. Well. It probably would have been wiser for him to pay more attention. He opens his journal immediately, glowering at the empty space that should have contained a 1926 Bentley]

Okay, which one of you arseholes has taken my car? I know it's got to be one of you, Del knows not to give it legs any more so it's not going to walk off by itself.

I'm giving you half an hour, that's thirty minutes to give it back. If it's not back after that time has elapsed, I'm afraid to inform you my ability to understand the concept of mercy will be at an all time low.

Tick tock, morons. Tick. Fucking. Tock

( o60 )

[gevurah]

I understand some medication will make you drowsy for the day, but being knocked out for nearly two weeks? Not what I needed or wanted, Cair Paradisa. Too much sleep is not supposed to be good for you.

[ A brief pause. ]

So the journal mentions a carnival came to Paradisa. Anyone know where exactly it came from?

( friends )

( people with hair coloring experience )

022 || written/dictated;

[workaphilic]

( [ Private ] )

( [ Those Attending the Expedition to Lastlook ] )

[Filter finished, he hovers, thinking, and nervous energy is being released via rapping his pen on the page. Over and over and over.

Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.]

It's been very agreeable, the castle, these past few months. [For once, he doesn't sound like he's complaining. In fact, he sounds distracted, if the insistent tapping of his pen is anything to go by.] Thought more of you might be concerned.

So. Enjoying the reprieve while you have it, or has the pattern finally gotten old?

103.3 - burn it to the ground tonight

[hard_talker]

[tonight’s broadcast doesn’t come crackling over the radio, as they have since January … no, this one comes straight out of the pages of the journals … and through the windows, if anyone’s rooms are close enough to the front lawn. since dusk, Mark’s been studiously dragging folding tables out onto the main lawn, assisted by Nora, running extension cords out the front doors from the lobby …. and now he’s finally got his DJ station set up properly, outside, in the courtyard. the object of interest, however, isn’t the pair of tables covered in stereo equipment and cassettes and CDs and vinyl … it’s the giant papier-mache object d’art that Nora’s putting the finishing touches on.

Nora’s skirts swish around her legs as she skips around the 7 foot tall scale model of the castle they’d built out of busted furniture and papier-mache. She pauses in her circling to regard it with a measured eye. She’d painted it stone gray with the stonework accented in places along the walls. The most glaring addition to the outside of the structure, however, are the names. Nora had carefully written every name of a resident she’d seen announced in the journal as missing from the castle. They cover every inch of the walls in varying colors and styles. Many of them were spray painted around the lobby as well, but the true message was in the piece standing before her. Biting her lip she steps forward and writes four letters larger than the rest on the front wall above the door. GOKU.]

… You ready? [he keeps his eye on her, even while one finger rests on the ‘play’ button of his precious stereo. tonight’s just as much her show as it is his, after all. he’s got a book cradled in his free hand, already open to a page]

[With one final look at the walls she grabs the ladder and shoves it off to one side before moving over to Mark. She nods, wrapping an arm around his waist.] Ready if you are.

[he nods, then mashes the button. instead of Leonard Cohen, you get a surprisingly peppy score piped over the paper airwaves … and he starts to read.]

"You need fuel, gas, something to run a carnival on, don't you? Women live off gossip, and what's gossip but a swap of headaches, sour spit, arthritic bones, ruptured and mended flesh, indiscretions, storms of madness, calms after the storms? If some people didn't have something juicy to chew on, their choppers would prolapse, their souls with them. Multiply their pleasure at funerals, their chuckling through breakfast obituaries, add all the cat-fight marriages where folks spend careers ripping skin off each other and patching it back upside around, add quack doctors slicing persons to read their guts like tea leaves, then sewing them tight with fingerprinted thread, square the whole dynamite factory by ten quadrillion, and you got the black candlepower of this one carnival.

All the meannesses we harbor, they borrow in redoubled spades. They're a billion times itchier for pain, sorrow, and sickness than the average man. We salt our lives with other people's sins. Our flesh to us tastes sweet. But the carnival doesn't care if it stinks by moonlight instead of sun, so long as it gorges on fear and pain. That's the fuel, the vapor that spins the carousel, the raw stuffs of terror, the excruciating agony of guilt, the scream from real or imagined wounds. The carnival sucks that gas, ignites it, and chugs along its way."

[Mark sighs, shuts the book with an audible ‘paf’ of paper, and sets it aside] ... Sound familiar, folks? A guy named Ray Bradbury wrote that, thirty years before they made me read it in my freshman year of high school. I think he knew what the fuck he was talking about. So I hope you all enjoyed your fried whatever-the-hell, and your trip around the carousel, and your dart games, because as fun as all that was - we all pay for it eventually. Maybe not you, maybe not me - but someone we love gets kicked out without even so much as a "thanks for all the fish". And tonight, we’re gonna show you exactly what we think of all that.

This place cares about as much about those of us who live here as carnies care about the idiots who pay two bucks to throw a dart at an under inflated balloon. It keeps us here until what? It loses interest? We stop entertaining it? We kowtow and let it get away with whatever the fuck it wants? [She pauses, taking a breath.] I heard another story not too long ago. Seems that once upon a time everyone got together and tore this thing to the ground. We might not be able to do that... but we can do the next best thing. So if you’re as tired of this shit as we are - if you’ve lost a friend - come outside and join the party.

[Mark picks up a bottle of lighter fluid off the DJ table and spins it like a bartender with a bottle of vodka, as the music fades and shifts. he’s timed tonight’s playlist to be mellow and introspective at first, but in a few minutes, once Nora tosses on a match and the flames really start to catch, it’ll kick up and start sounding like proper music for an anarchic, screw-the-system bonfire. come on down … or yell at the dumb kids to get off your lawn. if it’s too loud, you’re all too old]

Two Swords

[willalwaysfindyou]

( Henry )

[Dictated:]

I seem to be lacking in friends here. I've got the people from my world, of course, including my beautiful wife, but I should like to meet more of you.

[His voice changes to a stage whisper.] I would like some help picking out a present for my wife.

But don't tell her! It's a secret! [No it's not. He's joking. But he really would like some help picking out a gift.]

[You might spot Charming in the town, looking a little lost, or in one of the shops, browsing.]

[ooc: Open over the journals or action.]

(no subject)

[secondchances]

( [Lucrezia] )