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[4:37pm Sunday, October 5th, 2008] |
This game is being put on the shelf. Thank you for choosing to app and play here, but the mods have decided there isn't enough energy to go around.
If you're interested in a new setting to play your characters, may I suggest one of the following pan fandom games with the message boards/logging community set up:
![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif) jeweledfantasy (set within a sex club. All characters must be legal, consenting adults)
undertherainbow
venatus_superum
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[5:26pm Saturday, August 30th, 2008] |
Who: Aziraphale and Crowley
What: Who knows
When/Where: Right now, Aziraphale's room in the Staff quarters
Warnings: Don't know, but probably going to lean on the R/NC-17 line
Curiousity might have killed many small mammals and quite a few humans, in Crowley's memory, but he didn't seem afraid, especially considering the Angel was the one posing the puzzle. He didn't believe his Adversary really had it in him to do anything harmful, especially not to him. So, with all the arrogance he could muster, he rapped on the door, leaning on the frame.
"Angel? Y'said something about some sort of worship, didn't'y?" He grinned, settling in to wait for his answer, and his 'surprise'.
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[8:36pm Monday, July 28th, 2008] |
Who: Chloe,Open
When: Today
Where: Library,for starters
Rating/status: TBA/open
Chloe yawned,scratching her stomach as she made her way from her room through the halls with one bleary eye opened.Nevermind that she was merly dressed in a t-shirt that looked to big for her,and looney-toons pamjama pants.
The young reporter was,well,bored.After a sunday of sitting around watching the boobtube,she wanted something new to do,something that didnt require rolling her eyes and putting up with one of her fellow insane-persons.That,and the fact that she absolutely hated mondays,led her to small library.
Chloe stood,eyes racking over the limited stacks of books,debating on which one would be able to hold her interest for a long period of time.Though she doubted any of them could.
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[7:16pm Sunday, July 27th, 2008] |
Who: Satan and Crowley
What: God knows. Nothing good with these two
When: Tonight
Where: Her room
Warnings: I'd imagine pretty high. I'll say R for now.
Half of the time the Devil thought this whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, sticking everyone in a nuthouse and playing a game with them while she had to babysit them. When people started coming to her for therapy sessions, that's when it was going to be amusing. Until then she'd be bored and antsy and that was never good for anyone, especially not anyone who got in her way.
The day had passed fairly quickly, and night had set several hours ago. She knew that Crowley was supposed to come over, but she didn't really know what he was planning or if he'd even show up.
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[7:20pm Monday, July 21st, 2008] |
Who: Crowley, OTA
What: Getting to know the flock
Where: Patient Rec Room
Warnings/Status: None, at the moment/Started
[ooc: Note, as infuriating as it might be, Crowley doesn't do much (sensible) talking to those considered sane. Addicts, staff, and others will probably only get riddles and smiles out of him, as he is supposedly a schizophrenic patient.]
Crowley found himself sprawled over the couch in front of the television in the rec room, his favorite episode of The Golden Girls playing on the television (it would be a difficult task, to get the TV to play anything else, with Crowley around). It was the first day since the beginning of their little experiment that he had placed himself so openly in the throng, and he was interested in observing the pawns, seeinghow they interacted. If they chose to interact with him, all the better, but for then, he was content to watch.
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[11:09am Monday, July 21st, 2008] |
Who Peter and OPEN
Where The cafeteria
What Peter is eating
When Monday lunch time
Rating/Status tba / in progress
Peter McMillan had made a mistake.
It wasn't the first mistake he had made in his life. When he was eighteen years old, Peter had made the mistake of thinking if he was drunk enough, everything would be okay, landing him in the hospital. When he was twenty two, he made the mistake of trying to take on more than he could handle, landing him in the hospital again. When he was thirty, he moved because the doctors were beginning to know him as a regular.
And yet again, a mistake had ended him up in a hospital. The only difference was, he had checked himself in this time. AA and SA were obviously not enough, if he was sleeping with the son of his girlfriend, so he decided it was a time for drastic measures.
And this was certainly drastic. The apple crisp was more like apple dust and the roast beef sandwich was more like a sandwhat. He missed Bree's cooking, her amazing meals, but he knew he'd never be able to see her again, not after what he did. His addiction had destroyed yet another good thing in his life, and he would have to accept that and move on.
"To accept the things I cannot change, have courage to change the things I can and have the wisdom to know the difference," He murmured, looking at his sandwich with a sigh, putting it down. He couldn't change that, he figured, so it was best to move on. One sandwich at a time.
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[7:52pm Friday, July 18th, 2008] |
Who: sylar,open
What: garden exploring
When: Today
Where: the garden.
Sylar couldnt remember the last time he had been outside.After his little 'incident'at kirby square he had practilly been under lock and key 'for his own safety'.Or so the docters had claimed.
Still the fresh air felt good at he puttered around the small garden.The light smell of flowers and mulch was ok, not quite overwhelming to the senses.Still he knew better then to pluck the multi colored items, even if it would make his room a little flashier then the rest. The last time he had tried that, they had taken it away from him.
He paused,leaning foward a bit to sniff the deep purple object, half expecting it be plastic.This, at the very least, kept his thought from going bad.Sure, he had once been a bad guy, taking others 'superpowers'for himself. he had only done it to save the world, at least he had seen it that way.He found it ironic that the showdown of the very people he had tried to save had led him here.Alone, powerless, once more.
With a sigh, he plopped down on the hard bench near the entrance gate, patting the long stemmed rose that fell over his shoulder "At least you only have to worry about if it rains red"he muttered, not caring if anyone overheard him.
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[8:21pm Thursday, July 17th, 2008] |
Who: James Wilson, open
What: Sitting around
When: Today
Where: Outside common area (with small duck pond)
He couldn't have said how long he'd been watching the ducks. There weren't many, just a small group that appeared to be a family. Three adults and five with molting grey feathers that indiscriminantly fell out and littered the ground. He barely moved, afraid the fowl would fly away if he gave them reason, and they were a distraction from his current situation. The brick building was behind him, where he sat, he had a clear view of the pond, and the other side. A walking trail encircleed the pond, but a fence blocked the way two feet from the concrete, with no way out without the certainty of electrocution.
He watched the ducks, keeping his thoughts from getting too distressing. He'd once been a wolrd renouned cancer specialist. He'd led studies on trial drugs, and his patients were rumored to thank him, when he told them they were dying, because of his generous and appeasing, natural and caring, bedisde manner. The complete opposite of his best friend, Diagnostic and Infectious Diseases expert, Dr Greg House. He took small comfort in the fact House was stuck in this place with him, shut away behind brick and electric fence, hidden from the world in an undisclosed location.
Perhaps that was the hardest part to swallow. Not his confinement, his apparent illness, but the fact he had no idea where he was being held and treated. He shook his head, refusing to allow those thoughts and doubts to creep in. He needed to stay focused on the ducks. The one who emerged as the leader of the rest quacked, and led the way into the water, heads bobbing under the surface and returning a moment later as they righted themselves and begal to drift.
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