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August 21st, 2005
July 27th, 2005
11:10 pm - Back to Boston
Portals, man. Always gotta have that head-twisty stomach-turny thing that you never quite get used to because it's never exactly the same. At least this time I didn't puke on arriving, like I did in that one dimension - the one with all the shellfish. But then, shellfish and I have never really gotten along. (My brother puts shrimp on pizza. How gross is that?)
So. Portals. I've showed up in a lot of unfamiliar places over the last couple of years, but the trippiest thing is the familiar ones. The apartments that almost look right, but with the wrong people. My posters hung on strange walls. Alternate versions of myself snuggling with the oddest of people. (OMGKATRINAWTF?!)
The spell I use is tuned for "home", so I generally end up in my alternate's apartment, hovel, mansion, cabin, whatever. Once I found myself in prison - that was not a fun night. This time I kinda know where I'm going. I've met this version of myself before, and I knew he was "out of town" right now. Seemed like a good enough place to crash for a bit. And maybe have some fun.
Awful lot of chick crap at this place, too. Maybe my alternate didn't just switch teams, but leagues? I shuddered. Really didn't want to know if there was a femme'd out version of myself somewhere.
[Open to anyone. Hellhounds is in the house! Bring it on, bitches.]
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August 3rd, 2004
10:23 pm - Topic - Money, Fame, Or Happiness...You Can Only Have One. Which Do You Choose And Why?
This is one of those trick questions, isn't it? Like, money and fame can't buy happiness or whatever, so you're supposed to pick happiness? Screw that. There's no such thing as happiness. It's a myth, an illusion that people chase after all their lives. People aren't designed to be happy. Not unless they're insane or retarded.
And wouldn't that be funny? If everyone who answered "happiness" to this question was given a complimentary lobotomy? There you go, you're happy now. No more worrying about your job or your lover or that you're going to die someday and the odds are that it will be slow and painful. Just - happiness. 'Cause all the thinking parts of your brain have been cut away.
Fame? Eh. Fame without money or power is meaningless. You're just the puppet of the masses.
Money? Maybe. Best of the three, that's for sure.
How about none of the above? What I want is option #4 - power. It's the only thing that really matters.
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July 29th, 2004
11:43 am
Heading to Vegas this weekend for work. Warren, do you want me to bring you something? Shotglass? Showgirl?
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July 11th, 2004
03:18 pm - Topic: What would your dream occupation be?
Emperor of the World.
I'd have a castle in Southern California, right on the beach, and my own private army to keep everyone in line. I'd allow the current rulers to stay in charge of their respective countries, as long as they behaved themselves and paid proper tribute to me. I don't need to micro-manage everything.
I'd get rid of a lot of stupid laws, and there wouldn't be any wars because I wouldn't allow it. I'd settle any disagreements myself.
There'd be a lot more money for food and healthcare and all that crap since countries wouldn't have to build weapons. Of course, my castle would be fully staffed and stocked. I'd have servants waiting on me hand and foot.
It might get a bit boring after a while, so I'd probably work on conquering other dimensions. Especially Var'k'oth. 'Cause the chicks there are way hot.
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June 16th, 2004
11:31 am
Warren? Could you pick up a litter box this afternoon? I'm bringing home a pet. Oh, and a couple of feeder rats. He'll be hungry.
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June 14th, 2004
01:35 pm - [locked to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) _katrina_silber]
Whatever game you think you're playing, Katrina? Forget it. Fine, you figured out that I modifed Warren's memory so he doesn't remember you. Great, you're very clever. Now leave him alone. I didn't do it so you could fuck with him.
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June 11th, 2004
12:57 pm - This is interesting
{Participants:2}-{nightway} - {hellhounds}
created by nightway
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June 3rd, 2004
03:35 pm
Just got back from Costa Rica. We stayed in a cabin right next to a volcano. It was pretty fucking cool.
Have decided to stay in Boston, at Warren's place. I've been on the road a long time - might be nice to stay in one place for a while.
Warren's got to get some furniture, though. I'm not sleeping on the air mattress again. Isn't there somewhere that we can call, and tell them we need furniture, and they'll deliver it? We've got better things to do than go shopping.
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May 28th, 2004
08:41 am
The apartment is hastily furnished with patio furniture and inflatable chairs. The fridge is stocked with alcohol, mixers and snacks. A card table in the living room is set up as an impromtu bar, and chips and dips are placed in strategic locations around the place. A few balloons float in the corners for decoration.
Neighbors, drawn in by the posted signs (and my invite spell) have started arriving. A portable stereo is tuned to the local alternative station.
Welcome to Warren's birthday/bachelor party! Anyone want a drink? The stripper should be here soon...
*starts mixing drinks*
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May 25th, 2004
03:08 pm
So, I'm in Boston. Staying at Warren's new place. Was planning to crash on the couch, but, uh, there doesn't appear to be one.
Dude! When are you getting some furniture?
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May 19th, 2004
04:37 pm - Topic: Who is your role model?
Young Tucker sits at the top of the stairs in his Batman pajamas and bare feet, and hugs his knees to his chest. He'd be sent back to bed if he was spotted, so he doesn't make a sound, even when he starts to shiver from the cold.
He tries to understand the words his father is chanting in a low voice, but gives up after a few minutes, and studies the symbols painted on the floor instead. He recognizes a couple of runes - there's the one for "wealth", and there's the one for "power" - but most of them are a mystery. He plays a game, trying to guess the meanings. He's almost convinced himself that his father is trying to summon the spirit of Merlin, when the chanting stops.
He forgets the guessing game, and watches closely as his father picks up a jar and pours the contents onto the largest symbol. The smell drifts upward, and Tucker nearly gags on the stench of rancid blood, but there's no way he's leaving now.
His father speaks a couple of short, harsh phrases, then steps back and waits. The air shifts, and it's suddenly hot; a dry, scorching heat. Tucker licks his lips, and tries to swallow, but his throat is parched. Below him he sees the air shimmer with heat - and then the shimmers turn to waves, and the waves split in the middle, opening a gaping hole.
His eyes are dry and burning, and the vortex below makes him nauseated, but he's going to keep watching if it kills him.
The vortex wrenches shut suddenly, and there's a creature down there now - a huge, ape-like thing with tusks. It slowly rotates its head until it's looking straight at Tucker.
Tucker holds his breath, staring in awe at the beast. Suddenly, it lunges at him. The creature is up the stairs before he can move, and its hand wraps around his ankle. Tucker screams in terror, and tries to scramble backwards, but the thing pulls him toward its mouth.
Suddenly, it goes limp. Tucker sees his father standing behind the beast, holding a tranquilizer gun.
"You should be in bed, Tucker," is all he says. Tucker nods, and pries the creature's hand off his ankle with shaking fingers. He glances back before leaving the basement, and sees his father wrapping a rune-engraved collar around the beast's neck.
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April 28th, 2004
08:33 am - Topic: What's better: democracy or monarchy?
Doesn't matter. Democracy's pretty much a sham, anyways. Two cliques each pick their favorite person to run for president, then get their buddies in the media to support their choice. They manipulate the voters with skewed information, and if that doesn't work, they rig the ballots.
The only difference between democracy and monarchy is the people in a democracy are fooled into thinking they have a choice. They don't. They're just a bunch of stupid sheep being herded by the media into the best position for slaughter.
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April 1st, 2004
10:29 pm - Topic: If you could change one moment in your past, what would it be?
Kind of a stupid question, really. I can't change my past, so why dwell on it? Yeah, there are moments - a lot of moments - when I wish things had gone differently. Plenty of places where I wish I'd stood up to people, talked back; let them know that I'm not someone they could walk all over. Doesn't matter now. I've changed myself. Next time those people try to give me shit, I'll show them who I am now. And you know what? Wouldn't be as much fun if those past moments hadn't happened.
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11:03 am
Ok, looks like things aren't going so well around here. Just want to say a few things, because I may not get another chance to say them.
Andrew: I think it's really great that you're working for the side of good now. I'm proud that my little brother is working to make this world a better place.
Jonathan: You know all the times I've made fun of you? I realize now I was just jealous of the way you stuck to your beliefs. I wish I had conviction like you.
Katrina, Charlie, and all the other women out there: You rock. I'm amazed the way women today can be strong, intelligent and feminine all at the same time.
And Warren. Sweet Warren. I've never had a lover who could handle a Slinky the way you can. If I don't make it through this, I hope you'll think of me every time you pass the toy aisle.
( Oh, and one more thing... )
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March 25th, 2004
12:50 pm
Ah, Phoenix, land of... retirees. And heat. It's like, 80-something out there right now, and it's supposed to get hotter.
Anyway. Staying with some friends. Took care of a possession for them this morning. Got a few other errands to run, though, so I'll probably be here for a couple of weeks.
Maybe I'll check out some estate sales and see if I find anything good.
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March 23rd, 2004
11:08 am
I'm in Phoenix now. Wasted half of yesterday doing a full reinstall on my laptop since someone had to fuck with it.
I'm not mad at Warren, though. His little tricks may have cost me a great deal of frustration, but the minor fire elemental that I bound to his laptop will be so much worse. It's probably already started overheating. Within a few days, it should achieve full meltdown. Have fun with it, Warren!
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March 19th, 2004
06:41 pm - Topic: What is the most important decision you've made in your life and why?
Tucker remembers...
Outside, it's a cool California summer night. Inside the shop, though, the heat of the day lingers. Tucker walks past dusty bolts of fabric and assorted lace trims. He follows the shop's owner to the back room and through another door into a small office. A desk, file cabinet, and stacks of paperwork make it seem like any other office. Tucker knows the truth, though. The moment he steps in there, he can feel the power. It's not just the smell - strong spices, musty herbs, and the sickly sweet scent of dead things left to rot - it's something more. It's like music - a heavy, throbbing bass solo that he can't quite hear, but he can feel the vibrations resonate through his chest. It's why he's here.
The shop's owner, Rick, a wrinkled, dark-skinned man of indeterminate ethnicity, opens the file cabinet and brings out a single sheet of paper. He hands it to Tucker.
Tucker looks over the paper carefully. It's the standard contract for this sort of thing, written in Latin for tradition's sake. His Latin isn't very good, but he's researched this carefully, and he knows what to expect.
Everything's in order. He hands the paper back to Rick. "Okay,” he says.
Rick nods, and sets the paper on the desk. He opens the drawer of the desk, and pulls out a syringe and a fountain pen. "Let me see your arm,” he says.
Tucker offers his arm, and doesn't wince as Rick slips the needle in, just below his elbow. Like going to the doctor, he thinks, but the doctor never looked at his blood as hungrily as Rick does.
Rick withdraws the needle and injects the blood into the fountain pen. He offers the pen to Tucker. "Sign right there,” he says, tapping the bottom of the paper.
Last chance to turn back, Tucker thinks, but he takes the pen without hesitation. He made this decision weeks ago, and sees no reason to change his mind now. He signs the paper with a flourish, and drops the pen on the desk. "Okay," he says, looking at Rick. "Do me."
Rick smiles wryly, and takes a small clay jar off a shelf above the desk. He dips a tiny paintbrush in the jar, grabs Tucker's arm, and paints an intricate symbol just below the elbow, near where the needle went in. A bit of blood trickles out of the puncture and mingles with the paint.
Rick sets the paintbrush down, and presses his thumb over the symbol. He chants in a low voice for several minutes, reciting long, guttural words in a language Tucker doesn't recognize. Finally he drops Tucker's arm and steps back.
Tucker stares for a moment. "That's it? It's over?" Then it hits him. Pain starts from the symbol and tears through his entire body. He cries out, and drops to his hands and knees. He grips the carpet and sobs in agony, certain that he's been swindled and he's going to die, right here, right now, in the back of a dirty shop in the L.A. garment district.
Suddenly, it stops. He gasps for breath, and looks up at Rick. He sees Rick's eyes flicker and change into something that could never be mistaken for human. Tucker shudders, and looks away. When he looks back, Rick's eyes are normal again.
"You're done,” says Rick. "Get out."
Tucker steps out of the shop, and shivers as the cool night breeze brushes over his sweaty body. He looks back at the door of the shop and sees things that weren't there before. Symbols drawn in blue light glow over the door. Protection spell, he thinks, and realizes, It worked!
He looks around, searching for more symbols, more proof of his new ability. He looks down at his arm, and sees that the painted symbol has sunk into his skin. He grins, at his new sight, his new tattoo, and the power he can feel growing, just below the skin. He hasn't lost anything yet. One day his bill will come due, but he has plans for that - by then he'll be able to pay it.
He walks away from the shop without a backward glance. He knows where it is. He knows he'll be back.
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March 16th, 2004
05:01 pm - Mexico: Day Five
Had to do some shopping yesterday. Negotiations on a few key items ran long, so it was pretty late by the time I got back to the hotel. By the way, if anyone thinks that going through my stuff sounds like fun, don't even think of opening the black jar. This is not a threat or a bluff; it's a warning. It's dangerous stuff, and you really don't want to mess with it. Plus, it's expensive.
Had to go into Warren's room to get my laptop back. He did put back my Angelina Jolie wallpaper, but he's still got admin control over it. I warned him I was going to strangle him in his sleep if he didn't fix it, but he looked so cute, sleeping with his thumb in his mouth and his arm around his Captain Kirk action figure, that I just didn't have the heart. I should probably do a full reinstall, anyway. Who knows what other surprises he left for me? From now on I'll be warding my computer, though, so if uber-geek tries this shit again, he'll be in for a big surprise.
Charlie wasn't around last night. Guess she got tired of waiting for us. Apparently she's been bored the whole weekend. I mentioned it to Warren, and he said, "I'm not a Club Med tour guide - if she wants to go do fun things, she can go do 'em on her own. "
*sigh* No wonder Warren has no luck with women. He's clueless! I think Charlie was planning on doing the kind of "fun things" that require two people. Though, if she's doing them on her own, I'd really like to watch.
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March 15th, 2004
10:39 am
Okay, first, WTF?! Warren, I cannot believe you fucked with my laptop. That's low, dude. If you don't fix it ASAP, I'm dumping you in the dirtiest bar I can find with a multi-species attraction spell on you.
God, when did it get to be Monday? And how can I have a hangover when the drinking was five days ago? And why do I feel like a herd of elephants marched over my ribcage while I was sleeping?
Charlie? I am so, so sorry about this. My spells are usually spot-on. Those guys must have had some kind of anti-magic shield up. I'll make it up to you, I promise.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/bitospud/courier/black/sore.gif) sore
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