speeding: (Not in my voca---)
Sight and smell. Reference, Young Avengers Presents 3, pages 11-18

Not in my voca-- )
speeding: (Side glance)
Seriously did I enter the twilight zone? Because I only understand about one word in ten you freaks are using.

Don't make me crack open a can of moonspeak on yo butts.

Pity da foo'.

[Added a little later]

Seriously, can anyone write normally? Like, anyone? Code, please tell me you can translate some of this gobbledy gook.

And don't tell me here if you're going to take ten pages to answer "yes" or "no".
speeding: (You need to CHILL OUT)
Dear Tree,

I think we're on nickname basis by now, yes? You don't mind if I call you Tree, right? I mean, with the way you treat us like your bitches, I think the whole formality thing is pretty moot.

So, right, on topic. Thanks for the shiny, but really, what's with your recent obsession with clothing? Gothic Lolita? Togas? Sailor uniforms?

Can I at least have my goddamn underwear back?

No fucking love,

Evil Overlord

P.S. Sky, Cross, I got one of the mystical sparklestones. One of you two wanna hold my hand while I follow the white rabbit? Want said it's a good idea to only use these when you have someone there.
speeding: (Holy crap // RETREAT)
Hey. Guys?

Zombies ate my pizza.

Also. Um. What the hell? I'm pretty sure I played this game. It was a lot more fun when the zombies were, you know, on screen.

In other news. Sky, I haven't seen you buddy, check in? Goes for like... Everyone. Luce, FM, Cross, Gramps, B, Kanin, B+, Big G, Spike... People, I want to know you are not eaten by zombies.

T, Want, now would be a great time to come back. idon'twanttobetheonlyonewhoknowswhatthesethingsare. fuck i hope this isn't the level with pyramid head.


((OOC: Strikes readable))
speeding: (Hey psst // Maybe that's not a good idea)
[Still written in a sloppy lefty scrawl]

Dear 'Sphere,

Yes, it's me again, your Evil Overlord. I have a lot of things I want to bring up in issue with you, but for the sake of our relationship I'll just bring up this one point.

When Want make a cardboard unicorn? That was not an invitation to give me one. It's creepy. Make it go away.

Best regards and loves and kisses,

E. O.

T, Want why are you not here to laugh at me? You stupid jerks.
speeding: (bitch please)
Dear 'Sphere,

I get that Wookies are awesome. I do. In fact, I'll be the first person to say Chewie kicks ass.

But what I don't get is that if you're going to dress me up as someone from Star Wars, why did it have to be the Wookie? Why not Han Solo? Obi Wan? Heck, even Darth?

Why a Wookie?

Next time I demand to be the cool handsome space smuggler. Not the shaggy side kick.

Best Regards,
Your Evil Overlord.

P.S. I appreciate you picking Wookie over Ewok. Seriously I do. But come on.

P.P.S. No, making my unicorn able to laugh at me isn't helping.

((OOC: Yep. Chewbacca.))
speeding: (This makes my brain hurt)
Okay people, am I the only one here who is not full of existential angst and issues? What is with these dreams?

And if anyone starts writing emo poetry in these journals I am so finding them and cutting them, you got me? Yeah, as a favor so you don't have to cut yourself. I'll even post the pictures on myspace for you, I'm that nice.



Seriously though, what was up with immolation-man?



Anyone seen Ran yet?

[Added about half an hour later when Dash is feeling like less of an asshole]

Yeah, okay. Sorry. So I got bit by the "be an ass" bug.

Anyone need help? Kind of restless. Need to do something. Send me on a useless quest or something.

((OOC: Want's dream. <33))


speeding: (Facepalm // not very happy)
T.

Your subconscious is really fucked up.

Quite possibly not as fucked up as the last dream... I want to be a cheesecake is hard to top.
Okay, maybe more fucked up, but in a different way.



Now that I'm awake... Anyone seen or heard from Ran? Hell, Dino even?

Anyone?

((OOC: Dash had Throne's dream this time.))

speeding: (This makes my brain hurt)
Okay. So.

  • Magical journal? Check.
  • Shower has been had? Check.
  • Actually not-goopy clothing that still doesn't really fit? Check.
  • Waking up in the most insane excuse for a social study without any memories or, you know, clothes, and being told the low-down by some poor girl who looked like she was going to faint? Double check.
  • Getting practically manhandled around to god knows where without anyone telling me what the hell this is about and ending up writing this next to an endless rack of lady's high heels? GO TIME.

But seriously, magical journal, what the heck is going on?

Uh, and if these things work the way I'm told they are supposed to-- Hello there my fellow lab rats. I guess welcome me to the maze? And, you know, direct me to the cheese and not the sparks.

The name's Dash, by the way. As in dashingly handsome, or dashing to the rescue. You know, I’m good with either.

god I feel like a dork talking to a journal.

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