(no subject)
You guys have been AWESOME, and this is the FINAL ROUND. We've plowed through 79 apps or so. Thank you SO MUCH for giving everyone's hard work a good read. Seriously. ♥
And, for the record? This guy in my icon, Godot, is also from the gaylawyer game - the third one. He has lasers and he calls Edgeworth and Mia his kittens. ... Seriously. Which is why you will all buy Phoenix Wright, and Phoenix Wright: Justice For All when it comes out on the 16th, so they bring over the third game. ♥
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me if I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE.. Closed!
Character: Mason
Age: 27 + afterlife years
Series: Dead Like Me
Job: Drug Counselor
Canon: Mason is, in George's words, the 'screw-up.' He's the druggie with a heart of gold. Or maybe just really expensive narcotics. Either way, all he really wants is to get high. Also laid, but he seems to have a difficult time with that one.
This might have something to do with his tendency to steal everything within sight.
He does have a deep side, but usually it takes a lot to get past his shallow exterior and reach that. And sometimes it just takes a purple post-it.
He's British, and proud of it. Having drilled a hole in his head to achieve the ultimate high, his greatest joy in...death is that reapers can still get completely wasted. That's what life is all about, right?
Right.
Sample Post:
What the bloody fuck? Where's the city? Where's the streets?
...
Who took my fuckin' liquor?!
Bloody hell. This is just great. I'm out here in the bloody woods with the bloody forest and what the hell am I going to eat? Berries?
Okay, okay, just got'a get ahold of myself. They're just playin' a joke, tha's all. A bloody joke. Rube? Daisy? Come'n out now, it's not funny anymore.
...Who the bloody hell are you? Did you know you're dead? Your arm's fallin' off a bit there. How are you moving, anyway? You ha'n't got any muscle on your legs.
...
I am quite sure that you're not a reaper. Our arms stay attached. Do'ya think you could move over there, maybe? A bit further, I think. Tha's good. Now just stay there, an' tell me where I can find something to make this all go away.
Look, I am sober an' I would like to not be very badly right now. Right right, okay, I'm not sober, but'm more sober than I want to be. Just...a post-it? This isn't a death post-it.
Well then. I guess that's it. Bloody hell.
Drug Counselor to Camp Fuck You Die.
There better be some weed in this fuckin' deal.
What? Ew get away from me you-Oh. You must be children. The...bloody campers, that's right. You're a little furrier than the kids back home. A lot more purple too. What the bloody hell did I take?
Oh right. That explains it.
So I'm supposed to teach you buggers about drugs? Whatever. Rube, I hate you. Why couldn't you send Daisy? Or fuckin' come yourself. You like kids.
Right. On with it then. What do I have here? Does anyone know? ...no, it's not sex. You're too fuckin' young to be talking about shagging anyway. It's called heroin. Right, right. Now. It's also called mine. So don't tou-Hey! Hey I said don't touch it! Give that back! Bloody fucking kids with no bloody fucking manners-Give that back!
...Oh. Uh. You must be their, uh....father. Right. Father. You should probably grow some more fur or maybe get some pants or something, Mr. Scary Dad-
Hey, hey, I'm sorry! Stop it! That hurts! Don't, please! Please!
Ooooowwwww. Bloody hell. I'm down, man, I'm down! Can you at least give me my arm back? I wouldn't want to be mistaken for one of those other fellows.
Hell. If that's the thanks I get for teaching your kids-I'm down I'm down don't hurt me anymore!
...I want to go home.
Poll Vote!
Name: Doctor Kabapu.
Series: Excel Saga (manga/anime)
Age: Over twenty thousand years old.
Job: Head of the Department for Camp's Defense.
Canon: Doctor Kabapu is insane. If he's slowly gone insane over the millennia or if he's always been that way is anyone's guess, but it needs to be said: he is insane. That fact does make the things he has accomplished in life that much more impressive though, for despite throwing temper tantrums at inappropriate moments, trying to hide behind drapes when he doesn't want to be seen and occasionally sleep on the ground just because he can, he has managed to obtain vast political power and influence and embezzle huge amounts of money into creating his spandex-clad super-hero team Municipal Force Daitenzin, which protects his city from the evil forces of ACROSS, an organization with designs on world-domination and an impressive staff of, oh, five people, if you count the dog. Which you should, because the dog is the most stable member in it.
In short, Kabapu is a fiercely devoted, Machiavellian schemer with many years of leadership experience and economical cultivating behind him. Unfortunately no one will ever recognise these sides of him because they are overshadowed by the his hair being green, his social manners being nonexistent, his priorities being wildly blown out of proportion if not downright retarded, his sanity being questionable, and his moustache having the bad habit of living a life of its own. Then again, all those traits do make him the most loveable manipulator alive, so perhaps it evens out in the end.
Sample Post:
"I, Doctor Kapabu, hereby take an extend leave of absence from my duties to travel to an unknown location in America where I will mostly watch over a group of youngsters, most of them stricken by a condition known only as 'cabin gay'." I did not expect to be saying those words when I woke up today. Then again, I did not ever expect to see a child-zebra trying to suckle an elephant on that safari, it's tiny neck swaying this way and that with torment written on it's face as it desperately tried to reach the nourishing milk. But the elephant, in a display of nature's usual cruelty and propensity for weeding out undesirable material from the gene pool, was cursed with exceptionally sensitive nerve-endings in that particular area and, believing its teats to be under attack by some strange predator, promptly sat on the zebra child until it died. I can still hear the mewling screams of the zebra when I close my eyes.
But that is not important right now. What is important is that this day, I have received a letter… a letter of one Elisabeth Debussey. She told of how a dastardly villain had one day arrived in her summer camp, Camp Frivolous Unlimited Delights, and transformed it into his very own personal amusement park. Nightmarish stories of horrifying biological experiments, such as plants forcing people into unvolontary physical contact, terrifying monster/Superman-hybrids ( it is what stood in the letter. I fear the poor woman is going mad), and people being affected with some kind of biological agent that travelled via the water and having their very sexuality manipulated! It was then that I knew this could only be the work of one monster… one fiend which I unfortunately know all too well… I cannot say its name considering the security risks. Her letter states that all first notes of communication that include references to people I know could result in my being denied access to the facility. Safety therefore goes before dramatic exclamation of my fated nemesis's name. There will be time for that later on…
For you see… the organisation she spoke off, is one I've dedicated my life to oppose. And when it disappeared over a year ago, I was brought to the brink of oblivion out of guilt. I isolated myself from my friends, turned my back on those who needed me the most. I allowed them to embezzle government funds for meaningless parties and various japananimation memorabilia to fill the empty hole I left in their lives. My scientists, my underlings, all fell into despair. And my… my moustache started visiting sites featuring badly written poetry by disillusioned youths with nothing better to do than pretend that them being vampires would somehow bring down the very foundations of modern society as we knew it. I knew what I had to do. I gathered my wits, rerouted the payments for the parties out of my underlings own accounts their tears of joy as they witnessed their savings disappear due to my masculine initiatives were sufficient rewards for me, went into therapy with my moustache, and rose from the ashes of my tattered life, RENEWED WITH THE VIGOUR OF YOUTH! PREPARED TO TACKLE ANY CHALLENGE THAT WILL COME MY WAY!
That is why I, Kabapu, accept the role as Head of Department of Camp Defence! I will let no more of these viruses, these switches and so-called 'camp' phenomenon take place! For only 78.98 of my usual consulting fee I will put a stop to the clothes-disintegrating weapons (Strategically placed balls of lightredirecting M.O.S.A.I.C nanobots for all!), I will end the threats against campers being forced into Hybrid-experiments (Pamphlets to various help-lines for traumatized tentacle-monster victims ARE GO!) and last but not least… That Biological Agent, the one implanted within all of us at entry, which changes us whenever coitus is attempted! I admit, I expected very little of That Man… but driving emotionally instable young children's hormones up to critical levels only to deny them a proper ventilation, until they become so desperate they no longer even care for their paramour's physical nature, making them abandon all notions of what is proper and rut like bunnies in heat, LITERALLY, THAT I WILL NOT ALLOW! DO YOU HEAR ME MYSTERY MAN dammit I want to yell his name because it is what is proper in this situation BUT NEVERTHELESS I MUST SOLDIER ON I MAY ALLOW FOR THE OCCASIONAL DESTRUCTION OF A LANDMARK OR OFFICE BUILDING IN THE NAME OF THE GREATER GOOD, BUT I WILL NOT... I REFUSE TO LET YOU TURN THESE YOUNG CHILDREN INTO FURRIES!
And with that said, I have only one thing to say. Madam Debussey, I accept. I will protect these children from the strange, inhuman and utterly deranged desires of not only That Man, but any and all fiends which would exploit their youthful purity. This job… I accept it.
Now then, to find six young persons of mixed genders with marketable personalities and stuff them in colourful, skintight spandex…
Poll Vote!
Character Name: The Flaming Prince (Lesley Mortermer LeMorte
Series: Van Von Hunter
Age: Mid-twenties
Job: "Alternate Lifestyles" Councilor
Canon: Van Von Hunter is the story of a man who hunts evil stuff. And, of course, said hunter's main antagonist is as evil as they come!
Well, not really. The Flaming Prince (whose name caught on far too quickly, in his opinion) is flaily, tempermental, immature, somewhat stupid, and not very good at all this evil business. He likes cookies made by goblins, crushing things like bugs and roses and quantum singularities in his hand, and pulling off evil plots. That last isn't something he gets a chance to do very often. He is allegedly straight, but nobody believes him and he doesn't really do a lot for his own case.
Sample Post:
Ooh, zombies! Nobody said anything about this camp having zombies! Just like the undead hordes back home. I'm surprised, I didn't expect this place to have such convenient minions shambling around.
Um, I mean... Haha. Ahem.
Greetings, Camp Fuck You Die! (Good name, by the way!) From now on, you will look up to me as one of the individuals who presides over you. You've probably heard of me already. I am the dark, terrible prince of the land of Dikay, ruler of all that is evil, known throughout the lands as the... as the, um... the Flaming Prince! I'm also here to be your new Councilor for Alternate Lifestyles, so...
What? What? Stop snickering! Don't laugh at me, I'm the Flaming Prince, damn it! Geez, people, you should know very well that Alternate Lifestyles is clear unmistakable code for EVIL! I'm your new Evil Councilor! I knew that name would be a mistake...
Anyway, I have some really good advice to give for all you evil wannabes and dark-lords-in-the-making, so listen up. We'll cover just a few of the major tricks of the trade to follow, and if you need one-on-one counciling, we'll see what we can do! Ahem...
Combine actions to become more efficient! For example, brunch. It's a mix of breakfast and lunch, and is an ingenius invention that must have come from some brilliant tactitian! You don't waste time on two meals, having one combined meal instead! It saves you time and energy, and you even get to have waffles and roast beef in the same meal! Isn't that great?
"Taughing" (talking while coughing) is also a surprisingly useful skill to have. Eating and sleeping, however, also known as "eeping," is a dangerous combination that should be avoided at all costs.
Always keep an advisor around to point out your mistakes. It's a little bit of a kick to the ego sometimes, but these people are really invaluable! They can point out when you do or say something stupid, and they're just generally good to have around. Make sure that one of your advisors is very young! Once I figured out that some of my plans had holes and mistakes so obvious that a six year old could find them, I immediately hired a six year old to point out these mistakes for me! My memories of that time are a bit fuzzy, but I'm sure he was a big help.
They may not seem like much, but keep the goblins. They're really very versatile. I'm always amazed to find something new they can do! And the cookies they make are the best.
Follow this advice and I'm sure you'll make a great evil despot in no time. Remember, if you need any advice, just come to me, the Flaming Prince! ...Stop looking at me like that!
Poll Vote!
Character: Johnny Raflo
Series: Vassalord
Character Age: Real age unknown. Undead. At least several hundreds of
years old. Looks around 35.
Job: Emergency Blood/Food Supply(ier)
Canon: Vassalord is an obscure manga by Chrono Nanae, currently at volume 1
(with two drama cds). To sum it up in one sentence - it's the story of one
True Blood vampire, and his childe, Charles J. Krishund: a God-obsessed
cyborg!vampire priest who kills other vampires for a living.
Johnny Raflo is a True Blood, one of the group of vampires that are called
Heliogabalus of the Hidden Palace, people who became depraved through
sorcery, and had committed the sin of drinking blood and went on to develop
an urge for it. Equipped with good looks and the obligatory angsty past, he
is a whiny, clingy and glompy uncle that strives on teasing and making
sexual innuendos at his childe. Other than the teasing, he has shown to be
an expert at flirting with the ladies, kicking vampire asses, smoking,
buying touristy souvenirs, and taking care of little human kids. A
self-proclaimed virgin-lover, he has the tendency to squeal and glomp cute
things/children that resemble child!Krishund. He is a hedonist who is a
pervert for Krishund and Krishund only (and anyone else that resembles him).
Acting as the food source for his childe, Johnny is often dragged along on
overseas trips to hunt vampires - as Krishund's snack. He has all the niffy
qualities that comes with being a vampire.
Note: Johnny's pet name for Krishund is Cherry. His childhood name was
Chris.
Sample Post:
When one is brought along for the sole purpose of being consumed as
food - breakfast, lunch, dinner, all the main courses plus the
dessert, you get the gist- one can't exactly expect first-class
transportation. Especially when money is tight and you have a cat and a dog
to feed. I can handle being stuffed inside a coffin and getting banged
around. I mean, of course it's uncomfortable, but still
understandable. It's not like I can complain about it anyway.
But this is just a little too harsh.
Being dropped out of the rear of a plane? With only a "Read this and try to
be useful" and no farewell hugs? Even if I won't die from it, Cherry, it
still hurts Papa's heart~ How can anyone do this to their own father?
Now let's see what this is abou-
Mr J.Raflo,
You have been appointed as the Emergency Blood/Food Supply(ier) at Camp
Fuck You Die based on a long-term contract between a Mr. Charles J.
Krishund and the Camp Director. Please fulfill your responsibilities
(providing campers with blood/food, whichever they choose to have) when the
need arises. Please refer to the attached sheet. More information will be
available at the campsite.
Also, please note that this is a camp mainly for underage children. Given
your past records and other information provided by Mr. Krishund, I feel the
need to remind you that sexual molestation of the youngsters is not
encouraged while in camp.
Please enjoy your stay.
...My, Cherry~ ♥ Whatever should I do with you? I agreed to come
along as your snack, but I never said I'm for rent. And to a place
with such an obscene name! Are you trying to tell me something~?
Well then, since I'm here anyway - Heeeey, the kids over there~ You're all
from this Camp Fuck You Die place, right? I'm Johnny Raflo, your new eh,
what was it again, yes, your new Emergency Blood/Food Supplier! In case of
emergencies, I'm suppose to provide you kids with blood, or food, or
whatever else you 'll need. According to this list I have, 'emergency'
refers to anything raging from frostbites to zombie attacks and
cross-dimensional space failure. ...Whatever that means. So in case
of such emergencies, don't hesitate to come and find me when you need the
help~ But as eager as I am to "fulfill my responsibilities", I'm afraid you
can't have my blood. This fine body is reserved for a very
special person~! But don't worry about it, I'll go get something else
to take its place. Even if it won't be, you know, as good. Alright,
introductions done, can someone show me where to-
Oooooh aren't you just so so cute? The blond hair, the adorable blue eyes~
You look exactly like Chris! What? You're not used to people hugging you?
Awww~ Soooo cute~ Are there more kids like you in this camp? There
are? Well now, this contract business doesn't sound so bad now~ Wanna
come with Uncle Johnny and have a chat with just the two of us together~?
I'll give you special treatment~ ♥
Poll Vote!
character: Urahara Kisuke
series: BLEACH
character age: ...over two hundred? three hundred?
job: camp pharmacist
canon: BLEACH is the story about an orange-haired Strawberry with a huge, unwieldy meat-cleaver who fights large sentient Halloween costumes for the sake of his family, friends, and the American Japanese way. It contains epic amounts of emo, ample amounts of angst, a speck of stupidity, and enough blood to drown Chuck Norris. Most of which is secreted from said Strawberry.
Urahara Kisuke is none of those. He may be sly, slightly creepy, sneaky, and an occasional jackass, but unlike roughly ninety-nine percent of the cast, he has absokutely NO angst or emo, despite being exiled from his home and stripped of his rank as a Shinigami Captain. He is, in fact, a brilliant scientist, as well as a genius tactician, despite acting like an utter fool from time to time. That does not make him any less of a jackass however, as he is prone to having fun at the expense of others during serious moments, resulting in pissing off roughly half of his acquaintances, especially the Strawberry. And he has a habit of (illegally) building insanely huge secret underground training facilities.
Sample Post:
Hmm...? My, this place is quite fascinating, isn't it? These are some rather unique accomodations for a summer camp, especially for one in the middle of winter, aren't they? The tentacles are certainly an interesting touch! The barrier is quite impressive as well! It's almost as if...
Hm? Ah!
Hello everyone! I am Urahara Kisuke, just a mere, humble, handsome shop-owner of the Urahara Convenience Shop, located in Karakura. Please feel free to stop by at any time! It seems that I have been brought here forcefully against my will by your ever-lovable Director-san in order to work as your wonderful new counselor, specifically your pharmacist! Let's get along~@hearts;
As I have already mentioned, I am your newly appointed camp pharmacist. As such, if you have any mental problems stemming from depression, anxiety, possible failing love-life such as inability to admit to your own sexuality or any other such emotional conundrums, feel free to consult me at any time! I will provide for you any manner of drugs which may or may not assist you in correcting your teen-angst-ridden social awkwardness and stress-induced personality disorders! Okay, Kurosaki-san?
As an aside, as ever-diligent shop-owner, I will also provide for you any necessities which you may require, whether it may be food, phones, appliances, laser eye surgery, or portable faux bodies, all at reasonable prices! We have only the highest quality products available, so please drop by!
Speaking of which, to jump-start my newly acquired pharmaceutical job, I've developed a special, easily-affordable and easily-consumed pill that will significantly lower your angst level! I assure you that it's one hundred percent safe and only uses all-natural ingredients. Please disregard the skull and crossbones on the label~♥
Poll Vote!
Character: Sherlock Holmes
Series: The novels and short stories of Sherlock Holmes
Character Age: Late 30's or early 40's
Job: Camp Security Guard
Canon: Sherlock Holmes is one the greatest detectives to ever exist. He employed methods of deduction and observation that were far ahead of their times and would astound his clients into believing he was a magician. On the gaslit streets of turn of the century London he pursued sensational mysteries that befuddled the local police and yet were classified by himself as quite "elementary".
Holmes is a man who is driven by a desire for definite and exact knowledge in all things related to his profession. His nature is sometimes compared to that of a machine for he does not let himself be distracted by emotional matters. He knows himself to be superior to other detectives and does not let modesty stop him from proving so. Sherlock is considered to be something of an eccentric and apart from Watson has no close friends.
Note: He is being taken at some point during the three years after the event at Reichenbach Falls.
Sample post:
I must admit that I had higher expectations as to the work that the local police might have already done in this case. However from the condition of this...."camp" I see that in this particular instance they have lacked not only any spark of imagination but even the most minimal of energy to begin an investigation. It is of course possible that I could be wrong. For all I know some sort of conclusions might have already been reached. Surely the officials in this place have not spent nearly two years involving themselves in the lives of their young charges and expecting this problem to simply go away.
But I digress.
My name is Sherlock Holmes. I was requested by various prominent figures in this country to examine the condition of the on-going investigation and if necessary assist the local detectives. It does appear that they have left out some small details. Imprisonment would have surely been a titbit I would have liked to discuss further. The position I have been given would have also been a matter of slight disagreement.
Inquiries as to the purpose of bringing me here will of course have to wait until after the investigation is over. At the moment I only wish to know the facts of the case and of this unique establishment. The nature of the lepers that inhabit the nearby woods would also be most welcome for if my deductions are correct they appear to be holding some sort of raffle for the honor of possessing my brain.
Poll Vote!
Character: Anthony J. Crowley
Series: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Age: something older than Creation (~6000+; appears perhaps to be in his late twenties/early thirties)
Job: LiveJournal maintenance
Canon: Once upon a time, the world was ending. Things were in a bit of a muddle for a while, with wayward antichrists and misplaced books of prophecy. Feeling particularly put-out were the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley, who had been hanging around with humans for a few thousand years and had rather grown to like the poor sods. Both put their respectively heavenly and infernal lives on the line in a heroic effort that ended up not really mattering, as the antichrist decided that he actually didn't want the world to end and free will buggered everyone again.
A.J. Crowley (née Crawley) was an angel who had sauntered vaguely downwards to demonhood. Appearing to be a stylish young man with a serpentine smile, he has the standard otherworldly power to will things into reality (on a small scale, at least), a knack for being in the right place at the right time (Eden when the apples were ripe, Spain when folks were feeling Inquisitive) and a taste for earthly pleasures such as fast vintage cars, long naps, high-tech gadgets, the band Queen and terrorizing houseplants into good behaviour. He also has an understanding of how, whether you're poking a soul toward salvation or damnation (a couple recent demonic efforts of his include creating traffic congestion and tying up phone lines), you just have to give the tiniest of taps and humans will do the rest themselves, far better than Heaven or Hell could ever manage.
Sample Post:
Sorry for the hold-up, folks. Roads are in abominable shape around here, and the zombie construction crews are falling apart almost as badly as the roads. Somebody probably thought it was a good idea. My money is on Hastur. Convenient time for him to finally be learning a thing or two. You know, step one, declare year-round construction season; step two, employ leagues of the undead; step three, stand back and watch the road rage grow ???; step four, profit. Except for how, you know, this isn't exactly what you'd call a high-volume area. So the only one caught in the traffic is me. Come to think of it, double my bet on Hastur. Lose one antichrist and try to toss some holy water on a bloke, and they'll never let you live it down. Now, the Bentley's a beauty, they don't make them like that anymore, but you can do 95 in a zombie-infested swamp and it'll still get you nowhere. Literally. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality- er.
So. I'm here as your friendly LJ tech support. Officially now. I already have some experience, started working with the staff back in early December. Always interesting, getting a look at a newly-corporate environment. I stayed mostly out of it, just helped a few people brainstorm about what their options were when they were having some database problems. Things went, er, surprisingly smoothly despite the questionable nature of the actions some people decided to take. Better luck next time, Crowley.
I know that some of you kids are pretty bright, so remember: LiveJournal is open-source software. You can put in your two bits and shape it how you want it to be. We want to get to see your shiny new ideas because, as they say: "the more you know." The same philosophy applies to feedback. So if you run into any problems? Just let it all out. That's what Friends Pages are for.
And oh, yeah. My name's A.J. Crowley. I'd say I was a man of wealth and taste, but that's really not accurate. And Go- Sa- your mother forbid that I be misleading. Pleased to meet you, anyhow.
Character: Anthony J. Crowley ("An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards")
Series: Good Omens
Character Age: Ancient and ageless, but looks to be about somewhere in his thirties (though he says mid-to-late twenties).
Job: Ethics Trainer/Part-time Groundskeeper
Canon: Back when the earth was young -- really young -- a demon named "Crawly" was told simply to "Get up there and make some trouble." Snakes were a whole new thing, and he thought they were rather sleek-looking, so, adopting that appearance, he went "up there" and did his job -- admirably well, or so he always believed (despite some second thoughts about his chosen "name," which he eventually changed).
Crowley is cheerfully amoral and quick to rationalize the things he does. He's not a big believer in huge, wide-swept evil, and one of the things he admires most about humanity is how they're able to do far worse on their own than he could ever "make" them do. He's just there to help them fulfill their potential.
He loves modernity and technology, good food and fine wine, and, above all, his 1926 black Bentley. His best friend, if a demon can be said to have any friends, is Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate. You know -- one of the un-fallen ones.*
It bears noting that Crowley keeps some of the greenest, lushest, most beautiful houseplants in all of London. They also happen to be the most terrified.**
* But don't let that get out. Crowley's reputation isn't much, but it's all he's got.
**Fear is an excellent fertilizer.
###
I'm pretty sure, wherever I am, it isn't Hell. At least I hope it's not, because if I've been brought back to Hell, I'm in deeper trouble than I ever thought.
It doesn't look like hell, at least. This place is too... hmm. I don't remember any werewolves in the Lower Levels. Not practical, really. All that fur. No man-eating plants either. Hell isn't a great place for vegetation to thrive. Plants, even man-eating ones, need water -- and men, hence the name. And in a place with eternal fires, it's more of a dry heat, so water and corporeal forms are rare commodities. And I'm pretty sure I don't remember there being swamps because, well, dry heat.
So this really can't be Hell. If it is, I'm screwed.
Really screwed.
Bugger all, I should've asked for asylum while I had the chance. Hell's one place you don't want angry with you. I mean, they don't call it Hell because it's pleasant, especially with all that eternal torment. Oh, sure, it sounds like lots of fun on paper. But it's dull. Over and over again, same old screaming pleas for mercy. It's all, "Please, God, make it stop!" without them realizing it isn't bloody likely He's listening if they've been sent to Hell in the first place.
The demons enjoy it, of course, but that's only because they're the ones inflicting the torment. Me, I get bored with it after a while. Humans are much more fun when they're corporeal and getting into trouble, making life miserable for each other, and basically being... human.
The Spanish Inquisition, an excellent example. Also debt collectors, AOL, telemarketers, and the entire PS3 debacle -- oh, that one was fun.
This just can't be Hell.
Humans throw the word around too freely, I think. None of them realize that Hell isn't that easily defined. You can't just say, "This is Hell," because it's too broad. Might as well say, "This is Europe," when you're really talking about a little spit of a village off the map out in the middle of bloody nowhere, where people have no teeth and hygiene is optional and people marry their livestock. Hell's got cities. Big cities, too. Urban sprawl: our idea.
So while this... wherever it is this place is, isn't Hell, I do think it might be one of Hell's lesser villages or suburbs. If I were lucky it'd be Dis. But it's not Dis. Last I checked, Dis had no purple gorillas. It does bear a slight resemblance to Pandemonium, but again there's the dry heat and the man-eating plants and the werewolves and the gorillas.
…
Note to self: Ask Aziraphale where purple gorillas fit into ineffable plan.
He probably doesn't even know. Really, some days I wish I'd never even heard of ineffability.
…
Note to self: Ask Aziraphale where man-eating plants fit into ineffable plan. Werewolves, too. Not that he'd know, stupid git.
(Now that I think about it, there might be something to this man-eating plant thing.)
…
Note to self: Climate may be key to inspire houseplants to grow properly. Investigate. Also: Replace plant mister with one not utter crap.
Wherever this is, wherever I am, there isn't a decent cafe for... ever. No cafes, no paved roads (not that it does me a bit of good; the Bentley is MIA, which tells me that a Power higher -- or lower -- than I sent me here). No Bentley means no Blaupunkt, which means no music, and damn it all, bloody sodding Queen is going to swallow up every remaining shred of decent music I have in that thing... whenever I find it.
Wait.
No paved roads. No Bentley. No Blaupunkt. No music.
This is Hell.
BUGGER.
Poll Vote!
And, for the record? This guy in my icon, Godot, is also from the gaylawyer game - the third one. He has lasers and he calls Edgeworth and Mia his kittens. ... Seriously. Which is why you will all buy Phoenix Wright, and Phoenix Wright: Justice For All when it comes out on the 16th, so they bring over the third game. ♥
Remember!
- Applicants, respond anonymously.
- If you're going to do the whole "ask me if I voted you out!" thing, please state who you voted out.
- No speculating about the identity of the applicants!
Now VOTE.. Closed!
Character: Mason
Age: 27 + afterlife years
Series: Dead Like Me
Job: Drug Counselor
Canon: Mason is, in George's words, the 'screw-up.' He's the druggie with a heart of gold. Or maybe just really expensive narcotics. Either way, all he really wants is to get high. Also laid, but he seems to have a difficult time with that one.
This might have something to do with his tendency to steal everything within sight.
He does have a deep side, but usually it takes a lot to get past his shallow exterior and reach that. And sometimes it just takes a purple post-it.
He's British, and proud of it. Having drilled a hole in his head to achieve the ultimate high, his greatest joy in...death is that reapers can still get completely wasted. That's what life is all about, right?
Right.
Sample Post:
What the bloody fuck? Where's the city? Where's the streets?
...
Who took my fuckin' liquor?!
Bloody hell. This is just great. I'm out here in the bloody woods with the bloody forest and what the hell am I going to eat? Berries?
Okay, okay, just got'a get ahold of myself. They're just playin' a joke, tha's all. A bloody joke. Rube? Daisy? Come'n out now, it's not funny anymore.
...Who the bloody hell are you? Did you know you're dead? Your arm's fallin' off a bit there. How are you moving, anyway? You ha'n't got any muscle on your legs.
...
I am quite sure that you're not a reaper. Our arms stay attached. Do'ya think you could move over there, maybe? A bit further, I think. Tha's good. Now just stay there, an' tell me where I can find something to make this all go away.
Look, I am sober an' I would like to not be very badly right now. Right right, okay, I'm not sober, but'm more sober than I want to be. Just...a post-it? This isn't a death post-it.
Well then. I guess that's it. Bloody hell.
Drug Counselor to Camp Fuck You Die.
There better be some weed in this fuckin' deal.
What? Ew get away from me you-Oh. You must be children. The...bloody campers, that's right. You're a little furrier than the kids back home. A lot more purple too. What the bloody hell did I take?
Oh right. That explains it.
So I'm supposed to teach you buggers about drugs? Whatever. Rube, I hate you. Why couldn't you send Daisy? Or fuckin' come yourself. You like kids.
Right. On with it then. What do I have here? Does anyone know? ...no, it's not sex. You're too fuckin' young to be talking about shagging anyway. It's called heroin. Right, right. Now. It's also called mine. So don't tou-Hey! Hey I said don't touch it! Give that back! Bloody fucking kids with no bloody fucking manners-Give that back!
...Oh. Uh. You must be their, uh....father. Right. Father. You should probably grow some more fur or maybe get some pants or something, Mr. Scary Dad-
Hey, hey, I'm sorry! Stop it! That hurts! Don't, please! Please!
Ooooowwwww. Bloody hell. I'm down, man, I'm down! Can you at least give me my arm back? I wouldn't want to be mistaken for one of those other fellows.
Hell. If that's the thanks I get for teaching your kids-I'm down I'm down don't hurt me anymore!
...I want to go home.
Poll Vote!
Name: Doctor Kabapu.
Series: Excel Saga (manga/anime)
Age: Over twenty thousand years old.
Job: Head of the Department for Camp's Defense.
Canon: Doctor Kabapu is insane. If he's slowly gone insane over the millennia or if he's always been that way is anyone's guess, but it needs to be said: he is insane. That fact does make the things he has accomplished in life that much more impressive though, for despite throwing temper tantrums at inappropriate moments, trying to hide behind drapes when he doesn't want to be seen and occasionally sleep on the ground just because he can, he has managed to obtain vast political power and influence and embezzle huge amounts of money into creating his spandex-clad super-hero team Municipal Force Daitenzin, which protects his city from the evil forces of ACROSS, an organization with designs on world-domination and an impressive staff of, oh, five people, if you count the dog. Which you should, because the dog is the most stable member in it.
In short, Kabapu is a fiercely devoted, Machiavellian schemer with many years of leadership experience and economical cultivating behind him. Unfortunately no one will ever recognise these sides of him because they are overshadowed by the his hair being green, his social manners being nonexistent, his priorities being wildly blown out of proportion if not downright retarded, his sanity being questionable, and his moustache having the bad habit of living a life of its own. Then again, all those traits do make him the most loveable manipulator alive, so perhaps it evens out in the end.
Sample Post:
"I, Doctor Kapabu, hereby take an extend leave of absence from my duties to travel to an unknown location in America where I will mostly watch over a group of youngsters, most of them stricken by a condition known only as 'cabin gay'." I did not expect to be saying those words when I woke up today. Then again, I did not ever expect to see a child-zebra trying to suckle an elephant on that safari, it's tiny neck swaying this way and that with torment written on it's face as it desperately tried to reach the nourishing milk. But the elephant, in a display of nature's usual cruelty and propensity for weeding out undesirable material from the gene pool, was cursed with exceptionally sensitive nerve-endings in that particular area and, believing its teats to be under attack by some strange predator, promptly sat on the zebra child until it died. I can still hear the mewling screams of the zebra when I close my eyes.
But that is not important right now. What is important is that this day, I have received a letter… a letter of one Elisabeth Debussey. She told of how a dastardly villain had one day arrived in her summer camp, Camp Frivolous Unlimited Delights, and transformed it into his very own personal amusement park. Nightmarish stories of horrifying biological experiments, such as plants forcing people into unvolontary physical contact, terrifying monster/Superman-hybrids ( it is what stood in the letter. I fear the poor woman is going mad), and people being affected with some kind of biological agent that travelled via the water and having their very sexuality manipulated! It was then that I knew this could only be the work of one monster… one fiend which I unfortunately know all too well… I cannot say its name considering the security risks. Her letter states that all first notes of communication that include references to people I know could result in my being denied access to the facility. Safety therefore goes before dramatic exclamation of my fated nemesis's name. There will be time for that later on…
For you see… the organisation she spoke off, is one I've dedicated my life to oppose. And when it disappeared over a year ago, I was brought to the brink of oblivion out of guilt. I isolated myself from my friends, turned my back on those who needed me the most. I allowed them to embezzle government funds for meaningless parties and various japananimation memorabilia to fill the empty hole I left in their lives. My scientists, my underlings, all fell into despair. And my… my moustache started visiting sites featuring badly written poetry by disillusioned youths with nothing better to do than pretend that them being vampires would somehow bring down the very foundations of modern society as we knew it. I knew what I had to do. I gathered my wits, rerouted the payments for the parties out of my underlings own accounts their tears of joy as they witnessed their savings disappear due to my masculine initiatives were sufficient rewards for me, went into therapy with my moustache, and rose from the ashes of my tattered life, RENEWED WITH THE VIGOUR OF YOUTH! PREPARED TO TACKLE ANY CHALLENGE THAT WILL COME MY WAY!
That is why I, Kabapu, accept the role as Head of Department of Camp Defence! I will let no more of these viruses, these switches and so-called 'camp' phenomenon take place! For only 78.98 of my usual consulting fee I will put a stop to the clothes-disintegrating weapons (Strategically placed balls of lightredirecting M.O.S.A.I.C nanobots for all!), I will end the threats against campers being forced into Hybrid-experiments (Pamphlets to various help-lines for traumatized tentacle-monster victims ARE GO!) and last but not least… That Biological Agent, the one implanted within all of us at entry, which changes us whenever coitus is attempted! I admit, I expected very little of That Man… but driving emotionally instable young children's hormones up to critical levels only to deny them a proper ventilation, until they become so desperate they no longer even care for their paramour's physical nature, making them abandon all notions of what is proper and rut like bunnies in heat, LITERALLY, THAT I WILL NOT ALLOW! DO YOU HEAR ME MYSTERY MAN dammit I want to yell his name because it is what is proper in this situation BUT NEVERTHELESS I MUST SOLDIER ON I MAY ALLOW FOR THE OCCASIONAL DESTRUCTION OF A LANDMARK OR OFFICE BUILDING IN THE NAME OF THE GREATER GOOD, BUT I WILL NOT... I REFUSE TO LET YOU TURN THESE YOUNG CHILDREN INTO FURRIES!
And with that said, I have only one thing to say. Madam Debussey, I accept. I will protect these children from the strange, inhuman and utterly deranged desires of not only That Man, but any and all fiends which would exploit their youthful purity. This job… I accept it.
Now then, to find six young persons of mixed genders with marketable personalities and stuff them in colourful, skintight spandex…
Poll Vote!
Character Name: The Flaming Prince (Lesley Mortermer LeMorte
Series: Van Von Hunter
Age: Mid-twenties
Job: "Alternate Lifestyles" Councilor
Canon: Van Von Hunter is the story of a man who hunts evil stuff. And, of course, said hunter's main antagonist is as evil as they come!
Well, not really. The Flaming Prince (whose name caught on far too quickly, in his opinion) is flaily, tempermental, immature, somewhat stupid, and not very good at all this evil business. He likes cookies made by goblins, crushing things like bugs and roses and quantum singularities in his hand, and pulling off evil plots. That last isn't something he gets a chance to do very often. He is allegedly straight, but nobody believes him and he doesn't really do a lot for his own case.
Sample Post:
Ooh, zombies! Nobody said anything about this camp having zombies! Just like the undead hordes back home. I'm surprised, I didn't expect this place to have such convenient minions shambling around.
Um, I mean... Haha. Ahem.
Greetings, Camp Fuck You Die! (Good name, by the way!) From now on, you will look up to me as one of the individuals who presides over you. You've probably heard of me already. I am the dark, terrible prince of the land of Dikay, ruler of all that is evil, known throughout the lands as the... as the, um... the Flaming Prince! I'm also here to be your new Councilor for Alternate Lifestyles, so...
What? What? Stop snickering! Don't laugh at me, I'm the Flaming Prince, damn it! Geez, people, you should know very well that Alternate Lifestyles is clear unmistakable code for EVIL! I'm your new Evil Councilor! I knew that name would be a mistake...
Anyway, I have some really good advice to give for all you evil wannabes and dark-lords-in-the-making, so listen up. We'll cover just a few of the major tricks of the trade to follow, and if you need one-on-one counciling, we'll see what we can do! Ahem...
Combine actions to become more efficient! For example, brunch. It's a mix of breakfast and lunch, and is an ingenius invention that must have come from some brilliant tactitian! You don't waste time on two meals, having one combined meal instead! It saves you time and energy, and you even get to have waffles and roast beef in the same meal! Isn't that great?
"Taughing" (talking while coughing) is also a surprisingly useful skill to have. Eating and sleeping, however, also known as "eeping," is a dangerous combination that should be avoided at all costs.
Always keep an advisor around to point out your mistakes. It's a little bit of a kick to the ego sometimes, but these people are really invaluable! They can point out when you do or say something stupid, and they're just generally good to have around. Make sure that one of your advisors is very young! Once I figured out that some of my plans had holes and mistakes so obvious that a six year old could find them, I immediately hired a six year old to point out these mistakes for me! My memories of that time are a bit fuzzy, but I'm sure he was a big help.
They may not seem like much, but keep the goblins. They're really very versatile. I'm always amazed to find something new they can do! And the cookies they make are the best.
Follow this advice and I'm sure you'll make a great evil despot in no time. Remember, if you need any advice, just come to me, the Flaming Prince! ...Stop looking at me like that!
Poll Vote!
Character: Johnny Raflo
Series: Vassalord
Character Age: Real age unknown. Undead. At least several hundreds of
years old. Looks around 35.
Job: Emergency Blood/Food Supply(ier)
Canon: Vassalord is an obscure manga by Chrono Nanae, currently at volume 1
(with two drama cds). To sum it up in one sentence - it's the story of one
True Blood vampire, and his childe, Charles J. Krishund: a God-obsessed
cyborg!vampire priest who kills other vampires for a living.
Johnny Raflo is a True Blood, one of the group of vampires that are called
Heliogabalus of the Hidden Palace, people who became depraved through
sorcery, and had committed the sin of drinking blood and went on to develop
an urge for it. Equipped with good looks and the obligatory angsty past, he
is a whiny, clingy and glompy uncle that strives on teasing and making
sexual innuendos at his childe. Other than the teasing, he has shown to be
an expert at flirting with the ladies, kicking vampire asses, smoking,
buying touristy souvenirs, and taking care of little human kids. A
self-proclaimed virgin-lover, he has the tendency to squeal and glomp cute
things/children that resemble child!Krishund. He is a hedonist who is a
pervert for Krishund and Krishund only (and anyone else that resembles him).
Acting as the food source for his childe, Johnny is often dragged along on
overseas trips to hunt vampires - as Krishund's snack. He has all the niffy
qualities that comes with being a vampire.
Note: Johnny's pet name for Krishund is Cherry. His childhood name was
Chris.
Sample Post:
When one is brought along for the sole purpose of being consumed as
food - breakfast, lunch, dinner, all the main courses plus the
dessert, you get the gist- one can't exactly expect first-class
transportation. Especially when money is tight and you have a cat and a dog
to feed. I can handle being stuffed inside a coffin and getting banged
around. I mean, of course it's uncomfortable, but still
understandable. It's not like I can complain about it anyway.
But this is just a little too harsh.
Being dropped out of the rear of a plane? With only a "Read this and try to
be useful" and no farewell hugs? Even if I won't die from it, Cherry, it
still hurts Papa's heart~ How can anyone do this to their own father?
Now let's see what this is abou-
Mr J.Raflo,
You have been appointed as the Emergency Blood/Food Supply(ier) at Camp
Fuck You Die based on a long-term contract between a Mr. Charles J.
Krishund and the Camp Director. Please fulfill your responsibilities
(providing campers with blood/food, whichever they choose to have) when the
need arises. Please refer to the attached sheet. More information will be
available at the campsite.
Also, please note that this is a camp mainly for underage children. Given
your past records and other information provided by Mr. Krishund, I feel the
need to remind you that sexual molestation of the youngsters is not
encouraged while in camp.
Please enjoy your stay.
...My, Cherry~ ♥ Whatever should I do with you? I agreed to come
along as your snack, but I never said I'm for rent. And to a place
with such an obscene name! Are you trying to tell me something~?
Well then, since I'm here anyway - Heeeey, the kids over there~ You're all
from this Camp Fuck You Die place, right? I'm Johnny Raflo, your new eh,
what was it again, yes, your new Emergency Blood/Food Supplier! In case of
emergencies, I'm suppose to provide you kids with blood, or food, or
whatever else you 'll need. According to this list I have, 'emergency'
refers to anything raging from frostbites to zombie attacks and
cross-dimensional space failure. ...Whatever that means. So in case
of such emergencies, don't hesitate to come and find me when you need the
help~ But as eager as I am to "fulfill my responsibilities", I'm afraid you
can't have my blood. This fine body is reserved for a very
special person~! But don't worry about it, I'll go get something else
to take its place. Even if it won't be, you know, as good. Alright,
introductions done, can someone show me where to-
Oooooh aren't you just so so cute? The blond hair, the adorable blue eyes~
You look exactly like Chris! What? You're not used to people hugging you?
Awww~ Soooo cute~ Are there more kids like you in this camp? There
are? Well now, this contract business doesn't sound so bad now~ Wanna
come with Uncle Johnny and have a chat with just the two of us together~?
I'll give you special treatment~ ♥
Poll Vote!
character: Urahara Kisuke
series: BLEACH
character age: ...over two hundred? three hundred?
job: camp pharmacist
canon: BLEACH is the story about an orange-haired Strawberry with a huge, unwieldy meat-cleaver who fights large sentient Halloween costumes for the sake of his family, friends, and the American Japanese way. It contains epic amounts of emo, ample amounts of angst, a speck of stupidity, and enough blood to drown Chuck Norris. Most of which is secreted from said Strawberry.
Urahara Kisuke is none of those. He may be sly, slightly creepy, sneaky, and an occasional jackass, but unlike roughly ninety-nine percent of the cast, he has absokutely NO angst or emo, despite being exiled from his home and stripped of his rank as a Shinigami Captain. He is, in fact, a brilliant scientist, as well as a genius tactician, despite acting like an utter fool from time to time. That does not make him any less of a jackass however, as he is prone to having fun at the expense of others during serious moments, resulting in pissing off roughly half of his acquaintances, especially the Strawberry. And he has a habit of (illegally) building insanely huge secret underground training facilities.
Sample Post:
Hmm...? My, this place is quite fascinating, isn't it? These are some rather unique accomodations for a summer camp, especially for one in the middle of winter, aren't they? The tentacles are certainly an interesting touch! The barrier is quite impressive as well! It's almost as if...
Hm? Ah!
Hello everyone! I am Urahara Kisuke, just a mere, humble, handsome shop-owner of the Urahara Convenience Shop, located in Karakura. Please feel free to stop by at any time! It seems that I have been brought here forcefully against my will by your ever-lovable Director-san in order to work as your wonderful new counselor, specifically your pharmacist! Let's get along~@hearts;
As I have already mentioned, I am your newly appointed camp pharmacist. As such, if you have any mental problems stemming from depression, anxiety, possible failing love-life such as inability to admit to your own sexuality or any other such emotional conundrums, feel free to consult me at any time! I will provide for you any manner of drugs which may or may not assist you in correcting your teen-angst-ridden social awkwardness and stress-induced personality disorders! Okay, Kurosaki-san?
As an aside, as ever-diligent shop-owner, I will also provide for you any necessities which you may require, whether it may be food, phones, appliances, laser eye surgery, or portable faux bodies, all at reasonable prices! We have only the highest quality products available, so please drop by!
Speaking of which, to jump-start my newly acquired pharmaceutical job, I've developed a special, easily-affordable and easily-consumed pill that will significantly lower your angst level! I assure you that it's one hundred percent safe and only uses all-natural ingredients. Please disregard the skull and crossbones on the label~♥
Poll Vote!
Character: Sherlock Holmes
Series: The novels and short stories of Sherlock Holmes
Character Age: Late 30's or early 40's
Job: Camp Security Guard
Canon: Sherlock Holmes is one the greatest detectives to ever exist. He employed methods of deduction and observation that were far ahead of their times and would astound his clients into believing he was a magician. On the gaslit streets of turn of the century London he pursued sensational mysteries that befuddled the local police and yet were classified by himself as quite "elementary".
Holmes is a man who is driven by a desire for definite and exact knowledge in all things related to his profession. His nature is sometimes compared to that of a machine for he does not let himself be distracted by emotional matters. He knows himself to be superior to other detectives and does not let modesty stop him from proving so. Sherlock is considered to be something of an eccentric and apart from Watson has no close friends.
Note: He is being taken at some point during the three years after the event at Reichenbach Falls.
Sample post:
I must admit that I had higher expectations as to the work that the local police might have already done in this case. However from the condition of this...."camp" I see that in this particular instance they have lacked not only any spark of imagination but even the most minimal of energy to begin an investigation. It is of course possible that I could be wrong. For all I know some sort of conclusions might have already been reached. Surely the officials in this place have not spent nearly two years involving themselves in the lives of their young charges and expecting this problem to simply go away.
But I digress.
My name is Sherlock Holmes. I was requested by various prominent figures in this country to examine the condition of the on-going investigation and if necessary assist the local detectives. It does appear that they have left out some small details. Imprisonment would have surely been a titbit I would have liked to discuss further. The position I have been given would have also been a matter of slight disagreement.
Inquiries as to the purpose of bringing me here will of course have to wait until after the investigation is over. At the moment I only wish to know the facts of the case and of this unique establishment. The nature of the lepers that inhabit the nearby woods would also be most welcome for if my deductions are correct they appear to be holding some sort of raffle for the honor of possessing my brain.
Poll Vote!
Character: Anthony J. Crowley
Series: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Age: something older than Creation (~6000+; appears perhaps to be in his late twenties/early thirties)
Job: LiveJournal maintenance
Canon: Once upon a time, the world was ending. Things were in a bit of a muddle for a while, with wayward antichrists and misplaced books of prophecy. Feeling particularly put-out were the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley, who had been hanging around with humans for a few thousand years and had rather grown to like the poor sods. Both put their respectively heavenly and infernal lives on the line in a heroic effort that ended up not really mattering, as the antichrist decided that he actually didn't want the world to end and free will buggered everyone again.
A.J. Crowley (née Crawley) was an angel who had sauntered vaguely downwards to demonhood. Appearing to be a stylish young man with a serpentine smile, he has the standard otherworldly power to will things into reality (on a small scale, at least), a knack for being in the right place at the right time (Eden when the apples were ripe, Spain when folks were feeling Inquisitive) and a taste for earthly pleasures such as fast vintage cars, long naps, high-tech gadgets, the band Queen and terrorizing houseplants into good behaviour. He also has an understanding of how, whether you're poking a soul toward salvation or damnation (a couple recent demonic efforts of his include creating traffic congestion and tying up phone lines), you just have to give the tiniest of taps and humans will do the rest themselves, far better than Heaven or Hell could ever manage.
Sample Post:
Sorry for the hold-up, folks. Roads are in abominable shape around here, and the zombie construction crews are falling apart almost as badly as the roads. Somebody probably thought it was a good idea. My money is on Hastur. Convenient time for him to finally be learning a thing or two. You know, step one, declare year-round construction season; step two, employ leagues of the undead; step three, stand back and watch the road rage grow ???; step four, profit. Except for how, you know, this isn't exactly what you'd call a high-volume area. So the only one caught in the traffic is me. Come to think of it, double my bet on Hastur. Lose one antichrist and try to toss some holy water on a bloke, and they'll never let you live it down. Now, the Bentley's a beauty, they don't make them like that anymore, but you can do 95 in a zombie-infested swamp and it'll still get you nowhere. Literally. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality- er.
So. I'm here as your friendly LJ tech support. Officially now. I already have some experience, started working with the staff back in early December. Always interesting, getting a look at a newly-corporate environment. I stayed mostly out of it, just helped a few people brainstorm about what their options were when they were having some database problems. Things went, er, surprisingly smoothly despite the questionable nature of the actions some people decided to take. Better luck next time, Crowley.
I know that some of you kids are pretty bright, so remember: LiveJournal is open-source software. You can put in your two bits and shape it how you want it to be. We want to get to see your shiny new ideas because, as they say: "the more you know." The same philosophy applies to feedback. So if you run into any problems? Just let it all out. That's what Friends Pages are for.
And oh, yeah. My name's A.J. Crowley. I'd say I was a man of wealth and taste, but that's really not accurate. And Go- Sa- your mother forbid that I be misleading. Pleased to meet you, anyhow.
Character: Anthony J. Crowley ("An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards")
Series: Good Omens
Character Age: Ancient and ageless, but looks to be about somewhere in his thirties (though he says mid-to-late twenties).
Job: Ethics Trainer/Part-time Groundskeeper
Canon: Back when the earth was young -- really young -- a demon named "Crawly" was told simply to "Get up there and make some trouble." Snakes were a whole new thing, and he thought they were rather sleek-looking, so, adopting that appearance, he went "up there" and did his job -- admirably well, or so he always believed (despite some second thoughts about his chosen "name," which he eventually changed).
Crowley is cheerfully amoral and quick to rationalize the things he does. He's not a big believer in huge, wide-swept evil, and one of the things he admires most about humanity is how they're able to do far worse on their own than he could ever "make" them do. He's just there to help them fulfill their potential.
He loves modernity and technology, good food and fine wine, and, above all, his 1926 black Bentley. His best friend, if a demon can be said to have any friends, is Aziraphale, the Angel of the Eastern Gate. You know -- one of the un-fallen ones.*
It bears noting that Crowley keeps some of the greenest, lushest, most beautiful houseplants in all of London. They also happen to be the most terrified.**
* But don't let that get out. Crowley's reputation isn't much, but it's all he's got.
**Fear is an excellent fertilizer.
###
I'm pretty sure, wherever I am, it isn't Hell. At least I hope it's not, because if I've been brought back to Hell, I'm in deeper trouble than I ever thought.
It doesn't look like hell, at least. This place is too... hmm. I don't remember any werewolves in the Lower Levels. Not practical, really. All that fur. No man-eating plants either. Hell isn't a great place for vegetation to thrive. Plants, even man-eating ones, need water -- and men, hence the name. And in a place with eternal fires, it's more of a dry heat, so water and corporeal forms are rare commodities. And I'm pretty sure I don't remember there being swamps because, well, dry heat.
So this really can't be Hell. If it is, I'm screwed.
Really screwed.
Bugger all, I should've asked for asylum while I had the chance. Hell's one place you don't want angry with you. I mean, they don't call it Hell because it's pleasant, especially with all that eternal torment. Oh, sure, it sounds like lots of fun on paper. But it's dull. Over and over again, same old screaming pleas for mercy. It's all, "Please, God, make it stop!" without them realizing it isn't bloody likely He's listening if they've been sent to Hell in the first place.
The demons enjoy it, of course, but that's only because they're the ones inflicting the torment. Me, I get bored with it after a while. Humans are much more fun when they're corporeal and getting into trouble, making life miserable for each other, and basically being... human.
The Spanish Inquisition, an excellent example. Also debt collectors, AOL, telemarketers, and the entire PS3 debacle -- oh, that one was fun.
This just can't be Hell.
Humans throw the word around too freely, I think. None of them realize that Hell isn't that easily defined. You can't just say, "This is Hell," because it's too broad. Might as well say, "This is Europe," when you're really talking about a little spit of a village off the map out in the middle of bloody nowhere, where people have no teeth and hygiene is optional and people marry their livestock. Hell's got cities. Big cities, too. Urban sprawl: our idea.
So while this... wherever it is this place is, isn't Hell, I do think it might be one of Hell's lesser villages or suburbs. If I were lucky it'd be Dis. But it's not Dis. Last I checked, Dis had no purple gorillas. It does bear a slight resemblance to Pandemonium, but again there's the dry heat and the man-eating plants and the werewolves and the gorillas.
…
Note to self: Ask Aziraphale where purple gorillas fit into ineffable plan.
He probably doesn't even know. Really, some days I wish I'd never even heard of ineffability.
…
Note to self: Ask Aziraphale where man-eating plants fit into ineffable plan. Werewolves, too. Not that he'd know, stupid git.
(Now that I think about it, there might be something to this man-eating plant thing.)
…
Note to self: Climate may be key to inspire houseplants to grow properly. Investigate. Also: Replace plant mister with one not utter crap.
Wherever this is, wherever I am, there isn't a decent cafe for... ever. No cafes, no paved roads (not that it does me a bit of good; the Bentley is MIA, which tells me that a Power higher -- or lower -- than I sent me here). No Bentley means no Blaupunkt, which means no music, and damn it all, bloody sodding Queen is going to swallow up every remaining shred of decent music I have in that thing... whenever I find it.
Wait.
No paved roads. No Bentley. No Blaupunkt. No music.
This is Hell.
BUGGER.
Poll Vote!