... at least they're not angel wings. That'd just be ironic.

[OOC- Sam will be hiding in his room until this event is over, because he doesn't want anyone seeing him looking like a daddy long legs.]

... Trickster. It has to be a Trickster. Because little gray men don't exist.

Then again, today marks one year since I've been here.  I should know better by now.

Also, I'd like to know how the one following me around has managed to give my laptop more viruses in a couple of hours than Dean's ever given it without an internet connection. It infected ( Read more... )

-sus Christ, it's one thing to get killed in my own bedroom and come back from the dead, but to come back missing some vital equipment was just-

[There's a pause. Well crap, that's why sane people don't talk to themselve; they might accidentally record their mutterances.]

Uh... let's not talk about the past few days. Or the past week, for me. Ever.

( Read more... )

[Screen turns on to show a skinny boy with long black bangs hiding most of his eyes sitting in a dark, cramped place with a dim lamp of sorts providing dramatic lighting. He's apparently balanced the communicator on a box or something, as his arms can just barely be seen wrapped around his knees, which are drawn up to his chest. He looks like he's ( Read more... )

[Sam is sitting on his bed, bundled up in a jacket and looking a little tired. In one hand is a full bottle of vodka. In the other is a lighter. He keeps looking from one hand to the other, mumbling to himself.]

There was something I was supposed to do.

[He flicks the lighter once or twice, looking from the flame to the alcohol and back again. ( Read more... )

I don't know what's going to happen this time around, but if I start going crazy and killing people while spouting gibberish about assimilation and unity again, I'm not gonna be a happy camper.

I've got the impression that I'm going to be needing to keep Dean away from vodka during this event.

I hope no one actually thought I was going to go over to the other side. It'd be suicide, and I've got enough evil sons of bitches gunning for me as it is. I don't need to get myself wiped off the slate because of my own hero complex.

Anyone up for hanging out until the cavalry comes back?

[OOC- Yes, this is Mirror!Sam, and yes, he's attempting to ( Read more... )

What the hell? How long have I been out? I wake up and... and... I try to check my messages to see what I've missed, and....

Dean's not dead. You don't understand, he can't be dead. If he's dead, then he's... I don't know if he can really come back. There are special circumstances, and....

Look, he's not dead, all right?

Ugh, the nightmares started again.

There's no point trying to stay awake anymore. Might as well go to bed and ride this out. After all, they're just dreams, right? And I've had worse dreams. Not that much worse, but worse nonetheless.

I think I should be okay this time around. Random spam messages nonwithstanding.

[This is not Sam's happy voice. But it isn't Sam's drunk!voice or angry!voice, either. Dean knows it all too well - it's the voice Sam uses when he's been turning things over in his head so much that he can't help but break down just a little.]

I don't know why... why this place always manages to find the one thing that gets to me. It's an event, I ( Read more... )