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Contact and Concrit
I'm off saving the fucking planet; what the fuck are you doing? Leave me a message and I'll get back to you when I'm crying tears of boredom.
Click here to send me a private message if you haven't got the fucking bollocks to post it here. Afraid your mummy's going to see it, are you?
(Comments screened, anon commenting is off.) -
029 - written, strikes readable, totally public.
Claire, you all right?
Listen, I want to work out some shit here, and I feel like a right fucking arsehole trying to say it, so I'm going to write it down. ( behind a cut, for language and length ) -
028 - Open for musical flood spam
[Forward-dated to sometime around midnight on Musical Flood Day 1. It's been a long and humiliating day for Malcolm Tucker and he's cranky, and hanging out up on deck alone. Or so he thinks. And before long, a voice rises in song...]
( It's kind of like Susan Boyle, only really not. ) -
027
Right. I'm going after Claire. And you sadistic Jigsaw cunts who've got her, if you misplace one fucking hair on her head, if it gets so much as a fucking split end, I'm gonna use your lights to decorate my fucking Christmas tree, you got it? -
026
[Anyone on either side of Malcolm's room (level 7, room 5) will have heard him crashing about in confusion-door opening and shutting a few times, occasional expletives as he goes back through the archives and discovers how much time he's lost, etc. Then he posts the following text entry.]
How the fuck is a man supposed to know what's going on and ( Read more... ) -
024 - snakey spam
[Malcolm was en route from the men's bathroom to his room when the flood hit. Now there's a really grumpy (handsomely salt-and-pepper patterned) common European adder (Vipera berus) slithering along the halls. To humans it will sound like he's hissing a lot, but any animals will hear a first-class Malciavellian stream of profanities. Open spam; ( Read more... )