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-1-
So I know I overreacted the night before. I was a little pissed off and everything, but then I guess dying probably kinda does that for some people. Anyway, does that floating disembodied voice guy always leave right in the middle of a conversation? What a douche.
Anyway -- thanks to everybody that tried to be helpful. But seeing as how this room is pretty much my room exactly (which is kind of creepy, by the way -- nobody but me should know some of the minute details), there's really not much settling in I have to do. And while I don't really think I'm up for all this "redemption" stuff, I haven't got much better to do while I'm here besides at least have a look, right?
So...sorry for freaking out at some of you. You'll see me around.
Call me 21.
[Private]
Having read through the journals and taken a peek around, I've come to settle on three possible explanations for my current predicament:
1. Monstroso has secretly developed hallucination-inducing powers...maybe kind of like those demons in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Only I don't know why I'd be dreaming of this and -- I don't know, what my life would have been like if I stayed home through my teen years.
2. In the ensuing and EPIC battle between Monstroso, Brock Samson, and myself, I sustained massive head trauma and am now lying in a coma somewhere -- perhaps in a hospital, perhaps back at the cocoon, or perhaps even in some secret guild lab under Monstroso's office building. This would explain why there is at least one familiar place, my room. Therefore, all the people here that I seem to be recognizing from television and comics are clearly just figments of my imagination, my collective pop culture knowledge rising up as one to shield me from the worst damages to my brain. ...And how fucking cool is that? (I think there was a TV show like that a while back -- didn't last long. It was probably crappy. I dunno.)
3. Everything these people have told me about this place is true. I'm dead. And apparently in some strange nexus where anything and anyone I've ever fantasized as real really is real.
The first two options would definitely explain why I can't contact 24 anymore -- and it confirms he really was haunting me either way. If he were in my head, and all this were in my head, he'd be here now.
The third I'm still not so sure of. But just in case it is true, I need to be careful how I talk to some people. After all, if I say the wrong thing to one of them and they go home, how horribly am I going to mess up their time line?
I could unmake fandom as I know it.
Uncle Ben was right. Great power? Great responsibility.
Anyway -- thanks to everybody that tried to be helpful. But seeing as how this room is pretty much my room exactly (which is kind of creepy, by the way -- nobody but me should know some of the minute details), there's really not much settling in I have to do. And while I don't really think I'm up for all this "redemption" stuff, I haven't got much better to do while I'm here besides at least have a look, right?
So...sorry for freaking out at some of you. You'll see me around.
Call me 21.
[Private]
Having read through the journals and taken a peek around, I've come to settle on three possible explanations for my current predicament:
1. Monstroso has secretly developed hallucination-inducing powers...maybe kind of like those demons in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Only I don't know why I'd be dreaming of this and -- I don't know, what my life would have been like if I stayed home through my teen years.
2. In the ensuing and EPIC battle between Monstroso, Brock Samson, and myself, I sustained massive head trauma and am now lying in a coma somewhere -- perhaps in a hospital, perhaps back at the cocoon, or perhaps even in some secret guild lab under Monstroso's office building. This would explain why there is at least one familiar place, my room. Therefore, all the people here that I seem to be recognizing from television and comics are clearly just figments of my imagination, my collective pop culture knowledge rising up as one to shield me from the worst damages to my brain. ...And how fucking cool is that? (I think there was a TV show like that a while back -- didn't last long. It was probably crappy. I dunno.)
3. Everything these people have told me about this place is true. I'm dead. And apparently in some strange nexus where anything and anyone I've ever fantasized as real really is real.
The first two options would definitely explain why I can't contact 24 anymore -- and it confirms he really was haunting me either way. If he were in my head, and all this were in my head, he'd be here now.
The third I'm still not so sure of. But just in case it is true, I need to be careful how I talk to some people. After all, if I say the wrong thing to one of them and they go home, how horribly am I going to mess up their time line?
I could unmake fandom as I know it.
Uncle Ben was right. Great power? Great responsibility.
no subject
Yes, you're the defender of the rotund everywhere, we get it.
said after about a minute's time, after she's thought out what to say:
I'm sorry for what I did. Even though I'll never hear the same from you, I'm sorry. There you go. End of story. Now shut up.
In the place of awkward owls, you get this:
Private to 21
Private to Libby
There's no reason why all that needed to get dragged out in my journal.
Private to 21
Can you forgive me?
Private to Libby
That's all just a little TMI for me; that's all.
Private to 21
Let me make it up to you. Do you drink? There's a pub here, but Inmates need a Warden to allow them access.
Private to Libby
I'll um -- I'll definitely think about it.
Private to Libby
no subject
You shouldn't be allowed around patients any more than I should.