someone help



this is terrible

This isn't a hallucination.

things new moore most definitely doesn ont have
- a war
- interesting things to do
- bigby :(
- not even beast...
- where the fuck is snow when you need her
- blue

things it does have
- alcohol
- that last one's a li e i have most of hte alchol now
- why does it take so long to get drunk...

[and then a series of texts appended to the initial post]

( Rose gets the only smart medal on this island. )

[ Just cautiously testing the waters here. Please let no one have picked up Fables. ]

I did say the odds of us being fictional characters somewhere were high.

Who: Ianto and Anyone
What: Unsatisfied with the offerings in New Moore, Ianto has opened his own coffeeshop. New Brew, the new front to Torchwood New Moore coffee and tea shop, is now open for business
When: Thursday the 8th and Onward at irregular, unposted hours
Where: New Brew Coffee and Tea Shop in the Shipping District
Warnings: Will be updated as needed.

The coffee shop was nothing spectacular from the outside. A little building on the front of a warehouse that might once have been the shipping office. There was a counter with the usual suspects to be found in the good sort of coffee shops. No automated coffee dispensing machines. Just an expresso/steamer, bean pressers and brewers, the sort you might find in the art deco style of coffee shop. Coffee mugs and tea cups lined a bookcase to the back, everything neatly organized and in it's place. At any time, you could find a young Welshman in a suit, suit jack absent, but waist coat present, a stopwatch in his pocket and a book or pamphlet in his hands.

The service was friendly, but never particularly fast. But the coffee. The coffee was some of the finest roasted coffee to ever touch your taste buds. It was rich, full and flavorful, perfectly roasted and made to order.

The shop itself was small. Three tables were set up with two chairs a piece inside the doors. Comfortable chairs, but practical and light. The tables were bolted to the floor to discourage people from pulling them together, and round to make it an impractical endeavor. It was clear the owner did not expect or plan for high volume business. In fact, it would almost seem like he was discouraging it.

Whatever the case, the coffee and tea served there was damn fine, high quality stuff.

[At first, it's just dark - shifting, out-of-focus shadows vaguely reminiscent of pale leaves moving in a light breeze. Aisling sounds contemplative and drowsy, like she's waking up from a pleasant dream.]

That.... festival. Is it held every year? It was nice. I didn't even mind the city. I'm always pleased to come back to my forest, though.

[Instead of the gut-clenching ride from her last video, this one is a calm, smooth, slow panorama across the silver-edged leaves of the forest canopy. The great, whispering trees roll and swell over the hills and slopes like the sea, cloud shadows giving it the illusion of movement. There, on the far-flung edge of the mountain ridge lies the sleeping volcano - but even it has a gentler, more romantic look. Its shadowed bulk rears high into the night, backed by the shimmering, star-spattered sky. A little further, and there is the distant ocean, glimmering with the light of the nearly-full moon, low and immense. It looks close enough that you could simply reach out and pluck it from the heavens, and it would be a soft, firm, warm globe in your hand, like a sun-ripened fruit. Clouds foam and run, painting silvery paths among the brilliant stars. They occasionally drape the moon in filmy radiance, a thin veil across its faintly golden face. A soft wind flows across the jungle, stirring the trees into a remote susurration - something with the hint of words in it, if you but knew the language. Faint mist waves and curls, drawn up to dance with the breeze. Shifting and swirling in the background, not intruding, but merely enhancing the vision, is a sibilant chorus of tree frogs, insects, and the calls of nightingales.]

Everyone should have a place like this.

Who: drugged Cindy and Charles
When: Feb. 14th
Where: Charles' apartment.
What: Drugged sad ridiculous kids.
Warnings: Charles is feeling suicidal and Cindy is angsting heavily.


( 'cuz I'm the one not laughing )

What an amazing way to start the morning.

When I arrived at the precinct house, everything was missing from my desk. Doesn't take a genius to know that means one of two things. Personally, I was banking on 'fired.'

But no. Down the hall, next to Kreise's office, in the empty room we'd been using for file storage. Shiny nameplate, new desk, little cardboard boxes full of all my things, and a file folder.

'Interim Chief Shepard.'

Kreise, you're going to owe me for this bullshit when you get back.

The only good thing about this complete pile of horseshit job is the little congratulatory box of chocolates they got me.

Might as well start in before I unpack and start wading through paperwork.

Chief. Goddammit.

I really did not need a shitstorm right now. This is going to leave me buried in paperwork and PR bullshit for days.

Chief, how do you want to handle this?

Shirogane. I need a consult.

Everyone here is so certain they aren't fictional.

But why? You all come from interesting places, surely the concept of information leaking from one world to another and being fictionalized would present itself when coming up with theories. [ She sounds genuinely irritated and a little baffled. ]

I have seen a lot of confusion and contention regarding my earlier post to the network.

Let me assure you, fellow citizens, that what I am suggesting is nothing to show such concern about.

As the Chief of Police, even I have yet to meet any of the 'governing officials' in control of our lives here. How can we allow ourselves to follow a people who so indiscriminately demand we adjust to their ways of life, their ideals of reality, when they can not even lower themselves to the level of speaking directly with the people they hold captive?

Our numbers are small, now, I admit it. It is an undeniable fact of our lives here.

What I am suggesting is a break from their systems and rules. That we take it upon ourselves, to govern ourselves. To create our own systems and organizations. As it is, there are already several vigilantes and vigilante groups that operate outside of New Moore law. I am not suggesting a total takeover of the island. Merely a rising up in demand of our rights. If nothing else, we owe it to each other to look after one another when our alleged government is clearly so ready and willing to abandon us.

We have all known how willing they are to provide us with excuses and lies to the situations and strange events that occur on this island. The very lies the force us, your police force, your protection, to feed to you after ever incident occurs.

You all have thought this before. Deny it all you wish, but none of you are pleased by this deception. They think we are sheep to be easily led to the slaughter. That we will roll over and believe any foolish fable they submit to us.

Are you really willing to follow a government that has no investment in any of you? Whether you live or die or disappear without a trace does not matter to them. If you believe it does you are either a blind fool, or very new.

You can call these ideas revolutionary or brazen. You can deny these thoughts have ever entered your mind. But you would only be lying to yourselves.

If our government is so willing to abandon us, then we create our own. We look out for each other. What is there to look down upon, on the idea of supporting each other where the 'real' people will not?

We owe it to ourselves to protect one another from the corruption and secrecy of the people who hold us here.

Before you argue against it, I ask only that you consider one thing. Do you really believe your life before this was fictional? You were snatched from your life and brought here, forced to learn and live by the laws of another people. Do you trust the people who tore you from your life to feed you lies and then leave you to fend for yourselves at the first sign of danger?

[ Pretend this was just before school got out. Cindy sounds ridiculously excited. ]

Rose! We're going on an adventure when you get home from school.

I packed a lunch!

All right. Two weeks ago we hiked to the volcano and back. Last week we had a game called on account of apocalypse. This weekend we're doing a lap around the island. Should be an easy hike, no more than thirty kilometers a day. Who's up for it? I've got all the gear we'll need.

Seta, I'm holding a spot for you.

WHO: Anybody
WHAT: Looting
WHEN: Jan. 13-16
WHERE: All over town
WARNINGS: Violence.
NOTES: I'm going to open this up to everybody who wants to action out the looting parts of the crisis. How this goes! Do you want to participate in looting plots? Just start a thread, probably mention the date & place, mark it open if you want everyone to drop by or closed if you want to play out something with just one other person, and go from there. Reply to other people's threads! Looting and vigilante shenanigans is what I'm saying. Uh, also please note that if you mark it open and you are looting stuff that is like saying 'hey people keeping the peace please come beat me up!'

Looting has gripped the town, everyone's essentially going crazy, and keeping the peace has fallen to, who knows why, whatever Fictionals have decided to try to keep the peace. Nobody said the end of the world was going to be fun.

[The post opens with an insistent, repetitive beeping sound, emanating from every island-issued computer or smartphone. A moment later, there's a grumbling, incoherent streak of swearing in the background, and then Shepard's voice, sounding bleary, tired, but still sarcastic as always. It seems to be one side of a conversation, the other half is not audible.]

What the Hell do you mean 'emergency announcement?' If you have an emergency dispatch, can't you just broadcast it yourselves rather than making me read it from a -- no?

Isn't this more the Chief's job than mine?

He doesn't wake up to rhythmic alert noises?

Fine, whatever.

[The last bit is nearly a snarl. immediately following, his voice takes on a bored sing-song quality, reciting from a script -- only gradually changing to anger and alarm as he realizes what he is reading.]


Deep-space radar has detected a cometary fragment moving towards Earth with improbably high speed. Calculations show that it will strike within fifteen miles of New Moore at 1:07 AM on January 17th. Its mass and velocity are sufficient... to cause an extinction-level event?

Upon impact, it will... release six teratons or four zettajoules of explosive force, cause worldwide seismic and volcanic events, including megatsunamis, atmospheric combustion, and a burst of infrared radiation, together exterminating eighty percent of all biological life on the planet. Perhaps needless to say, the forcefield protecting the island will be insufficient defense.

The administration of New Moore... encourages you all to make peace with your place in the universe... and enjoy the remainder of your existence on the planet.

[There is a long pause.]

What do you mean, 'no further communication will be forthcoming?'

[The beeping sound resumes. After thirty seconds of it, the transmission ends.]

[ She could give two shits about whether or not she's real -- she's had it lobbed at her enough times back home.

No, this girl is standing in the middle of the Juanes department store, phone in one hand, Dulce and Garbanna bag held at arms length in the other, and she's fixing you with the glare of death, New Moore. ] What the hell is this crap?!

Christ, has it really been nearly a year since I last did this? Time flies when you're trapped in the Bermuda fucking Triangle, man. I figured it's time for me to have another go at this list cos I've done quite a bit of growing and a bloody huge bit of dying since I've been here. Cheers to that I suppose.

ACCOMPLISHED:
-- Took a nasty spill, impaled by metal fence (chest)
-- Met a shapeshifter bitch, impaled by exposed lavatory pipe (stomach)
-- Savagely beaten in the toilets (blunt force trauma I think it's called? Ask lady-boy cop lady-boy cop proved unhelpful)
-- Smoke inhalation (not a pleasant way to go, for the record)
-- Took a nasty spill, broke neck on stairs
-- Took a nasty spill, fell in gutter (that was a shite weekend)
-- Electrocution, multiple times (this was on the "do it to impress the ladies" list last year, suffice to say it doesn't)
-- Dismembered limb from limb (apparently regeneration does work)
-- Strangled (by other, not self)
-- Disemboweled (NOT. PLEASANT.)
-- Probably loads of other ways, my memories get a bit hazy around that time
-- Drowned during the cruise from hell (in my defence, I was twatted)
-- Does dying in dreams count? Cos Robocop's mum stabbed me
-- Attacked by "shadows" while rescuing Spain from himself (YOU'RE WELCOME)
-- Turned into a zombie on Halloween
-- Bled to death after having cock cut off (YES THIS HAPPENED, YES BELARUS IS STILL ROAMING THE STREETS A FREE WOMAN, WHAT THE FUCK!)

SEEMS LIKE IT'D BE FUN, SHOULD HAVE A GO:
-- Erotic asphyxiation
-- Hanging (I hear it gives you a hard-on! STILL UNCONFIRMED FROM LAST YEAR but no one denied it at least.)
-- Aeroplane crash (what are the odds in this place. Unless those American wankers show up? Y'know the ones on the island.)
-- Overdose

WOULD DO IT TO IMPRESS THE LADIES:
-- Shoot self in the head
-- Something heroic I guess

FUCK NO:
-- Cannibalism
-- Anything involving that bullshit television world ever again
-- Drinking bleach (you aliens are still so incredibly stupid)


Resolutions: only die in impressive ways from now on, NO MORE GHOSTS, quit smoking, find God, build an orphanage, wouldn't it be funny if I was actually serious about these?

[She's gone with voice for now. No need to broadcast her appearance to the world. There's typical street noises in the background - she's probably in Main Street from the sound of it.]

Beast, Bigby, Cole, you guys out there? This is Cindy. I'm a little bit lost as to the situation - any particular reason I'm suddenly in Nowheresville, Nowhere, being told I'm a piece of fiction? Did I piss Frau off again? If this is a joke I will never let you in my store again.

I can't even find a bloody designer label store or tailor. Am I expected to wear off-the-rack clothes? Really? Is one good fashion designer in this town too much to ask for?

Or a decent plane out of here? Or just any plane out of here?

You know, people, I'm due in Milan for Fashion Week soon, and I'd hate to miss it. I'm ditching half my creditors for this. So if someone could tell me how I get out of here, that would be great.