fuckitybye

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 )

[And Malcolm Tucker disappears. The entry is left public because he carelessly forgot to set his filter before he started writing. Anyone who comes to his room will find it empty. Feel free to spam it up in here.]

[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. )

[Anyone up on deck or in the gardens or whatever? You totally heard him, whether he knows it or not. Get 'im.]

Current Music: "I Dreamed a Dream", Les Miserables

[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 make any fucking progress when he keeps involuntarily fucking disappearing like a fucking B-movie plot device?

[Private to Claire]
Back like a fucking bad penny or something. How you been, love?

[Private to Damon]
The fuck? Last time we talked you were saying you didn't know anything about Rex getting his arse killed, and now you're confessing?

What the fuck else is going on here anyway?

[Malcolm's been awake for the last few hours and doing nothing but reading through all the postings he's missed while in his hiatus coma. Colour him gobsmacked.]

Right.

So, this sort of thing happen often around here? Go for a quick lie-down and wake up a fucking week later?

...

Glad to see you fucks made it back from the Bank Holiday of the Living Dead, anyhow. ~~Really fucking glad I missed out on it too~~

ADDED LATER: ( Private to the Baroness )

[OOC: And with this, I am officially back from hiatus. Hello to all the new folks who arrived while I was away!]

Current Mood: cranky

( Text: Private to Sylar )

( Video: Inmate filter. Malcolm has a cunning plan! )

[OOC: So yeah. Those of you who were here for the Masterworld port may recall Malcolm's Daily Briefings. I'm not insane enough to want to do daily briefings forever, but I kind of miss writing those, and I'm quite serious about Malcolm doing a weekly or biweekly newsletter for the inmates. It will make him happier, give him something to do besides swear at the Kitchen Nightmares crew, and (hopefully!) provide him with a zillion opportunities to blackmail or double-cross people. He's got a tipster box here for people to drop news items in, so that you don't have to make a post every time you have an item for him to publish (and there'll be a link to the tipster box in every newsletter). Feel free to be suspicious of his motives, etc., but I'd really like him to have informants and allies! And in case you're wondering: yes, he is planning a double game and will eventually be approaching the wardens with a similar offer.]

[Filtered to the infirmary staff + Claire, Paddy, Rube, Parker (i.e. the people he sort of almost trusts).]

Is there anything at all in the fucking infirmary for a migraine? I feel like sodding Riverdance is stamping and kicking its Hibernian way through my fucking skull.

[OOC: What's this about? Well, perhaps the current general election in the UK (and the corresponding one in his native canon, which will no doubt be closely based on the one in the real world) is sending some kind of psychic fallout across the multiverse, and it's giving Malcolm a big headache. Unless a current copy of the Guardian somehow appears in the library, there's no way he can know about either the real election or the TTOI one, but it seemed only fitting that he react somehow. Infirmary staff, feel free to use this to bully Malcolm into coming in for a checkup.]

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Entries tagged with no you fucking can't

029 - written, strikes readable, totally public.

028 - Open for musical flood spam

026

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January 2014

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