sirenspull | Entries tagged with !: chuck shurley

[ Aslan stands on the site where the baseball diamond once stood. The Darkness has already descended, and in the night, he appears to be a beacon, shining for a light a hope.

His expression is grave. ]

I will be returning to Narnia at dawn.

To those who wish to accompany me or require guidance through the In-Between Places of the World, I will assist you as I am able.

For those who remain- take heart in the days that lie ahead. Light will ever shine, even in the deepest darkness.

My thoughts shall not be far from your cause.

paterelohim

[Here's a voice that hasn't been heard since 1918, and it's sounding more than a little shaky.]

Wow. Dying. That's... you know, that's actually new. 14 billion years and I actually found something new.

It's, uh, nice to see that the future is back where it belongs. That's pretty cool.

Uh... anyway. Yeah. If anyone saw me getting eaten by monsters five minutes after the Darkness came, I'm back.

[Fin.]

paterelohim

[He doesn't know who saw Crowley outing him as God on the Network a couple weeks ago, or who saw him agree and admit it openly. But, you know, part of him kind of doesn't care. So there's that.

It's a simple video: Chuck sitting on his couch with a beautiful Christmas tree immediately in the background. It's decorated with blue lights and... what appears to be little bagels? It's topped with a star of David.]

So, guys, what are everyone's Christmas plans?

[He plucks a mini-bagel off the tree and bites into it, talking through his full mouth.]

I'm doing the Jewmas thing. I have to, right? I can't ignore my kid's birthday. It's rude.

paterelohim

[It's late. There's some background noise, distant, muffled, sounding very vaguely like music- he's on break at Purgatory. A self-assigned one, manager's prerogative.]

You know the phrase "your life flashing before your eyes"? Supposedly right before you die, when this moment of self-reflection just- hits you?

Can we talk about how preposterous that is? Yeah, because imminent death would really trigger that exact reaction- an intense fast-cut montage with percussive sound effects, you know, to really heighten the tension. Or some cockamamie Lifetime dream sequence where all these fuzzy filler memories float past you in soft focus.

Don't get me wrong, that's poetic, but-

-and there's another thing. It's supposed to happen in order, from when you were born right until then. But, come on. Is that how you think about yourself- from start to finish, as if that's the only pattern that could possibly happen within a lifetime?

I don't think so. [His voice gets quiet.] I think it's more complicated than that.

paterelohim

Hi, everybody.

[Sup. Your NVs now have a horrible rotting zombie on them, except about a thousand times more gruesome than those pictures- seriously Walking Dead, with flesh rotting off, part of his cheekbone showing, and a maggot working its way out of his forehead.

Chuck smiles and keeps talking, as if half his jaw isn't gaping open.]

Chuck Shurley here, new manager of Purgatory. I'm here to announce a party on Halloween, at the club. It'll be pretty awesome. Gabriel's redoing the whole inside to make it fit the theme, and it's amazing. We're bringing in musical entertainment from our world - I mean, it'll be an angel thing, but you'll still get to have the full fake NSYNC experience, or whatever.

[He idly tugs on his beard and his thumb pulls through zombie flesh. He doesn't seem to notice.]

Plus, there's transport home provided after dark, if you suck and don't want to take advantage of two-for-one drinks. [Grin. The smile ~~disturbingly~~ reaches his colorless, dead-looking eyes.] Anyone who stays until morning sirens can get a complimentary hangover cure on their way out.

I better see you all there, okay? Happy Halloween!

(OOC: I live in the path of Hurricane Sandy and our neighborhood transformer is a delicate hypochondriac snowflake, so I might wind up slowtagging this for... a few days. Oops. I'll do my best, ilu all.)

paterelohim

AVAST, ME HEARTIES!

Today be Talk Like A Pirate Day, to all ye landlubbers.

HOW BE YOU MARKIN' THIS FINE OCCASION? I be partakin' in rum and grog, o' course!

GO FORRRRRRTH, AND SPREAD THE PIRATEYNESS!

paterelohim

Hey there, Siren's Port!

So, a book called Darkness People is being released city-wide tomorrow, and will be available on the city Networks in digital form. If you aren't familiar, it's what all the graffiti and stickers around the city has been advertising- you might have heard of the controversy around that.

It's a collection of short stories detailing the lives, struggles, and sometimes deaths of over a dozen Newcomers, current and past, meant to show their basic humanity, figuratively speaking.

The book comes out tomorrow, Sunday the 9th.

I hope reading it touches you. If you find your story in there (and nearly all names have been changed), I hope you find yourself represented well.

A portion of all profits will be donated to the Newcomer Political Party and Newcomer Community Center.

paterelohim

[Chuck looks, in a word, busted. His face is tense and stressed, gelled hair messy from the wind. When he backs away from the NV it's obvious that he's posting from the top of a cliff, and seemingly hasn't noticed that it's almost time for evening sirens. He looks down solemnly, unsure how to make his announcement.]

As of Wednesday, Anna Milton is dead. [He killed her. His hands twist his shirt nervously.] If you were in Sector Four that day and saw a weird flash of bright white light- that was her.

[The smallest tense sigh.]

She's gone, and if there's any mercy left here, she won't come back the way she was. Fred hasn't come back, either, and they're far from the only ones.

[He takes a deep breath and then, a little unusually for him, looks up and right into the camera, silhouetted by the last rays of sunset.]

And there's something I think I need to say. A lot of people wonder what the point is to being here- between this much loss, so many comings and goings, and the constant knowledge that going home means forgetting the Port, you wonder if there's even a point to being here- to trying. Why does it matter, you think, if nothing here changes what happens at home.

[Chuck is making a speech here, but it has an almost pleading note. It's as genuine as it is personal.]

But if you've been here for more than a week, if you've met a single other person here and told them your name, then you've done something. If you've made a friend here or an enemy or looked someone in the eye and told them a truth you didn't think you knew, then you've done something. Maybe the epiphany you had or the feelings you expressed don't last when you go home, but the person you connected with- they'll remember. Even if you vanish tomorrow, you left a mark behind.

I lost people this week who are really important to me- one person from home who needed a second chance, and an amazing woman from a world I'll never get to see. If she comes back she might not know me- I'll never see that version of her again. That doesn't invalidate the year she spent here. It happened, and it matters, partly because she made a difference to everyone she met. She wasn't afraid to really live here.

[He falls silent for a moment, looking out over the cliff-side at the setting sun. It's getting hard to see him now in the twilight.]

Everyone you meet here is in the same boat you are. If you keep losing people here or you learn things about your future you wish you didn't know... Whether you're getting a second chance or if you're someone else's second chance- whatever the case may be, you owe it to the people around you and to yourself to try and do something with it.

Because even if you get sent home and you forget, the one thing you will never be... is forgotten.

paterelohim

[With how much Chuck loves doing video post, the fact that he's sticking to voice should be the first red flag. The choked tone in his voice is another.]

Fred- Winifred Burkle. Has anyone seen her?

Her NV's offline, she isn't answering it.

[There's a long, sunken silence.]

I think... she's gone.

I want to say she'll probably be back, but I just don't know- I haven't seen it yet. God, what's the point of seeing the future if it doesn't help?

Anyway, I just- thought everyone who knows her should know. She's out.

paterelohim

[Chuck, to put it delicately- he looks like shit. Warmed-over horse manure. Pale, sweating, shaking, lips chapped, breathing a little labored- he's obviously extremely sick. Despite this, he isn't in a hospital, but his own home. And despite this, he rubs his hands together, licks his lips, and manages to look a little lively.]

Okay, so- [Hold on, coughing.] I've been thinking.

[He backs off a little, revealing something shocking: he's in the wheelchair he was in for three months, that he hasn't touched in almost eight. It's a hover-chair, as some might remember- hovering two feet off the ground. There's an IV drip attached to it, hooked to Chuck's arm.]

I mean... we're all pretty much sick now. People are dying. It's awful. But you know, I think one of the worst things about plagues - [ha ha another horrible, hacking, rough coughing fit!] - fuck, is- the emotional aspect of it, you know? The isolation.

Millions of people died in Europe, but I bet almost none of them wanted to talk about it. Why... why would they. Everyone was suffering the same. Nobody wanted to just whine. But that doesn't mean that all the things bothering us just go away. We don't just lose our albatrosses because we got sick.

They say stress can affect your body. Being stressed or alone can make you die younger.

[You see, Chuck knows what the plague is. Thanks to an extremely helpful angel, he knows how to cure it. He knows He can cure it. It's not like He even has a choice about this- it's more like a calling. An obligation. There has to be a reason He went from healthy to throwing up and passing out within six hours, right? Clearly, Chuck has some shit He feels guilty about. And if there was ever a time to let loose some of that walled-up Power... it'd be now.

After all, they say only God can forgive.]

Maybe it's not the way to go. Maybe one way to help get through this is to not wall ourselves off like that- you know?

I mean, whatever happens... there aren't any new experiences or. or original thoughts. Whatever's tormenting you, there's someone out here who gets it.

There's always someone who can understand.

paterelohim

[Guess who's back, gang! Looking cleaned-up and more put-together than normal, in a spiffy bright white shirt that's honestly oddly formal for him. Despite the snazzy clothes and overall manscaping, he looks like he's had the longest friggin' day of his life. The stress shows in how he runs his hand through his hair, messing it up hopelessly.]

Wow. Two weeks, huh?

[Hissing out a breath.]

Man, they really don't tell you how weird it is to go home then come back again. I mean, that's like the-center-cannot-hold levels of what the hell, a serious rift in the Force. It's been months...

[He shakes his head quickly, visibly trying to snap out of it.]

Okay, whatever. This would be big boy pants time, right? I can do that.

So I guess you guys have to tell me what happened while I was gone. Gossip or whatever? The Core forgot to send me Facebook updates across parallel universes, so I'm all out of touch. I'm pretty sure nothing fell apart without me, so you can get back from the edges of your seats now.

Oh, and- hi.

paterelohim

[Hey there, bros and brosises. Chuck is sitting on the edge of a stone fountain in a park somewhere, polishing off an iced coffee that's decidedly girly-looking, but shh. He gives the NV a very serious look.]

It's Pi Day, Siren's Port. Have you had your pie today?

paterelohim

[The NV is spinning in the air, the image incredibly confused before the thing hitting the edge of a couch and landing at an odd angle. The video shows legs- feet, a pair of sock-clad feet vanishing into jeans and another pair with shoes on, gathered around what looks like a coffee table, though the table itself is out of the frame.

After a moment something drops into the frame from above: a slender, lifeless hand, obviously dangling off the table above, with blood running down the smooth skin. There's a sob off-screen and someone pulls it away again.

The sound is muffled and terrible quality, but some things can be heard.]

Stop it goddamn it just stop- haven't you done enough? STOP IT.

[Chuck's voice, sounding panicked and desperate. Someone kicks the NV and the sound muffles- a riot of noise, of yelling, and the picture starts flashing, distorting, static and terrible noisy feedback- and then yelling that crescendos into a scream. It's garbled but the NV picks up just a little-]

-THE FUCK OUT NOW-

[Before it distorts again and goes dead.]

[Text post, about 30 minutes later.]

Sorry about that. It's fine. It's taken care of. Okay, that's a lie. Not that it's anyone's business. Someone from Purgatory cover my shift tomorrow. And the next day.

[ OOC: This is open to action to anyone at the HoA. Chuck's in one of the common areas, sitting like a trauma patient on a couch next to a bloody coffee table. Fred is dead, was killed by Angelus, but her body's already vanished by the time of the text post.

The static and feedback was Chuck's grip on His powers kind of slipping a lot and Him accidentally making lights explode.]

paterelohim

[Hi y'all, it's Chuck, looking happy as fuck (probably because of the glass in one hand) and a little awkward with a cross drawn on his forehead. That would make sense, it being Ash Wednesday, except he's Jewish.

And it's drawn in what appears to be aftershave.

Chuck clears his throat after a moment, his smile fading a little as he addresses the camera.]

So, Ash Wednesday. I know we all had an awesome time last night for Mardi Gras, but it's time to serious up.

We're all giving up something for Lent, right? Maybe we should take some time to just sit down and really reflect on the sacrifices we make as a symbol of J-dizzle's three-day party bus to the afterlife.

[He says this all with a complete deadpan look of perfectly serious religious contemplation.]

If you don't know what I mean, take me as an example. This year, I'm giving up religion and Communion for Lent. [Yes. The Jew is giving up Communion. So serious, you guys, the most serious. He swirls the vodka around in his glass, then takes a pensive sip.] Sticking with white wine and Zin for a month won't be easy, but someone has to do it.

paterelohim

[This starts very obviously as a butt-dial: it shows some absolutely nothing, complete with rustling sounds and the odd noise associated with accidental calls. Then there's a huge clatter and the video bursts into light suddenly, the frame all chaos as the NV obviously falls and rolls across a floor before screeching to a halt.

The scene it shows is patently odd: a porch, with Chuck already bowled over by a very excited dog that appears to be a wolf (!!!), petting and greeting it like it's a pet he's known forever, complete with the embarrassingly unmanly "Who's a good dog? Who's a good dog?" type of talking-to-animals that nobody ever wants the world to see. They're interrupted by a second dog bounding into frame and joining in the man's-best-friend love-fest.

Then something happens that isn't immediately obvious, but Chuck jumps nearly out of his skin with shock and looks from one dog to the other, as if the dogs themselves did something. The dogs seem normal; nothing visible or audible happened, but Chuck says something to the wolf as if answering a question.]

What the hell- wait. Lucifer? [To the dog.] Then who's this?

[The dogs keep circling him, playing with each other, putting their heads on Chuck's shoulders, nosing him, generally bothering him as he continues to pet them and be affectionate- despite the fact that he seems under the impression that the wolf is Lucifer.] What? [Pause. To the wolf-] Well, yeah- you're an angel, I can always sense angels. [To the dog, still in the derpy talking to animals voice:] Who are you, buddy? I know you have a last name.

[It goes on like this for another minute, with the wolf (who Chuck accepts as Lucifer) barking at Chuck once and the dog continuing to be incredibly friendly and happy- before it suddenly starts growing, shape twisting, then disappearing into thin air. Chuck reacts appropriately by jumping a mile and falling on his ass with a,] Holy crap! How the fuck did you teach him that?

[If the dogs reply, the video doesn't show it; the wolf/Lucifer turns and starts to... something. If you look closer, it looks like Lucifer-the-wolf is wrestling with something massive, or with thin air.

Then the invisible dog shakes Lucifer-wolf off and Chuck gets knocked flat on his back, a massive paw indentation in his chest as Chuck sputters and flails. Judging by how he's twisting his head away, it's licking his face. Not to mention the saliva appearing on his face out of nowhere.

Chuck tries pushing something away from him and manages a-] Can you not? I like knowing where a tongue's going before it gets there, dude.

[His hand knocks away again when the feed cuts.]

((OOC: Replies will all ICly come from a while after this broadcasts, since it'll take homeboy here a while to realize what happened. That invisible something is a Hellhound, same as Chuck's last Hellhound post, and Crowley's. I mean, it's not the same Hellhound, but the exact same type of beast. It's also secretly Sam Merlotte shifted into a dog/Hellhound, but those permissions aren't my division, bro.))