cheerhealer: (i believe you can fly)
[personal profile] cheerhealer
[ The feed begins with a birds eye view of a small living room, laminated wooden flooring and very sparse furniture. In a corner is a stuffed manatee (one of two stuffed animals she had gotten for Christmas) laying on the bottom of a floor lamp. A young woman appears in the feed, hair thrown up in a casual ponytail. On the couch is a large pile of clothing.

She's humming something as she brings in a large load of laundry in a basket in her arms. Perhaps it's a familiar tune. She sets the basket on the ground and picks up a cardigan. ]

99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer. [ She puts it onto the arm of the couch. ] Take one down, pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall.

98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall. [ She slips a sweater over her shirt from the basket before going back to folding laundry. It's all kinds, really; athletic clothing, dresses, thongs, bras. ]

((not an ic cut)) )

68 bottles of beer on the wall, 68 bottles of beer. Take one down, pass it around, 67 bottles of beer. [ She finally finishes with sorting her large load of laundry. She tosses the basket up to wherever the NV is currently situated, effectively clicking off the video. ]
gabriel_gray: (No Mr Bond)
[personal profile] gabriel_gray
[ A ragged, hollowed face appears on the screen, the eyes are pitch black in the low light, and thick shadows are cast across his face. There's hunger there, and a murderous rage reined right in until his voice sounds almost reasonable. Sylar does not blink, and he stares for several long moments, then tilts his head, and the shadows shift, and his eyes vanish, and all that is left are his lips, dry and cracked, and pulled back to reveal white teeth. The recitation is fluid, after all it has been repeated thousands of times. ]

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
If I shall die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

[ His head tilts back to meet the brick stonework behind him, just far enough that the empty pits of his eyes are visible again. There is the briefest flash of silver at Sylar's throat--it's the collar confining his abilities, and without them, a wanted criminal, he is starving, gaunt, barely a slither of a shade rather than human. At least they'd fed him in jail, and resentment only makes him want his powers back more, to make the right people hurt for daring to take them from him in the first place. ]

You cannot know what creeping things might come in the night. Isn't that right, Peter? Don't forget to say your prayers.

viced: (Mitchell stop making that look)
[personal profile] viced
So. Elections. [ He's hanging out in his apartment, which looks a little dingy, but at least it's clean! ] I fucking love elections.

A special election at that. [ His lip quirks in a half-grin. ] That's pretty nice news to hear. It's an opportunity to make some big changes, at the very least. So who's running? [ and he holds his hands up in front of the camera in a placating gesture. ] Not that I'm scoping for competition, or anything like that! I'm honestly curious to know who's eyeing the spot. [ He pauses.] Wow, that does sound disengenous, doesn't it?

I'm offering help, actually. Not free, but if you're running for office, you would have enough money for a campaign consultant. [ He cringes slightly ] At least I would hope so.

If nobody is, well. [ A shrug. ] That would be quite the shame, wouldn't it?
ace_of_knaves: Hipster filters. Hipster filters everywhere. (think of it is as asylum)
[personal profile] ace_of_knaves
[The Joker is sprawled on a couch, snipping at folded pink paper and frowning. He glances up into the NV.]

You know what's a real travesty? A poor, old man being alone on Valentine's Day. It's like people think full-blown, mass-murdering psychos don't need love too!

But we do. We need stimulation. That's all I want.

[He unfolds the paper into a chain of pink bats and his voice drops into an ominous purr]

I just want someone to play with...
universaljanitor: (Default)
[personal profile] universaljanitor
[Anyone who ventures outside after the morning sirens will be able to find a certain piece of paper plastered just about everywhere within a six foot man's reaching distance. And the papers are literally everywhere. On trash cans, walls, doors, stuffed in mail slots and mailboxes, even a good few dropping down the chimney in wrapped up little bags. Heck, there are even some bobbing about in the half-frozen waters in the Port.

But in addition to all of this, just an hour or so after the sirens go off, just about everyone the Doctor's seen post to the network since his arrival (regardless of if he's spoken to them or not) is getting a text with a very simple message... and a rather familiar looking attachment.]


ATTN: Don't miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime!
_____________________image attachment: A LIMITED TIME OFFER
aslandish: (Knowledge)
[personal profile] aslandish
[ There are no grand and glorious proclamations this day, nor joy nor exultations, though his mood is far from poor. Rather, he is thoughtful, and it reflects in his words and tone. ]

A star falls from heaven.

Can it someday return, restored to its proper place?


[ooc: Permissions post is here! Please have a look before tagging! Also, if you have already tagged it, please update it if your journal names have changed. WELCOME TO DW, EVERYBODY \o/]

Tags