18 July 2012 @ 02:17 pm
[Peter actually recorded this message on Monday, but he was too drunk and cranky to actually post it.

Now that he's done sulking, of course, and completely forgotten about this, the City decides to post it for him. Thanks a lot, City.]

Will somebody please tell Chekov, Sophie, and that little rat bastard Howl that I'm not speaking to them anymore? I would do it myself, but I'm not speaking to them anymore.

YOU EITHER, CHARLIE. Fed me to the fucking wolves, that's what you did.

In conclusion, I hate fucking all of you, and if you are ever turned into small children again, I will throw you in front of the bus myself. So fuck you.
12 July 2012 @ 07:47 pm

[Peter lounges shirtless. For once he doesn't have a drink in hand.]

I haven't seen that many naked people in public since Amsterdam, 2006. And I've just got one thing to say about it.

You people need to hit the fucking gym.
27 June 2012 @ 06:55 pm

[Peter is barechested, with just a touch of makeup and the tightest leather pants he owns. He's also cleaned up, so you can tell he's dressed for the occasion.]

When life gives you lemons... grab the vodka.

Or better yet, come on down to the Master of Lemonade, where all the work's been done for you! Grab a glass, kick back, and relax.
17 June 2012 @ 11:34 am
[voice // action for people in the house]

[Peter slams the basement door shut and leans against it, panting heavily.]


[There's a dark, evil laugh and pounding against the basement door...except only Peter can hear it.

He lets out a choked sob and pushes harder against the door.]
22 April 2012 @ 04:32 pm

[Rest assured, Peter is fully clothed - in jeans and a t-shirt, no less, looking almost normal. Albeit a little frantic as he digs through piles of stuff.]

Where the fuck did all my pictures go? I was going to make a scrapbook! [For wanking.]

[Oh fuck. Oh fuck. What if Dawn found them?]


[And off he runs. Time to do damage control before a certain Slayer slays him.]

[ooc: So yesterday Peter collected a lot of dirty pictures - some of his own raunchy sex life, some just raunchy. Action for those who live with him! Dawn or Buffy, it's up to you whether someone found his collection or if the City took it away.]
16 April 2012 @ 07:07 pm

Do you have one of those whatchamathingits?

[ooc: This was supposed to be a private message to Chekov, but I'm the City is mean and made it a public post instead.]
27 March 2012 @ 08:55 pm

Oi. Doctor. Do you have any other mortal enemies I should know about? Because I'd really hate to be taken by surprise again by another condiment-shaped killing machine.

[ooc: Apologies in advance for slow replies.]
10 March 2012 @ 08:33 pm

[The camera clicks on as Peter walks across his basement room, wearing nothing but boxers. He idly scratches his balls before digging through a pile of clothes, looking for something reasonably clean. He's trying - and failing - to ignore the song playing.]

It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend

[Patience has never been one of his virtues.]


[Scowling, he pulls on a pair of jeans and heads to the bathroom. Abruptly, the song changes.]

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(Hey, what up girl?)
Grab my glasses, I'm out the door, I'm gonna hit this city
(Lets go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
'Cause when I leave for the night, I ain't coming back

Now there's an idea!

[And it's back to his pile of clothes. Moments later, he emerges triumphant with a bottle of...something. God only knows what.]
25 February 2012 @ 04:42 pm
[Peter skulks through the desert city. Being out and about - even in broad daylight - is the last thing he wants, but he's been informed that staying locked safe inside the basement is not an option, and that he is to spend the daylight hours outside, meeting people.

By this point, he's made his way to the area formerly known as Xanadu (not that he knows it). He's hot, tired, and sober - not a good state to be in.

He sits under a statue to rest. After a moment, he frowns and looks up. It takes him another few seconds to place the face -- [personal profile] charring.]

She never said she was famous.

[ooc: Action can be at any point before or after the statue! And thread-jacking is very much encouraged.]
19 February 2012 @ 05:28 pm
[Peter stands in the middle of the desert, a glass in one hand and a big bottle of vile-looking green liquid in the other. He looks around and blinks.]

Fuck. How much of this shit did I drink?

[He takes another glug. It's not like he can get more drunk, right?]