[The device is turned on most likely by accident, as you are treated to about a minute of a few of the floor. A rather messy floor, covered in scraps of paper and odd socks. There is a very loud crash just off camera, followed by a passionate stream of welsh which any experts might recognise as mostly swear words. The device flips over, to reveal the bedroom of Howl Jenkins, utterly destroyed, with a young boy in a school uniform standing in the middle of it. He speaks rapidly in Welsh again before switching in to English.]

I don't know what someone's playing at, but I'm supposed to be at school, and when my Dad finds out I'm not he's going to send all the coppers out looking for me so you just better watch it. Now someone had better explain to me just what's going on, or I'll-

[He fidgets nervously for a second, hands tightening in fists.]

I'll make sure you regret it. Paid a malu cachu!

Being in a girl's body a second time isn't as strange as the first. I'm glad I kept the clothes from before, too. [He frowns a little, then brightens as he remembers something.]

...it's still soccer season, I realized, today. I should buy a soccer ball, if I have the money. Would anyone want to play with me? After I buy some shorts, that is.

[The distinctive car that is Lockdown's vehicle mode zooms through town. Even bounty hunters like a weekend drive once in a while, after all.

What makes this drive different is the tasmanian devil sticking her head out the window.]

Your holoform drools on my paintjob, it's going off.

[The tasmanian devil just gives a dismissive snort and resumes enjoying the ride.]

[Andy doesn't seem to notice that he's being recorded. He's too busy licking his arm with a mixture of confusion and pure bliss in the look on his face.]

Man, I haven't tasted this since I was a kid. Salted caramel ice cream, mmmmm...

[Mid-lick, he notices the recording light on the device is on and he looks like a deer caught on in the headlights. Crap.]

This isn't anything weird, I swear! ...I taste like ice cream!

[He snatches for the device, fumbles with it as the feed goes rocky before it cuts out completely, having been dropped on the ground.]

[By the look of things, Rummy looks close to tearing his dreadlocks out.]

There's no booze anywhere and the stores won't sell me any...

Look, if someone'll just come here and gimme some booze, I'll give you money. I just need a motherfuckin' drink!

So, I woke up this morning, and, well...

[He closes his eyes and green stripes appear all over his body.]

And that's not all.

[He goes through a variety of patterns, including colorful spots, checkers, and even plaid.]

I don't get it either.

[OOC: Lame powers day, obviously.]

[Alexis is enjoying his time in his study, enjoying the view from the window. This probably isn't the most unusual thing. However, he has a beautiful black wolf at his side. For the time being, he is just stroking her head and she seems content with this.]

Things are progressing well.

That is to be expected.

[He laughs softly.]

You're right.

[He glances at his device.]

I would like to introduce you all to my companion. It appears that she will be lingering for the rest of this curse. A pity she can't stay longer, don't you think?

[accidental voice]

[ You know, it's a mark of how much the Doctor has run into Abed lately that he doesn't even feel surprised when he sees Abed dressed up in a strange costume. (The Doctor is in TARDIS blue text, Abed in DARSIT red.)]

Oh, is it the Pillow Lord again?

I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else, good sir. I am Inspector Spacetime. I'm looking for a young constable named Reggie - have you seen him?

[ The Doctor sounds amused.] No luck. I've been hearing a lot about you, Inspector.

Really? Curious. I have not been to this planet before. Though perhaps my future self has been here in the past...

Never realized how disorienting it is to hear that one from the other side. We might have more in common than I realized.

Are you a time traveler as well?

Been known to do a bit of travel through space and time, yes.

( This got a bit long; cut for length )

[Mae is lounging, because when you're dressed to the nines, you lounge. There's a decanter of orange juice in her hand, and a poker chip in the other hand - which she is currently trying to roll from finger to finger, and failing. But either way, this is classy as hell, right.]

Well - this goes to show that everything you say in this place can constitute a jinx. I'm wearing a suit. I'd probably look fine in it, except -

[She leans over and leaves the glass on the table, before standing up. Quite simply, the suit swallows her up. She has to hold the pants up with both hands.] And the worst part is that I can't change. I've tried, but it just keeps popping on me.

[She sits down again.] I don't mind it, it's just uncomfortable. But - you know. [She grins, and tosses the chip in the air, catching it swiftly. S m o o t h.] Show must go on.

[ooc; She's affected with Wardrobe Switch curse, and is currently wearing Eames' best suit. Or one of them. Feel free to recognize the chips or the gaudy tie. ETA: tagging speed might suffer for a few hours as I have to rush out.]

[ The line is on but eerily quiet, just the sound of footfalls but really even that's more of a scuffled shuffle - like someone's dragging their feet, or just, you know, lost. ]

Hellooooooo?

Uh.

...is anyone...there?

What happened to everyone?

...maybe I'm dreaming?

Ow...okay maybe not...

[ After a moment's idling he sighs and turns the device off. ]


[ ooc: placeholdery eventually ._.;; b-but wanted this up at a time that's not like you know 11pm..../stares at track record abysmally ... but yes, 'lost not found' cursed :x ]

[ Rhodey's leaning against the bar, paying for his beer and giving the bartender a nod and a smile. ] Thanks. And you're at least an eight.

[ A beat. ] I have no idea why I just said that.


[ Come talk to him, over the network or at the bar, get rated, you know you want to :3 ]

[ Under a shady tree, alone and huddled, is a young man. ]

[ In the dim sunlight, his profile is the same shape as Karl's. But the expression - the rumpled clothes and tangled hair - is completely not. There's no elegance. No sneering confidence or knife-sharp grins. Pale and trembling and slick with sweat, he looks on the verge of hyperventilating. Eyes wide with a million prayers, all hopeless. ]

[ Hearing a far-off noise, he jerks. His face is seen, full-on. ]

[ Karl's face. Yet not. Even in his most abject moments, Karl has never looked so boyish. So... innocent. His round eyes keep darting everywhere. As if the bushes and trees will jump at him. Looking at his babyish face, it's easy to trace the erosion of time and madness in the present-day Karl. Somewhere along the years, the big eyes have become half-lidded, something secret and sinister flickering in them. His mouth too, has acquired the hard, vicious quality of stamped tin. ]

[ This isn't Karl. but a stranger in his skin. Shell-shocked. Clueless. And scared out of his wits. ]

[ Over and over, he mumbles: ]

...I want to go home....I want to go home...


[OOC: Hit with The Years That Never Were, Karl has been cursed to his human, harmless (and Moe!) self, had he never met Diva, been forced to become a Chevalier, been used as a labrat and slowly been driven insane. Replies will come from allmyhopes ]

The blood makes it better.


[ooc: Five words....after...sex....]

[action]

[Justin, looking older and more worn than usual, is in the garden. If his rumpled appearance or the cigarettes don't indicate a cursed state, his complete inaction should. He's seldom idle, usually, and the police force has been keeping him occupied lately.

But right now, he's sitting under a tree. Smoking. Looking either bored or blank--it's difficult to tell. He's not going anywhere soon.]


[text]

This again. And again, and again, and again. The details change but the plot repeats itself. Not just one weekend a month or even here alone. Listen to the clock. Each tick is just like the one preceding it, like the one following it. Tedious second after tedious second. Identical seconds, adding up to minutes and hours and days and years that blur together into a single unremarkable life until, finally, we have the privilege of dying.

I wonder why we bother living through the tedium.

Why do we consider life so valuable when it ultimately comes to nothing?


[ooc: Cursed with The Years That Never Were. This is a Justin I've been working on for a while, so there's an explanation for the curious. Responses will come from the curse journal, mostly.]

[The feed switches on mid-sentence. Mindy's speaking. Her tone is off somehow. Lighter. Not the same flattish tone she uses. It's somehow more...girly.]

---every coin in your pocket. Every one.

[There's a muffled jangling, the sound of coins sliding across each other and whatever's obscuring the camera's lens is moved. Mindy's at the gym, talking to a guy easily twice her size and he's a smug looking bastard. The coins in his hand are in the higher range and Mindy's watching him count them. Bright eyed, hands folded behind her back. Her hair is up in dual french braids and she's dressed in a pink tank-top and matching shorts. She put some effort into this, apparently.

The big guy she's talking to mumbles the amount, now eyeing Mindy with uncertainty.]

What? You're not going back on this, are you? Are you afraid?

[That seemed to annoy the man who puts the money back in his jacket pocket and sets his jacket aside.]

Remember; if I can get you to the floor in five seconds, that's mine and if I can't, I'll leave your gym, never to be seen again.

[That seems to appease the man and he and Mindy face off on a mat. He hardly moves before Mindy's ducking under his arms. It's a swift punch to his stomach and a blur of a leg-sweep and the man flips over once, landing face first on the ground in an awkward sprawl with a loud thud. Mindy's standing over him, hands on her hips and her otherwise happy and excited expression is replaced with her typical look of annoyance.]

Told you. Don't let my size fool you. I'll be happy to do this again if it does. You gonna get my money or should I---no, you know what? Stay there. I'll get it. [She turns to walk away, hesitates and then turns back towards the man. She's angry about something and about to say what.] Oh, and protip; if you want to keep your dignity and your balls in tact, don't you ever let me catch you making rude comments about some girls ass again. Nor should I catch you trying to grab anyone's ass. Especially not mine. Got it?

[Oh, so that's what sparked this delightful confrontation. The man on the floor groans. It almost sounds like he's crying.]

Douche.

[Mindy heads over to the mans jacket and she spots the device, smirking and winking at it before reaching over to shut it off.]

[He's sitting, lounging rather, with one leg thrown over the arm of his chair, elbow resting, bent, on the opposite arm, expression of repose with chin resting on his fingers. Before him is a mundane cup with what appears to be coffee in it.]

Midnight come and gone, and my form remains the same.

Karl was wrong. [He raises his free hand and with an almost delicate gesture, the cup transforms into a green snake, the coffee into a brown mouse. A chase ensues, the predator shifting and darting after the prey, the mouse squeaking and desperately attempting to escape.]

I never forget a slight or the debt it creates. [The snake catches the mouse and begins to swallow it whole in arching gulps. With another twist of Loki's hand, the snake is once more a cup and the mouse is again the coffe inside.] And I always settle my debts generously.