sauntervaguelydownwards: (happy doomsday bitches)
[Spam for Arthas]
[Crowley appears a bit too calm for someone who is now on the clock. Especially for someone whose inmate is a cautionary tale of megalomania and terrifying necromancy mixed in with pride before falls and deals with the devil (although he thinks he can do something with that). Yes, he's actually kind of nervous, but he's reminding himself very hard that beneath it all Arthas is human.

That makes him no less dangerous, but it puts him on more familiar ground. Crowley likes humans. He'll just have to give himself a little time to synthesize "human" with "undead and homicidal."

When he gets to Arthas' door he knocks and opens it to the barrier Pounce put up, and leans against the frame with an unlit cigarette between his lips.

Well you're fucked, aren't you?

It's been six months and no one realized I was a warden? Ask someone to open one door for you and suddenly you're the bad guy. You don't have much faith in your fellow man, do you?

Probably prudent.

Anyway, just a note: [the camera catches Arthas' door, open to the hallway but blocked by what looks like a wall of purple fire.] The faceless voiceless authority has spoken and zombie Alexander the Great is mine. Get your own.
sauntervaguelydownwards: (care to bet on that?)
[Video (backdated to the 12th)]
[Crowley has kept his new powers virtually under wraps, using the new abilities to please himself alone: he adds a few more rooms to his cabin, updates all of his cutting-edge furniture, and does a few truly hideous things to houseplants that dramatically thrive in terror.

Now he's gotten bored, and has decided to treat the Barge to a bit of music. On loop.

Enjoying the soundtrack? I'll change the song if anyone can suggest a better one. ["Better" here meaning "even more annoying."]

[Port spam (current)]
[Paris is a nice return to normality for Crowley. He's been before, and walking the familiar streets is almost comforting. No magic to worry about, no monsters beyond those he shares a boat with, and the food is exquisite - he missed that. The limitless credit cards he wished up for himself are serving him well, and he takes the opportunity to spoil himself.

Fancy cigarettes. Good wine. New suits. A Maserati Granturismo.

He careens down the crowded city streets at 120kph, getting away with it simply because humans know it's physically impossible; he rents a floor of a five-star hotel; he haunts the most expensive restaurants and shames the waiters; he hits nightclubs and usually walks out with at least one gorgeous young Parisian.

It's a good port.
sauntervaguelydownwards: (thought the maggots were a bit much)
[Open spam (starters?)]
[The livery stables are disgusting. As if it wasn't enough to have huge, stinking live horses around, they have to deal with their inanimate remains and bulking spectral forms. He was happy to leave them but displeased to find himself in the Guardsmen's Tower, though luckily it seems diversions work as well with ghosts as live people. He tarries for a bit in the Banquet Hall, unable to resist spooking a few of the ghosts (if you'll pardon the pun). The ballroom proves trickier, and the crowd fights him before he gives in to the dance.*

It's in the Menagerie that he really loses his nerve. He thought it was filled only with particularly evocative statues, but that was before noticing the life in their eyes. That's when he decides to leave -- made more difficult by the swarm of astral serpents and the thump of approaching footsteps.

This is all too oddly familiar for comfort.

[When Crowley broadcasts it's from a cell in the guest rooms. Behind him the Stern Woman reads aloud from her book, intoning his sins. Not all the speech is audible: "lies," "temptation," "corruption," and "damnation" are repeated. He seems entirely unconcerned by this, even relaxed.]

Right, that's it, I'm throwing in the towel. I got past the guards, the overexcitable diners, the dancers**, and the spectral worms and giant robot in the freakish statue gallery. [He grimaces; that was one of the more disturbing places he's been.] Why is it always giant robots with you people?

This place is safer than anywhere else I've seen. I'm staying here. [He powers up his iPod and puts on a pair of earbuds.] I'll go back to the Mezzanine later. Text me if I miss anything.

*It's not as stupid as it sounds.
**This occasion marks the first time since 1886 that Crowley was grateful he knew how to waltz.
sauntervaguelydownwards: (he had great cheekbones.)
So let’s get this straight. Giant monsters attack cities all over the Pacific Rim [aaah he said the title!], slaughtering hundreds of people in destructive rampages, and three-quarters of you dive headfirst into glorified suits of armor to punch and shoot them.

Right. More proof that the lot of you are crazy.

[Private to Loki]
You, me, Monopoly. What do you say?
sauntervaguelydownwards: (on a boat motherfucker)

Never mind.

[He really shouldn't be clueing anyone in on where he is, especially not anyone from Down There. He wouldn't mind talking to the angel again, though.]

A more important matter: show of hands. Who's better-looking, Vergil or me? He won't listen to reason on this one.

[OOC: 4th Wall Day post!]
sauntervaguelydownwards: (but i think it's called silly buggers)
[There is a row of poinsettias on Crowley’s windowsill, splashes of stark white and red. He waters them, seemingly satisfied despite his awful sweater. Once he’s finished watering the plants he hisses at them in pleasure, voice barely audible:] That’s what you get as long as you’re good. But watch: the second one of your friends starts to slip… But you’d never do that, would you?

[He greets the camera with a smile, a wave, and a brief cheery message.] By my count we had violence, corruption, manipulation, greed, fanatical loyalty, and snow. That couldn't have been more Christmassy if there were pregnant virgins around.

Happy holidays. Up all of yours.

And the stockings are in flames )
sauntervaguelydownwards: (no escape from reality)
[It’s a new face, but a transmission that’s been made scores of times. This time the speaker is a dark-haired young man with great cheekbones, wearing sunglasses and a bewildered expression. He’s standing on the deck a healthy distance from the chapel, and when he speaks his voice is British, clipped, and dry.]

All right, when’s the next stop? I want to get off. Getting shanghaied onto Twilight Zone Cruise Lines is bad enough, but the maniacal holiday displays and the church are starting to make me nervous. I am not sitting through a Christmas sermon or anyone’s rendition of β€œAway in a Manger.”

Deck/Greenhouse spam )
sauntervaguelydownwards: (Default)
Hi [personal profile] sauntervaguelydownwards,

[personal profile] baby4love01 sent you a message on Dreamwidth.

The message is:

my name is Mary, Nice to meet you on I am searching for a nice person who understand the meaning of relationship as trust and faith in each other, After reading your profile today i pick interest in you . I believe age or distance have noting to do with relationship . Please get back to me through my private email address at ( I am waiting for your respond. with faith
and trust.
sauntervaguelydownwards: (Default)
Published 2006
By Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Resolution #1... )


sauntervaguelydownwards: (Default)
Anthony J. Crowley

June 2015

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