Jaqueline 'Jax' Creedy // John Constantine (DC)

I actually found meself with night-terrors, from me own comic books. What's worse, it wasn't the Hell shite that had me going. It was watchin' me mates kick off, one by one.

Fuck me, I miss 'im. Bloody cabbie twat he was.




I..

S'sorta spiteful, innit? 'Thought I was safe from this shite.

Who's gettin' drunk with me, then, eh?

So I, for one, am not dead.

Have I missed anything thrilling? Due to the depressing amount of... paraphernalia I've found around the apartment, and the fact that I've been fired from the station, I'm going to guess I don't want to know what John's been up to. 'Figured it's safer to ask the brilliant minds of the internet.

'Don't know that I saw mention of it before, an'... well, it deserves mentionin'.

Spencer Evans is dead. One'a us. She was a mate'a the girl's, hence you all get me shinin' social tact 'til Jax can work through shite.

'Looked like a vampire's what did it. We're lookin' into it, a mate an' me.

M'sorry, to all her mates. She was a good bird.

John's given me five minutes, not like he has a choice out of the goodness of his heart, to say:

Oi, Nate! Free drinks for you and your buddies at the Chubby Pickle in Chicago today, for Star Wars Day.

May the Fourth be with you, and all that.

Any skinwalkers around?

Anyone willing to go under a glamor, even?

I really don't want to go to this seminar. More than you even know. We always find a way to make things 'interesting'. Last time, I had to pay about $500 in fines. And my Bail Money jar is suspiciously light, this month...

Oi, watsit. Bloke what wanted help with the big bad?

I got an idea. Dependin' on if it's th'same as my version or not. Do lemme know? Day's already half out.

I finally got whatever-the-hell that was out of my chair, once again proving that there is no problem that can't be solved by soaking something in vodka.

Now all I have to do is think of a good answer for the smell. Any suggestions?

Also, anyone that's going to be in Chicago next week, I've got tickets to the cubs home opener. I'm supposed to be going for some publicity thing, but. Monday. Like hell if I'm giving John the option of going. You'll be doing me a favor- they're comped.

Also-also? Nothing is more pathetic than a Rock Band of one. Anyone interested in a game? I'll even take drums.

April Fool's pranking yourself for the loss. Thank you, John, I liked that chair.

Anyone else that might've gotten an email from me around 2 AM last night, please just.. delete it. I can guarantee you I'm not:

-pregnant
-needing bail
-the heir to a Nevada brothel
-having a sex change

Et cetera. Those are just the ones I've found, so far. See if we ever smoke again, Conjob.

M'thinkin' of startin' meself a con 'magic act'. Gimme somethin' to do, in the off hours. Few games of find-the-lady, or somethin'- anybody interested? I'll cut you in for half, f'you can be my straight man.

[ETA: Jax] God, do you know how long it's been since I've thought I needed a straight man?




What, someone was going to say it. I figured I'd just save them the trouble.

In th'spirit of the upcomin' holiday, m'runnin a special. One day only:

The best bloody stout y've ever had. That goes double, f'you Americans an' the cat piss you pass off as lager.

All I need's names and addresses, folks- 'r cities t'send it to Agencies.

Must be a bloody full moon- Arsenal's actually won a game. Thank th'gods of television for extended channels. Can't be watchin' that hockey dosh. Right shameful.

Think the bird covered it, but anybody got any cures f'dreamless sleep? Me last one took a bit of a nasty spin, and man- woman- ain't made to live on cigs and coffee alone.

Last time I take free drinks from an Irishman.

It's not even the seventeenth. Bloody hell.

In related news, I'll be DJing at the Chubby Pickle for the 'Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced' party, on St. Pat's. Anyone who can make it to Chicago and wants to go, let me know, I'll put you on the list.

Anyone make any progress on the dreamless sleep thing? Because we could definately use it, right about now.

Bar brawl for the loss. Thankfully I managed to sneak out mostly unscathed.

At the risk of sounding really fucking paranoid, I think I'm being followed. And the worst part of it is, I have no idea if it's a person, or a ghost.

Remember when I only had to worry about being mugged by living creep-asses? Those were the days.

Someone, keep me awake until I outwalk the bogeyman.

Ah, Monday. Depressin' I look forward to it nowadays, innit? Anyhow, figured it was time for another game of 'Deus Ex Magician'.

To the new blood, rules is as follows: no deaths, no bribes, no domestic disputes, an' for the love of everything good, no ghosts unless you're havin' Poltergeist flashbacks, eh? Some'a the poor sods just wanna be left alone.

Past that, gimme a name an' state your bogeyman, an' I'll see what I can do.

An', uh, make it quick like, eh? Mum wants the car home before dark, see.

((OOC: Mondays, excepting matters of emergency, are John's. He makes a habit of taking at least a bit of his free time to answer any baddie questions that the other crazies have, a) because it's as close as Jax will let them get to his past life, and b) because it feeds his ego. Obviously, this can't go to extremes, but if your pup at least wants to ask him about their ghosts/dreams/demons/etc? Go for it! I'll have him know as much or as little as you want. He's useful like that.))

Thank the weeping baby Jesus that holiday only comes around once a year. And I thought I had relationship issues? Hah. If I were in a better mood, I'd call it irony. For now, it's just cruel.

So, fellow crazies: Favorite hangover cures? I could use one, and no, 'hair of the dog' is not really an option here. I tried that.

Also, since this is my first post back in... months- hello newbies. I'm Jax. I'm usually a bit more peppy, but... this is what you get, until I can see straight again.

( A Manic Panic Manic Depressive )