Hippolyta Hollister

...So is it just me? Or are there a whole heck of a lot of Cybertronians in the Nexus as of late?

This makes me nervous.

Yeah. I'm done.

Just. Done.

This week has been one long pile of shit and I'm done.

No more tears. No more angst. No more acting like a clingy twat. I'm mad as hell, cuntbuckets, and I'm not taking it anymore.

You want me?

Go tell it on the mountain.

Greg, if you still need me to help find Key and JP, give me a buzz. I've got my cell phone and PINpoint. I can get some time off if need be. I think.

Dez? Go ahead and ditch the vampire. Flat's yours again. I'm moving all my shit out. If Thunder comes looking for his stuff? It's in the trashbag on the sofa. I might come by and grab Pointy, though. I'll need him in the fight against Spider's Cat.

Djehuty? Thank you. Love you.

Norman? Hermes? Congrats, and sorry I was such a party pooper.

Rimmer? Sorry, babe. I was stupid and clingy and weird to you last night. I'm single again. I plan on staying single for a bit. I'm getting my head together. Which means I'm not with ANYBODY.

YOU HEAR ME, THUNDERCRACKER?

I've been patient with you, and watched you make stupid mistake after stupid mistake, and even went so far as to let you do whatever the hell you wanted to whomever the hell you wanted, whenever the hell you wanted. The compromises I've made for you... And I make one fucking mistake and you fucking DITCH ME?

Thanks. Thanks a smegging buncharooni.

Know this: I still love you. If you ever decide you want to get your head out of your ass and be with me, without some bullshit hypocritical "Do what you want, but not THIS THIS OR THIS" thing, fine. I'm willing to listen. Which is more than I could say for you.

By the way, Wade? Thanks. I owe you one.

I'll be around the Nexus, gang, but I'll more than likely be working when I am. Gathering material for my new boss. Yeah, that's right, I'm spreading your juicy gossip to Spider Jerusalem, so he can mock your pants off to syndicated millions. So if I'm none too friendly? It's nothing personal. I've just been shit on too much. I'm sick and tired of not having a spine any more. Of not having any control. I'm up for a spine transplant, kids, and there's a new fucking sheriff in town. Batten down the hatches, hurricane Hollister is about to hit.

( OOC after the cut. )

< /farnsworth voice >

Dez sent me a letter.

Tee and I are going home.

Our flight leaves in an hour. I'm typing this at an internet cafe at LAX. Life is so much easier with a passport, honestly.

I'm kinda regretting not just PINpointing back, but he really wanted to fly again. I had to give him a treat, since my crazy-go-nuts has caused him so much grief. I'm almost afraid to tell him that I don't like in-atmosphere flying...

If all goes well, we'll be back in London in about 16 hours. We've got a layover in Chicago first, then onto Boston, then London or bust. Yeah. I know that's a hell of a lot of stops. But it was the best I could manage on such short notice.

Things is lookin' up.