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In New York, there would have been a party - a catered event, a room filled from end to end with classmates, family, friends. Serena would have pulled on some fabulous ensemble at the last possible minute and swanned around the room, laughing, drinking champagne, enjoying her last real birthday before college began. Or maybe they would have been in the Hamptons already, perhaps escaping the Manhattan heat off in Newport, carefree.
And half the people there, Serena knew, would have been there for the spectacle - to see and be seen - not for her at all. There would have been presents, but they wouldn't mean much, most of them. Here she had people who truly cared about her, at least, and if she missed her home, she didn't really miss the fuss.
It was nothing new, to celebrate a birthday on a foreign shore. What was strange was passing another birthday in a world without her mother, without having yet found her father. She'd thought that would be over before college started, and here she was, newly nineteen and definitely not about to start attending Brown in the fall. Nothing was what she'd planned, but then, she hadn't really ever made clear plans for herself. She'd pushed along without much thinking about it. For a long time, that had worked.
Actually, it mostly still did.
In any case, looking out over the water, it didn't really seem to matter. So she missed New York. It didn't change the fact that she'd found a home here, too. Wanting to dig her toes into the warm sand, Serena kicked off first one sandal, then the other, and that would have worked, too, if she hadn't misjudged the force she put into the second kick, her shoe flying off into the receding waves.
Laughing, unfazed, she ran in after it. "Hey, get back here!" | |
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The rec center may have looked like someone's colorblind grandma decorated it in the seventies, but as far as Karen was concerned, the space was all that counted. That, and nobody actually lived there, which meant they wouldn't be disturbing anybody if they stayed up well into the early morning hours. Well, at least Karen knew she and Chuck and probably Morgan would be; anyone else was welcome to join them.
There wasn't really a set time for the entire thing to happen, and though Karen did care if people showed up and enjoyed themselves, she'd still have been happy if it was just another afternoon with her Rock Band band.
Actually, she was pretty sure she was close to beating her own high score on Rock Band, but it seemed a little rude to be the first on the game and to hog it up the entire time. | |
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Dated July 5, 2009Mohinder is gone, and Giles breaks the news to Alcuin.
Dated July 6, 2009And then Alcuin breaks the news to Daniel.
[HERE | In Progress | PG] | |
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After almost four months on the island, Chase had given up any ideas that the whole thing was in her head. At this point, even if it was, it didn't matter. As such, she was trying to get back to some semblance of normalcy, but around here, that was easier said that done. Even the few patients she had were a far cry from the kinds of cases she'd thrived on in D.C. and Gotham, and she hadn't yet had any luck getting any of the former caped heroes to open up to her.
... well, except Tony Stark. She smirked at the thought. That wasn't really the type of opening up she'd had in mind in that regard, though.
She had, however, put in a request to take over one of the abandoned huts. If that didn't work she'd see about getting her own, but she didn't have any qualms about "pre-owned" living space, not in this environment. She just wanted to get out of the confinement of the Compound.
And speaking of which... she was doing just that right now. Getting out, that is. She was going for a jog along the path leading to the beach. A great way to clear her head, in theory. Clear it of things like Bruce who wasn't here, of Dick who wasn't Batman but kind of was, of impromptu Robin weddings and ill-advised vinyl catsuits.
Of course, she wasn't doing a very good job of the head-clearing, so she wasn't sure what was at fault - her own distraction or maybe an inconvenient rock or upended tree root. But suddenly she tripped, catching herself on her palm and one knee on the ground.
"Fuck," she hissed, the swear completely involuntary as pain lanced through both. Though it was just some nasty scrapes, most of the injury done to her dignity. | |
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Enjolras rose early as always, showered and dressed and had breakfast as always, but today there was something different about him, a sort of restless energy. Once again he had worked on a speech for today for weeks, and for the first time since losing the election (and truthfully for some time before that) he felt clear in purpose and light in spirit. He may have been struggling to find his place in the island's society, but one thing he knew he could do was speak of freedom, of what was right and good, of liberté, fraternité and égalité.
After breakfast he went outside, remaining near the door of the compound so that more would hear and hopefully listen, and began to speak. "Citizens, once again I come before you on a day of celebration for my mother country, a day that celebrates liberty and the power that rests in the hands of the People, if only they will grasp it and make it their own. Last year on this day I spoke of the many wonders of this place, of all that is available to us, as it should be, and I beseeched you, my brothers, to take action. To participate in the Republic that has been founded in this place, to each give as we can for the benefit of all. I remind you today of this essential task and once again ask that we all remember there is a price to be paid for the access we are all given to schools, medicine, food and shelter, and that price is service to your fellow man in return."
Enjolras paused before continuing, giving his words time to be absorbed, because he felt they truly were important or he would not trouble saying them. "Today, however, I have chosen to ask something more of you, Citizens. The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen states, among its rights, that a Society has the right to require of every public agent an account of his administration. This is the task I challenge each of you to fulfill. It is not enough to simply do your part, head down and eyes forward. Each of us must question, must search for the truth and check the hands of those in power, that they do not become closed in an iron fist while we live in ignorance. In this place, knowledge is shared and made freely available, and every man...woman and child should avail themselves of this knowledge, so that it remains this way. Ask your council what decisions they are making on your part, tell them of your concerns, create an open discussion between ourselves and those we have chosen as our official voices. Do your part to ensure that the power in this place remains in the hands of the People, and that the decisions made by our elected representatives remain transparent, known to all. If something concerns you, question it! Do not simply assume others know better than you, find out why it was so! Require accountability from anyone who makes a decision for you, and in return the government built in this place will continue to flourish, as will our society. As will we all."
He looked around at those who had gathered and said in a quieter voice, "Vivre libre ou mourir," then nodded to his listeners and added, "Thank you." Then he clasped his hands behind his back and waited to see if anyone else wished to raise their voice, whether in assent, dispute, or question.
[It's your annual Bastille Day post from the revolutionary! Gathering style, tag Enjolras, tag each other, pick a fight or agree with him.] | |
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It was clear today why there there was no apparent weather forcaster on the island--or if they were, their forcasts were so buried he'd never come across them in the year he'd spent on the island. There was no expertise required in announcing that tomorrow and the next day would be hot and sunny and clear. In fact, there was no expertise required to say that most of the rest of the year would be hot and full of sun. With the exception of December, and fits of rain or snow that appeared far too sudden for anyone to predict, there was no way to observe seasons. There were no seasons. Somehow he doubted even conventional tropics ignored the passing of seasons quite that much.
It was hardly a new revelation, but it was something that he had hardly stopped to consider, save for those brief tempestuous breaks in sunlight. It was one of many things which he had come to accept without quite realizing it--he wasn't even certain when it happened.The weather never changed, life on the island persisted against reason. People vanished. Home continued on without them, and the rest of his life would be spent with empty, pointless exercises and eternally looping ten miles.
He wished he knew when those last ones asserted themselves. Somewhere along the line they'd become the facts, and the words of encouragement had become the act. He'd realized some time in the last week now that he hadn't simply come to accept Island life, he'd come to expect it.
It hadn't surprised him to hear that Sheppard's hut was empty. Of course he would vanish eventually. Every morning he found himself no longer frightened, but resigned to the fact that his patrol of loved ones might just find someone new missing. Doctor Jackson, Vala and her child, his partner, Reese. He couldn't shake anticipation that on one of his patrols, Morgan would be missing from the Waterfalls, and it wouldn't simply be that he had missed that portion of her daily routine. On Clinic days, he often simply chose to go by the Clinic to ensure Doctor Lam still remained, rather than stop by her hut and find her things missing. Somewhere along the line, it had become only a matter of time before he would.
Somewhere along the line it had changed from preventing the worst to preparing for it. This wasn't his way. This was the antithesis of his way.
How the hell had he ended up like this? How could he have become everything he had fought so long not to become? Had it really been so bad over the last year, that the concept of a child was too painful to contemplate, because he couldn't help believing that it and its mother could simply vanish standing right next to him just as soon as he could bear it the least?
Cameron frowned softly, settling down on the Compound steps, as Austen bounded away to explore the lawn. He could no longer pinpoint when it had changed. He wasn't even certain any longer if it could be changed back any longer.
[OOC: Finally, RL allows an EP \o/ He's contemplative, but not overtly upset. It's a decent enough time to meet him if you'd rather see a more quiet side to Cam, and always a good time for friends and loved ones to meet him. Austen is also around to investigate and harass passerbys.] | |
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Violet Baudelaire's life had changed last week. It wasn't the sort of thing that happened too terribly often, but for Violet this was the second time in far too short a span. For the first time, she'd realised that what she'd done at the party was, perhaps, possible - if she wanted it. Every conversation she'd had pulled her one way or the other- including when she saw Sunny and the first thing her sister (her sister who was old enough that she'd be going to school) said was Why did you leave?And Violet (clever, inventive Violet) had no answer. She'd built the house Bridge now lived in, she'd apparently had friends and there had been boys of some sort and sleepovers- A different life. One that she didn't understand. The people here seemed nice. They seemed forgiving, conscientious of others- Violet had learned long ago that it wasn't human nature. People looked out for themselves and their interests - Violet had done it herself and her brother and sister, because there was no one else to do it for them. She'd done things that would haunt her for the rest of her life, because it was worth it to keep Sunny and Klaus safe. Now? She'd realised that she had a choice. She could let it go, start over. Be safe. Be like Sunny, who had tea parties in her back yard without anyone watching her, and presumably could get through the night without nightmares. Have the sort of life that she would have had if there had been no terrible fire. Or. Or was always such a big word, for all that it only had two letters. The only one that had a heavier content-to-letter ratio was if. Violet could continue as she was. Even she didn't know if either choice was possible, but they were still choices. They still made a difference. Sunny had a family. Klaus was gone. If anyone here was to be believed, there was nothing here to live in fear of. ( What she needed, Violet had decided, was all the facts. She thumbtacked the notice onto the bulletin board, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She needed to figure out what 'she' had done, how it had worked for them- her? She didn't even know how to quantify herself and her... selves. )OOC: You can find Violet anywhere between the Bulletin Board and the New Resident Crash Room - in the NRCR she's just making notes in a notebook. Her mailbox is here if you would rather have a private thread. ST/LT a-okay. :D | |
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Dated June 10, 2009:Wednesday decides to ride the blizzard out in her own home rather than seeking shelter elsewhere, and Peter braves the storm to join her there. After sealing up all the cracks around the doors and windows and lighting some candles, they curl up under the covers together and tell scary stories to pass the time.
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Man n' dog were starin' at each other.
Neither one looked too gorram pleased.
They stood jus' beyond the market, miserable as miserable could be.
The man n' master looked down at his charge, forehead firmly furrowed n' mouth twisted up all powerful ugly.
"Ain't like 'm bein' unreasonable," he said, brows liftin' meanin'fully as he waited for the dog t' acknowledge him.
Simon Chicago yipped, n' then pawed at the ground. Soil kicked up, n' Mal watched it spray o'er t'ward one o' the stalls. "Ain't too much t' ask the woman carryin' y'r child t' make sure she sees a doctor proper, one who's all certified n' knows what's goin' on."
A beat.
Silence.
"Right?" Mal said 'gain, louder this time.
Simon Chicago whimpered.
"We're in this t'gether, y' n' me," Mal continued, leanin' down t' scratch him behind the ears. "We're both havin' babies n' we both don't have a damned clue 'bout much. But I do have a clue 'bout who I do n' don't want lookin' after River while she's goin' through this pregnancy."
Emboldened, Mal straightened, feelin' much better 'bout himself. "Yeah," he proclaimed loudly, holdin' his arms out as if'n he were issuin' a challenge t' anyone who might've been passin' by. "I said it."
As if echoin' his sentiment, Simon Chicago tipped back his head n' howled. | |
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It had been...weeks.
Alice hadn't counted, but time seemed to have passed unusually slowly. Every day after the one when she'd walked into Sheppard's hut and found McKay sorting through his stuff instead seemed to drag by in slow-motion. For the most part, Alice had tried to keep going as she always had. For the most part.
Losing a friend was nothing new for her. It hurt, but she was used to pain like this. Maybe not exactly like this, though. If she ever saw John again, he wouldn't know her. He wouldn't remember a single day out of the four months they'd spent together.
It made Alice wonder why she'd ever bothered. Why she'd let her guard down, when she knew it could only lead to...this.
Trouble was, she knew why. It was a lot easier being alone when there wasn't anyone else around, when it was safer that way, but when she had no reason to...she was like anyone else. She needed people.
And she hated herself for it.
She hadn't withdrawn, because she had responsibilities with the IPD and ITF, but what time she didn't spend on patrol or in training she spent alone, away from the Compound and other more well-populated areas of the island. She hadn't even considered going to the party. She didn't feel like celebrating anything at the moment.
That morning, Alice took a walk. Just down the beach, nothing too strenuous, no trip to dinosaur territory or anything similarly dumb or suicidal. She owed it to John not to do anything stupid, even though part of her felt like flinging herself into the sea and swimming until her body gave out. Instead, it was bare feet and the sun in her hair, and if her heart hadn't felt so heavy, she might have enjoyed it.
Once upon a time, she would have.
[OOC: Old friends and acquaintances, have at! Not the best time to meet her, but she'll be civil, if quiet. ST/LT fine, as usual.] | |
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It had started, as all things seem to start with Patrick Jane, as a whim.
It was late afternoon, he was making tea and contemplating how much he could have gone for a scone as well. Maybe a muffin. He paused, looked around the empty kitchen, and both of his eyebrows rose in an expression close to 'Huh!'. The kettle whistled and he took it off the burner, turning off the stove-top. Blue eyes narrowed, he wet his lips, a little grin curving over his face.
Five minutes later he was pulling out bowls, measuring cups, and baking pans. He paused long enough to make his tea to his specifications, before pulling out supplies. Noting the supply of eggs, he made sure to stick to recipes where they wouldn't be absolutely necessary.
There were several things he didn't shirk on, but then again ... there were owed. So there were scones, and some bread, but he also did a little experimenting, so there were about three dozen different kinds of tarts. Mango, papaya, and pineapple were mixed in there with strawberry, blueberry, and lime.
And he was still mixing batter, humming softly to himself, sleeves rolled up and an apron tied around his waist, flour dusting one tanned cheek.
[[Open to anyone just wandering through the compound kitchen, and smells the baking. ST/LT welcome!]] | |
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With the playmat spread across the Rec Room floor, Delirium was sat happily with both of the twins. Celia was lying on her front making small motions with her legs and head as she moved slightly. Celia was much better at 'tummy time' then Daniel, if Daniel was put down on his front he tended to spit up all over the playmat and grumble until he was picked up. Lying him on his front whilst on her chest was different, he seemed to like that a little better. Humans could be such strange fussy pink wriggling things.
The books said she should acclimatise them both to sounds and smells and touch. Picking up the fluffy stuffed toy, Del put it in reach of Daniel who was lying and looking very still and quiet on the mat whilst his sister made minor noises and fidgetted as much as she could at her age.
"Shall we play with decapitated hippo Daniel?" Del asked looking at him curiously and pressing the soft toy against his skin, his little fingers curled around the fabric and she thought he smiled at her. Either that or he had gas again. Del smiled and held the hippo by his head. "One-two-three-off with his head."
Del pulled the hippo's head off by it's velcro letting the blood red coloured ribbons, which had been hiding inside the body of the hippo, dangle down and tickle him. Daniel made a happy noise as the ribbons tickled his skin. Smiling happily she put the decapitated hippo out of the way and picked up the strange squid looking toy which was made from shiny, crunchy fabric.
"It's Cthulhu, he's coming to terroise and eat you om-nom-nom-nom." Delirium said cheerily, 'attacking' Daniel with the toy and letting the fabric touch his skin and letting him smell it. Turning her head to the sound of a restless child, Del picked up Celia from where she was fussing and brought her into settle against her chest. Settling into her seat on the playmat, Del smiled at her attention demanding child. "Abigail Celia, I will allow your aunt to take your hands if you continue like that. Want to touch her sigil?"
Del picked up the squishy black ankh and touched Celia's face and stomach with it smiling at the twins happily. "Don't worry, I'd never let her take your hands." Del said rather eerily even though she smiled as she said. Everything had to die but her sister would have to go through her to take the twins from her. "Ever." | |
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July 11th, 2009: Finally stable, Logan wakes up to find Jack at his bedside. There are apologies and soft reassurances, but the truth is neather of them are okay. Jack is weak from giving blood, and Logan is still miles away from being ready to go home.
July 11th, 2009: Upon hearing that Logan is the clinic, Joe rushes to his bedside, only to find the man to blame sitting beside him already. Dale intervenes, but not before Joe gets a few punches in.
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It was still hard to keep track of time, though Logan couldn't be sure if that was because he kept falling asleep or if it was thanks to the fact that he couldn't quite focus on much of anything. He was awake now though, and aware enough to know he was still in the clinic. That he was still weak, and he still had a needle in his arm. He was aware of Joe, who seemed to be there nearly everytime he opened his eyes, and he could have sworn at least once or twice he'd seen Dale. Maybe. Probably. It was hard to be sure. One thing he was sure of though was the fact that he hadn't seen Jack, not since the first time he'd woken up, and his gut had twisted as he'd started asking anyone close enough to listen just where the Captain had gone. No one seemed to have any idea, and Logan had eventually given up asking, his face pale and creased with pain as he tried to roll onto his side and close his eyes. His whole body ached though, and he didn't get very far before the tears stated to come. He was in pain, and now Jack had left him. It wasn't fair. He hadn't meant to walk that far, and hadn't meant to get hurt. This hadn't been one of his cries for help, and now Jack was just- He let out a soft sound and began to claw at the needle in his arm, trying to pull it out and failing. He only wished the bullet had hit a little lower. Better to be dead than a weak burden. Better off dead than alone again. (Logan is in the clinic recovering from a gunshot wound. Check out this post in his journal before tagging. I'm posting this today, but feel free to assume your pup is visiting him today or tomorrow. lt/st welcome.) | |
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If truth is told, the one thing that Daisy misses most outside of work is Der Waffle Haus. She misses the quaint little music in the background and good god, but she misses Kiffany's hustle and bustle and perky spirit. The food's a good thing, too, but she's not Rube and she's not about to drop a monologue about the perfection of raisins.
It's with the homesickness in mind that she stands in the kitchen and hums a little ditty from the Andrews Sisters in the forties, flipping pancakes and setting them on a tall stack on a plate, flapjacks at your service.
They keep growing higher and higher, but maybe it's because Daisy's not doing this so much for consumption as she is for the smell. Every once in a while, she sings a lyric loud and without shame because she's done this all her life. Why bother with embarrassment when the only things that won't (can't) kill you will make you stronger. So she's a dead girl and so she's away from home and reaping?
She's got pancakes on the rise and there they go. She thinks that it's a shame that Georgia isn't here for this and she's not touched that waffle-maker since her pretty little peach vanished away from her, but she makes a stack for all the denizens of the Haus out of deference to them, even if Mason never appreciates the taste because he's so fucking high and Roxy really just doesn't appreciate the taste because...well, can you taste anything properly when your mouth is so scrunched up in distaste at the whole world?
She keeps flipping and singing, singing and flipping and the whole world's a stage and all its pancakes are players. | |
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"Do you realize just how freeing it is to wander around in your underwear?"
With a lit joint dangling from between his lips, Lennox was talking to Hal, who was currently nosing around in the brush near the Compound, and her tail wagged in response to the sound of his voice. King was playing nearby, catching and eating bugs, which might have been gross at any other time, but Lennox was on just the right side of stoned to think it was sort of cute. As neither dog ever had to wear clothes, he thought they were exactly the right kind of audience for his current train of thought.
"I mean, really, think about it," he continued, smoke drifting lazily around his head before it dissipated in the air. "It's like being a child again, in a way. Nothing to worry about, no feelings of self-consciousness or inadequacy unless you let yourself have those feelings. It's a regression of sorts, returning to a time when you were worry-free and without these scary adult emotions. Do you follow?"
Hal's tail wagged again, but there was no reply from King, who was chewing on a bug.
"I've been thinking about it since that party. I think I might consider trying it." Looking down at himself, Lennox considered his t-shirt and shorts for a moment. "Not that you guys ever need to worry about this sort of stuff. You're dogs. You don't have feelings of self-consciousness or inadequacy to begin with, do you?"
Still no reply from King, who went right on chewing. | |
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Dated May 28, 2009:After Amy's body arrives on the island, Mathias finally tries to deal with his guilt about what happened back in Mexico and has his first therapy session with Henry.
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Dated 25th May 2009:Teal'c visits Morgan to discuss how to cope with being human. After their talk, she introduces him to Dick.
[HERE | Complete | Rating: U] | |
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Dated May 26th, 2009:Karen gets the experience of a lifetime thanks to Tony - no, not that - when she gets to see and sit in Luke Skywalker's X-Wing.
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Dated July 11, 2009:WHAT HAPPENED LAST ISSUE: Madrox arrived to the sandy shores of Tabula Rasa, only to find it wasn't that much of a blank slate at all as he's greeted by Rogue of the X-Men.
WHAT HAPPENS THIS ISSUE: A chance run in with Theresa proves difficult for the both of them, as she demands answers he's entirely unwilling to give. He distracts her by crying. No, really.
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Dated April 29th, 2009:Webster is horrified to discover Joe is being kind, caring, and thoughtful to him.
Dated mid-April 2009:Webster returns for another therapy session that veers towards his interest in sharks.
Dated April 26th, 2009:After Webster discovers his fate, he confronts Sweets as to whether or not he knew about it and had been deceiving him.
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Tonight was the most glorious night- when the Bob Barker Memorial Laser Tag Park was finally unveiled for all to see. He'd spent the past few days making sure everything was just right so that it was all a vision of light-based fake violence. As if in anticipation, the jukebox had been playing his 'Get Psyched' mix for the past day and a half on loop.
Barney Stinson was pumped to the max. He was even more pumped about this than he had been about the costumed drunken orgy party-fest earlier this week and come on.
The park looked awesome with all the little nooks and crannies that made for a rocking laser tag game.
The vests were laid out, the sun was setting, there were frozen drinks thanks to Lady Crazy Eyes. It was all the makings of a truly epic night. All Barney needed now were some actual players.
[See the post in Slated for more details about this totally legendary and awesome game. The post can be set after the games, before or between if you want- just so it's clear so people can tag in. Have fun!] | |
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Dated June 18 2009:Pamela takes a wrong turn and finds herself in the Hidden Hamlet. She winds up meeting Joe Dick, who she's heard of thanks to the scene back in the day. They talk about the world before and the island now.
[HERE | complete | R for language] | |
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The mask, his face, was gone and Walter felt the sun on his skin differently than ever before. If he wasn't still recovering from the fight, it might have felt good. But he still felt the aches in his bones. They didn't feel like surface wounds anymore. Instead they rode deeper into his body past the throbbing, bloody muscles into the bones. And they stayed there. Resting. Making a nice comfortable and antagonizing home. So Walter sat near the water. Far enough away that it would lap up and wet his things, though. He sat surrounded by a pile of flat, rough rocks he pulled from the ground. After sharpening sticks on a rock for more than a half-hour, the rock became dull and needed replacing. He didn't want to run into a shortage so he piled them up. Rocks to one side. Sticks to the other. Sharpened weapons in front of him. In their own separate piles. [fyi: Walter has a bandaged hand, a black-eye, and a noticeably broken nose.] | |
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Dated July 11, 2009:When Jack comes home, he finds something on his doorstep just waiting. Another item has arrived. He's overwhelmed and brushes Logan off as he tries to make sense of it. Logan goes off in a huff before Ianto arrives and he and Jack discuss the contents of the box. After some clarity, Jack goes off to find Logan.
[SPOILER WARNING: Item relates to Children of Earth]
Dated July 11, 2009:Logan has his gun and has gone to the very edge of dino territory before Jack tracks him down. In one swift mistake, the younger man is ambushed, Jack fires a round...and misses. The dinosaur runs away but Logan is hit. Jack struggles to get him back to civilization, getting a little help on the way. Dr. Owen Harper is on duty and saves the day.
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It had been less than a week since Mohinder's disappearance, and the wound was still a fresh one for Alcuin. He still had Mohinder's letter folded in his pocket, though he knew that he should put it away, for each time he reread it his melancholy simply rose to the surface. He knew that he had suffered no greater loss than so many here on the island, and that there were even those who had had loved ones ripped away more than once, as he had. But for Alcuin, it seemed as if as soon as one wound began to heal, another one ripped open. James (once, and then again), Giacomo, Will, even Ysandre, and now Mohinder... and all of this laid on top of the hole in his heart left by Anafiel Delaunary's death. He was grateful that he still had Rupert, and yet could not help but think how long it might be until he was gone as well... or Daniel, or Jack, or... Elua forbid, Phedre or Joscelin. It was not a way that he wished to think about things, and he was trying so hard to live each day with appreciation for what he had, but right now he missed Mohinder with a tangible ache. But it had been less than a week, and he thought that he was justified in a little wallowing, or at least, quiet contemplation. And so this morning he sat on the beach with his sketch book, doing both. It was early, and then the sun was still low in the sky, so he sat with no shirt, his marque bared to the light, feet burrowing into the damp sand in front of him. He would draw Mohinder's face if he could, but he was not so skilled an artist, and so he drew a bodhi tree instead, the same design that he had once painstakingly drawn on Mohinder's back in black marker. | |
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It hadn't taken Arnold Rimmer long to come to the conclusion that the IPD's filing system was woefully inadequate. To his mind the Patrol reports were sorted chaotically at best. New Arrival forms could be found seemingly everywhere except where one would actually expect to find one! The state of the Arrest Records alone was enough to make him wrinkle his nose in disgust.
As someone who felt himself to be well versed in the intricacies of organization, Arnold took it upon himself to completely revamp the sorry state of affairs that was the IPD's files. He spent days devising his plan of attack, then spent more days revising said plan, and then finally he was ready. He had a cracker-jack system that he was sure would do the trick! It was time to put his plan into action.
Thus it was that Arnold found himself in the IPD Office on a Friday afternoon in the middle of a veritable explosion of paper. He had been so eager to implement his new system that he hadn't been able to decide where to start. In the end he decided just to do it all and once. This was perhaps not the wisest choice, as he was now hopelessly confused as to which part of his new system he was actually working on just at the moment.
"Smeg!"
OOC: Open to IPD members, friends acquaintances, or anyone who just wants a good laugh. Not necessarily the best time to meet him though, as he's really rather annoyed. IPD members can assume that they've met him often enough in passing to have exchanged names. STs welcome as always and LTs are welcome through Monday. (I know many of us are still spending much of our time chasing all those AWESOME party threads!) XD | |
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Dated to the wee hours of July 8th, 2009:Amidst Midsummer revels, Flagg manages to catch up with his old friend Lloyd, who wishes that what happened in Vegas would stay in Vegas.
[ HERE | Complete | PG-13 for language and mild violence ] | |
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Sally occasionally hated kitchens.
Sure, they provided you with food and yes, they gave you the place to store bottles and bottles of lovely wine, but they were also occasionally jam-packed with food that had loads and loads of calories in them. This very morning she had woken up, looked in the mirror, and her bottom seemed as though it might detach and float away, so massive it had somehow grown lately. She had instantly gone for a long run and showered, only to see her bottom's reflection once more.
She couldn't avoid the kitchen forever, but it didn't mean she had to like it as she stared down the fridge. It was a simple formula. She was going to have fruits and vegetables and she would go for a slow walk. That would fend off the calories from the wine she planned to imbibe. Of course, it would be nice if she could have a little bit of cheese. And maybe a slice of bread. And something...
Sally's fingers stilled as she grabbed at the fridge's handle, frozen between what was good for her and what she wanted.
She was also standing most likely in the way of anyone else who wanted their mid-afternoon snack before dinner, but tough luck. Sally Harper was going to eat something and she was going to eat something healthy. Or she was going to absolutely fold and deep-fry the table and eat that instead because she was getting to that point. "Whatever happened to pizza for one," she half-muttered to herself, still with her hand on the handle. | |
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Dated 29th May 2009:Jo and the Doctor go looking for clothes for Chase in the TARDIS wardrobe room and discuss husbands, among other things, on the way.
[HERE | complete | Rated U] | |
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There'd been a time, longer ago now than she could really consider, that by the time she turned twenty, Lucy was meant to be a engaged to a handsome soldier, a scholarship student at a prestigious college, living the kind of life that girls were supposed to dream of. That had changed, of course, before she'd gotten any of it; in retrospect, she wasn't sure she would have wanted it. Something about it, though, turning twenty here, so far removed from everything that had happened before, seemed vaguely surreal. It wasn't as if she had ever had cause to doubt she would make it that long, of course. For all she might've gotten in over her head back in New York, it was never really her life that was in danger, just the people whom she'd been trying to save. Whether it was because she hadn't expected to spend so long here or not, she didn't know, but it seemed strange all the same.
That wasn't to say she didn't like it.
A year before, so much had been going wrong that Lucy had barely noticed her birthday passing. Now, if anything, things were exactly the opposite. She was happy, really happy, and if the unexpected reappearance of a certain ex-boyfriend had unsettled her, she was determined not to let it continue to bother her. She had too much else to hold onto for that, and she was done with letting him upset her that much. Corny as it might've sounded, her birthday was the last time she needed to be worried about that, anyway.
She'd headed up to the Compound a while earlier, originally just to get some food, but she'd wound up settling on one of the couches with a book that was just enough to hold her attention. The bookshelf, she'd found in an unusually good mood, so to speak, and she had every intention of taking advantage of that. It was the jukebox's sudden turning on that pulled her attention from the book's pages, and after a few moments, she knew exactly why. They say it's your birthday, a voice that was entirely too familiar by now sang, and she sighed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. Clearly, she couldn't win them all, but she figured she was doing well enough for herself.
[I know a lot of people are still really busy with the party, so ST/LT are more than welcome, as are new people; it's a fine time to meet her. Timed to early/mid-afternoon or so.] | |
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Dated July 3, 2009:In the midst of making out, Mathias realizes that he and Veronica need to have that uncomfortable talk that they've been avoiding. It goes pretty well, all things considered, and while they don't make any definite plans for the future, they both know where they stand now.
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Dated July 6th, 2009:Riku decides to get Cassie's advice on which costume to wear to the Midsummer Ball. Which turns out to be a good thing, because otherwise he would have probably felt the need to shout "I am the Pumpkin King!" sometime before the night was through.
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Two days ago I had been entirely ready to die. Less than forty-eight hours later and that hasn't changed. Even after having gone so long without it, sleep didn't come easily. Nightmares chased away any chance of oblivion I might’ve had. I'm not exactly what you could call surprised. My one easy fix was tabled by Rogue for the time being and the road to absolution is long and winding. Let it be said: the scenic route is tedious. I woke up more exhausted than when I went to sleep. I can only assume this will become a recurring theme. 'Madrox doth murder sleep.' I may be the Hamlet of the mutant world, but I've spent more time in Scotland than Denmark, and the thane of Cawdor and I share in a few uncomfortable traits, insomnia chief among them.
Nearly two days after he'd been admitted, Madrox slipped out of the clinic sometime in the ungodly hours of the morning, intent on finding a shower. Though personal hygiene had never ranked particularly high for him, even he was beginning to recognize himself as a public health hazard. A bathroom had been located easily enough, mercifully empty save for a few others he hadn't recognized. More importantly, though, they hadn't recognized him. It was early yet, and he was in no frame of mind to be dealing with the friends of a long lost dupe. He had enough messes he needed to clean up.
At the top of that list were his clothes. Lacking the foresight to secure something clean before showering, he'd ended up putting back on the clothes he'd arrived in -- ones that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine for over a month. A blonde woman had pointed him in the direction of the laundry room and advised him he might want to select the 'extra rinse' option as her nose crinkled in disgust. She reminded him of Pietro. It wasn't a kind comparison. Still, her intel had been accurate, and Madrox was soon pulling on his freshly laundered trench.
Some may argue the coat's unnecessary given where I've landed myself, but that's never stopped me before. Keep in mind that I've essentially worn a variation of the same outfit my entire life. I'll leave it to the shrinks to decipher what that means in the greater scheme of things.
Clean -- or cleaner, rather -- he headed outside, his bandaged hand shoved in his pocket. He saw no need to advertise his injury. Wandering aimlessly, he carefully observed his new surroundings, taking note of anything curious that warranted further investigation. There'd obviously been some sort of party the day before, though the idea of a celebration of any kind struck him as particularly absurd. Though he could appreciate the need to blow off steam, it wasn’t an option he foresaw himself indulging in anytime soon.
His impromptu exploration eventually led him to a church, though he couldn't bring himself to enter. He merely stood outside, head tilted sideways as he considered both it and what it meant that he'd been ripped from his timeline and dumped on an ostensible blank slate that offered no more hope than he'd had back home.
"Hello, God," he muttered, staring at the building all the while. "It's me, Madrox."
Timed to early Wednesday morning and open to all. ST/LT very much welcome. | |
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Dated July 6, 2009: Nita and Serena brave the clothes box in all it's glory to help Nita find a dress - and, as usual, there's gossip about boys and talk of potential espionage. | |
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Dated June 10, 2009:Xander is an idiot who doesn't know to get in out of the cold. He ends up taking shelter in Spike's cave, and the two of them finally figure out what the hell is going on between them.
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When all was said and done, it looked like something out of a storybook. A wonderful, wicked storybook that might've been left behind by the gypsies of Garlan-- a jungle clearing, filled with bustling bodies and the wild heartbeat of drums. If you watched the crowd, you spied a jeweled wing here, a vine-entwined belly there, glitter and paint and sweat coating skin in equal measure. It was the island transformed. He'd expected it would be, as always with these masked revels, a coy guessing game that was never really guessing so much as flirtation, but as his eyes scanned the crowd, Cuthbert found himself genuinely wondering who some of these folk were. There, a tall man in antlers and boarskins goading a flame-colored fairy-girl over the bonfire. And over there, one of his own, a member of the Court with the crown resting in her tousled blonde locks, chasing a boy in faun-like trousers, soot smeared on their faces and looking mad in the flashing firelight-- he wasn't sure he could name either. The wine was going fast, but there was plenty more, and a good thing, too, because it was early. The twins were ahead on the darkening beach, getting the big-bangers ready. At the other end of the clearing, Bert saw two of his Court members leading a loudly protesting bride beneath newlywed bower with her new husband, binding their wrists tight with green ribbon and showering them both with handfuls of sparkledust and leaves and those odd little rubber lambskins. Cuthbert leaned forward in his throne and laughed, accidentally spilling most of his wine on the stage and not particularly minding. "Uh, hey-- sir?" asked a hopeful partygoer, eyeing the crimson scallop-shells strung about his neck. Probably trying to get out of playing pincushion to Aly's knife-toss. "Another cup of wine?" Cuthbert hesitated, then grinned impishly below the mask. "Why, yes. Another cup of wine, full up. But have that young lady bring it up, would you?" It was good to be king. [THIS IS YOUR FIRST MIRROR POST. ALL NEW TOP LEVELS SHOULD GO HERE. Happy Midsummer, Islanders! Everyone enjoy yourselves. Regular top levels go here. Please put an **asterisk** in your top level comment title if you'd like Fairy Court interference; they may link you to a top level for the chosen activity in the post following this one. You don't have to sign up, but contact one of the Fairy Court members to see about getting a tag. And please be patient-- we do mean to get to as many people as possible. More info here and here.]- Tags:abby sciuto, alain johns, alcuin no delaunay, alex drake, alianne, anatoly sergievsky, anthony blunt, arya stark, bernice summerfield, blair waldorf, bran davies, briony tallis, brodie bruce, brooke davis, carwood lipton, chase stein, chuck bass, cole porter, cuthbert allgood, daisy adair, dani reese, danica talos, davos seaworth, dean winchester, dick grayson, dr. chase meridian, dr. daniel jackson, dr. elliot reid, dr. greg house, dr. owen harper, dr. remy hadley, draco malfoy, edmund pevensie, elphaba thropp, eric van der woodsen, evey hammond, felix unger, fiyero, garak, gathering, george weasley, glen bateman, guy burgess, ianto jones, jack harkness, jane bennet, jenny humphrey, jim cooper, jo grant, joey potter, joscelin verreuil, julian bell, karolina dean, kate bishop, kaylee frye, kristine kochanski, leon tallis, lew ashby, lex luthor, lloyd henreid, lyra belacqua, mary jane watson, mikal, natalya zamyatin, nate archibald, nita callahan, ophelia, pamela barnes, patrick jane, penny sparks, peter parker, phedre no delaunay, remy lebeau, richard winters, riku, robin of locksley, rogue, samuel vimes, sandor clegane, serena van der woodsen, sonya blade, spike, spike spiegel, taylor townsend, theresa cassidy, thomas hobbes, thomasina coverly, tim drake, tony stark, uhura, vanessa abrams, vanessa bell, viola, violet baudelaire, wendy darling, will stanton, william bush, william miller, xander harris, yorick brown, zell dincht, zoe
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The sun went down late on Tabula Rasa, and so the sky had barely begun to slide from blue into the pink and orange of sunset when people began to gather in the clearing once more. The mud pit had dried out, the tables moved to one side, more torches placed around the stage that now drew the eye of everyone standing in its shadow.
The dimming light illuminated their features as they gathered, shaggy-legged satyrs, sylphs with gossamer wings, beasts and beauties from every world the island had culled from, and some it hadn't, no doubt. They milled about at first; food and drink were plentiful, and soon the air was full of sound, an ethereal flute, a drum, the voices of half a hundred guests raised in joyful cacophony. I moved among them at first, one woodland sprite among many, clad in ribbons and vined flowers from my garden, the seven-pointed star of Elua still painted on my cheek.
After an hour or so, the music dropped away, the drum beat slow and steady as we moved toward the stage. The talk fell silent as well, and we took up our places before our thrones in a reverent hush. When we were satisfied we had their attention, our adoring subjects, our kings stepped forward to address them. Lithe and dark, the first had a grave echo to his voice; tall and fair, the second was fairly laughing as he spoke. With their welcome the party officially began, and we dispersed among them again, ready to make our mischief.
[this post is NOT for pup top levels-- this is only for court-related mischief. there will be a top-level comment from a court pup for each of the fairy court's hijinks-- mock-marriages, etc-- that a court pup will link your pup to from the other post. see the planning post in slated for more info. however, pups can tag at will into the threads for fireworks, circle dancing and bonfire jumping.] - Tags:alain johns, alianne, arya stark, cassie sandsmark, cole porter, cuthbert allgood, dr. remy hadley, fred weasley, gathering, george weasley, guy burgess, lloyd henreid, lyra belacqua, phedre no delaunay, riku, roxas, serena van der woodsen, violet baudelaire, william bush, zell dincht
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When all was said and done, it looked like something out of a storybook. A wonderful, wicked storybook that might've been left behind by the gypsies of Garlan-- a jungle clearing, filled with bustling bodies and the wild heartbeat of drums. If you watched the crowd, you spied a jeweled wing here, a vine-entwined belly there, glitter and paint and sweat coating skin in equal measure. It was the island transformed. He'd expected it would be, as always with these masked revels, a coy guessing game that was never really guessing so much as flirtation, but as his eyes scanned the crowd, Cuthbert found himself genuinely wondering who some of these folk were. There, a tall man in antlers and boarskins goading a flame-colored fairy-girl over the bonfire. And over there, one of his own, a member of the Court with the crown resting in her tousled blonde locks, chasing a boy in faun-like trousers, soot smeared on their faces and looking mad in the flashing firelight-- he wasn't sure he could name either. The wine was going fast, but there was plenty more, and a good thing, too, because it was early. The twins were ahead on the darkening beach, getting the big-bangers ready. At the other end of the clearing, Bert saw two of his Court members leading a loudly protesting bride beneath newlywed bower with her new husband, binding their wrists tight with green ribbon and showering them both with handfuls of sparkledust and leaves and those odd little rubber lambskins. Cuthbert leaned forward in his throne and laughed, accidentally spilling most of his wine on the stage and not particularly minding. "Uh, hey-- sir?" asked a hopeful partygoer, eyeing the crimson scallop-shells strung about his neck. Probably trying to get out of playing pincushion to Aly's knife-toss. "Another cup of wine?" Cuthbert hesitated, then grinned impishly below the mask. "Why, yes. Another cup of wine, full up. But have that young lady bring it up, would you?" It was good to be king. [THIS POST IS NOW CLOSED TO NEW TOP LEVELS. You may continue to tag, of course, but all new top levels should go in the mirror post. Happy Midsummer, Islanders! Everyone enjoy yourselves. Please put an **asterisk** in your top level comment title if you'd like Fairy Court interference; they may link you to a top level for the chosen activity in the post following this one. You don't have to sign up, but contact one of the Fairy Court members to see about getting a tag. And please be patient-- we do mean to get to as many people as possible. More info here and here.]- Tags:adrian veidt, alain johns, alcuin no delaunay, alex drake, alianne, anatoly sergievsky, archie kennedy, arya stark, barney stinson, beat, bernice summerfield, bill weasley, blair waldorf, bridge carson, buck compton, cassie sandsmark, chase stein, cuthbert allgood, daisy adair, dinah lance, dr. daniel jackson, dr. elliot reid, dr. henry devlin, dr. lance sweets, dr. ray stantz, dr. remy hadley, draco malfoy, eden mccain, felix unger, gathering, george weasley, gideon sparks, glen bateman, henri combeferre, ilse freemantle, jack harkness, james lennox, james potter, jane bennet, jaye tyler, jen, jenny humphrey, jo grant, jude feeny, kate bishop, lara croft, leon tallis, lex luthor, lloyd henreid, logan echolls, lyra belacqua, maureen johnson, miguel alvarez, mikal, monet st. croix, natalya zamyatin, nate archibald, neil mccormick, nico minoru, ophelia, penny sparks, peter pan, priestly, remy lebeau, riku, river tam-reynolds, robert capa, robin scherbatsky, roger davis, roxas, saffron, serena van der woodsen, shadow, sonya blade, stacy hutchins, taylor townsend, the doctor, tony stark, uhura, vanessa abrams, wanda langkowski, william bush, xander harris, zell dincht, zia
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Dated June 10, 2009:Tired of shivering all alone in her room, Dinah decides that spending time in Monet's company isn't a fate worse than death. Especially when they can find enjoyable ways of warming each other up.
[HERE | Status FTB| Rating R] | |
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