It was one of those boring kind of days, where nothing Karen did really seemed to stop time from just crawling on by. The walk to the compound felt shorter than it was, breakfast was quiet, and a couple rounds of Call of Duty went by pretty fast ( Read more... )

Greg had the Book on the table before him. Man, how many times had he gone through his copy of the balck book with the red dragon on the front? Enough to have to keep the cover on with some duct tape, that's how much. He had some paper and pencils and a few dice. This was going to suck without a 20 sided, but there were ways to roll a 6 sided and a ( Read more... )

Greg had been reading and writing and reading and working so long he could feel his tan fading. He decided to go outside and do...something. Wander or something. Not far, not fast. Just get outside and pretend he hadn't been hunkered over his typewriter, driving himself (and probably Nick) completely crazy ( Read more... )

"In the truest sense, freedom cannot be bestowed; it must be achieved." --Franklin Roosevelt

Most of the day had been spent on what Grissom had simply been thinking of as the Project; it seemed less threatening that way, less of a dark and brutal flashback to what had been one of the worst times of their lives. He'd only added the one of after ( Read more... )

Greg had a typewriter. He'd been banging out the pages he'd handwritten, and was likely driving not only Nick, but the rest of the people in the dorm insane with the constant clickety-clack. He was fairly adept on a keyboard, but the old fashioned manual had taken some getting used to. He'd gotten used to it, though. Used to it enough, anyway, that ( Read more... )

Classes were going well. Ben's entire island life was going well. He had nothing but time. Time to stop and smell the roses, as it were, and time to smile to himself. He and Michael were moving along, and despite what Debbie had tried to tell him, patience had proved to be a virtue ( Read more... )

One whole year on Tabula Rasa, not that Nick was counting.  Except that he was.  He was definitely counting.  Not because he wanted to go home, not really, or because he didn't have anything better to do, but because it gave him a sort of stability.  A routine.  It let him know that he was three hundred and sixty five days away from being that guy ( Read more... )

It was Alcuin's twenty-first birthday, and he was not feeling particularly festive ( Read more... )

Greg was ready for bed. For not doing much all day except working in the lab, eating, and writing, he was tired. As he got closer to his room, though, there was a strange buzzing hum. No, not so strange, just...unfamiliar. He hadn't heard that sound since he was back in Vegas. Vegas buzzed like that all the time ( Read more... )

Eddie knew that Eostre needed more help than ever now, which was why he volunteered to take on a meal for her. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't still underfoot, because apparently an Eostre with nothing to do was an unhappy Eostre indeed. Still, with that much tea and baking surrounding him Eddie thought nothing of incorporating the fruits of ( Read more... )