The Tabula Rasa Day festivities were set up to Angela's satisfaction. Finally, after several days of very hard work by her and the Party Planning Committee, which really had a lot more potential than the one she had headed up in Scranton. At least these people tried ( Read more... )

Susan!DEATH is merely going about her her grandfather's business when she bumps into Roxy who is none too happy about the fact Susan is DEATH, and that she is using a fucking scythe.

Dated to 31 October, ongoing.

You know, there are some nice things to be said for living on your own in a hut in the Hidden Hamlet. Aside from the cheesy as hell name, and the sometimes cheesy as hell neighbors (Anne of Avonlea and the little fucking mermaid are fucking next door? What the fuck is that shit?), it's nice. Cozy, quiet, and mercifully lacking in one George Lass ( Read more... )

It takes a while for the reality to sink in ( Read more... )

There's something to the way she's feeling that doesn't strike Daisy as so very good. Eight months on a strange desert island and only now is her head getting clouded, her common sense all whacked out of shape, and well, it's all too easy to blame this on a lack of sleep and being mortal ( Read more... )

Vimes was haring off to collect a search party to find his wife, and Ray had taken over the IPD office. More or less. There were already people gone off to check the generator and whatever else was down there, and reports of missing people had begun coming in, which was exactly what he and Vimes had been afraid of (or hoping for, he wasn't quite ( Read more... )

( Cut For Length and Offensive Language )

It's Friday. Friday is Rube's day. I know this. It's one of the routines I've fallen into now that I'm here, where I have no jobs, no nothing, no schedule to occupy myself. Every Friday, Rube makes breakfast, and I come in and listen to him wax poetic and eat my eggs and fruit and sometimes bacon ( Read more... )

Under Katurian's arm when he walked into the kitchen was a stack of books - 1984, Kafka's The Trial, The Giver, a few others. He was late for breakfast but early for dinner, and not particularly hungry either way; he could always do for some tea, though, especially after another failed encounter with the clothes box that had produced nothing more ( Read more... )

Screw the world.

Actually no, I take that back. I like the world and sometimes I even like the people in it.

Screw the clothes box. Even after all this time it still treats me horribly, and I swear it's working in collusion with the jukebox or something. There's no other explanation for why it started blasting Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow ( Read more... )