Tim hadn't thought about the fact that he hadn't eaten in two days until it was actually the third day, and he left the room. It was 'the' room now, when he thought about it, because it certainly wasn't his. His room had had a lot more in it, for starters. He showered, dressed, went to the kitchen. There was coffee. He didn't really want any- he ( Read more... )

To say that it'd been a weird night would be an understatement ( Read more... )

Compound. Evening. Feel as though am turning into some new form of barren spinster, only not barren or spinster at all. Instead sit about all day with nothing to do, while arse grows unattractive and gigantic, despite attempts at all-fruit diet. Am beginning to suspect that island at large is conspiring against me. Perhaps sacrifice at base of ( Read more... )

It was a rougher day to get through than normal, but Jim was intent on keeping it together and giving Sam a good day. After all, it was her first birthday, and despite everything, it was something that ought to be celebrated. After giving a lot of thought to the matter, he eventually decided to go for something simple instead of extravagant - he'd ( Read more... )

The morning of Pam's disappearance, after finding out and spending the first half of the day with Jim, Tim goes back to Bridget and tells her the news. In progress.

The island was not exactly a utopia when it came to the arts, as far as Nathan was concerned. Sure, there was a little bit of theatre, and every so often people hauled out their musical instruments for some little party or another, but the island seemed to value physical talents over anything else and that was just a little bit too high school for ( Read more... )

Saturday morning, Jim wakes up to find Pam gone. It doesn't take him long to realize she's been sent home, and he holds himself together by a thread only for Sam. Various people come and find out the news, and despite being offered as much help, company, and support as they can give, he's never felt so alone.

[OOC: Dated June 14th, some threads ( Read more... )

The Doctor's plans for a good day had been basically kicked in the metaphorical bollocks when he'd run into Martha Jones that morning. Apparently the island had decided to do a repeat performance of its May Day truthtelling compulsion. On a Thursday. Way to shake things up. Might as well have been a Monday; it sure as hell was starting to feel ( Read more... )

There was very little metal, and almost no appropriate tools for it. Gil would probably never really accept many things about this damnable place, but he'd accepted that much, and he wouldn't have been Gil if he couldn't find ways around it ( Read more... )

Ford Prefect was bored. So Ford Prefect was hunting.

Ford’s technique seemed to consist mainly of standing still for a while and smiling ( Read more... )