Everything that needed to be packed was packed, everything that needed to be shipped out had been, and pulling that off had been some kind of giant frikkin' miracle but the point was, it was done, just a few straggling bags and a few dozen errant dustbunnies and bits of debris left behind. (And probably a disgusting amount of nicotine residue in ( Read more... )

The last time Katchoo had stayed in any one place long enough to acquire this much stuff, she'd ended up running away to leave it all behind, and not regretting it ( Read more... )

The closet door burst open to the sound of with no small amount of noise, and a young man with wild, sticky-uppy hair ran into the room flailing his arms and yelling, "WAKE UP WAKE UP IT'S TIME TO WAKE ( Read more... )

It was not a morning in which waking up, much less getting out of bed, held any appeal whatsoever for Katchoo. Neither was about to happen at the moment, not when staying curled up with Francine was an option ( Read more... )

Another day of work down, another day closer to graduation, and would that she knew better it wasn't as if there was anyone coming to see her graduate; anyone who might make that list, who wasn't already here, was dead ( Read more... )

So one minute there'd been an attempt at actually, finally sucking it up, saying 'the hell with it,' and kissing Francine until she couldn't breathe as a prelude to other things that . . . would have a definite impact on breathing ( Read more... )

Look, it had been years since Katchoo had lived in Chicago. You'd think she'd be getting acclimated to Fandom weather by now, but Houston to Los Angeles to Hana, Hawaii left enough of an impression that the necessity of staying indoors in winter still chafed ( Read more... )

Katchoo had slept in late and then spent the rest of her day painting, smoking, and brooding about her past.

. . . whether or not she'd been affected by the island's latest fit of wacky could not be determined from this, by the way. Because her life was soap opera enough as it was. That aside, it was, if you were Katchoo, a very time-consuming ( Read more... )

Painting in the room wasn't quite as preferable to painting on the roof some days, but it was cool and damp enough too often lately for Katchoo to care to risk the canvas. There was music playing, but -- gasp -- she was in more of a Björk mood than a Griffin Silver one, and so it was Homogenic on the stereo as she worked ( Read more... )

Raven had managed to elude her for most of the party after Francine had run off, and, well, Katchoo being Katchoo had spent the rest of the night in a fine fit of moping.

That moping finally, eventually brought her back to the dorms, where she was trudging along the hallway back up to her room slowly.

She'd get there eventually. Honest.

[OOC: ( Read more... )