You have my attention for any OOC... anything, really.

*listens attentively*

Tara opens her laptop, to receive your email.

(Yay you!)

Hi, this is Tara McCutcheon. There's a really, really good reason why I can't take your call right now, and if you'll leave a message for me so I can call you back, I promise I'll tell you what it is!

[beeeeep]

I died in the Dungeon of Brambless

I was killed in a moss-covered chamber by Medusae X the orc, whilst carrying...

the Amulet of Far Superior, a Figurine of Gifteddoctor, the Shield of Prof Kirke, the Dagger of Factdrivenmale, the Axe of Spikedwithblood, the Sceptre of Awisemansaid, a Figurine of Shane Mcc, the Shield of Persian Eunuch and 89 gold ( Read more... )

Seated in the middle of her bed, Shane peers at a history book sitting open in her lap, glasses perched on her nose as she runs a highlighter over a few lines of text and tries to commit the passage to memory before returning to her skimming. Skimming, highlighting, skimming again - it's repetitious and she's been at it for hours. Her eyes are ( Read more... )

( Tuesday evening, pottering around the house and waiting for the phone to ring. )

Having pretty much volunteered her sons' house for the hosting of a dinner with a plan, Tara's spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, fiddling with recipes, taste-testing and adjusting. Cassie's joining them, as is Jonathan - mostly because Tara's inner yentl really wants to see the two of them together. There had been discussion of meeting ( Read more... )

They'd finally run out of coffee - and kinda need to go shopping, after a couple of weeks of housebound nakedness - so Tara had dropped by the Planet to pick up breakfast for them both, and had a very odd conversation with Jonathan. In Chihaya's body, and doing his job. Honestly, you leave the city alone for a couple of weeks, and they get into ( Read more... )

"I turn the radio up, I turn the radio on, and this woman was singing my song..." Tara's voice echoes in the bathroom, the shower providing the perfect acoustics, the radio playing over by the sink, not half as loud as her singing. Her hair is wet, her eyes shut as the water runs over her face and into her ears, blocking much of the sound so that ( Read more... )

Shane lays stretched out on the couch in the living room, Dexter curled up in a tiny ball on her stomach, purring like a miniature boat motor. One of her hands rests on his small, furry body, but she's not petting him. The hand is still, as she's fallen sound asleep, her head having sunk off to one side, chin brushing the soft, worn cotton of her ( Read more... )