Dear Rupert,

( Cut for a LONG AND BITTER LETTER OF RESENTMENT. )

[Ethan has piled as many miscellaneous items of clothing onto his body as is reasonably possible without looking absolutely ridiculous, as he heads over to his wardens room to take the other man to the Bank in a game of strip poker ( Read more... )

Mr Bartlet--

Ah...

Josiah! My good friend!

...Hmm.

[There's about a thirty minute pause as Ethan wanders off to vie for attention.]

Hello! Warden! Guess what I did today? Let me phrase it as so: something which was previously incapable of it is now able to feel pain!

[Jed will find some FABULOUS DECORATION (aka. occult symbols) scratched ( Read more... )

[The voice communicator clicks on to a background somewhat more rowdy than some of the previous ones. Ethan, like so many other of the Barges denizens, is really quite drunk. He's not slurring his words, but there is a certain looseness to his voice that suggests he might be soon ( Read more... )

[So eleven o clock comes around, and in all due time Ethan heads up to Lucy's room with a copy of Ziggy Stardust, and Hunky Dory. His motives are... for the most part fairly pure, he honestly quite likes the Master, he's fond in general of people who are a little broken, and he absolutely loves David Bowie. So all in all, a morning spent ( Read more... )

I once knew a man. For maybe two years I knew this man, who was certain he could travel through time while he was on Acid. He laid out this long boring theory to me over a particularly dark winter in Alaska, day by day, piece by piece, how he'd do it, where he'd go back too. He once said to me, "Ethan, imagine waking up in a future you didn't ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Hello, fellow wardens.

I have, for some inexplicable reason, been asked to filter a post to you all. So here it is, friends. A post, filtered to all the Wardens, unseeable by inmate eyes.

With fond regards,

Wd. Ethan Rayne

Inmates, Wardens, Miscellaneous, I have an announcement to make ( Read more... )

"It sometimes strikes me that the whole of science is a piece of impudence; that nature can afford to ignore our impertinent interference. If our monkey mischief should ever reach the point of blowing up the earth by decomposing an atom, and even annihilated the sun himself, I cannot really suppose that the universe would turn a hair ( Read more... )