(no subject)

[fishy-go-byebye.livejournal.com]

[Del got finger paints. This is now what she's decided to do with her life. So have it all over your journal <3

And yes, they're not doing what they're supposed to be doing.]

( OOC cut for picture :D No making fun of her childish art )

[361]

[ino]

( Private )

[016] Sunshine Lollipops and Rainbows Everywhere

[thirteenth.livejournal.com]

[It had taken quite a while to find an empty store in town and set it all up, but he was finally ready for the big day. Clean white marble shelves were laid out with all manner of handmade chocolates behind glass to keep them cool and sanitary. Stacks of jars stood behind the counter, filled with everything from penny chews, to liqurice sticks.

Behind the counter stood Ukitake, beaming as he waited for his first customers; the smell of cooking chocolates drifting from the kitchen.

The sign above the door was bright to entice people in, and throughout the last few days there had been flyers and cards left around the castle lobby and kitchen, with the same logo as the sign and the address in town.]




[New candy shop! Come and get your sweets! Open!]

case 008

[justastic.livejournal.com]

[The year didn't start out so bad, really. He hadn't had that much to drink, all things considered - which made waking up on a lobby couch with Lucy passed out on top of him rather confusing - so his hangover wasn't that bad as he went to the kitchen, very carefully making some strong black coffee (leaving another cup beside Lucy, now he thought of it, poor girl hadn't drunk before).

It's only when he gets out of the elevator on his floor, mug in hand, that he sees that empty nameplate. Her empty nameplate.]

...shit. [He stands there, numbly, for a few minutes, reason fighting against emotion, before going into his room and sitting down at his desk to open his journal and write something down.]

Happy New Year, Paradisa. Joan Harris is the first to have gone home.

[And then he drains the rest of his coffee before getting up, moving off to have a shower. She seemed - she was - very happy with her life and her husband. No need to be sad for that, right? Right.]


(ooc: Catch him anywhere from the lobby to the 14th floor in person. Responses will be about fifteen minutes late on the journal.)

(no subject)

[berserkism.livejournal.com]

[the journal picks up the sound of a low groan, and then some fumbling about of fabric; a drawer slamming shut.]

...

Where the fuck're my socks...

[ooc: l-lol, yoruichi stole them all and... Rose ended up with them at the White Elephant gift exchange...]

.006

[dryrots.livejournal.com]

( private )

[ once the filter ends he starts humming and laughing, shifting through the mess to try and find his journal. hey is that blood? ]

There you are~ [ he dusts it off a little and smears some more blood on it ] How are your heads? Feeling like they are about to explode? Mmm, what a nice picture.

Oh. Allen. Rhode is gone, she left, aren't you happy? [ so he is still a bit drunk, the hobo didn't sleep last night don't judge ]

( ooc; so yeah, there is pretty much a giant hole where tyki's window used to be, he doesn't care. it'll fix itself |D )

Mysterious...

[paradisamods]

[Thud, thud.

On the grounds, there's a Tyrannosaurus Rex... and it doesn't look well. As it trudges through the snow, it sways, barely on its feet. It staggers along, toes dragging with each step, until it falls forward, and lands in the snow with an earth-shaking thud and a crunch. It doesn't move again.

It lets out a throaty growl, and dies]



[Notes for your reference: it IS branded with the Jurassic Park logo.]

Σ009; the day after the morning after

[not-theman-iwas.livejournal.com]

( Friends of Three (if you think you belong here, you do!) )

['sup, peeps. Three is hanging out in the lobby with something complicated and technogizmo-y. ASK HER HOW.]

Paradisa Zone; Act 007

[shatteredsound.livejournal.com]

... Wake me when it's 2011. I'm sleeping in.

Forever.

My head...

(no subject)

[waywithplants.livejournal.com]

It seems like I made a good choice in not drinking.

073; backdated to morning of January 1st [accidentally dictated]

[firsttsurugi.livejournal.com]

In Cloud's Room . . .

... [stirs from under the sheets. groans. ugh] (My head... Burning through my skull...)

[he rolls over, closes his eyes, and throws the covers over himself better. without even thinking, he's hugging something]

Mnn... Soft...

theft 45

[hyper-thief.livejournal.com]

Oh poopie... what did I drink? [ a pained groan ] I thought it was yummy....

 And, did anyone say something super creepy to me?  I feel like it was a dream... but not....

[ooc;; excuse the lateness!  holidays and sickness has kicked my ass... it still is... but I at least have time to jump on for a while.  Eating chicken noodle, of course. :'D]

one hundred and twenty-five:

[queendramabitch.livejournal.com]

[Lucy's epic Christmas present from the castle turned out to be not anything flashy or large, but merely a simple photo album. However, the photos are of subjects very dear to Lucy's heart: all the people who've most influenced her life, both at home and here in Paradisa. There's her father, sitting behind his great carved-wood desk with a very young Lucy on his knee; there are her brothers, drinking pints at the pub; there is Harry, her beloved, terrible, awe-inspiring Harry.

And then there is the Fifth Doctor, who she loved in spite of his being everything Harry wasn't, for taking care of her in his absence; Peter Carlisle, who hadn't liked who she was inside; Adam Monroe, who she loved for being *precisely* what Harry was, even when she could remember her husband; Peter Petrelli and Inara Serra, who'd accepted her into their circle without question or judgment; Saetan saDiablo, who had been something of a father figure to her in her madness; Mort Rainey, who was really too much of a kindred spirit.

In the very back there is a single photo of the Tenth Doctor, almost like an unwanted afterthought.

She's taken out her favorites of each individual and had them framed by the castle ghosts, and lined them up on the mantle above the fireplace in her room, surrounding a photo of her and Harry on their wedding day. It strikes her how much her room now resembles a condensed version of the townhouse she and her husband had shared in London, how homey it is with the framed photographs and the two cats purring and the Arcanine curled up on the hearth. All that's missing is her husband himself.

The journal only catches a quiet sigh]