Jan. 15th, 2008

[identity profile] sensiblesusan.livejournal.com
((Open to anyone who wants to ask Susan what the hell happened yesterday, commiserate, or otherwise chat with the poor woman about the horror of Bad Fanon Day. Pikachu-mun, if there's anything you want me to edit or fix, let me know.))

When Susan woke up and saw the small yellow creature snoozing next to her head on her pillow, she knew, with considerable despair, that it had not been a dream.

Bloody, bloody damn. )
[identity profile] imyourking.livejournal.com
Tamaki woke up in his bed in Peter Pan's Flight bright and early, like usual. Something was off, he knew, but as he lie in bed, it wasn't coming to him. It wasn't until he rolled out of bed to get dressed that it hit him.

He looked ill for a full minute, with his hand to his mouth, not moving at all. He tried very hard to pass it off as a dream, but he knew it wasn't. For one, he had never met Rukia before, and had no idea what she was like or what she looked like, so dreaming of her was completely out of the question. For another, if he did act like that in his dream world, then he was just as guilty as if he had actually acted that way out of a dream.

Feeling quite sick, he climbed under his covers again and curled up for another half an hour, before deciding that moping about it did no one any good - least of all himself.

He finished getting dressed, and got out some paper and a pen, and then set to his apology letters - he could have, and normally would have - seen Kyouya and Rukia in person, but he was sure that after his performance yesterday, they'd never want to see his face again.

Letters to Rukia and Kyouya )
[identity profile] grimsirius.livejournal.com
Early that morning, a large sign appeared on the Bulletin Board.

Feel like forgetting? Want to be able to look your family and friends in the face once more?

One-day Memory Charms for the low low price of one bottle of alcohol!

Contact Sirius and James if interested.
[identity profile] superherogifted.livejournal.com
As far as Virgil had been concerned, yesterday had been pretty awesome. Bored after the holiday season had passed, Richie had set to work trying to create the new Resident Evil game based on rumors he'd read online. It had taken a while (well, a couple days, seeing as Richie was a super genius), but Richie had successfully loaded it onto his computer yesterday morning, and they'd been up until late last night when they'd finally beat the game.

Maybe they had both acted slightly odd at the time, but it was hard to tell when you were busy trying to defeat the undead hoards and only pausing for pizza breaks.

Now this morning, they'd woken up, gotten dressed, had a good cold pizza breakfast, and headed out to get the mail.

((Also I lost the game))
[identity profile] john-adams-1776.livejournal.com
Dear Sir,

I know not if you have been subjected to the whims of the Park before, but on random occasions the residents of this place are forced to behave in ways in which they would not normally act, for a brief period of time. I am sure you are aware now that yesterday was one such occasion. We were both of us manipulated against our wills and I bear you no ill feeling for this. I can only hope for the same in return and will give you my greatest assurance that apart from Miss Sto Helit, with whom I have a long-term understanding, none shall know of our inadvertent indiscretion from my lips. Though my feelings for you are not what I expressed or implied upon our last meeting, please know that I respect you, Sir Percival, and would not be adverse to speaking with you again, as gentlemen and acquaintances. I apologize for any discomfort I may have unintentionally provoked and

I remain,
Your humble servant,
J. Adams

The handwriting in John's letter was firm and confident with no smudges or hesitations. This would be because of the dozen or so drafts that had been edited, copied, and burned.
[identity profile] demons-magnet.livejournal.com
Oh crap. He hoped no one had made a wish about wanting the world to be Disneyland. That'd be his luck. Just as he was heading back home to good old Sunnyhell. He wondered how his girls were doing. Whether they even remembered he was gone.
Okay, who made a wish? )
[identity profile] alcoholit.livejournal.com
Bernard woke up at around midday, rubbed his hand down his face, then through his hair to give it the proper scruffy look it should have. When he realised...there was much less hair there than normal. It had not been cut with a bread knife.

And slowly, the events of the previous day came rushing back to him, not all in the same order. So he remembered having his shirt off, then kissing Percy, then having his hair cut. He didn't remember any sex, though, and that was definately a good sign. Not that anything else was a remotely good sign of anything, but relatively, it was good.

What the HELL did Percy do to him? Why the hell? Oh, screw the why, he decided, and downed a good quantity of one of the bottles of wine he'd been hoarding from Christmas, just to try and clear something, anything up. He patted his pockets in a search for cigarettes, but it was in vain. He'd left them. Oh no.

Well, he wasn't best pleased about his haircut, and he was angry about being groped by a guy he spent his time trying to hate mutually. This was not right. If he had a sandwich toaster, someone's hand would be going on it. Unfortunately, he didn't. So he marched down there, making a short stop off for a hat to cover his unmessy hair. He was very sure having a colourful Mickey Mouse hat on was marginally better than showing off his new haircut. He liked his hair messy and clothes dirty. It scared society away. Hopefully a dodgy hat would have the same effect until it grew back the way it was.

Upon arriving in a rather angry huff at Percy's door, he let himself in and hoped someone was around for him to punch. How dare he give him standards of hygiene and make him gay. At least he didn't make him dance.


A world of laughter. A world of tears. A world of hope. A world of fears.

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