June 2020






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Mar. 6th, 2020



I need you to all know that the morgue at the hospital has nothing to do with burials or cremations. If you're unsatisfied with the service, take it up with your undertaker. If your loved one has apparently 'risen from the dead' then that's also not my problem. I don't see every dead body in Repose. I promise, anyone I deal with has very much passed on when they leave the premises. Their organs have been all over my table.

If I get one more rude phone call about disturbed graves or ashes actually being gravy granules I'm not going to be wearing my happy face.

Dec. 23rd, 2019


locked to vaughn t

There are words on the wind about you.

Nov. 22nd, 2019


vaughn t

[Vaughn T: Text]

You didn't get eaten by someone else while on that train, did you? Lemme know if there's an ass I need to kick. (ΦωΦ)

Sep. 11th, 2019


Vaughn T

[Text to Vaughn T.]

Whatcha up to, V?? (=ↀωↀ=)

Jun. 27th, 2019


Log: Mao & Vaughn

Who: Mao and Vaughn.
What: Mao lets the cat out of the bag.
Where: Vaughn’s place.
When: A few days after this.
Warnings/Rating: Lowish???

Surprise! It’s me...! )

Jun. 12th, 2019


Delivery: Vaughn T

[In the weeks since their meeting, Vaughn has been the recipient of a variety of gifts. Not daily, but several times a week when he returns home from work there is something waiting for him. Sometimes they are left on the kitchen counter, sometimes the couch, but more often than not they are left on his bed.

Some of the gifts are as follows (in no particular order):

  • A pair of designer sunglasses.
  • A copy of the movie Ravenous.
  • A very expensive watch.
  • A Day of the Dead skeleton made of wood and clay with red sequins for eyes and glitter dusting it's ribs.
  • $214.63 in total over the course of several days, appearing in wads of crumpled mixed bills and handfuls of change.
  • A very nice, and very empty, pre-owned leather wallet.
  • A small pile of black feathers (left as a joke to make Vaughn think he’d find a dead bird somewhere in his apartment, but not to worry, the feathers are from a craft store.)
  • An opened three pack of Ring Pops with the blue raspberry flavored pop missing.
  • A white on black #1 Dad baseball hat.

    If asked about the origins of these things Mao is elusive, assuring only that they 'won't be missed.']
  • May. 15th, 2019


    log: the capital - mao & vaughn

    Who: Mao and Vaughn.
    What: Mao gets caught having a midnight snack.
    Where: Hospital in the Capital.
    When: Late night.
    Warnings/Rating: Lowish? Mao chews on dead people idk.

    This wasn’t the kind of hunger that could be satisfied by binging at an all-you-can-eat chinese buffet... )

    May. 11th, 2019



    Best book you ever have read and worst book you ever have read.

    Give me your answers and I'll put your name in a drawing for a free espresso drink of your choice for Monday morning.

    Edit. Noah - come in and get your drink.

    Mar. 29th, 2019


    public, louis donovan


    is it super purist aka hipster of me to say i expect caffeine to be a byproduct of commonly-caffeinated products, namely that i find the concept of decaf anything absurd? there is camomile for a reason.

    [louis d]

    hi. damian said you were looking for employee-prospects.

    Mar. 7th, 2019


    Today is world book day.

    I'm currently reading my first Stephen King book ever. Bag of Bones. And I highly recommend it, although I think everyone else has been on this bandwagon way, way before me.

    So if anyone wants to gather in a little bookish circle and recommend things to each other, do come hither.

    Mar. 2nd, 2019



    Hey, Raven.

    We didn't finish our conversation at the party.

    I think you knew all along I'd be the one to make this post. I don't know if that earns you what was promised, but I like the way you think, and I'd like to indulge some more in that.

    If that tickles you in any way, then let me know.

    Regards, Horns.

    I mean, if anyone else who doesn't own a mask covered in ravens would like to break open the coffee machine and talk I guess I'd welcome that, too. I don't want the Internet to be mad at me for being exclusionary, oh goodness.

    Feb. 25th, 2019


    [ Trio Lock ]
    I trust we have all survived.

    [ Rae ]
    How fares your winter?

    [ 'Akela' as 'Vana' ]

    [ Public, Anon ]

    Far too many legends paint wolves as fools.

    Feb. 23rd, 2019



    Whose woods these are I think I know.
    His house is in the village though;
    He will not see me stopping here
    To watch his woods fill up with snow.

    My little horse must think it queer
    To stop without a farmhouse near
    Between the woods and frozen lake
    The darkest evening of the year.

    He gives his harness bells a shake
    To ask if there is some mistake.
    The only other sound’s the sweep
    Of easy wind and downy flake.

    The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
    But I have promises to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.

    —Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    by Robert Frost

    Feb. 8th, 2019




    Do I have to remark on the woods? They're very wood-y. Bit smelly, but that's already been covered.

    Jan. 26th, 2019


    Public, Patrick G

    [After this and this. Public, as 'Aubrey R'. With a non-verbal tone of exasperation.]

    Super glad to see that home hasn't lost its touch for the dramatic, or anything. I was starting to worry that I might have to live a boring life.

    Oh, did I say 'have to'? I meant 'get to'. My b.

    [Patrick G/Ranger lock]

    Hey. Care to share anything you know about this that I don't? Planning on going out for a run. [And no, he doesn't mean on two legs.] You know, say hi to the woods. Maybe flirt a little. Pee on some stuff. Any suggestions?

    Jan. 20th, 2019



    I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
    What hours, O what black hours we have spent
    This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
    And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
    With witness I speak this. But where I say
    Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
    Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
    To dearest him that lives alas! away.

    I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
    Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
    Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.
    Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
    The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
    As I am mine, their sweating selves; but worse.

    - Gerard Manley Hopkins

    It has been a month since the last poem, so here I am again. Twenty days into the new year and I'm not sure what to make of it. Of course, it is too early to tell.

    If someone has a recommendation for a horror movie, preferably playing at the theatre, I would appreciate it.