November 2015




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Feb. 23rd, 2015


Sam A +Ford C + Ellie K

[All three at once]

checking in, that wish shit didn't go to shit.

Feb. 14th, 2015


Wish: Ellie K - affecting Ford C & Russ C

[Ellie wanted her brothers to each have one thing they wanted, and her anon supplies, as best he can.

Ford is easy-ish. A billion dollars, put up in Gotham National Bank, clean money, with the appropriate paperwork all in place, all under the boy's name. With that much money, whenever he wants to go in and withdraw or anything else, he'll be given the royal treatment, ingratiating bankers, tea, a private room, anything he asks for. And it's all his to do with as he pleases, invest it all or gamble it away down to the last penny.

Russ asked for two things, and in the end, he could only have one. Whatever wishes to come or already granted regarding the man's son, Nathan, are nullified, cancelled out completely, a sort of magical "buffer" protecting the kid from any of the horrible plot twists the hotel likes so much.

Whenever it's all done, Ellie might feel a sense of completion, but that's all.]

Feb. 11th, 2015


[so very public]


Is anyone else having second thoughts about what they've wished for?

Feb. 8th, 2015


Blake T, Joey A, Neil D, Sam A, Ford C + Ellie K

[Blake T]

I hear you got a house-guest who's a pain in the ass.

[Joey A]

you want that job, there's something set up with the owner Monday.

[Neil D]

hey. sorry I couldn't help with your brother. let me know how he is, yeah?

[Sam A]

hey, Pomegranate.

[Ford C/Ellie K]

both of you safe?

Feb. 2nd, 2015


Ellie K

[Ellie K]

Feb. 1st, 2015


Russ C & Ellie K: Gotham quicklog

[The place in Gotham didn't look like a hell of a lot on a regular day. The paint on the walls was the same color the landlord had painted it before whoever had moved in before Russ. The furniture was comfortable and large, it could take abuse and it could take bulk but it wasn't expensive and no one had gone picking it out to match to the drapes and the carpet. It was small and it was clean the careless kind of way that didn't think much of corners and what was in them. But that was before Nathan and after Nathan, the place in Gotham looked like a kid lived there full-time.

There were cars lined up under the coffee table and a row of soldiers running a campaign over the kitchen counter. There was a tiny backpack swinging from the bottom of the stairs, and a small coat, bright blue, hung up alongside a series of darker, heavier ones. Upstairs was the biggest change, with the blue paint and the fairy-lights taped up one wall and the bedspread that was still current-range. Nathan was watching TV in the living room, cartoons and the plink-plunk of music that said the kid was sucked in, more than the grapes and peanut butter and crackers on the plate in his lap did.

And Russ, he was in the kitchen. Sweaty-fucking-palmed like a teenager getting up the balls to ask a chick out, or to smoke his first cigarette, some shit like that. He had coffee in front of him, steaming: of course he had coffee, Nathan was up early and was energy from sun the fuck up to down. Coffee, and there was a pack of cigarettes sitting within reach (above kid-height) on the counter, but he didn't reach. He pictured Ellie the same age or thereabouts as the kid with the curls in front of the cartoons. Not twenty-nine. Not stuck in here, where the doors slammed on opportunity.

He was bare feet, and low-slung jeans and a flannel shirt that looked like he'd dug it out of the laundry hamper that crumpled and when the knock at the door came, he felt like it was a heart-attack. He made for the door, Nathan too engrossed to pay attention - doors meant babysitters, not Mom, he'd learned that lesson by now - and he filled the gap, squint-blue eyes and the mug in his hand.]

Jan. 26th, 2015



So I'm in a comic book. That right?