November 2015




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Aug. 8th, 2015


Narrative: Oceans Eleven

Who: Jake R
What: Finding feet in Vegas.
When: Recently

Jake figured on there being something between his grandparents and something between the free-fall drop of believing none of it mattered )

Aug. 3rd, 2015


Who: Jake R
What: A little reflection
When: Recently

he figured manly had been left behind because there wasn't no way of being exactly what his grandfather wanted )

Jul. 25th, 2015


Jake R

[During this.]

[Locked to Jake R]
Starshine, we talked bout you letting go of all that damn hate. What happened?

Jul. 20th, 2015


Sam A, Louis D, Flash T

Sam A )

Louis D )

Flash T )

Jul. 19th, 2015


Locks: Jake R, Graham R, Cris M

[Jake R]

You owe me a visit, honey.

[Graham R]

I'm back and rested up, and I think you owe me a meal.

[Cris M]

I'm going down the list and cashing in on things people owe me, I don't know what you owe me, but I'm sure it's something. So pay up.

Jul. 16th, 2015


jake r.

[locked to jake r.]

[...] hey.

Jul. 4th, 2015


Public - Ross, Martín-Argüelles, and S Alexander

[Public: Minus Graham and Penny Ross, Cris Martín-Argüelles and Shane Alexander. Some back and forth, but ultimately Clem left on.]

[It's not pen and paper. The page in the journal (which has become, helpfully, thicker and more like sugar paper than notebook paper) is layered over with paint, slowly. Acrylic, slow so as not to soak through and blur the lines. It's careful but not-careful. Blocks of color, primary and secondary, and it tilts from the perspective of being very small on the bottom of a street. Vegas, this time - through a door, where the Strip still exists and the lights spark. It's more like street art pinned down on paper than fine-work, untutored and messy. Pay-day has hit, and there's enough of his own money for paint and brushes.]

Jun. 25th, 2015



[Testing the waters, she just draws a giant question mark on the page.]

Jun. 20th, 2015


Quicklog: Marvel, Clem & Jake

[Clementine had a bag of clothes in the back of the borrowed red Vette she was driving on over to Jake's, just in case. The boy'd said he wanted real nice French food, but he mentioned wearing his work clothes for eating, and she wasn't sure those two things matched up right. She had some things could fit that she'd bought, tags still on and intended for Shane. But truth was, Clementine wasn't real sure she'd been seeing that damn man anytime soon, and Jake might as well have things to wear that didn't smell like fryer.

The internet said Le Provençal Bistro was real nice, and it was near the water and the sailing boats Clementine wanted to get a look at before driving down with Declan come morning.

Seven p.m. and her hand heavy against the horn outside Jake's place, she was dressed in bright pink, a snug cocktail dress and real expensive Louboutins in tutulle. Top down, and Melissa Etheridge blaring loud as she texted her nephew and told him to get his ass shaking.]

Jun. 19th, 2015


Declan M, Penny R, Jake R

[Locked to Declan M]
Feel inclined to lending your sister your expertise some, Dec?

[Locked to Penny R]
Since no one tells me a thing, you go on and say instead. Your cousin back? If so, you owe me some dancing and beer.

[Locked to Jake R]
Found us someplace French, starshine.

Jun. 17th, 2015


Penny R, [Public - Ross, Murphy and Alexander]

[Penny R]

Aunt Penny, I got a favor to ask.

[Public minus Graham, Penny, Clem and Shane]

[Ball-point on lined paper, clearly done from an angle - on the top of knees, hunched up in a diner booth. Street side, jagged rubble, broken glass. Fixated on a person sweeping on the sidewalk. Hurried lines, cross-hatched shading]

Jun. 12th, 2015


Clem M

[After this]

Aunt Clem? You all okay?

Jun. 11th, 2015


Locks: Graham R, Clem M, Jake R

[Graham R/Clementine M]

Looks like we need to vacate real quick. I can go to a hotel in Vegas if y'all want me to keep watching Joy and the other door is still a mess, Graham you can come on with me there, so can Shane. I'm sure he'd just love rooming up with me. I can get him a place. I can do whatever makes the most sense. Or if it's fine we can all go back there together, or whatever y'all want. I can do whatever. Clementine, you're there, you'll know better than any of us what's going on in the damn city. So what am I doing and where am I going?

[Jake R]

You around? We gotta go, honey.


[separate locks to sam a, jake r, shane a]

[locked to sam a]

How are you feeling?

[locked to jake r]

Hello, Jake. A word, if you have a moment.

[locked to shane a]

Hi Shane. Enjoying the camping?

Jun. 7th, 2015


Graham R & Jake R

[Group lock to Jake R, Graham R]
[On the elevator ride up here, and scribbled quick.]

You two just read this quick. I only got a second. Something happens to me, there's accounts at the Municipal Credit Union for Joy and you, Jake, from the house sale. Graham, you're the admin on Joy's. I got a place on 37th, small, but paid full, and I got both of you joint benefactors on that. Ain't hurt or anything, just trying my hand at being real adult and crossing my Ts.

Stay the heck out of this door until you hear it's safe again.

Jun. 5th, 2015


Locks and things

[Graham R]

I'm bringing Joy to you. The city is apparently falling to shit. I'm asking Jake to tag along. Where am I gonna find you?

[Jake R]

I was watching Joy for your daddy when all hell broke loose in the city, I'm taking her to him now. I'd like it if you came with us.

[Cris M]

I'm taking Joy to her daddy, and then coming back to the city. I don't know if you got called in - but be safe.

May. 27th, 2015


Jack C, Clementine M

[Jack C, Clementine M - individually]


May. 26th, 2015


clem m., jake r., penny r., evie s.

[Before going to visit Shane.]

[locked to clem m.]

[Oblivious.] you get through it okay? and i'm going to see shane, just so you know.

[locked to jake r., penny r., evie s. (individually)]

you okay?



You were going to eat me. In a church.

Apr. 30th, 2015


Flash & Jake: Marvel late night

Who: Jake R and Flash T
What: Late night guerrilla graffiti
When: Recently!
Warnings: None, unless Flash comes with language.

Late night there wasn't nobody or nothing bothering anyone in the streets. The kitchen had emptied out late, past three by the time the stove-tops had been scrubbed cleaner than they had been all damn week, ready for the weekend rush. The door swung open onto the street with a gush of steamy, soapy-warm air that smelled like old food and detergent and Jake flung the last refuse sack of empty bottles right on into the trash before he shouldered his bag. Late night like this one, and he took the long route back to the tuxedo house, way off across the park. Wasn't a hell of a lot of point in going to sleep real quick off, mostly because he'd have to do the whole thing again tomorrow, and he flexed his hands experimentally, testing all those wrinkles from the suds.

Thing was, the money from the kitchen and from the bar on Saturdays, it paid enough for groceries and for the bills to keep the lights on. It didn't go so far as the real fancy art stuff in the store downtown, the one where the oil paints came in white tubes and you had to go in and take them out of the little drawers to see what color was kept inside them. Jake itched for something other than pencil on cheap paper: it had been a real long time. Longer than a year, if he figured it right, because he didn't have nothing but ballpoint on notebook paper after he'd lit out to go looking for Vegas ghosts, stead of school.

But the walk past the trash sacks and toward the park took him past the real ugly, concrete buildings, the sides of the bridges and the kind of places people peed in corners and the cops didn't stop long. Maybe in daylight, it was real ugly, and maybe when the light was low and the people living round there were around in the street, just talking and stuff, it looked like someplace you avoided if you were skinnier than you had been when you played football, and you didn't have much to start with.

But at night? Street-light played over neon, and the arches and swoops of art that was right on show, no ticket for admission. And the money from the kitchen didn't stretch to oil paint, but it did go so far as aeresol. And he'd always figured you could do something with the brilliance of color and ease of shape and something with the real old, fine art that was in books he looked at in libraries, and mash em some together.

The bag dropped from his shoulder to his feet, worn Chucks on sidewalk, and the streetlamp sputtered and carried on, blinking over worn cotton shirt, damp some at the wrists. Jake arched one long streak of color, stood back, grinned strong and sudden in the oily orange light, and added another, real content.

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