Under the Rainbow - a panfandom game [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Under the Rainbow - a panfandom game

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[Mar. 16th, 2009|11:04 am]
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I've finally finished getting the fliers printed up, they're a brief, bullet-pointed list of the sordid and bloody history of the printing press, trying to start a sort of guerrilla warfare campaign of encouraging people to read.

Who wants to help me leave them in phonebooths and busses? Coffee shop information tables are good too, and those little kiosks with maps and postcards.
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[Feb. 26th, 2009|04:36 pm]

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Humans have been nothing if not extraordinarily prolific since my time. It's a wonderful and luxurious thing to run my fingers over the spine of books that are not me. I confess to reading bits and pieces of all of them, just in case one of them is some poor creature that somehow got trapped as well. I doubt that happened to anyone but me, but books are nothing if nobody reads them, just blank pages.

The angels and demons were correct to fight over the Invention, though. The world is very, very different with its presence. ... though I've said too much.
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[Feb. 4th, 2009|05:55 pm]

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I have been in this time for a few days now, and while many things have changed, even more have stayed the same. Beauty is still coveted - I can feel eyes moving over me now, as they never have. What a thing, to be prized! Nobody has ever looked at me this way, save one (though he prized me for reasons other than my looks). And it's strangely comforting to see that mankind's capacity for cruelty is still intact. And oh my! - what lovely inventions! Such fantastic inventions for hurting each other! In my day, we had knives and swords and whips and heated metal. I should like to shake the hand of the man who invented the electric chair, the bomb.

And for the record, I quite like smog. It reminds me a little of home.
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[Jan. 31st, 2009|10:20 pm]
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Bloody hell.

What is this?
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[Jan. 30th, 2009|04:44 pm]

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Fingers! Four lovely, long digits and two thumbs! Oh, I haven't had fingers since that dreadful day I was confined to the page. Oh, how lovely and wonderful to arch my back, to curl my toes, to breathe.

Though the air is far more rank than I remember the World Above being. And what in the Demonation is this contraption? It's as if I know how to use it, like some baser instinct is guiding my beautiful new fingers.

You. Yes, you reading this. What year is it? And oh - oh by the Torments - where are my tails?
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