Thirteen Snowflake - Backdated to the 20th

[sugarwaffo]

[Nora had said "something crazy" would be the best gift for Hard Harry. Sugar had lots of crazy ideas, but most she was too little to pull off. One, though, she knew she could do. Maybe. Possibly. She almost pulled it off before.

People who walk down the lobby might notice a light flurry of... snow? In the middle of August?! More importantly, why is it inside the room?! But there is no denying it; that is definitely snow. The snowfall starts at the ceiling and is already piling into little drifts. Anyone listening closely might also hear the sound of a flute coming from one of the chandlers. Perched on it is a little snow fairy, playing her magic flute. She pauses for a moment, and the snow stops falling.]

Oh wow, that worked!

[Ah, yes, that's right. Her journal is there.]

Hey, hey, remember that last place we woke up in? That was Human School, wasn't it? How neat! I never realized humans went to school too! And guess what? My magic is stronger now too!

Do you think it's because we went to the magic school?

((Open to journals or action if you would like a snowy summer. Sorry Zelos.))

First Shot

[dog_eat_dog]

( Public, but contains spoilers for The Last Of Us. )

When she opens her eyes, they settle immediately on the window across from "her" bedroom wall. More importantly, they settle on what appears to be a distant city basking under a summer sun, and for an instant she thinks of being a teenager again, when she dreamed of backpacking across Europe. There were lots of pictures of little French cities all over the Internet, back then, cities that could still feel like quaint little towns despite their sprawl.

For a moment, she just stares in silence, and then she says:]


Couldn't pick a nicer fucking place to die, huh...

[Dictated]

[rightjollyoldelf]

Only 120 days left till Christmas! 

Is no time at all!  Must get to work. No yeti or elves here to assist. Not even reindeer.

rule #1

[scaler]

[Molly has found the journal.

'Calm' is not a good word for it. Neither is 'relaxed,' or 'adjusted,' or 'accepting,' but she is very good at putting on all four. Keeping her head is what keeps her alive.

She's gotten acquainted with the important bits: the magic, the wishes, the losses, the indefinite stay, the familiar faces. Also the really important bit: walkers. That is, lack thereof. Allegedly.

None of it seems real -- but then, options are limited.

She presses a crease into the corner of the journal's page with her thumbnail. The first thing it picks up is a mutter half to herself.]

Feet first, I guess.

[Then, louder:]

So, hey. Ain't I supposed to get a gift basket? That's what luxury places like this do, right? What kind of welcome wagon is this?

530 - no I never liked disco

[hard_talker]

[Monday night? Check. 10 PM? Check. Leonard Cohen's "Everybody Knows" over the journals and the radios, for those who own them? Super-check.]

Happy Monday, Wonderfuckers! This is your resident DJ, Hard Harry, one year older and twelve months cruder, openin' up the airwaves and lettin' it rip. [to prove his relative maturity, there's a classic fart noise from his sound board. and you thought he was growing up.] ... And hey, whichever one of you shitheads gave me a walker with tennis balls on it, I'm gonna find you and put sardines in your bedsheets. [he sounds pleased enough, despite the threat. all the gag gifts Nora solicited seem to have taken the edge off his birthday blues] As for the popsicle sticks, in keeping what seems to suddenly be a theme, I'm currently building a scale model of the Trojan Rabbit, so if anyone wants to use it to sneak into a tiny castle full of rude French people, lemme know. The rest of this shit? I'll find a use for it. Never fear. [he's got a special project in mind for the blow-up dolls from Tucker, but that's being saved for a rainy day, when people have completely forgotten that they even exist]

Let's roll out the red carpet for this week's Blanketeers: Carley, Joel, Molly, Tess, and Terry. And if you've got a better nickname than that, I'm still taking suggestions from last week's broadcast, I just pulled that one out of - well. Let's just say I washed it off before I tried it out in public, and leave it at that. [he'll explain the logic behind the term if anyone asks, but really he's just as content to leave it be and make people wonder]

And if you don't feel like hoppin' on the old welcome wagon this week, my buddy Gary's looking for information about what you folks consider monsters to be, back home. Hit him up, because sharing is caring, and nothin' says caring like using violence as slang for communication, especially in conjunction with talkin' about shit that scares the bejeezus outta you. But for now, let's get our weekly jam on, shall we? I know I gave you a shot of Everclear last week, but I think we need just a little more, for the hell of it.

[and away we go! the playlist gets almost to the end, maybe a minute or so of the last song left, before it cuts out with a sudden pop and crackle]

What the shit? ... Hold on, folks. Technical malfunction ... Play button's still on. Light's on. CD's practically brand fuckin' new ... and it's still spinning... what the hell is wrong with my --

[and then he finds the culprit - a frayed wire, and his birthday present from Katniss, looking very pleased with himself]

HARVEY! Goddammit. ... Well, nothin' me and Radio Shack can't handle ...