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Below are the most recent 25 friends' journal entries.
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| Monday, December 21st, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ slytherincoffee ]
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2:03p |
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| Sunday, December 20th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ thecurefordeath ]
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8:30p |
#311 Thank somebody for something.
Thank you, Daniel, for your loyalty and your faith in me. There were times in my life when I preferred working alone, not wanting to entrust my studies to anyone else. You were the one who made me change my mind. Now you are my assistant and confidant, and I’m grateful to you for being here for me. Together, we shall defeat death. Thank you, Megan, for giving Daniel a few hours of comfort and happiness. I couldn’t deny that you were everything to him – until he found his true destiny. Now you’d better leave him alone, Meg. As the true scientist that he is, he should concentrate on his research work instead of wasting his time on passionate love affairs. I may sound cynical enough, but that’s me. Too straightforward at times. And thank you, Dr. Hill, for making my life so exciting. Obviously, you’ve already appreciated all the advantages of your new existence. As you can see, my methods work (and how!)-- but goddammit, stop misusing my reagents! Words: 170 Fandom: Re-Animator Muse: Herbert West Current Mood: grateful |
theatrical_muse
[ notflightcrew ]
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2:46p |
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theatrical_muse
[ lotofdeadspace ]
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2:45p |
#313 Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed.( Borrowing another man's skin )Muse: Corporal Bower Fandom: Pandorum Word Count: 430 Current Mood: contemplative |
theatrical_muse
[ secondbestthing ]
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2:28p |
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theatrical_muse
[ cannotcomment ]
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2:26p |
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theatrical_muse
[ tiedtoboth ]
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3:04a |
314: Write about a memorable family meal.
Right before mom and dad died, we had a really big family dinner with my aunts and uncles and extended family. I remember how happy Jeremy was, showing off one of the things that he drew and mom kissed his forehead and told him how good he was. How far he'd get and he'd be famous someday. We spent the entire night just talking, laughing and playing board games in the living room. Everyone was happy and we all acted like there wasn't a care in the world. That nothing bad could ever happen to us. That was the last dinner we ever had together before the big empty void came. When our world was turned upside down and we had no sense of which way was forward. We became lost.' I still try to go back to that night when things get bad or I need to smile, It was one of the happiest memories I have and one of the best dinners I think we've ever had, unless you count the Easter dinner when I was ten and Jeremy put a rotten egg in someone's basket at the Easter Egg Hunt. Elena Gilbert/Vampire Diaries/193 words written from the show POV |
theatrical_muse
[ prettygabriella ]
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2:45a |
314: Write about a memorable family meal.
"You are kidding right? That vamp wouldn't have gotten close enough to bite me." " Gabby, that thing was only a few inches from you and you didn't have anything up to kill it. It was going to get you." "I had a plan." "Right, of course you did." Sam was looking between the two, perking a brow at the both of them before shaking his head and going back to eating his cheeseburger. "Can't you two stop bickering for ten minutes while we eat?" "I would, he just doesn't know when to shut up." Dean shot her a look, flinging a fry in her direction, which got a few fries thrown back at him. What happened next was a food fight that got Sam pelted with a milkshake, leaving Dean and Gabby laughing. "Great, thanks. Merry Christmas to you too." Gabby smirked a little. "Right back atcha Sammy." "You're so much like Dean it's scary." "Hey, she's nothing like me." Yes, this was a typical Winchester family Christmas dinner. Gabriella Winchester/Supernatural (OC)/170 words |
theatrical_muse
[ havinhoops ]
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12:36a |
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| Saturday, December 19th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ shark_jumper ]
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2:43p |
311: Thank somebody for something.
Dear God (if you're there; Heaven if you're not), We haven't exactly had a lot of opportunity to talk, have we? I mean, the first time I got a headache followed by dreams of character back story - that was when, 03? 04? And I've never actually heard from You. There's a lot of things I'd like to ask You ('why me?' for starters), but that can wait. I have something to say. Thank You. I bet You weren't expecting that, huh? Well, You probably were, but that's not the point. The point is - who would expect me to be grateful? I used to write short stories for a scifi magazine, before Supernatural. It didn't pay great, but I got by. Once I started having visions, life as I knew it fell apart. The drinking destroyed my social life, the books isolated me from my family. The only people who wanted to talk to me were my publisher and my fans. But I was still making a living. Writers can be hermits, so it kind of worked. And then my publisher went bankrupt, and Supernatural wouldn't stop coming to me, and then Dean and Sam found me, your angels alternately protected and threatened me, an angel's vessel exploded all over my carpet, and all the while Supernatural kept coming to me, and it was getting worse. And the story keeps coming to me, and it's still getting worse-- But I'm glad that the story keeps coming to me. You know what kind of guy I am - I'd rather know what's going on and be useless than be ignorant and able to help. And these days I am everything, anything but ignorant. So thank you, God, for that. For this. Your Prophet, Chuck Chuck Shurley Supernatural 287 words |
theatrical_muse
[ ancient_ofdays ]
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10:27a |
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theatrical_muse
[ dancewithadevil ]
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3:53a |
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| Friday, December 18th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ takesyouthere ]
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11:21p |
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theatrical_muse
[ doesnotsay ]
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8:07p |
313. Something Old.
The cloth passed over the smooth blade with reverential care, erasing the few ugly fingerprints that marred the beautiful swirling pattern of the folded metal. For something capable of such violence, the gentle swirls were amazingly peaceful. Snake Eyes felt the tension in his shoulders fade as he ran the cloth along the blade in a long, repetitive motion. Drowning out the other noises in the enclosed bay of the Howler, he focused on the dull shine of the steel. Like many of the katanas forged and folded in the ancient ways, the same methods that gave it the beautiful swirled pattern made it incredibly strong. The old blade didn't need the attention, but it was his ritual after every fight. Given to him the day he left the clan house, the sword was the closest thing he had to an old friend and with proper care it would last longer than he would. At last he put down the cloth and scrutinized the blade one last time. He blew away an almost invisible hair. It was spotless. Gently, he slid it back into its sheath and leaned back. Closing his eyes, he focused on the vivid image of the intricate blade, and drifted into a calming meditation. Snake Eyes - GI Joe - 206 words |
theatrical_muse
[ behaviorissues ]
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7:34p |
313. Something Borrowed.
"You nicked this?" Mereel stares up at the imposing landing craft, mouth agape. I can't help laughing; he's supposed to be the one with the reckless streak a parsec wide, but it's obvious he's impressed. "Borrowed it. Doubt the Trade Fed boys'll miss it." The gears are working, probably trying to decide what question to ask next. He shakes his head and settles for walking around the massive base. I wait. We've commandeered vessels of all sorts before, but a landing craft's a big piece of army all on its own. I've outdone myself this time. "And it's all intact?" my brother asks, returning from his inspection. "Except for the IFF and a few other little tracking beacons. All the tinnies need is an activation signal - which I also disabled, of course. Far as anyone knows it had a nasty accident coming out of hyperspace and was vaporized." He nods in appreciation. Last thing we need is a landing craft worth of droids waking up without warning. "So, ner vod, what're you planning to do with all the artillery here?" Really, I didn't think that far ahead while I was stealing it. It was more to prove I could than any specific purposed. I shrug. "Park it on a quiet little planet and let Jaing and Prudii play with it." If anything my brothers will enjoy fiddling with it, and might sabotage a lot of tinnies along the way. Mereel grins and claps me on the shoulder. "Kandosii, vod'ika. Kandosii." A'den - Star Wars - 251 words |
theatrical_muse
[ dmorgan73 ]
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11:03a |
[314] Write about a memorable family meal. ooc: Set eight years ago.“D, the forks go on the right!” Sarah called from the large entryway that separated the kitchen in her house from the dinning room. With her hands on her hips, she looked every bit unhappy with what she saw on the table. “Are you even looking at that diagram I gave you?” After Sarah rolled her eyes and walked back into the kitchen, Derek looked across the table to Desiree who was helping him set the table. Both of them laughed silently so that Sarah, the oldest of the Morgan children couldn’t hear them. Sarah had always been a stickler for perfection and with this being the first Thanksgiving she was hosting at her house, her perfectionism was in overdrive. Read More…Muse: Derek Morgan Fandom: Criminal Minds Current Mood: hungry |
theatrical_muse
[ nihilexmachina ]
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7:34a |
NEW TOPIC #314: WEEK OF DECEMBER 18 - 24, 2009
The topic for the week of 18 - 24 December 2009 is: Write about a memorable family meal.1. Put current season TV spoilers behind a cut. 2. Your post must be a minimum of 150 words to count towards your community membership. 3. Put posts longer than 450 words behind a cut. 4. Put the topic number and/or text in the subject header of your post. 5. Sign your post with your muse's full name and fandom. Reminder: To remain current, you must have answered at least one of Topics #311, 312, 313 and 314 by December 24th. |
theatrical_muse
[ prodigalwatcher ]
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12:23a |
313 - Write about... something new
313 - Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed.There are dozens of new things around my apartment these days, although if I were to be strict about the definitions of things they would not be so much new as, I suppose, newly noticed. ( A new breeze has blown in )(382) OOC Note: Based on RP.Muse: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce Fandom: 'Angel'/Misc. TV Please reply here. Current Mood: content |
| Thursday, December 17th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ knight_flyer ]
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11:57p |
313 - Write about... something old
313 - Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed.((Locked to those who know Dick's secret identity)) Once upon a time, I swear that everyone thought it was all going to work out just perfectly. ( Pass the mantle )(329) OOC Note: This is a canon-based prompt. See disclaimer.Muse: Dick Grayson, AKA "Nightwing" Fandom: Misc. Comics/BatmanPlease reply here. Current Mood: optimistic |
| Friday, December 18th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ poshmouthytart ]
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12:54a |
#313 - Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed
The leaves of the old book were delicate in your hands. You handled them gently, and the ridiculous thought occurred to you that your should be wearing gloves. You've seen them in museums, the broad, calloused hands of the tour guide somehow softened by thin silk as he paged through a book so old that he wasn't sure when it was made. But this book wasn't nearly as old. It was your grandmother's, one of the few things your mother kept, and one of the few things you took as your own. It reminds you of your mother, the way the fragile pages slide under the pads of your fingers, like thin flesh that could be torn apart. But that wouldn't stop you, because this was your ritual. A warming glass of wine, and the soft light of the lamp next to you, and the book that was once your mother's in your hands. When you read it you would mumble to yourself, as if you could remember your mother's voice weaving through the words on the page. ( “I have wished a bird would fly away, And not sing by my house all day;” ) -------- Cut for length and minor spoilers for the second series. -------- Muse: Alex Drake, Ashes to Ashes Prompt: #313 - Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed. Verse: Open and Canon Verses Word Count: 1180 |
| Thursday, December 17th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ stoic_slim ]
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11:40p |
313 - Write about... something borrowed
313 - Write about something old, something new, or something borrowed.Names are a kind of funny thing. On the one hand, they seem absolutely necessary: things must have names if we're to identify them, especially when we're first learning to do so. Children learn the "what" of things long before the "why" or the "how": this thing is a ball, that thing is a cat, that person is my mother and this other person is my father, and so on. Just try to fix the idea of something like a car in your mind without thinking of the word "car". ( A rose by any other name )(601) OOC Note: This is a canon-based prompt. See disclaimer.Muse: Scott Summers AKA "Cyclops" Fandom: X-MenPlease reply here. Current Mood: contemplative |
| Friday, December 18th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ irinavolchitsa ]
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1:06a |
#313 Something New
Irina had often heard the adults grumbling that the only thing worse than the moon times was the moon in cold weather. And she could understand how that would be true. As hard as the change was on the older generation, the cold had to make the bones ache worse. That didn't matter to her. It didn't matter to Borya and to Petya and all the other little ones on the farm. The moonlight broke over a pile of fur, a riot of browns and blacks and grays and the occasional russet or gold, one white. And one by one, their heads began to pop up, tiny noses catching the new scent on the wind. Teeth snapped at ruffs as tiny and not so tiny paws bounded past. The older ones grumbled and rolled over and would get up when they were good and ready, dammit, and not before. No one bit anyone, but it was a near thing. Irina chased her cousins out of the house, then dodged as Borya followed her with a great big leap. All the puppies went down laughing in a pile of limbs, fur, and clear white new snow. Irina Petrova // Original Character // 195 |
theatrical_muse
[ demonbastard ]
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12:48a |
#313 Something Old
The words were familiar. Painfully so, and old. Now that they were performing the ceremony (without all the trappings, yes, but it was still the ceremony) he couldn't remember which of them had the idea at first. It was because he was restless, and she was irritable, and they were both still trapped in this new world and coming to terms with the idea that they would never go back to what was. This, at least, was a part of what was. What had been. This was a part of what had been that they could re-create between themselves if nothing else. He knelt before her and quashed the odd thought that she was so much smaller, now. He placed his hands on the hilt of her sword and she covered his hands with hers, a part of the ritual that they had adapted to her current form. They spoke the words. It was done. Glaucon // Angel: The Series (OC) // 155 words |
theatrical_muse
[ oldestbeloved ]
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12:33a |
#313. Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed
When it came right down to it, it was all blue cotton. The thread count didn't change the origin of the fibers. The shade didn't change the category of the dye color. The wearer changed everything. It looked better on her than it did on him. One of his old and faded blue shirts, a relic of the days after the circuit when he hadn't been quite sure what to do with himself but blue still brought out his eyes to good advantage. The honeymoon was over, the house had yet to be unpacked, but they were sleeping in their bed even if half their things were still in half-opened boxes on the floor. She was perched on their bed, long slender legs beautifully toned and tanned from running. Now she could run along the beach. Looking over her shoulder, laughing just before she ducked away from the camera. Leftover film from their honeymoon. He'd found it, started taking snapshots, but the one of her on the bed right before the pillow came flying at the lens was his favorite. Tucked away in an old book of poetry he used to read to her. While she sat curled on the bed in one of his old, faded blue shirts. The most beautiful newly-wed wife in the world. His thumb brushes over the faded gloss on the photo paper. Liquid distorts the image. He flicks his wrist. Orange and gold flames curl the edges inward, blackening those beautiful legs, turning faded blue to white ash. The Sorcerer // Original Character // 254 words |
| Thursday, December 17th, 2009 |
theatrical_muse
[ inkandcrinoline ]
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7:59p |
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