Cass

And I could hear the thunder and see the lightning crack
all around the world was waking, I never could go back

( . )

( locked to em )

[For the past day or so, everything's gone just slightly - odd. He drops in and out of reality just as he's used to (though with more frequency), but what he falls into is - strange. Muddled. Surreal, rippling like a heatwave. There is blood on the pavement - there is no blood, just rain. There is screaming - there is no screaming, just laughter. A smiling, genial man opens his mouth and it keeps opening, far past the point of what joints ought to allow, and inside the mouth is something red and squirming and hungry clawing its way up from his throat - no, no, he's just yawning. Cass writes everything down, constant-consistent in this as in nothing else, steadfastly charting what looks like madness with the calm conviction of someone who is sure of little but remains absolutely positive that a madman would not have the presence of mind to write down the facts and figures of his fits.]

sweet goslings, mama has a headache you would not believe and is willing to entertain any and all suggestions for relief.




looking at my shirt is making me feel sick. now i know how sully feels all the time.

havenites

a friend of a friend needs to get rid of an astonishingly large number of baked goods (mostly pies, says the grapevine). i don't ask questions about why or how, but put in your requests and i'll see what i can do!

i have fifteen santa hats and only one head, someone help a girl out.

haven.

carolling on the eve y/n?

haven - gryff.

an as yet to be determined prize to whoever gets one on our craggy overlord.

locked to sully.

found money in my shoe. food and wandering?

locked to em.

i have good news and i have good news. you may choose the order in which you receive them.

locked to dom.

hey.

locked to ophelia.

guess who found gardening books?

public.

busking is even more shit in winter. it just might be time to look into gainful employment again(!).

[Posted after the altogether weird experience of spending who knows how long existing as a few molecules of water running through pipes.]
( locked to em, sully, nives, ophelia, dom, kitty, talia. )</blockquote>i feel like this doesn't get expressed enough so i'm just going to say it for all of you who've been doing this so long you've forgotten: magic is fucking strange. not that there's necessarily anything wrong with that, mind.

[He spends as little time sleeping as possible. Consciousness keeps the weirdness that has infected him since he woke up from his elongated, trauma induced nap and really, there's just so much to do all the time, people to see and music to play and all the weird and wonderful ways the two can overlap and coincide. Like Pavlo, with his crazy mustache and his crazier eyes and his deft hands on a guitar. Like Pavlo, who turns up - as he does every now and again - after a few months out of touch, which a story. A story about a mutual friend, and a wedding impending. A wedding geared more towards the staid family of the bride to be than either half of the couple about to be joined in holy matrimony. A wedding which sounded like boredom, like grinning resignedly through yawns. A wedding that Pavlo and Cass and all the merry mayhem they could gather up between themselves would clearly, clearly have to be invading.]

Locked to: Miss Em, Sully, Dom, Ophelia, Kitty, Nives [...] and Talia. & if you feel that your character ought to be on this filter but you don't see their name, comment anyway!

hallo hallo my lambs, it's been far too long since there's been a thing, a to-do, a get together, a large-scale mass frolic if you will. i for one can almost feel myself in grave danger of becoming staid and sensible for want of a good outing, which clearly will not do. fortunately a friend is getting married this week. unfortunately he's opted to be mature and sensible and keep the reception small and intimate and drowsy, replete with new in-laws and severely lacking in fun.

also unfortunately for someone i'm sure, pavlo has dug up the time and place of this torture session, and we are taking it upon ourselves as a present to our darling to brighten tomorrow night up for him. who can i count in the invading party? instruments and/or sketchpad mandatory, you know who you are.

all the single ladies: surprisingly poignant when rendered on ukelele and tin whistle, good call miss em.

what's next? ophelia's choice because i say so.