Just making sure your little … surveillance problem … got sorted out. Your friends seem like lovely people; would hate for them to have any trouble.
As for the other matter … well, I’ll be in touch.
Got yours of the 29th.
Let me know.
I owe ya, thanks!
Well, it’s clear from the focal convergence the sloppy photog was taking it from that two-story across the street, can see how grainy …
teslamomma says: hows that curly haired boy of yours?
han says: We are not going to talk about him
teslamomma says: you get him onto that locatelli quick
teslamomma says: my baby …
Greenlaw Tewkes Barret gets a burr in his bonnet. Auren Han gets another ulcer.
Dance gets…well, he’s getting something.
It’s great. It’s fabulous, Auren. “I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.”
You said …
Original post as created by by GJ and kiyakotari
My name is Simon Berendt, and I’m here to explain.
For those of you who are a little bit familiar with ‘s storytelling, the “snake crossover” (see the tag) takes place …
Poor guy, sitting there drinking cappucinos all the damn day, chatting up barristas with boobies, and getting paid for it. It’s sad. He says silly shit about shooting people, and they laugh. It’s all true, but …
She remembers thinking, on the very first day of this flight into exile, that she had plenty of days where she looked at Dance, thinking, ‘Whatever that is, I’ve been doing my bloody best to fuck it into perfectly …
The place is full of birds, chirping. Quiet. Reverential, Preacher might say. Trees rustle along the river below the flat spot where the speakers stand. They’ve brought chairs, for those who are waiting to speak. There’s a whole row of …
Pen doesn’t want a cigarette. He wants a drink.
His girlfriend is out back again, high in the trees. She’s pulling feathers again, doesn’t even know she’s doing it. Scares him to death.
He puts down the little stack of …
The bus sits idling in the parking lot, the heavy chassis shaking gently in the heat like a panting dog. There is no shade, and the glare makes the metal window sills hot enough to burn fingers. The old, cracked …