Wendla had been wanting to make teepees like before.

However, she had discovered that she could not make a teepee by herself. Or at all. After some exploring by her lonesome, she had discovered something so incredible that she had forgotten about making the teepee.

It was a pop-up tent.

She had brought in a plate of cookies, a few pillows, and numerous blankets and could be found burrowed there, eating and looking absolutely delighted with herself.

(no subject)
Moritz Stiefel was not feeling like himself. He was sweating, then he was shivering, and his whole body hurt. His out-of-control hair was buried under a comforter and his head wouldn't stop throbbing. Obviously, Moritz was bedridden.

He could use some chicken soup or some company or something.

"Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?"
you don't look like you're praying...
"... You don't look like you're praying," Hanschen murmured to the girl in the picture. He held onto it tightly with one hand as he slowly slid the other up his bare thigh and under his white nightgown. It wasn't often he was able to get away like this, surprisingly. He was always at school or church or otherwise keeping up appearances of being the very model of a well-behaved German boy. Even when he was at home, his father kept a close eye on him. He closed his eyes, gasping out another reply to the girl in the picture.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on his door and his father's voice, but when he turned his head to make a hurried reply, he found himself somewhere else entirely. Hanschen looked around himself, a look of mild annoyance and confusion on his face. Where had his room gone? And why was he outside? It was blastedly cold out.

T: Um, re-introing Hanschen as old Hanschen hasn't been active for 7 weeks. Taken right in the middle of "My Junk" and before anything really happens in the play. ALso, he doesn't remember anything that may have happened with old Hanschen here sooooo YAY CLEAN SLATE

(no subject)
lights up baby
Polexia was trying to make the best of her situation.  All right, it wasn't England.  And it wasn't the road.  She wasn't touring or hanging out with the girls or the bands or anything.  But there wasn't much she could do about it.  She'd already found a house, much, much larger than anything she could have ever afforded in the real world, and with some effort had started to organize it to suit her tastes.  This was proving to be a rather arduous task, however.

Taking a hold of some of the pens she'd found in a desk drawer and the paper she'd found stacked up neatly next to the thing that looked kind of like a television and a typewriter combined, and slipping on a sweater she'd found in a closet (not exactly her style, but she'd make do for now) she headed out to the front porch, intent on making some invitations for the housewarming party she very much intended on having.

Now, if only she knew a few more people to invite...

... what.
just like audrey
 Blair was heading back home from a costume party at Chuck's house. Serena was Baby, One More Time Britney (typical) and she had gone as--- who else? -- Holly Golightly. Her silky brown hair in a chignon along with the black dress, the gloves, the hat, the sunglasses; it was absolutely perfect.

Chuck's party had been fun too. The Bass residence was always a good place to throw parties, and Chuck made sure he was always in charge of end-of-the-school-year bashes. 

Walking happily, arm in arm with her best friend, Blair couldn't wait for summer to begin. Traveling with the family, sleepovers with the girls-- and then beginning high school at Constance Billiard, making her way up to Queen Bee.

"See you, S!" Blair called cheerily as she went through the doors of the Waldorf residence. She expected to end up in the lush lobby. She ended up in front of the gates of some suburban community, cold and not amused.


T: Umm. Yes. Thirteen-going-on-fourteen-year-old Blair Waldorf. Yes. I'm on crack.

Superboy and the Invisible Girl
When Natalie woke up, in a strange room, it took her a bit to get her bearings. Where the fuck was she? But then she remembered- random ass housing development in the middle of nowhere, with no feasible way out. Fucking fantastic.

She didn't want to disturb the nice guy who gave her a place to crash for the night, or his little... whatever they were to each other. So, she made her way out of the room as quietly as she could, and sat down outside on their porch. She had some pills still in her pocket, and a joint in the other, so on that front, she'd be good for a little while. But in regards to anything else, she had no idea.

What to do now?

[I'm bored, so Natalie post! Backdated to the morning after her arrival, so she's quite hung over and not very happy.]

(no subject)
Takako really hadn't left her house much since her arrival. A few runs here and there, one party, the occasional trip out for necessities -- but for the most part, she'd stayed inside, crafting a makeshift alarm system and trying to figure out just what the hell was happening.

However, she had just heard a Very Scary Noise, and decided that outside with sun and slush was better than inside with a possibly imaginary ax murderer. She could almost handle dying once, but she was pretty sure that twice wouldn't be as pleasant. Besides, it was sort of nice outside. And whether she would admit it or not, she was getting a little lonely. So now she was sitting on the front steps, stretching her legs out and contemplating. Or sleeping with her eyes open. It was hard to tell.
Tags: ,

This is not the vineyard
Ernst had been hurrying off to meet his Hänschen for a study session. He clutches his books against his chest and scurries as fast as he can, so as not to be late, practically tripping over his own feet.

Once he gets to where he thought he was going, he realizes that he's not where he was trying to be. "Ach dies ist nicht gut..." he murmurs, hugging his books tighter.

Typist: Ickle adorable German boy. Because I have an affinity for the small cute ones? XD

(no subject)
lights up baby
Polexia felt kind of bad about leaving William in New York without any of the girls to take care of him. (And she knew that they had.) But a deal’s a deal, after all, and they had to be gone before the band left the city. And it was England – she couldn’t resist. She kept telling herself it wasn’t for forever – just a little while. She’d meet up with the guys again when Deep Purple’s tour was over. It’d be like old times again.

The flight got delayed, though, and she ended up curled in an uncomfortable airport chair, trying to catch a few minutes of sleep since she never could manage on planes, one of the roadies’ leather jackets slung over her like a blanket. There were a couple of other girls along but she could tell they were just groupies, trophy-hunters; not Band-Aides. Penny and Sapphire had trained her well: she could always tell the difference.

She must have dozed off, though, because she awoke to a pair of hands shaking her gently. It took her a second to focus, but she knew almost instantly she wasn’t in the airport. No plasticky chairs, none of the entourage. “H’lo?” she muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Where am I?”

(no subject)
oh my, [young] gasp
Luna was quite dirty and tired. It was so odd and cold and dusty in the Malfoy's Mansion.

She'd tried to make conversation with Ollivander, hoping she could be some sort of comfort to that dear old man. The Death Eaters seemed a little flustered at her calmness, how she hadn't struggled to leave once during her time trapped in the cellar.

Yet another day passed and Luna fell asleep on the floor, curled up in a little ball. Dreams were hardly there and it barely felt like she had slept, but sometimes it was better than being awake.

Until today. But when Luna woke up in the middle of an empty street, she was fairly sure she was dreaming. "Oh..."

T: Mid-Half Blood Prince. :D


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