(no subject)

[sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com]

Oliver is standing by his van on a certain morning. There are couch cushions in the back instead of hay and dung, and most of the horse smell is gone. Also in the back is a fresh first-aid kit, some blankets, bottles of water, and five hearty sandwich lunches.

In the front are a few books. Oliver anticipates much boredom in the mall at Jefferson City.

Now he's just waiting for people to arrive.

(no subject)

[diseasedvermin.livejournal.com]

In a bar in Metropolis one summer night, Tom is quite drunk. He stumbles out of the bar with a few of his new best friends who are trying to explain to him why Family Guy was the best show ever and they wish there were more new episodes.

Tom stumbles, grins, wavers on his feet, and agrees. Eventually his new best friends leave for more pub crawling. Once they're out of sight, Tom walks to a nearby alley and flicks open the wallet he nicked.

Debit card, credit card, and a twenty. Eh, it'll have to do.

The ratskin, not as drunk as he appeared, takes the cards and money and tosses the wallet in a nearby garbage can.

(no subject)

[seesyoursins.livejournal.com]

So, Simon went west. It's been a long, long trip, replete with exciting adventures, mainly involving the appropriation of food from the more frightened kind of survivor and the frightening of any survivors who tried to steal things from him.

Now? He's reached Metropolis.

...it hardly seems worth it, really.

Looking for food...

[angela-edmunds.livejournal.com]

Angela is starving. Her metabolism goes at about the speed of sound, so food tends to disappear.

There's a kazillion things to do but first things first--gotta eat. So she heads into the kitchen to find stuff. At least it seems to be well stocked.

She could do with some company.

(no subject)

[machina-grim.livejournal.com]

Tomas is down in the shelter, cooking triffid parts over a fire.

Triffid stew: Bland and not great tasting, but at least they're never going to run out of ingredients.