Room 322, Tuesday Evening

Jul. 26th, 2017 03:20 am
rebelseekspizza: (dante pb - black and white)
[personal profile] rebelseekspizza
Kathy had a guitar now, and while Dante figured Spencer would take most of the lessons on himself - he had a feeling he'd be helping Kat out often enough. So he'd decided to spend the morning going back to the old 'basic guitar jams on acoustic' book and drag up some old tunes that were relatively easy to learn.

And the whole Queen... thing the other week had him... maybe trying to sing along. You know, a little, and softly.

By evening and after classes, he was still at it.

"...It's something unpredictable, and in the end is right, I hope you've had the time of your life..."

The door was open.

[[ and so is the post ]]
merchant_of_miracles: (this looks weird out of context)
[personal profile] merchant_of_miracles
The Merchant of Miracles was usually in the shop on Tuesday, but he had much bigger fish to fry today. Nahasapeemapedilon was on his own, because, apparently, some weird curse had settled in over the weekend, turned the Merchant into a very obnoxious (but impeccably dressed) singing robot assassin that not only broke the Merchant's cart, but then used some weird magic flute magic to entrap the unicorns within the debris of the cart.

Seriously, who does that?

At least it seemed...mostly salvageable, though that Scaramouche the Merciless really did a number on the Merchant's precious cart all the same. That was his house! That was his livelihood! He was practically naked without his cart! Granted, the cart had been through worse before, but that didn't take the sting out of the fact that the Merchant was going to wind up spending all day in the front yard trying to mend the pieces of his broken cart. It was no small task, which might explain the very loud litany of very creative curses* that accompanied all the hammering and sawing, sanding and drilling.

____________
*He was from a family friendly franchise, after all.


[[and open post is open!]]

MCA #3, Monday Evening

Jul. 17th, 2017 09:58 pm
uncertain_dume: (Hey Hey)
[personal profile] uncertain_dume
Well. The weekend had been... eventful. And class had been a nice distraction. And, hell, Kanan had stopped by work and had a good chat with Eliot that afternoon about plenty of things that he'd been afraid to admit to himself, though he'd maybe been warming up to the idea of them, somewhat.

And now he was back at home, standing in the kitchen, looking thoughtfully down at a couple of nerf steaks in a frying pan as Stance pranced around the kitchen floor with the telltale clack-clicky-clack of a happy dog on linoleum who was hoping to score some nerf for himself.

"Okay," he said, smirking a little as he tossed the dog a chunk of meat. "But just this once. Hera and I have earned this meal this week. All you had to do was not torment the flamingos."

[OOC: For the roomie, but open for calls or visits or whatever, too!]
seveninchmotto: ([neu] Is that so?)
[personal profile] seveninchmotto
Where did the island get this stuff?

That was the first thought on Isabelle's mind when she woke up early on Monday morning. She'd spent the weekend as some version of herself with a different face, who dressed like Simon used to (what was with that flannel shirt around her waist all the time?), and who had a crush on Valentine, of all people. On top of being very very sweet and naive and so much more innocent than Isabelle herself could ever remember having been.

It was a lot to unpack. So she was left wondering where the hell Fandom managed to dig all this stuff up from.

... Well, no. Actually, the first thing in her mind this morning was the same thing that was also the first thing that came out of her mouth: "Oh, thank the Angel." She was back. She was Isabelle Lightwood, Shadowhunter, lover of whips and low-cut dresses, and there was no other version she'd rather be.

The second thought on her mind, that was about how Fandom did this to people.

The third one made her look over and find the spot next to her on the bed empty – predictably. Anything else would've been pretty rude of Flick on several levels, and he wasn't like that. So, she called out, with her voice still hoarse from sleep, "Jon? You there?"

[ooc: NFB. For the boy.]

The Preserve, sundown

Jul. 16th, 2017 09:38 pm
sith_happened: (x plot: Mufasa)
[personal profile] sith_happened
In the jungle preserve, the mighty jungle preserve, the lion sleeps tonight---

After a delicious meal of several teal deer, Mufasa had fallen asleep and only barely had time to wake up when he finally recognized the thunder that signalled an incoming stampede of alot of, well, alots.

Mufasa ran and ran but there was a cliff at the end of his path and everyone's seen the movie...

A-wheee~
stickitupmyjinx: (doubting you)
[personal profile] stickitupmyjinx
It was National Ice Cream Day, and Vanessa had had plans. You know. Her usual holiday sort of plans (kinky sex).

Unfortunately, this stupid island had apparently had other plans, which was why Vanessa was eating a vat of Haagen-Dazs alone on the couch and sulking.

(Open for that guy who lives there and anyone else who might want to stop by.)

OOC: Availabilty Cha-Cha

Jul. 15th, 2017 02:49 pm
justlike_a_girl: (Dani -- Fence)
[personal profile] justlike_a_girl
Through the wonders of modern technology, I am posting from a boat to say that my ability will be spotty for the next 2 weeks while I cross a bunch of stuff off my bucket list. (Not SDCC, unfortunately. One day...)

No animal transformations for my girls this time. Dani is off at a horse auction and Mary is trolling Gunther by visiting Woflgang Puck restaurants.

If anyone is interested in following my adventures, I'm on Twitter as @thenamazing and @ameliasubverxin and Instagram as @thenamazing.
futurespacemom: (Master Kiwiiks)
[personal profile] futurespacemom
The currents in the Force were strange here. However she had ended up here, there was no denying that.

There were an adorable little tooka and some other creature she'd never seen before wanting her attention, and she was able to find food for them, but then she paused to meditate. A strange place, a strange planet, when just yesterday she'd been on Tython.

And a lightsaber here that wasn't hers. It felt...good, if unused and in need of a bit of tuning. Well, that would be something to do. Maybe she'd find someplace to sit and take care of that, once she made sure she was safe.


[OOC: And Hera is now Jedi Master Bela Kiwiiks. Yay!]

The Apartment, New York, Saturday

Jul. 15th, 2017 07:28 pm
seveninchmotto: ([plot] Nerd: Wait huh?)
[personal profile] seveninchmotto
As far as Isabelle was concerned, this was just another regular day. Because she wasn't aware she was supposed to be about a foot taller, a lot more pale, and also covered in scars and runes.

She was, however, very aware that she couldn't find her laptop. Not anywhere. She was going around the apartment, peeking under the bed and into cupboards like maybe she'd gotten distracted last night after she finished working and stuffed it somewhere unusual? Val had asked her to make a thing and well, she'd been working on it way too late and she had a habit of some absent-mindedness sometimes, and ––

But seriously, where was it? It was as if no one lived here who depended on their laptops to get through the day!

(Take a hint, Izzy.)

[ooc: NFB but open for calls/texts/the boy! Why go AU when you can go for an AU from within an AU? Izzy's now an AU version of the version of her from Shadowhunters.]
merchant_of_miracles: (Default)
[personal profile] merchant_of_miracles
Being a little man living in a little cart in front of a house that doubled as a "unicorn" stable was fine when you were, indeed, a little man. Turns out it wasn't so ideal when you ceased to be a little man and instead became a very large robot assassin.

Scaramouche the Merciless thought nothing of the ruins of a cart scattered around him when he "woke up," but he was a little surprised by the one-eyed goat with a horn on its head licking at his face. "Oooh, careful, babe," he said, putting up a hand and gently pushing the goat away. "I wouldn't want to rust, and you should take a guy out to dinner first, man."

When he tried to get up, he noticed another goat nibbling on the hem of his fabulous purple jacket. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, babe, these digs are not for goat digestion." Thankfully, it was easy to pick the goat up and set him aside. "Now if you'll excuse me, how about you babes just make with the grass, and I'll make with the phone and call Aku." He pulled a small pink phone out of his pocket. "Beep-beep-beep, ba-beep-boo-bep."

The phone didn't seem to be connecting, but the goats were back at the coat. "These goats," he shook his head, "have gone beaucoup cuckoo." But he had a solution, pulling out his magic flute, trilling a few notes that allowed the pieces of the broken cart to form a fence around the goats to keep them in place.

"That'll keep you crazy goats in your place," he said. "It's been fun, babe, but I've got to move on. Time for me to shuffle off stage. Au revoir, Chèvre. Scaramouche has got some business to attend to."

Although he didn't know what that business was, yet, but there had to be a reason he was here, right? He was Aku's Number One assassin, after all, he didn't just get sent somewhere for no reason. Maybe he'd just go find himself a drinky-poo to help him think while he sorted it all out, warming up those sweet vocal chords as he scoped out the new locale.

"~Bee da bap boop be bop-bop-bah.~"


[[ oh, yeah, baby! Most def open if anyone wants to hit up one real hip assassin cat, my man]]

The Attic Above Luke's, Saturday

Jul. 15th, 2017 05:52 am
spin_kick_snap: (zzzFlower: Window)
[personal profile] spin_kick_snap
Catherine Leigh Dollanganger peered at the window to the world outside. The attic of Foxworth Hall felt different and strange, bigger and brighter and airier than she thought she remembered. Maybe the hunger was making her hallucinate? But she must still be in the attic. That was her whole life now, the attic and Christopher and the twins...

Not that she knew where they were right now. She was all alone in this attic; no one had answered her calls or knocks on the inside doors. Were they being punished by Grandmother? Was she being punished by Grandmother? Cathy didn't know anymore. What she did know was that there was a whole wide world outside that window and she was going to steal as many glances out of it as she could to remind herself that there was still a world filled with ballerinas and movie stars and children with loving, living parents who didn't lock them all away.

[Kathy is now Cathy from Flowers in the Attic, that old gem. More trigger warnings here, for child abuse, neglect, and poooossibly incest if I figure out where I'm taking Cathy from. ALL OF MY AUs ARE SUPER HAPPY AND FUNCTIONAL THIS YEAR!]

75 Godiva Road, Saturday Morning

Jul. 15th, 2017 05:20 am
geniuswithasmartphone: (zzzNoah: Shirtless)
[personal profile] geniuswithasmartphone
Noah often didn't want to get up in the mornings when that arrogant overseer, Cato, rang the bell calling the field hands to work. Being a blacksmith was easier than picking cotton--no worries about getting whipped if he didn't make weight, for one--but it was still long hours and hard work, making sure that all the horses were shoed and the tools repaired and every bit of metal on the plantation was bright and shining.

Waking up this morning was even harder. His bed felt soft, like a cloud, and his blankets like the gentlest cotton, wouldn't scratch a baby's naked ass. His sheets felt clean and crisp and the soft breathing from behind him--

Sheets?

Breathing?

Noah's eyes snapped open but he made himself lie perfectly still. Sure, last night had been one of Bareback Shaw's parties, but that didn't explain why he was asleep in one of the white folks' rooms! He didn't even wanna guess what kinda punishment that would entail if he was found here. Never mind the one he'd get for not being back in his quarters by sunup.

Another muffled noise behind him. Noah wasn't sure he wanted to look over and see who it was. He was praying that it would be another slave. Getting caught in a white woman's bed would result in something far worse than just more stripes on his back.

Maybe he could just...eeeeease on out of this bed and be out the door and on his way back to Macon before anyone was the wiser.

[For thems that live here! Also TRIGGER WARNING! Hardison is Noah from WGN's Underground and is a slave from 1850's Georgia. That means there will be references to slavery, beatings, lynchings, sexual assault and rape/coercion and pretty much every other horrible topic that comes up in conjunction with treating humans like chattel.]

75 Godiva, Friday afternoon

Jul. 14th, 2017 11:53 am
vdistinctive: (pleased-face)
[personal profile] vdistinctive
Eliot had handwavily spent the week looking up tips for teaching guitar. He was self-taught, himself -- other than the tips he'd gotten from Kaye-Lynn during his very brief tenure as a country music sensation -- and it was a skill he'd picked up young enough that he didn't 100% remember how he'd gone about it. It was good to review some of the bare basics for himself, and besides, it'd been forever since he and Kathy had had their regular teaching sessions. He'd rather missed them.

He'd picked up a fancy auto-tuner so they wouldn't have to spend their whole first lesson on tuning by ear -- they could cover that later -- and a variety of beginners chord books in different musical styles, since he wasn't sure yet what kind of music she'd want to play. Probably not the early American standards or country-western classics that he'd first learned. Though he'd probably try to sneak some Hank Williams or Johnny Cash in there somewhere.

He was, in fact, warming up with some Johnny Cash while he waited for Kathy to arrive. He really had been everywhere, after all.

[ooc: for Kathy and the partners, though if anyone else has a burning desire to visit, that's okay too]

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