Melrose Chance Apartments lobby, Saturday

[cataclysmicluck.livejournal.com]

It was a quiet morning so far. Nobody had called down to the office with a dead body or a lght bulb that needed to be replaced yet, so Zayne was taking it easy and lounged next to pool in the lobby. After all, what better way was there to show off his chest in public this early in the morning? If anyone had any issues that needed to be taken care of, he was close enough to the phone or they could just, you know, come downstairs. Maybe take a dip in the pool first, like that was normal behavior.

Which it totally was.

In the meantime, Zayne was just going to tan and ponder what property he should buy up next. Maybe the pet store, and then kick all the pets out, if he wanted to become a real land tycoon. But that still seemed like a few steps away. You probably needed to build up to abandoning that many animals. Something to think about while he lounged.

[OOC: Open to residents or anyone who wants to lounge by/fight by/fight in/drown in a kiddie pool. IF YOU WANT TO DROWN IN THE KIDDIE POOL, let me know. Zayne can be in the office for a few minutes.

And if you're interested in renting at MCA, you can find information on apartments here.]

A Tree in the Park, Saturday Daytime

[halfman-lion.livejournal.com]

Tyrion Lannister had a little list.

He also had a big fucking gun.

The list was of people he needed to use the gun on. The gun was to solve problems. Mostly problems for the Lannister drug cartel, but he'd use it to solve other people's problems if they asked real nice. Asking nice? Meant giving him money.

For now, there was no one to shoot, so Tyrion dragged himself and the gun up to a comfortable branch in the tree and watched for targets to wander past. He was a patient man, but if he got bored, there were plenty of birds to practice his aim on.

[OOC: For anyone who wants to order a hit, get killed, or just ask the violent dwarf why he has a gun in a tree.]

The docks- Saturday afternoon

[annieadderall.livejournal.com]

Annie finally had everything going for her. After spending a good deal of her teenage years working the pole in order to help her destitute mother pay the bills, she'd finally gotten out of the business and was on her way to becoming a successful doctor. Her mother would be so proud of her.

Except that her mother was still destitute and paying for medical school was expensive. The clinic where Annie was interning only paid so much, and so she'd once again had to find a way to make ends meet. She was really going to have to find herself a rich husband.

As soon as she'd finished the deal, Annie walked down the docks with her backpack full of alcohol, which would be sold under the table in order to make a few bucks. She also knew it was probably wrong to use the clinic as a front for her illicit dealings, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

And if she took a moment to stand on the docks and look forlornly out at the water with a single tear welling in her eye, well. Who could blame her?


[I'm getting the feeling I watched WAY too much GH as a kid. SO OPEN.]

The Cold, Cold Streets of Fandom | Afternoon, Despite the Dark, Dark Darkness Overhead

[dollpocalypse]

It was nearly the end of the lunch hour, and Topher still hadn't met his quota.

Ever since he had been turned out onto the street by his one-time benefactor, Topher had been forced to satisfy a set amount of clients per day. Despite hating every minute of it, Topher had watched as his life became an endless routine of john after john, spending endless afternoons out on the street waiting to be approached. It was miserable, and yet, The Russian wouldn't accept anything less. Topher didn't want to know what she would do if he didn't bring in enough money for the day. It would be cruel, he knew that, and he would surely end up suffering far worse than an afternoon spent on the streets.

So this afternoon found him like all the others: waiting, shivering, and contemplating the misery and despair that was his life. Maybe one day he would fall in love, he thought wistfully, and rise above the emptiness that had consumed him for so long.

Wouldn't that be nice.

[[Open! Though there will be no actual sex happening. Topher will just probably weep at anyone who tries to pick him up.]]

Stark Industries, Saturday

[doyoufondue.livejournal.com]

Sometime in the middle of the night Howard's totally awesome mustache disappeared, only to be replaced by a 5 o'clock shadow that George Michael would be jealous of. And he'd somehow managed to get eyeliner on that was so perfect, women might be jealous of his skills. So, he had that going for him today.

That and his illicit alcohol smuggling business that kept the Starks in power on this island. Screw the rules, he had money! And a large selection of fine alcohol saved up from when he moved in!

He looked out the window of the show at his domain, thinking of his future wedding that would once and for all bring those damned Skywalkers under his heel. Where they belonged.

[[Open speakeasy is open!]]

Outside the Perk, Saturday morning

[iwishiwasbig.livejournal.com]

Dave was in bad shape. He was hooked on drugs. DRUGS. Well, a drug.

Caffeine.

He would have gotten a fix in the dorms, but as far as he could tell, he probably went on a crazed binge during a caffeine blackout because there wasn't any in there. Despite shaking horribly from withdrawal, Dave managed to make his way over to the Perk, where he could get the real good stuff. But they were all out, too.

Desperate and despondent, Dave stole a sheet of paper and made a sign to advertise outside:

WILL WHORE FOR
COFFEE

Holding the sign up, Dave slumped against the building, filled with despair, but not coffee.

The Causeway [morning]

[momslilassassin]

[Voiceover: "The part of Ben Skywalker will continue to be played by James Franco because after that Academy Award hosting gig, no one else would take him."]

Ben Skywalker had not stepped foot in Fandom since Tony Stark and Ender Wiggin had become an item. He hadn't asked for the details (though he probably should have...), had just taken his leather jacket and his motorcycle and his broken heart (and a portion of the diamond mine fortune) and roared off into movies the distance.

But now that the movie career hadn't worked out rumors reached him that Tony and Ender were planning to get married, Ben just couldn't stay away.

He and his amazing motorcycle (sans helmet, but plus cigarette because he was a rebel) came back to Fandom in a cloud of exhaust and emo. He barely blinked as his cigarette disappeared from his fingers.

"Fandom," he sighed. "I haven't missed you."

[OOC: Oh so open.]

The Devil's Nest: Saturday, 9/10

[nookiepowered]

You'd think that Deb's first stop -- after crawling out of a plane crash with only a shoulderbag, a disheveled flight attendant uniform, a head wound and a vague woozy feeling that Deb was a really stupid name, despite the fact that she was wearing it pinned to her chest -- would have been a hospital, but no.

It was the Kwik Stop. And after that, the General Store. And after that, the lobby of every sit-down restaurant she trudged past in her uneven shoes with one of the high heels broken off.

AND NOT ONE OF THEM HAD A GODDAMN CIGARETTE FOR SALE!

Finally, after circling back to raid the Kwik-Stop for emergency measures, she'd stumbled -- hands shaking, arms plastered with patches and half a pack of Nicorette gum in her mouth -- into a gothy dance-club place, where sure she'd be able to bum a smoke off some pretentious black-clad kid, right?

JHSGAJKHGSAJKHG THERE WASN'T EVEN ANYBODY AT THE BAR, LET ALONE THE DANCE FLOOR!

Swearing, not remotely under her breath, Deb tossed her bag on the countertop and slipped behind the bar herself. Which... didn't seem to have any booze -- oh right, Fandom, she'd heard about this place -- but she didn't really care about that. First because she was busy ransacking the shelves -- what self-respecting bartender wouldn't have a secret stash of cigs -- and second because what self-respecting flight attendant wouldn't already have a jump-bag half full of those tiny airline bottles?

[OOC: Open! There is no booze for sale, but the chick behind the counter might deal it to you under the counter.]

Caritas | Saturday Evening

[rocksthescarf.livejournal.com]

There was absolutely no explanation given as to why or how Charles Bass-possibly-Stark-who-knows-anymore came back from the dead after getting gutted during the last episode but did anybody really need care? He brought in the ratings and, by god, he was going to survive this time.

When Charles stepped into Caritas the dramatic music from the zombies swelled and his scarf blew in the wind that came seemingly out of nowhere.

"Tino, to the distillery. I require a bit of the Shine," Charles ordered. "And stop playing Dueling Banjos when you're down there, it freaks people out."

The Graveyard | Early Evening | Saturday | September 10

[therewaslife]

The memories were still gone and he still had no idea who he was. He had no idea where he was and he could barely remember leaving the library and ending up in front of tombstones that held no answers to the secrets that were locked inside his mind. He wanted to cry. He wanted to ask for help but he didn't know who to ask.

He took another step and pain felt like it was splitting his head open. He fell to his knees, holding his head and groaning. Flashes of light lashed through his mind, scraps of visions and memories long gone. There was one though, one that he managed to retain.

There was...a building. And he was there. He was there, standing next to himself. No, his twin. His twin was there and he was crying.

The vision stopped and the pain in his head abated. He was still on the soft, springy ground in the graveyard. He had a twin. He had...someone. But he had no idea what his name was and where he was. He was still alone and that one memory was so painful that he almost wished he hadn't regained it.

[Open, if you're in the area, sure!]

Our Lady Of Fandom - Saturday Evening

[knight-fatali.livejournal.com]

Seifer had spent that morning getting the church in order, and this evening he was there again. Right there, in the front, kneeling down and praying with his rosary in hand. He was praying that the Lord would forgive him for the lust and depravity that this town brought into his mind. It was just so hard to resist sometimes, and he needs his God's love and guidance to do so.

Not that his focus on his own troubles would stop him from helping anyone who came through the doors. He was there to serve. Whether it be to calm a troubled soul, ease a hurting heart, or perform a marriage ceremony or two.

It seemed Fandom was rather obsessed with marriages.



[Yep, open post for you all]

JGoB, Saturday Morning

[lockestheway]

Peter had been gone from the island for a very... unfortunate while. After his brother's defection, he'd retreated to Bavaria to lick his wounds. But he'd always known it wouldn't be forever: that he would return, reclaim his position on the island - tsh, on all the Starks, and the Skywalkers, and whoever else - and have some damn good pastries.

"I vill have the espresso," he told the wench at the counter, and tapped his cane on the floor.

His minions... they would know. Oh, they'd know he was here. He'd given the signal, and now they would come. They had to come.

After all, there were microchips involved. Or brainwashing. Or bribes. Or just plain evil. Look, even Peter forgot what plot twist was held responsible for his minions from day to day.

[[ for Peter's minions, but also open to anyone else, with a note that I am currently stuck at a filming location and will be on heavy SP for a few more hours... ]]

The park, Saturday after dark

[locointhecoco]

Not long after the sunset on Saturday, a mysterious light swirled into the sky above the park. It hovered uneasily over the lake for a few moments, before a bright, cone-shaped beam illuminated a nearby bench, bright enough to blind anyone who might be there watching. When the light cleared -- and the spots of afterburn cleared from blinded eyes -- a strange pink creature was left behind. It stood on all fours, almost pony-like, were it not for the seriously blunted face.

The creature, a cheerful, happy being named Pinkie Pie, looked around at the park and found it good.

"What a perfect place to spread my message of toleration and love!" She climbed up on the bench and stood with her hooves in the air. "People of Earth! I come in peace!"

The aliens had landed. And it was good.

[ooc: open, should anyone be wandering through the park. Pinkie's gonna love and tolerate the $^%@#$ out of Fandom!]

The Beach, Saturday Evening

[hoorayimrich.livejournal.com]

With his plans well on their way to completion, Tony could spend the evening on the beach. Looking out at the ocean in a dramatic fashion as he cackled with glee.

Soon he'd inherit the Stark fortune and crush everyone like his father could never manage.

"Soon, Fandom. Soon I'll rule over this land and no one will ever laugh at my flat behind ever again!" Oh, the cackling was cathartic. Really it was.

[[Oh god, so open]]

Raven's Decadent Delights, Saturday evening

[trigons_child]

The nuns of Azarath had raised Raven to be good, to not abuse her powers, to not use them on others without their permission except in emergencies. But Fandom had changed all that. There were so many people with so many desperate needs -- for love, for comfort, for joy. And she could provide that.

For a price, of course.

She'd become very wealthy selling the feelings she created. At first it was just for her customers themselves, an afternoon of euphoria or the ending of a sorrow. But then some started to ask her to use her powers on others. Make them afraid. Make them fall in love. It didn't matter as long as she was paid.

She opened up the shop, lounging on her velvet chaise, popping grapes in her mouth as she waited to see what customers the night would bring.



[Anyone in need of an empathic whammy, come on in. ;) ]

Streets of Fandom, Late Saturday

[olympian-herc.livejournal.com]

With a flare of flamenco guitar, there was Herculio, bronzed muscles glinting in the moonlight. He wore nothing but a pair of green trunks, a luchadore mask clenched in his fist. He was disgraced, no longer the mighty warrior of the squared circle he once was.

He dropped to his knees in the streets and howled at the stars.

"Espero que no se arrastre mi gemelo malvado su salida de eso pozo que descargamos su cuerpo adentro. Para la esta noche deseo ser solo con mi dolor profundo y el sufrimiento en la pérdida de mi esposa querida que fue funcionada con encima por un caballo!" he shouted, a single perfect tear glinting on his bronzed cheek.

[ooc: Open post, and my apologies to anyone who speaks Spanish for Herc's Babel-fished Telenovella dialog.]