Around Fandom, after curfew, wee small hours of Tuesday/ Wednesday

[regretiz4u.livejournal.com]

Time to see how well those smoke bombs worked to conceal what she was doing, yes. And the night-vision goggles and gas mask, as well as that red wig to add to the confusion. And the stencils she had cut back at the theater, and that glorious spray paint.

Sorry, Kitty. Kenzi kept part of her promise? The paint was on the streets. And some benches. Maybe one or two garbage cans. Not the walls of any buildings.

FREE ZOE WINCHESTER!

Anakin Skywalker was here.

Take Umbrage at Umbridge. Someone should.

And occasionally, a small Peace-Out/Sod-Off sign. Hard to say which, for sure. Aaaand Kenzi was still humming. "Hello darkness, my old friend..."

[FB-Resistance only, message left until whenever some loyalist comes by to hose it off or scrub it off. Reactions from any are fine.]

Deep in the Preserve, Wee hours of Wed. Morning

[waveagreenflag.livejournal.com]

During the winter months, Robin spent most of his time staying in a secret alcove in the back room of Things Reborn.  But he liked to stay in the swamp in the preserve during spring and summer.

Sure it meant more of a trip to get to town for messenger work and the like, but he was okay with that.

And now he was really glad that he'd made the swamp his home.

"This weekend." he told the animals that lived in the preserve.  "It's time."

<small>[NFI, and NFB, except for resistance only.]</small>

The Attic of an Old Warehouse, AKA the Nominal Temporary Wiggin Home Base, Wednesday

[gameinprogress.livejournal.com]

They would have to take more of the heavy hitters out of the equation.

Ender knew that much.

Tony had been too wary to get too close to, but there was a chance they could pull him aside eventually. That wouldn't amount to much, though; he was just one player. But it would be something.

Ender sighed, leaning back in his seat in his little makeshift room. They had put up a deadline because he knew that without it, people would continue to be scattered in their efforts, and prone to give in to desperation. The downside of this was that they had a deadline, and time was ticking, and while Peter had mentioned some promising ideas coming in...

"I could have used you here, Bean," he murmured.

The large expanse of the mostly-empty attic was dimly lit, with scattered old boxes here and there. He could hear Peter tinkering with his desk in the next room, but that was that. Quiet.

[[ open, both for talking-to-Wiggins and talking-to-one-another purposes. FB for resistance. ]]

Wellspring Arms & Meditation Center, Wednesday

[hasconviction.livejournal.com]

After the usual prep for the day, Coulson made his way to the meditation room. It was, of course, blindingly pink in "honor" of Umbridge. There were cat-shaped pillows all over, and the pillows that weren't shaped like cats had pictures of cats on them. Over the audio system, Coulson was pumping in cat meows.

He considered just having a cat or two in the meditation room for people to pet if they wanted to relax, but he figured that if the rest of the store was secretly a passive aggressive attack on Umbridge, her powers, and her rules, this room might as well be ironic. And, frankly, tacky enough that it might pass suspicion.

If anyone needed Coulson, he would just be a minute. All of these pillows didn't fluff themselves, after all.

[OOC: Open, but standard work slowness.]

Streets of Fandom, Wednesday Morning

[nomutineer.livejournal.com]

Wednesday morning patrols were some of Kaidan's favorites: it was still relatively quiet out, and he got to watch the sun rise up above the water if he got out early enough.

It made up for the job; Kaidan got that the patrols were necessary, but he didn't really believe in striking out with violence unless he had to. Most of the time, that worked out okay. Sometimes, though, it didn't. And that was... regrettable.

Today seemed okay so far, though. He walked down the streets clad in full black armor, pistol floating behind his back, caught in his armor's mass effect field. Quiet. Calm. Decent. That's the way it was supposed to be.

[[ open! ]]

The Rocky Bits, Tuesday Night

[truekindofsith.livejournal.com]

Cara was patrolling the rocky bits tonight. She'd made the argument that there could have been some exceptionally stupid resistance members hiding out here, but really she just wanted to have some privacy.

"Well, that was a triumph," she remarked sarcastically to herself, rubbing the scabbed over cut on her cheekbone. It wouldn't scar, but it was likely to itch like anything while it healed. Certain people had no cause to complain about pulling punches when they threw knives at her head. Even if they knew she could duck them. ( I'm making a note here: )

As the last notes died away. Cara waited until it became clear we wasn't going to start singing again before scrambling down from the rock she was perched on as quickly as humanly possible.

[That Cara was singing FB, the lyrics not so much.]

The Streets of Fandom | Wednesday Afternoon

[nomoralcrisis.livejournal.com]

So yesterday's patrol had been... interesting. Getting to play with his sonic immobilizer was always fun, but being threatened by Tony Stark -- who for whatever reason seemed to think Topher was remotely affected by what he thought -- wasn't quite as pleasant an experience. Shockingly.

But fine, Stark supposedly had a killswitch on the weapons he'd given out. All that meant was that Topher had stayed up late last night building himself some tech of his own, just in case it did come to blows between them. It wasn't his favorite kind of project by any means -- he far preferred using Stark's weapons and spending his own considerable scientific prowess on building things less likely to sting, burn or shock -- but it was a good idea to have a backup now that things were tense between them.

So today he was patrolling as usual, pockets full of Stark tech and a couple of his own toys just in case. And he might be inclined to be extra aggressive today, just because of the sleep-deprivation. Nice job breaking it, Tony.

[[open!]]

Music Town; Wednesday [ 07/25 ].

[funfaro.livejournal.com]

Fawn would not be too ashamed to admit that she was a coward; if the shoe fit, she might as well wear it. If being quiet and mostly staying out of the way, and doing as she was supposed to allowed her to just sort of shrink into the background and go mostly unnoticed, then she was a happy camper.

However, if anything was going to break her, it was quite possibly being able to sell nothing more than the same mindless, unmoving, boring, uninspired crap that counted for approved music around here. She could handle listening to the same smooth elevator jazz all day on the speaker, but, so help her, if one more person came in asking for a Kenny G album, she was going to whip out her harmonica and her bootleg mix tapes and go to town...

Maybe if she just put out a sign that claimed they were sold out, and then feign ignorance about the box that was hidden in the employee bathroom.

[[ open post is open and OCD free! And bonus cookies to everyone who Sees What I Did Thar. ]]

Streets of Fandom, Wednesday Evening

[alittlecrooked.livejournal.com]

Another day, another patrol throughout the streets of Fandom, looking for signs of any suspicious activity.

If you'd told the Jake of two years ago that he'd one day act as an enforcer of some sort of... totalitarian regime, he probably would've laughed. Laughed and then punched you in the face. Of course, several rounds of Imperio had taken care of that problem with authority, and now Jake was only too happy to act in the interests of The Man.

...or The Woman, as the case may be. The important part to remember was that anyone looking the least bit suspicious was bound to get hauled down to the station for 'questioning'.

Caritas- Wednesday

[dontphasemebro.livejournal.com]

Between yesterday's injuries and the vandalism (Kenzi), Kitty was a little uneasy today. She blamed at least part of it on knowing something was going down this weekend, and just wanting everything to go smoothly until then. The odds of that happening were probably slim to none, but a girl could dream.

She was more than ready to put on a smile for anyone who came in, though. Part of that going smoothly thing.


[You know the potential SP drill. At least people aren't walking past my desk every two minutes anymore.]

28 Sphinx Street, Wednesday Evening

[tangledpaths.livejournal.com]

After her visit to the detention center, Savannah bypassed her usual haunts and patrols and went right home. Once she was through the door, she set up the spells that were keyed to only her and Angela and then went right to the bathroom to be very sick. When she had emptied everything out of her system that wanted to come out, she cleaned her face and brushed her teeth.

Her visits to the detention center and what she had to do to keep up her cover always rattled her, but it had been so much worse today. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that Sean wanted to kill her and she had to pretend to torture her own mother.

Changing out of the pink and black outfit and into something more her own style, Savannah went into the living room to sit on the couch.


[[OOC: For one and NFB]]

Outside JGoB, Wednesday Afternoon

[3s-a-crowd.livejournal.com]

After classes had finally gotten out--and Sholeh had never been so glad to be released from classes before--she'd found herself with lots to think about. And a hand that hurt a lot, especially after having to climb the wall in Bootcamp. Rather than scurry back to her dorm and try to lose herself in a book as she usually did, Sholeh decided that a nice long walk was in order. Maybe that would help clear her mind. She could feel her sisters at the back of her head, cold fury radiating off of Zeela in waves, but both of them were quiet for not, letting Sholeh come to her own conclusions about things.

Sholeh spent the entire walk to town deep in her own thoughts, trying to reconcile her thoughts on authority with the punishment she'd received, with the teachers like Mr. Priestly and Mr. Bolton and Mr. Wayne and the teachers like Ms. Maggotbone and Ms. Kennedy and the Madri. By the time she was paying attention to where she was, she had walked all the way to JGoB--and there, had stopped. Now she was staring in the window at all the delicious baked goods on display. Oddly enough, Sholeh couldn't tell if she was made more hungry or nauseated by the sight of them.

[Open for all and sundry]