Stark Industries, Thursday

[faithandscience.livejournal.com]

Today, William was working on a fog machine.

Why anyone on the island owned a fog machine was beyond him, but he'd long since learned that sometimes those questions just weren't worth asking.

Unfortunately his work was made much more difficult by the simple fact that all of the drawers, which normally housed the small bits-and-pieces neccessary for most repairs, were filled with coffee. A fact which he discovered when reaching for a screwdriver and ending up with a coffee-soaked hand (and sleeve... sigh) instead. Thankfully, the coffee wasn't scalding hot.

Further investigation confirmed that yes, it was every drawer. Today was not going to be terribly productive, it seemed.

Demon Marcus, Thursday

[stars_and_money]

Jeremy had finally discovered the burn barrel in the back room.

He was not entirely sure how he felt about it, lacking some of the other employees' natural taste for pyromania. So, he was going to spend the entire day thinking on whether he thought it was okay to burn clothes just because they were hideous. Such an ethical dilemma!

Or, he was going to stumble onto some new Ferragamo stock while he was in the back, and forget all about burning things while he lazily got to work on getting those on display. That was what actually happened.

[no ocd!]

Fandom High Lacrosse Club, The Park, Thursday After Classes

[nomoresportscars]

It was time for the first ever meeting of the Fandom High Lacrosse Club. Jackson had handwavily sent an email to all those who'd signed up, telling them to get into sports clothes before meeting him in the park. He was there waiting for them with a sign that said FHLC, as if his mere presence and the lacrosse sticks and other gear on the grass right beside him weren't enough of a clue.

"Welcome to Fandom High Lacrosse Club," he said, once it looked like everyone who was going to show up had done so. "If that's not what you were expecting but you know what lacrosse is, stay." He was desperate for knowledgeable players, okay. You could tell by how he looked like it pained him to say the next bit, which was, "We're going to start off simple." Seriously, he could have grimaced at that. "First, you're gonna introduce yourselves to the group and maybe remind me again how little you know of the sport right now because this school has no respect for athletics. Then, we're going to start practising something very basic, which is shooting the ball where you want it to go. But first, introductions. Guess I'll begin."

He squared his shoulders a bit. "I'm Jackson Whittemore, and until moving here I was captain of the lacrosse team at my old school." He'd been co-captain for maybe like a day, so it didn't count. "Beacon Hills High has won the California state championship for the past three years. So yeah, I'm pretty good at lacrosse. Now, your turn." He pointed at someone at random. "You go first."

And once the introductions were done, Jackson went on to explain and demonstrate how to shoot in lacrosse. He pointed of towards a few trees where he'd fixed some cans to as makeshift targets. "See, I've put up some cans over there for target practise," he said, then rolled his eyes, "but at a beginners stage, you can probably just try aiming in the general direction of a tree, and we'll build up from there." Assuming he had the patience. "You can work at it alone or with partners, I don't care, I'll be looking at how all of you are doing and telling you what you're doing wrong." Whether they wanted him to or not. "Now, get your sticks and balls."

That comment alone had to make up for the lack locker rooms.

[ocd up!]

Dite's Decadent Delights, Thursday Afternoon

[glacial_queen]

There were butterflies inside the store today. Butterflies. Blue ones.

Karla had no idea how they'd gotten inside the building at all, but they were there and fluttering around. Normally, that wouldn't be so bad, except that they were talking. To her. In some odd mix of valley girl and netspeak.

"U like wanna milk me now?"

Oh. And asking her to milk them. THAT WAS WEIRD, RIGHT? It was sad how broken her crazy-meter was after living on the island for four years.

She'd spent a good hour or so trying to ignore them, but they'd just kept fluttering around her. And talking. Eventually, just to shut them up, she reached up to catch one and tried to...milk it. Yeah. Except then she was told she wasn't doing it right.

"OMG, you, like, tried to milx me. What? No warmup? No preamble? You just, like, walk up to a butterfly with your clammy hands and try to milx it?!

How had this become her life?

She tried to pet the butterfly and then was told that if she wanted to massage it, she needed massage lotion. By this time, she was determined to do this. If for no other reason than because she wanted to see what butterfly milk actually was. She'd marched to the back to get some damn massage lotion to use on a freaking butterfly and then returned to the front room, again, trying to figure out when this had become her life.

"All right, if you want your damn massage, line up, because I am not chasing you down to--"

The front room was in chaos. Nemit had woken up from a nap and decided that the pretty blue butterflies were there for his dinner. There were butterflies screeching everywhere, and Nemi was a tiny, beeping blur as he dashed around after them. On the floor were several bottles of milk lying about haphazardly. Before Karla even had a chance to figure out where they had come from, Nemi caught another butterfly in his beak and two more bottles fell to the ground.

...She wasn't even going to ask anymore. She didn't want to know. Instead, she was going to put earplugs into her ears and write down ideas for the student council. And--okay, at least try the butterfly milk since it was right there.

Huh. Butterfly milk had the delicate effervescence of a thousand butterfly farts dancing on the tongue. Who knew?

Caritas, Thursday evening

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

Kenzi was in, exploring the rainbow of fruit-flavors that was another site with Jell-O shot recipes. Welcome to the tasting party! [open, here, but busy, so limited OCD tonight.]

An Abandoned Warehouse, Thursday After Dark

[myownface]

Sparkle's 'haven't gotten into shit lately' alarm had been going nuts on him, over the past little while. Here he was, being a good little student in a good little school, somewhere just South of Crazyville. And that was... well...

It was just wrong. And this needed to be fixed. And there was only one easy way to remedy this issue, yes.

Under the cover of night, a boy with a backpack made his way through an alleyway, looking for an easy way to break into one of the abandoned warehouses. In his backpack? A hammer. Some spray paint. A sandwich for later, in case he got hungry. A cat, who was peeking out the top curiously as he set to work, prying some of the boards free from a window.

When the going was good, the good did graffiti.

[OOC: As open as any abandoned warehouse in the dead of night can possibly be!]