The Wayne Foundation, Saturday

[willbethenight.livejournal.com]

"Tallest in the back, please. Just stand there for ten minutes and you'll get some porridge, you adorable little orphans," Bruce said. He even wiped a smudge off the face of one of the smaller orphans. These orphans were standing in a group three rows deep. And behind them, Bruce took a seat at his desk.

There were some people who claimed that Bruce Wayne hid his shady dealings behind his charitable works. He liked the sound of that, so he made a point to literally hide behind orphans whenever he got to work. He was just about to make a phone call to order another shipment of caffeine pills to flood Fandom with - the profit margins were higher with the pills than they were with real coffee, especially that fine Columbian bean - when he saw a chat window pop up.

service to UR supplier has been disconnected, brother. UR criminal empire is only valid while supplies last.

"Goddamn you, Batman," Bruce cursed under his breath. He had enough problems with the werewolves as it was. But now if his own twin brother was spoiling his caffeine imports? "Get out of here, you goddamned orphans! Go to the breakfast nook and get your porridge!" Bruce needed to think.

[OOC: Yep, open.]

The Arms Hotel, Saturday

[gunslingerpose]

This morning, Nikolai rolled out of bed already naked and went and took a long, hot, steamy shower. He spent some time at the gym, the same way he did every morning, working out for a good hour before going and taking (of course) another shower. Equally long. Equally steamy. The only time his haunted chestnut eyes were ever uncovered by his bad-boy mirrored shades was, of course, while he was taking those showers. It wouldn't do to be seen without them, after all. They were part of the image.

Plus that whole tragic backstory thing involving the bad blood transfusion back in Greece. But mostly the image.

And then, because tragic and beautiful heroes apparently only had to work one day a week in order to get by around here, he made his way to the front desk of the hotel where, no doubt, he would end up spending his day talking to all manner of guests, most of them gorgeous, all of them with tragic backstories of their own. That was generally the way things were in this neck of the woods, after all.

And on top of that, he was going to spend some time working on his other job as a highly successful Hollywood agent, making phone calls to high profile actors and actresses back in Los Angeles, arranging new roles and contracts and even the occasional ill-advised party. It would no doubt be full of terrible life choices and no small shortage of drama, which he would inevitably end up having to clean up after when all was said and done.

Welcome to the Arms Hotel!
Today's Specials:
Beef Bourguignon Probably Without Arsenic
Foie Gras Definitely Without Arsenic. May Cause Amnesia.
Creme Brulee With Sleeping Powder
Frozen Bean and Cheese Burritos, Microwaved

Yeah, nothing had actually changed for Nikolai this weekend. He'd taken one look at Gunther's menu today, shaken his head, and added the last item himself because he wanted to be able to eat without waking up in Bosnia or tied to a train track or something.

The Arms Hotel is open!

[OOC: No, really! Open!]

Luke's, Saturday

[6buckstohisname.livejournal.com]

When Dean woke up this morning, he was disorientated and lost. Mostly shown by stumbling around and holding his head like he had a terrible headache. But that was not the case here!

Oh no. Instead, he had...

...

...

...Amnesia.

Aw yeah, dramatic pauses.

"Who am I?" Dean asked the cooks. "Where am I?"

The cooks just went back to fighting over who slept with who's fiance this weekend. The answer was all of them. All of them slept with each other's fiances.

[[Who needs OCD today?]]

Turtle & Canary, Saturday

[fix-it-guy.livejournal.com]

It seemed like a normal sort of day in the store. Mike was standing behind the counter looking tired and put-upon, Apu was stocking shelves, and the panda was mopping the floor. Ordinary. Boring.

"Apu," Mike said, out of nowhere. "I'm leaving you for the panda."

A single, tragic tear trickled down Apu's cheek, and the day continued.

There was still a NOW HIRING sign in the window.

Today's Squishy flavors: Betrayal, Romance, Grape Judas


[Open and OCD-free]

Devil's Nest Bar and Now Strip Club [Saturday morning]

[rilla-myrilla.livejournal.com]

Rilla Blythe, forced to strip her way through college in order to be able to pay the bills for herself and her adorable illegitimate son, was in the back room of the Devil's Nest trying in vain to get the glitter and regret out of her skin after another long shift of degrading herself for five dollar bills.

"Why does life have to be so hard?" she demanded to her reflection as a single, photogenic tear trickled down her cheek.

[OOC: Open to other strippers, people passing through, whatever! Whee SOW!]

Curiosities, Oddities, and Antiques - Saturday

[voiceoverdue]

Cecil was cold. So very cold. His cold-weather gear was more photogenic than actually warm, and the wind had artfully blown his scarf from his face the entire way here.

There was a box waiting in front of the store; he didn't recognize the sender, but it had a lot of really big stamps on it, and was tied with twine. He brought it in and opened it up to find a number of odd-looking, culture-indeterminate figurines.

The letter with them read:

For the shop. I found these in a remote tomb that had never been explored before. The natives all claim they're cursed; isn't that silly? They should bring in some good money, though!

Cecil eyed the things, shrugged, and put them in the window, along with a sign:

Sale! Primitive sculptures!

He supposed they'd see.



[OOC: Open post, no OCD!]

The Skywalker Diamonds Consolidated Secret Headquarters That Everyone Still Knows About

[sith_happened]

[OOC: The part of Anakin Skywalker, which had been previously played by LL Cool J is now back to being Hayden Christensen because the contract negotiations have been sorted out. There was much fan rejoicing.]

Anakin was pacing around his opulent office, filled with various pictures of his family members, extremely rare and stealable art, and expensive swords just to show how Dangerous his family was in case the lighting in the room didn't give it away as well.

"We must crush the Winchesters!" he yelled, pounding his fist into his desk. "They must not be allowed to skulk through Fandom any longer with their righteousness and arrogance and irritating ability to keep shooting me!"

Anakin enjoyed monologing. His door was closed and guarded by two armed goons, but let's be real: that had never stopped drama from getting to the patriarch of the Skywalker clan.

[OOC: Open for all of your blackmail, attempted assassinations, and secret family revelations!]

The offices of Diamond Mine Cosmetics- Saturday evening

[solo_sword]

On the eve of her wedding, Jaina had plenty of things to do, which included doing some work at her successful and luxurious luxury cosmetics company. Also making a list of people who would be Ended because they'd failed at her wedding. But mostly doing work.

Or just sitting there and shuffling papers.

"Wait, this... This can't be right," she said, shuffling papers and looking up, confused. "Embezzlement? Is someone embezzling... from me?"


[Oh so open.]

Guilty As Charged: Bike Shop and DA's Office, Saturday afternoon

[amthenight.livejournal.com]

District Attorney Batman Wayne was having a busy day. He managed to shut down the shipment of caffeine pills his nefarious twin, Bruce, tried to have delivered. But now word was out that a kid at the school ODed on the stuff and it might have been tied into the Skywalkers. There was also something about a horse somewhere?

The District Attorney of Fandom didn't get weekends off. If anything, weekends were the worst.

But still, he was here going through his files in case anyone needed prosecution or bike repair.

[OOC: Open, naturally. And yes, Batman Wayne has a mustache.]

The 'A Cut Above' Orphanage (Formerly Groovy Tunes), Saturday

[furnaceface]

Jonothon Evan Starsmore, the stunningly handsome and ridiculously wealthy rock-star descendant of the late Jack Starsmore, heir to the vast Starsmore Fortune, esteemed leader of the mighty and powerful Clan Akkaba, and wielder of Mysterious Powers of Which He Never Spoke, walked through the front door of his childhood home with a smile on his perfect lips, framed, as always, by his gorgeously chiseled jaw. Finally, after the years of ill-advised flings, illegal sushi parties and a caffeine pill addiction that had gotten him kicked out of the priesthood and had all but decimated his rock and roll career, he was back on his feet, and making a difference in the world.

And today, he was going to thank the man responsible for his recovery by writing his biggest check yet to his friend and mentor, who had founded the orphanage A Cut Above and who had showed Jonothon the importance of teaching today's less fortunate youth the most important of life skills, which would guarantee them a lifetime of financial stability and possibly a few illicit sushi parties of their own...

Rock and Roll.

"Jono, my dear boy." Hannibal came out to greet him smarmily. "You're looking well." He was dressed immaculately as always, and the light in the room picked out his beautiful cheekbones, edging them dramatically. It wasn't a lie, but it was a calculated flattery; he owed Jonothon for making this possible. At long last, he would be in a position to influence and train young minds, marinating them in the creative juices of music. "I have to thank you for your kind donation."

"Of course," Jonothon said graciously, bowing his perfect head for just one moment of solemn contemplation. "Anything for the children. After all, it does take so much time and money and patience and tenderness to keep the doors always open, the way you do. Who knows where I would be today, if not for the way you passionately developed my taste for music and helped me sink my teeth into the business. I truly am a seasoned professional, now, all thanks to you." A single tear rolled down his cheek. "I only hope that my contribution can do the same for any ripe young minds that find themselves under your care."

Hannibal smiled tenderly. "I'm sure it will. I look forward to helping many young people to feed the senses of the world, and to taste the richness of life."

[OOC: Because Rock-and-Roll Orphanage run by a cannibal. Had to be done. Co-written with never_dull and so, so open for any orphans who need a home, a career in rock-and-roll, and a tragic addiction to sushi in their lives.]

The Perk Caffeine Den, Saturday night

[craftyladyparts.livejournal.com]

Since you needed to know the password to get into this speakeasy caffeine den and people tended to be strung out on the bean anyway, this was one place Jessica could be herself and not some baseball-capped loser named Howie Solo-Stark. Overall, things were going to well for her now. Her 'mom' was going to add to her fortune tomorrow. Her true love - who was not only a potential heir to her fortune but also knew her dark secret - was gone and there was no way to tie her to his death. Eleanor posed no real threat. She was a future fashion designer. Come on.

After getting her order - a double espresso, because when you were this great, you got the quality stuff - Jessica slid into an arm chair and drank to her good fortune. Oh, that tasted good. Somebody wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon, and that somebody was named Jessica.

[OOC: Look, it stands to reason. Open for any other caffeine junkies living in style!]

A Random Garbage Container Somewhere Near The Park, Saturday Afternoon

[suitably_heroic]

The large iron garbage bin had not been there twenty-four hours ago, but that wasn't really important. Nor were the flies that kept buzzing around above it to illustrate just exactly how full of waste it was. No, the important part was the part where the top swung open and Atton's head popped out from within.

His hair was long, black and shaggy. It was almost as impeccable as his leather jacket, barring only one or two artfully placed pieces of paper sticking out of it.

"Poop," he muttered.

He rolled out of the bin and onto the street and took a gasping breath of air.

He had been in that bin for fifty episodes now long enough. Danger had passed. Business awaited!

Smelly, smelly business. Atton's little medicine cabinet had a whiff of the decaying banana about it.

[[ ... i don't even know. ]]

Caritas, Saturday night

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

There was a hen party! And a bachelor party! In the same bar!

COME CELEBRATE KENZI & CECIL'S LAST NIGHT OF FREEDOM!

was on the sign outside.

Tino was definitely wishing that his contract had not been renewed tonight.

[ooc: up with Kitty-mun's permission, come one, come all, get plastered, the nuptials are tomorrow! Minimal OCD about to go up.]

The Beach, Saturday Night

[psychoticbiotic.livejournal.com]

Announcer: The role of Jack will now be played by Jessica Szohr due to a contract dispute.

Jacqueline Nevaeh D'Anjou-Gnocchi, bohemian heiress, walked along the shoreline with her sandals in one hand, staying so close to the water that the waves came up to lap at her perfectly manicured toenails. The rough sand would probably chip at the pearly nail polish, but she was heedless of that tonight.

No, all she saw was the waves, and the moonlight dancing upon them. They made her think about the past. Her father, stern yet always with a smile for her; her mother, cut down in the prime of life by a freak July snowstorm; her career as a model in Paris; and, of course, the love of her life.

But they'd all been in Oak Hill Heights, miles and miles away. She'd left all those memories behind to come to Fandom. So many good memories ... and so may terrible ones.

She shook her fist to the sky.

"I will start again."

[OOC: Open post!]

The streets of Fandom, Saturday night

[locointhecoco]

Pinkie Pie was going fast. Maybe too fast. She had stayed too long in the caffeine den with her new friend Jessica, and was now running late to that big deal she had going down that would make all of her troubles float away. Then she'd have nothing else to worry about other than how much cream to put in her next hit of coffee.

But perhaps that last triple shot cappuccino was just too much for her. Perhaps the extra foam just put it that much over the top. Suddenly, Pinkie went careening off the road and headfirst into a tree. The camera panned slowly down the embankment, following her wild, uncontrolled hoofprints until it came upon the smoking wreck of her body, lying twisted at the base of the tree. Her hind leg twitched, then went still as the life went out of her.

She had her whole life ahead of her. It was such a waste. If only she hadn't let herself get caught up in the evils of caffeine deals at such a young age! If only she hadn't let her contract run out while her agent looked for higher class gigs on other stations!

Such a sad, sad waste.

Let this be a lesson, kids. Never drink caffeine and trot.

[ooc: RIP, you beautiful, beautiful Pie. Open to reactions.]