Demon Marcus, Sunday

[myownface]

Okay, so it was one of those weekends, where apparently everyone on the island was completely out of their gourd. Sparkle had no idea why the cray-cray had let him be (with the exception of a weird craving for caffeine pills instead of his usual morning smoke), but he was thankful for it. After all, he already had two friends who were apparently getting married for the presents today and who had appointed him flower girl...

... Which, in fairness, was pretty par for the course for Kenzi and Cecil anyway. And it sounded like it would be hilarious, so Sparkle had decided to roll with it. Hell, he was kind of feeling left out, here. Maybe he'd just roll with it all. Who knew? Maybe he'd manage to score some of the good drugs out of this whole deal yet. Like caffei-- Dammit.

If anyone needed him, he was sitting at the counter, touching up the black on his nails. Because that was what rebellious punk types were supposed to do on days like this, wasn't it? Ooo! Maybe he'd end up in the middle of a crazy love octagon or something before the weekend was through!

This was awesome.

[Open! Sparkle is totally going to roll with the crazy today, because that's the way (uh-huh uh-huh) he likes it.]

Streets of Fandom | Sunday Morning

[robinonadderall]

Pregnancy was a very tough thing. You had to pee all the time, the pillow kept falling out of your shirt--er, you had weird cravings. Yes, totally weird cravings. Which is why Stiles had left the safety of his mate's mansion of evil to go to grab a pastry. And grab one he did!

Now he was walking back home, danish in one hand and the other cradling his cubs protectively.

[So open, just forgive any SP when work gets nuts]

Random Street Corner | Sunday Afternoon

[pursuedthestars]

Jim lit a cigarette. It burned ever so dramatically in the afternoon sunlight before the camera panned up to a gorgeous face that was shadowed with secrets and sadness. Jim Kirk could tell thousands of stories without saying a word. He was only on this stupid soap opera until he could get a network television pilot.

But anyway.

The storyline he'd been saddled with meant was stupid but it made for good television. And if it meant moving onto the CW in the future, he'd take it. For now, he was standing on the street corner, cigarette dangling from his fingers while he looked out on the town. He'd been on this same street corner every night for the past week, looking for people who might want a fun night with someone who looked as good as he did. Jim knew he was gorgeous and he made sure whoever had the funds and was willing to pay knew they were gorgeous too. It was what he was good at.

Yes, Jim was a common hooker. Sex for money, that was his thing and he was damn good at it. And he needed the money desperately. Somewhere in the land of off screen-ness, Jim had a family who lived in a small, one room apartment and were only scraping by barely. And Jim had decided to do something about that. His father had abandoned them and his mother worked five jobs just to put food on the table. After finding a cockroach on his face in an episode that Jim had submitted for Daytime Emmy consideration, he'd had enough.

He'd submitted resumes and applications to every single thankless job out there but he'd been turned on so he'd turned to the streets. He'd decided to use body to save his family. If it meant selling his soul, he'd do it.

His family was worth it.

[Oh lawd, IDK. It's open, though!]

The Boards, Sunday Afternoon

[regretiz4suckas.livejournal.com]

It was the happiest day of their lives. The day they would pull a beautiful scam and get presents. Also, wear matching red dresses.

The marquee on the Boards read:

CECIL / KENZI NUPTIALS, 1:30 PM
Welcome Fandom!
Please place your presents next to the cake table


[ooc: Posted with Drac's permission! Come one, come all! OCD up in a sec. now!]

Our Lady of Fandom- Sunday afternoon

[solo_sword]

There wasn't a ton of time to clean everything up after Cade's funeral, but the time for grieving had come and gone and now it was time for a wedding! In the same place where a teenger had just been eulogized! Happy times!

The place was done up all pretty, because even if it was Jaina's- ...third? Fifth? Who really kept track of these things anymore- wedding, Skywalkers spared no expense.

You were free to place bets on what was going to happen this time.


[Yes, another wedding! Open to all!]

Our Lady of Fandom [Sunday morning]

[makemyownway.livejournal.com]

After Sunday services were over, the prop department worked frantically to turn the church into a somber, sad place, full of flowers that would not at all be recycled for the weddings later in the day and a giant wreath with Cade's headshotpicture inside.

He was too young. TOO YOUNG!

Come and pay your respects, Fandom. Say nice things about him, or don't. Fling yourself on the coffin and cry! Remember that caffeine addiction was real*!







*Ehh.

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

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal Lecter, manager and mentor to 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, came downstairs in an artfully arranged smoking jacket, silk pajama pants, and sneakers that would never show up on screen.

After getting some coffee (previously arranged through the prop department mysterious means), he sat at his large oaken desk and pulled up his e-mail (which only took one button press), checking for the list of available orphans Bruce Wayne had promised him.


[OOC: open thread, no OCD, if anyone wants to drop by for orphaning, caffeining, or random wtfery!]

The Park, Sunday

[fly-so-serious.livejournal.com]

Jeffy Maroe, ex-star running back and recent paraplegic, rolled his wheelchair through the park. As he traveled down the path, several members of the Gremlins football team -- all in full uniform -- peeled off from feeding the ducks or going on dates or buying balloons from a convenient balloon vendor or all of the other things they were doing and nonchalantly followed him. It wasn't conspicuous at all.

In front of the duck pond (and, yes, in full view of everyone in the park), Jeffy stopped, turned to face them, and cackled evilly. "It's time," he told them, as he slowly stood up. "Not only did I make a ton of money betting on the game that we lost because of my tragic mountain-climbing accident, and not only am I getting a ton of money from scamming the insurance company, but this wheelchair is a great way to smuggle in... BLACK TAR CAFFEINE!!!

He pulled the blanket away, revealing a few cases of energy drinks.

After making sure each football player had a case (and there were far too many cases to have all fit under the wheelchair, but shhh), Jeffy cackled. "You all know what to do! Sell this on the streets, and we'll run Bruce Wayne out of the caffeine pill business in NO TIME, and he will PAY for what he did to my legs!!!" ...Which he was faking. Don't try thinking about it too hard.

As Jeffy sat back down and arranged the blanket around his legs again, a spooky chord played, and the camera zoomed in on his cursed statue. Jeffy didn't notice, but two of the football players tripped, fell in the duck pond, and drowned.

[Open like a park! ...And open for anyone who wants to see.]

Il Pollo, Sunday evening

[craftyladyparts.livejournal.com]

Well, the funeral was a joke, the first wedding was actually a joke, and the second one didn't have a conclusion. But what it did have was a murder, and that murder led to an opportunity.

Jessica became the Mayor of Our Lady of Fandom for exactly long enough to sell the oil reserves underneath the old church. That resulted in what she liked to think of as insurance money. Sure, she had the combined Skywalker and Stark fortunes coming her way one day, and that would be nice. But there were so many people between her and that sweet cash. So many people, so much time, and far too much of it spent pretending to be Jaina's son that she once stole. This was better. Now she could be herself. Now she could do her own thing. Now she only had to be Howie Solo-Stark when she choose to be him.

And so she was spending her evening the way any sexy teenage multi-billionaire oil baroness would; with a good, expensive dinner and a small cup of espresso. She was independently wealthy now, after all. She didn't have to worry about cops OR deal in the common brands of caffeine.

[OOC: Open, of course.]

Caritas- Sunday

[puppyinacup.livejournal.com]

Jessica Day, who'd been a major player when she first came to town but whose role was severely reduced due to fan backlash, had the bar open, had a good crowd of extras in the bar, and looked really excited to get onstage in front of the boy band. Yes. The boy band.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Caritas is proud to present the hot new pop act tearing up the charts, Zombies!" Jess announced to much applause, and then she got down from the stage to head behind the bar.

Probably to not say much, as her characterization had gone south since that whole fan backlash thing.

the preserve ; sunday evening

[flickofthewrist]

Things had looked bleak earlier, hadn't they? Well, fear not loyal viewers! It was impossible to kill off a fan favorite (hey, there'd been a poll in TV Guide, okay) and not receive major flack on social media. For that reason alone, Flick was back. Or was he?

In fact, he wasn't Flick but someone who bore a striking resemblance to him due to major plastic surgery. Flick was well and truly dead and Jon, as this person was known, was alive and well. He'd avoided the claws of a werewolf and hadn't fallen in love with someone so weak and murderous.

No. Jon was the token tall, dark and mysterious stranger who'd done some research on Google and found a picture of Flick. Flick's father being a presidential contender meant Flick's face was plastered all over news media before he'd been shipped away. And that was how Jon came to be wearing his face.

Today, was his first day on the island and he was about to emerge and look shadowy while standing in...shadows. Right now, he was leaning against a conveniently huge tree while he rubbed at his new face. No one could know what was his face truly looked like or who he truly was.

He was wearing the face of a dead man for a reason. Jon was the guy in the cheap leather jacket with the gel in his hair and the permabeard on his face. Once he had him figured out, you'd learn you didn't know a damn thing.

[Open, if anyone's out in the preserve, sure sure]

Jeff, God of Biscuits, the Wee Hours of Sunday Morning

[hasadestiny]

Lex had just gotten off of a triple-shift at the Devil's Nest, and was walking home, feeling dirty and used when the display window of J,GoB caught his eye.

Cupcakes, as far as the eye could see. Dozens of them. All kinds. Chocolate mud, vanilla sponge, red velvet, covered in buttercream frosting, running icings, fondants, and a veritable rainbow of sprinkles.

It was everything Lex had ever wanted. Everything he'd ever needed. He couldn't resist. Checking to make sure no one was looking, he jimmied the door, found four boxes and filled them with cakes, ten to a box.

He took forty cakes.

And that's terrible.

[Sorry, not sorry. Open for reactions.]