fandomtownies | Entries tagged with karina lyle

There were an unnecessary amount of rainbow-colored flowers around Caritas. No amount of grumping from Atton aboud how Pride had been yesterday could stop them from spreading.

Eventually, he gave up. Pulled up a stool and sat down, crossing his arms at them.

Whatever. He didn't care.

He was fine.

[[ open ]]

myownface

Well... the island was up to its old festive shit again. Sparkle wrinkled his nose as he sat himself at a table at the Perk, a gingerbread latte with far too much whipped cream (almost enough whipped cream) in his hand as he squinted out the window to watch the tinsel coming down. It was kind of pretty, sure, but Sparkle knew damn well that 'kind of pretty' would just keep on into 'aggressively festive,' or else something horrible would hit the island and try to kill them all, or... shit, he'd be invited to someone's holiday meal or something.

He sighed, took a sip of his latte, and shook his head.

"Should've stayed at the resort world," he muttered. "Humbug."

At least once he got his phone plugged in at a spare outlet - not so much with the AC powerpoints in Atton's reality - he got a text with a photo of Krogan babies in it. Awwww.

[OOC: Open! Sparkle returneth!]

suitably_heroic

There was only so long you could put off sleep, and yesterday Atton had finally returned to the apartment, collapsed on his bed, and... utterly failed to get out of it until it was going on noon on Sunday.

He hadn't had a whole lot of time to wake up enough before work. So it was a drowsy-looking Atton you'd find behind the bar today, eyeing the more expensive bottles, and thinking potentially-terrible thoughts about calling people he might have, maybe, somewhat been a dick to over the past few months.

Caritas was open.

myownface

Sparkle walked into work today, bypassed all the clothing, sat his ass down behind the counter, pulled out a bottle of the brightest, most obnoxious yellow nail polish he could find, and set to work painting his nails.

And once they had been painted, once they had dried, he reached for another bottle of nail polish and gave them another coat in a different colour.

He'd probably have to, like, stop doing that eventually. But for the time being? Hey, green went really nice right next to yellow. Maybe it went really nice right overtop of yellow...

Demon Marcus was open. And probably a little nail polish scented today.

[OOC: Open!]

suitably_heroic

The medic had freed Atton from his kolto bath again on Thursday morning. Another full day of observation, and he was good to go, with a bunch of patches in his pocket and an abdomen that still hurt if he bent the wrong way.

And then Mical had put him on the Ebon Hawk and sent him back to Fandom. (The Hawk was to make a point: stay there, don't come back. Otherwise Mical would've just kicked him through a portal.)

He wasn't planning to stay there. Not for long. Not with Mira out there, dealing with this problem that Atton was beginning to suspect was bigger than they'd anticipated.

He didn't bother to go back to the apartment - he didn't want to run the risk of running into Sparkle just yet - but stumbled down the stairs and walked down to the park.

That alone was probably more exercise than he should've given himself. He winced at the sound of his own breath as he sank down on a bench.

Space.

[[ open! ]]

myownface

Soooooo, apparently today was Sparkle's 21st birthday? Which was weird.

It was weird. And Sparkle hadn't really planned anything for it. He always found it easier to make a big deal out of other people's big days than his own. And anyway, what did 21 mean? He could use real identification to drink now? Where was the fun in that?

But he wanted to do something, so he sent off a ~~handwavey~~ text to anyone on his contact list just saying, Fast Eddie's tonight, the multiverse has had to deal with 21 years of me, suckers, and then hopped through a portal to Fandom Island to crash the arcade.

... No, he didn't have anything in mind beyond that. No real party or anything. Just, hey, come to the arcade. Waste some quarters. Maybe somebody would show up. It'd be great. And he was kind of grinning like an idiot as he showed up, since he'd made a stop at the apartment first.

Aww, Sia. Unsolicited presents were kind of great.

[OOC: I literally forgot about this until just before bedtime last night. OCD-free, daytime SP applies, hello, it's Sparkle's birthday, if you think you got an invite, or even if you didn't, feel free to crash in!]

bigdamnprincipal

Originally, this was going to be a much smaller event, but then Fandom had to be Fandom and Portalocity had to be Portalocity, and now Zoe was wondering if there would be enough food for everyone or if she'd have to get things from the local restaurants.

For the moment though, everything was set up nicely. There were tables and chairs set up with blue and gold tablecloths, each covered with glitter from years of use. There were balloons, streamers, and other slightly tasteful decorations, also covered in glitter from years of being stored with things that were also covered in glitter. Don't worry, no one had died from a glitter overdose yet.

Once the food was set out and the (non-tainted) punch was ready, it seemed like things were as good to go as they'd ever be. If things got too crowded, hopefully a fire marshal wasn't among the folks who had come back to town.

[We appear to have broken the post, huzzah! Please use these links to get around: Arrive/Mingle | Food/Drink | Dancing | Shadowy Corner | Corner of 2005 | OOC]

needfully-yours.livejournal.com

Somewhere behind the fog, the sun was setting. The Fandomites had long since lost track of time, but Leland knew, instinctively, that day had turned to night. The way he knew that all of the items he had sold those wretched humans had been destroyed. They would come for him, now, content in their victory.

This was a serious setback, to be sure, but they had won a battle, not the war. They could pretend to lock him in a cage. It wouldn't change the end.

Leland Gaunt poured himself a glass of Bordeaux and waited.

The windows and doors of the shop had been boarded over, in an attempt to convey just how very closed the store was. Leland didn't imagine it would give them any real pause, now.

( Arresting Leland Gaunt! )

(OOC: This post is set Friday evening, after all the items have been smashed -- feel free to continue smashing your items, IC, we just wanted to post this early so all the time zones had a chance to play!

Preplayed with the incomparable

craftyladyparts,

suitablyheroic,

sith_happened,

beautifulsenshi,

tigerundercover,

notacokeperson,

seeks_truth,

wrongkindofsith,

bigdamndean,

kenselvren,

nookiepowered, and I hope I didn't miss anyone there, and coded by the lovely

fly_so_serious. NFI, broadcast is fine, OOC is love!)

nuclear_snide

So, everyone had hopefully been notified, and now they were gathered and gathering, and Bob waited as long as he could for them to arrive before he stepped up to the front of the room and set off a burst of golden light to get their attention.

"Thank you all for coming." He projected his voice around the room. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's a lot of bad magic out there," he said dryly. If anyone hadn't noticed, he worried about them. "We've been looking into it, and we've tracked down the source, and if you listened to radio yesterday you know it's Needful Things and Leland Gaunt. He's been selling cursed items, often for the price of special or magical items in turn. What's new is that we've found out how to break his hold."

He paused very briefly ~~for dramatic effect~~ to let that sink in. "In order for someone who's got a cursed item to be free of the curse, they have to destroy the item." He stared around the room seriously. "THEY have to destroy it," he reiterated. "If anyone else breaks it for them, they will wither and die. If they don't break it, they will wither and die."

He leaned forward. "This is a very nasty breed of curse, rather like a poison. It's insidious. It will take them a lot of energy to break it, and it's going to hurt. They'll be weakened. You'll probably want to get them to the clinic. Also, because it operates on a psychic level, their recovery will be influenced by their mood. They'll need positive reinforcement, reassurance. 'Hug it out', as the saying goes."

Whatever. At least he wouldn't have to do that part. "Now, we know of a few people who've been sold cursed items. We've gone through radio broadcasts to get a list of everyone who was spotted entering the store. We'll need help to cover them all and make sure everyone has someone to try to snap them out of it. If you're willing to help, raise your hand and Four here can match you with someone. Any questions?"

[OOC: ~~Just a sec for the OCD!~~ Up! Have at!]

Current Location: Town Hall

suitably_heroic

So being stuck in Portalocity waiting rooms during a potential emergency kind of sucked. It'd given Atton some time to catch up on the radio broadcasts for the past couple of days, but that was about the only upside he could think of. Especially since said broadcasts had made it really clear something was up with Sparkle, and oh, Atton wasn't the only one noticing the deeply creepy.

Well, at least he hadn't packed up his armor and put on the Nagai electromesh for nothing, he reflected, as he set foot on the causeway. It was quiet - still nothing rampaging through the streets - but that deeply Malachor-esque wrong he'd felt last week had only gotten worse. A lot worse.

He tamped down on his instincts. His gut was yelling at him to run again, and he really couldn't blame it. But there would be no running this time. If he wasn't the only one picking up on any of this? It was Fandom. Heads were going to be put together sooner or later to figure out what was going on. The least he could do was be ready.

... and put in a phone call. Atton called up the phone directory as soon as he stepped onto the island proper, found a number, and made a call.

[[ expecting one, but open for your atton or late-ish evening causeway needs. ]]

myownface

Yeah, Sparkle hadn't even known that the onsen was a thing until just today, when he'd been out walking, skipping out on his Demon Marcus shift because, meh, he just hadn't felt like it. He'd stumbled across the place, and had finally gone inside to investigate, pausing with one foot in the door before turning right around to get a towel.

Because, come on. Like he could pass this up? Now he was up to his chest in hot water, wearing a pair of yellow swim trunks (because yellow) and loving the hell out of every minute of this. Why didn't he know about this place before? Now he was pretty sure he was just never going to ever leave.

Ever. Shit, sometimes Fandom actually did things right.

[Expecting one, but can be open!]

fh_thumbprick

Had the carnival changed? Retreated? No, but perhaps it had filled up even worse over the past twenty-four hours or so.

The look on that mustached man's face certainly exuded a certain amount of triumph as the lights went on again early on Sunday morning. He stabbed the ground with his cane and watched; if experience counted for anything, then there would be yet more pouring into his carnival today.

The feeding was good, here.

That scent of cotton candy rolled over the island once more, and the carnival's music touched what it could not.

It's a new day, Fandom. Come, enjoy it.

fh_thumbprick

On Saturday morning, the smell of cotton candy permeated the island once again as the booths at Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show began to turn on and light up. There were more attractions to see today than there had been yesterday, and wasn't that just wonderful?

There was plenty of room for even more shows, if today's visitors weren't careful.

Once everything was ready, the tall man with the dark mustache stepped through the main arch again to survey the grounds and, seemingly finding everything satisfactory, he disappeared back into the small tent away from the grounds.

The carnival was open, offering more merriment and delight... and likely some terror as well.

fh_thumbprick

On Friday morning, a strange mist rolled out from the park. It smelled sweetly of cotton candy, much like the scent of the night before. When the mist ebbed, it left something in its wake: tents and booths and rides, spread somewhat haphazardly around the park.

A moment later, the lights went on. At the front, an arch that bore a sign: Cooger & Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show.

A tall man with a dark mustache stepped through the arch. He took momentary notice of the carnival's surroundings. Then he clasped his hands together and turned around, disappearing into a small tent just off the carnival grounds proper.

As the attractions turned on one by one, music drifted from each ride like the mist that had come before it. It could be heard everywhere on the island, inviting anyone with the time and the wish for merriment to approach and try its many delights...

halfbad.livejournal.com

Nathan had fallen into a fairly new routine of sleeping against a tall tree in the preserve at night and then heading to the beach in the morning. The cool, salty water made for a better wake up then the suffocating walls of a shower. He still had to take a shower after swimming, of course, but still. He could take his time out here while he made sure he kept things short in the shower.

Nathan rolled the legs of his pants up and took off his shirt, wading into the water to his knees and then bending down to dunk his head and arms into the water. It immediately cooled him off and he slicked his hair back and shook it out before continuing to wade in the water.

"You'd like this place, Gabriel," Nathan murmured to no one but the waves and the wind. "Where are you?"

No one answered. He shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. Thoughts of Gabriel danced through his head for a moment longer before he pushed them away. He opened his eyes and was alone again. No black witches, no white witches, no fain, no nothing. Just himself and the water.

Nathan sighed and moved a little closer to the shore, not brave enough to go deeper right now. He'd made one attempt at swimming and wasn't sure if he was ready to do it on his own. He'd just wade and walk and cool down before he went back to the dorms.

[Open]

Current Mood: anxious

notacokeperson.livejournal.com

It wasn’t like her dorm room was terrible or anything but sometimes Karina actually felt like patronizing one of the stores on the island for reasons more than ragging on Sparkle, who never seemed to mind anyway. Besides, her room wasn’t really all that interesting to spend all her time in and it didn’t have delicious apple cider a mere few steps away, should she run out and need more.

So Karina had figured that, hey, the Perk was as good as any place to spend a few hours. She had her drink, and a cinnamon bun, just in case she got hungry, and her laptop with her as she worked through the vagaries of her latest song.

The baristas could just suck it up and cope when she hummed a few bars now and then.

[Open!]

myownface

Sparkle was in a pretty damn good mood today, yes. Why? No particular reason. It was just, sometimes you woke up with a ridiculously catchy song stuck in your head, and the next thing you knew, you were bouncing around the sex store singing about being one of three little maids from school. He wasn't exactly a maid, but he was from school, so he was going to consider that close enough.

He was going to consider that close enough while setting out all of the informational material and product on safe sex that he could find. Because there were new students on the island, and it seemed useful.

"Life is a joke that has just begun...!"

[OOC: Open! OCD-free, as always!]

furnaceface

Friday the thirteenth, indeed. Tonight was supposed to be the night of the show, but Jono was facing more than a slight moral dilemma with this one. If it had been only waffles falling from the ceiling and gremlins running amok in the costumes, that would have been one thing. Hell, if his biggest problem tonight was that the costumes were still wrong after a trip to the cleaner's to complain, then he'd cope with that.

... Jekyll could probably get away with wearing the Scrooge outfit. He figured he'd divvy up the costumes for the three spirits and Marley however worked best, and there were plenty of outfits for the extras, if he really had to push it.

But no, of course there had to be people outside killing his actors and audience in the streets. Of course. Jonothon sighed, and then sent a mass-text to his cast and crew:

If you can't get to the Boards without getting hurt, DON'T TRY. I am not actually a firm believer in that 'The show must go on' adage.

And the rest... He'd play by ear. Somehow. Maybe he'd just keep the doors open for people who needed a safe place to hide from the killers outside, and if any of his performers did show up, he could get them to just do a musical revue and select scenes or something.

Bloody Friday the thirteenth.

[Open with a very moddable Boards! No psychos allowed. Well. Unless they're locals.]

bluhblahbluh.livejournal.com

Drac was not at the theater early this Wednesday. He was, in fact, still at the theater. He'd spent Monday tidying his own place and arranging for the removal of the amusement park from the warehouse. Tuesday evening, he'd arrived at his usual time at the Boards and found the door hanging wide open. Immediately upon looking inside, it was obvious that it had not been spared the island's invasion of little children, and after a moment or sixty of ~~grumbling~~ wishing he could send for his staff from the hotel, he set about straightening up.

He'd taken a brief nap in his spare coffin in the room he'd been allowed upstairs, and was now attempting to sort out a pile of props and costumes that needed repair. There were a few brooms wandering about, still magicked into sweeping. Just ignore them.

It was about ten minutes before the rehearsal started when Jono finally managed to get back to the Boards, his portal from Kaeleer a little delayed. And then detoured. Through a reality that had replaced his clothing with Scottish garb from the late seventeenth century the minute he'd stepped through his first portal. Because apparently the multiverse was keen on seeing him in a kilt, for reasons he couldn't quite figure out.

The stopover meant that Jonothon somewhat resembled a giant, disgruntled Nac Mac Feegle, when he walked into the Boards and nearly tripped over a magical sweeping broom.

"What the bloody hell happened to-- Dracula!"

Oh, because that was definitely the way you summoned Count Dracula, Jono. Especially when he was low on sleep and cranky from having been cleaning. On his own. Stupid lack of ~~NPCs~~ staff.

Drac heard the call and flicked a wrist. The broom stopped sweeping and floated mid-air to point in Drac's direction.

From whence he wasn't budging, but was instead examining an Elizabethan maid costume and trying to determine if the golden glittery... stuff it was covered in was intentional or was put there through childish interference.

Perhaps it was a sign they needed more gremlin traps in the costume room?

Jono was pinching the bridge of his nose as he made his way into the costume storage area. Ignore the kilt. Please. Ignore it a lot.

"Dare I ask?"

Because from where he was standing, he probably didn't want to know.

Drac waved another costume into the 'find a seamstress' pile. "The children were apparently not satisfied by my Funhouse Transylvania." That hurt to admit.

Rehearsals today would be interesting.

--
[Boards is (finally) Open, no OCD today. Unless you counted the piles Drac was making. Nice and neat piles. Cowritten with

apocalipped]

myownface

Have you ever tried to pin the tail back onto a giant metal rooster before? Because that was Sparkle's task for the day, after a boring morning that culminated in an impromptu song and dance number with the bird that ended, tragically, in one of the big metal tailfeathers getting caught up on a shelving unit. Sparkle ultimately found himself having to choose between damaging a fake rooster's butt, or the possibility of accidentally smashing a few thousand dollars in glass toys.

Sorry, rooster. An impromptu plucking was apparently in order.

Except now Sparkle was coming to realize, after trying three kinds of tape, a full tube of superglue, and even assorted bondage gear, that nothing shy of welding the rooster's behind back together was going to reattach those feathers.

Damn, he really cocked that one up.

[Open, OCD-free!]

newroutines

There was a sign posted outside Caritas tonight.

OPEN MIKE* NIGHT
MUSIC, COMEDY, WHATEVER,
COME SHOW US WHAT YOU'VE GOT!
50% DRINKS FOR PERFORMERS!

*as in mic(rophone), but bartender is open to suggestions

Hey, Mike had been listening to the radio, he knew they had a busker around now, and it just seemed like a fun idea in general. People liked their entertainment, some people liked their performing, and Mike liked both. And he liked trying to draw people in, even with the guaranteed full house of tomorrow night's speed dating.

Tino was grumbling about something, but wasn't he always? Mike paid him no mind.

furnaceface

It seemed like damn near forever since Jonothon had held one of these. That was, yes, in part because the Boards hadn't done anything through the summer. It was also because, with Glacia moving at double Fandom's pace, summer had been a long ordeal that had involve a good portion of winter, too.

Either way, it felt good to finally be holding these again.

Auditions Today and Sunday!
Jekyll & Hyde
Bring a Monologue and a Song
Rehearsals on Wednesdays and Sundays, Performance Friday, Nov. 29
Cast and Crew Wanted!

And yes, Jono had put out pastries and lemon water and tea for anyone who came to audition, as well. It hadn't been so long that he'd forgotten that much.

[Open auditions are open to all!]

myownface

"Really?"

It had been shaping up to be just another one of those days at the Demon Marcus while Sparkle unpacked and put out new shipments around the store. And then he had gotten to the box of new hats.

"I mean, come on. There are zombies on the island. We don't want to advertise this, do we?"

The box of brain hats.

"Really?"

And yet, Sparkle didn't have the heart to leave them in the back next to the old burn barrel. He slapped a buy-one-get-one sign up next to the display, and then shrugged and got back to putting out new merchandise.

Heh. Brain hats.

[Open, Lazy Sunday means no OCD!]

furnaceface

It had been a long weekend. The sort of long weekend where, after Jonothon's broadcast yesterday, he'd packed himself up and made his way to Glacia, where time went a little faster, where the day in Fandom passed like two. Where he'd finally been given the chance to honour those of his troops that hadn't survived the escape from Yllestad.

He'd even returned to the island without complaint when the ceremony was through. His Healer had given him one look once it became apparent that the cold Glacian air was still too much for him to handle, and had instructed him to get out of the Darkness-damned cold and back to the last days of summer on the island before they were gone.

He'd been too tired to argue, and now he was sitting in his office at the Boards, a cat on his lap and something that at least nominally resembled a class syllabus finally sitting on the desk beside him. Pearl Jam was playing on the stereo beside him because he desperately needed something familiar and loud and angry, and he was flipping through scripts one last time before making his final decision about what show to put on this fall.

[OOC: A light is on, and the door outside is unlocked. Open Boards!]

willbethenight.livejournal.com

Shortly before sunset, the party was ready to start. The park was decorated with classy black and white decorations, music was playing from hidden speakers, food and drinks were set up, there was a man from the bank with a stack of giant checks….

So apparently there were a couple things that set this apart from the normal Fandom party.

The setting sun was an unsubtle reminder that summer was about to end. And that was what this was all about, really, besides the orphans. One last big party with your friends who would be gone soon, a week before a brand new big party with your incoming friends. This was for you, Fandom, and also the orphans.

It was also probably notable that the guy throwing the party was not there yet. Which just went to show that you could still show up fashionably late even if you were the host, planner, AND decorator.

abakingmetaphor.livejournal.com

"Who keeps doing this?" Buffy asked, hands on her hips. The bar was once again in complete disarray. "Is there a misguided booze gnome around here or something?"

Somebody was going to get their ass kicked.

notacokeperson.livejournal.com

There were things she could be doing in her room but, after class, Karina didn’t really feel like dealing. All of it was work, not play, and she was in the mood for something that wasn’t work. She wandered around town, spending a bit of time looking at pets (not that she bought one) and wandering the aisles of the hobby store, but eventually her mood drove her outside.

Maybe she’d go swimming? Or just hang out in the park?

Or even get a smoothie and just check out all the backstreets?

Yeah, somehow that one was the winner. Go figure.

[Open!]

myownface

It wasn't that Sparkle was avoiding life, at this point. Sure, last week, you probably could have accused him of that. After all, he'd run off to Nar Shaddaa with Atton, had spent a week getting messed up on Juma Juice and had somehow managed to stow away on a transport to Ord Mantell with a half-dressed alien dancer on either arm. That, if he was called on it, and probably pushed about it, he might even cop to as being a good touch of running away.

This week? He was totally not running. Hell, he was kind of feeling better about things, even. So what if he'd brought Velcro with him to Dite's to keep him company?

And so what if he'd placed the kitten on top of the giant metal rooster and was now snickering to himself about how Velcro was totally riding it bareback? Sometimes, horrible dirty puns were an excellent way to pass the time, thank you, and if anyone had a problem with it... well... Screw 'em.

If anyone needed Sparkle, he was going to pass the time by throwing a ball-gag around for his cat to chase. No, he probably wasn't going to put that one back on the shelf when he was done. Probably.

[Open, and OCD-free!]

notacokeperson.livejournal.com

Today… today was something and Karina was blaming the island. It was the only reason she had for, when her manager had asked her how she was doing, she'd gone off into a tirade about all the petty, niggling little things that had been bugging her.

Karina was pretty sure he was never going to ask her how she was doing ever again.

Once she'd gotten off the phone with him, Karina had talked to herself (feeling like a total loser) long enough to get a grasp on what the hell was going on. Truth. Whenever she tried to lie, she couldn't.

Worse, it was like she couldn't shut up about the truth.

After getting tired of hiding in her room, Karina had made it to the Perk, gotten a hot chocolate (snapping at the barista about how it wasn't a nice day and no thanks for asking), and from there had decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

It was tempting to head off to the mainland but Karina didn't really want to tell strangers her truths any more than she wanted to tell… well, anyone else. So she headed to the preserve instead.

If she said anything, it would be to the teal deer, and that was way less damaging than all the other options. After all, it wasn’t like they could talk.

… Right?

Oh god, what if they did?

Karina decided that, even if the deer could, it was better than, like, her classmates. The preserve was a sanctuary.

Okay, truth compelled her to concede it was really a hiding spot. Shut up.

[Open, sure!]

furnaceface

"Good evening, class," Jono greeted the improv group from where he was sitting on the edge of the stage. There was a mildly annoyed looking mouse sitting on top of his head, today, and a three-legged dog dozing at his feet. His cat was sequestered to the upstairs, because even Jonothon could only be so masochistic all in one go. "Today, we'll be giving our brains some exercise again with another one of those messing-with-letters games. Only, this time, instead of making certain we include every letter over the course of a scene, we'll be omitting one entirely. The game is called, 'No P,' and the aim of it is to not use any words that include one letter of the other actor's choosing."

He gave a little smirk, silently congratulating himself for only using the letter in question in order to tell his actors the name of the game itself. It was the little things, really.

"So, break off, groups of two, each of you choose a letter for the other of you, and then let's see a scene, hm?"

[OCD done! Have at thee!]

furnaceface

Well, this was it. Opening night, and Jono had done about all of the running around that he could manage. His props girl had apparently vanished into the ether, his set was mostly painted in a shade of red-with-glitter that meant that he needed to be extremely careful how he lit the bloody thing, he'd drastically shorted himself on rehearsal time, though it seemed as though his cast had stepped up to the occasion and made up for that oversight, and--

Jono looked like he was going to pass out as he made one last check on the state of the stage before opening the house.

-- And there were occasionally waffles raining down from... apparently the catwalks above the stage.

Lovely.

"The show is going to bloody well go on if it kills me," he growled, and then doubled back to grab a broom before going to open the doors.

[Open for all!]

furnaceface

Dress rehearsal.

No two words could fill a director with quite so much dread as the words 'dress rehearsal.' Unless those words were 'opening night,' or possibly 'laryngitis outbreak.' Fortunately, Jono didn't have to deal with one of those for another few days, and the other... hopefully at all. He could dream, anyway. If this all went pear-shaped on him, he supposed he'd prefer if it were something he couldn't have possibly prepared for, coming to cock it all up.

"Show night is the day after tomorrow," he informed his cast, sounding only the slightest bit bewildered by that prospect. "You know your lines by now," the 'had better' was strongly implied, "and we have an entire room full of costumes. Put something on that fits, and let's have our bloody dress rehearsal."

Yes, it had come far enough down to the wire that he was letting people pick their own costumes. He was trusting them implicitly to not mess it up. In amongst the costume racks that included astronaut and chicken suits, just as readily as the proper period costumes that he was praying you all grabbed.

He'd probably run damage control if any dinosaurs or cowboys wound up in his show. But then, at this point, maybe he'd just be happy that his actors were wearing clothes. The set already looked as though a disco ball had puked into a bowl of fruit punch, so he'd take whatever small victories he could get.

[Open!]

furnaceface

"Good evening," Jono greeted from where he was standing on the stage once it seemed like everybody who was going to show up had arrived. "This week, we're going to play a game where you and your partner only get a minute on the stage, and in that minute, one of you has to die."

It was, perhaps aptly, called, "Death In A Minute." Ah, Improv.

"Now, different groups play this one in different ways," he continued, "some of them ending their instructions just like that, and leaving it up to players to choose whether their untimely demises are humourous, serious, or utterly mad. Others pick a setting or a prop, and their character's death has to be tied in to that. The goal here today will be to make your deaths purely accidental. Take a page from the Darwin Awards, if you will, and don't be afraid to be completely ridiculous. You'll be given a prop per pair - not really, just to mime out, because I don't want you actually braining your partner with a bowling ball or something - and you'll have to involve that prop, somehow, in the unfortunate demise of your choosing."

[Open! And it probably goes without saying that there will be make-believe pretend death in the comments of this post, but I'll slap that warning on here anyhow!]

ihaveavideoblog.livejournal.com

It was Valentine's Day! No, the basement wasn't decorated, except for the scattered two-person tables on the stage, ones that had chairs on either side. In deference to the theme, the pastries from J,GoB were delightfully heart-shaped, and Lizzie was wearing a deep red blouse; that was as close as they were going to get.

"Congratulations," she announced, "you all have dates for Valentine's Day. Unfortunately, they're blind dates, and ... well. I'm sure all of you know how blind dates go? You sit down across from someone who is completely insane and wonder how badly your friends must secretly hate you, to pair you up with this specimen."

Lizzie had been on some bad dates, yes. Many. Maaaany.

"So you're going to pair off and be each other's horrible blind dates. What exactly is your malfunction? You'll be drawing that from a hat. Be charming, or be hideous, or try your best to be charming while being hideous. Just be creative and have fun with it."

She and Jono had had plenty of fun coming up with the bad date characteristics. Trust them on that.

furnaceface

Well, this was it, then. Rehearsals were finally starting for a production that had been put off for the better part of a year, now. If Jono was a more superstitious person, he'd be shaking people down and demanding to know who had gone around talking about That Scottish Play in the theatre, or something.

Fortunately, he wasn't. He'd just gone and decided that life was a jerk. That was generally the best explanation for most things, after all.

"Good evening, group, and welcome to our first rehearsal for The Consequence of Being Frank. I hope you've all given your scripts a looking over. If not, we're doing a cold reading today anyhow, to get you better acquainted with your roles." A beat, and he found himself looking thoughtfully at the young ladies (and ~~possibly~~ Porthos) gathered there. He'd gone and stepped in problems with cross-casting in the past, he figured now would be the time to bring it up to be sure everyone was on the same page. "And also, I realize that most of you have been cross-cast in order to fill the roles we needed for this production. I understand for some that this might be problematic. If for whatever reason the role you've been assigned makes you uncomfortable, please, talk to me and I'll see what we can do to accommodate."

That said, he lifted his coffee and nodded to the group.

"A cold reading, then. Make yourselves comfortable, don't attempt a British accent while you read this unless you want to make me cry, and we'll work our way through our lines, today. We'll worry about blocking next week."

[Open! Cast list is here, if you missed it on the weekend!]

furnaceface

Well, Jono was about as ready for today as he could possibly be. He'd been staring at the script for damn near a year, after all, and while circumstances last year hadn't been optimal for putting on a show, now was an entirely new theatre season, and it was time.

The letters on the marquis had been set, and the sign now read:

Auditions!
The Consequence of Being Frank
Today and Wednesday, Jan. 30
Rehearsals on Wednesdays, Performance Friday, March 8
Cast and Crew Wanted!

Yep. As ready as he could possibly be...

Why the hell wasn't he directing a musical, again?

[Open auditions are open! Anyone can stop in and participate- Students, teachers, townies!]

furnaceface

Another week, another improv class! As always, there were ~~moddable~~ pastries on the side table, along with coffee and tea. Once everyone had filtered in, Lizzie clasped her hands together and started today's lecture.

"We've used props, and costumes, and prompts from a hat," she announced. "But this week, we're using nothing but the English language. You are going to pair off and get on stage and act out a scene, with one rule: each sentence must start with a specific letter of the alphabet. Specifically, whichever letter is next."

"If I were to start the scene with something like, 'Hey, what do you want to do for dinner tonight,'" Jono elaborated, leaning back against the front of the stage with an easy sort of smile, "my partner might reply with something like, 'I don't know, since the fridge is empty.' And then in turn, I'd probably rattle off, 'Just come up with something and we'll worry about groceries later.' And so on."

... Food was an easy example for Jono to embrace, for some reason.

"Keep in mind difficult letters like J, Q, X and Z," Lizzie warned. "It might help to introduce characters named Xavier in advance, or to ask about someone's zebra a few letters early. But you'll have to be thinking on your feet, while you and your partner are playing out the scene. Don't take long pauses and breaks to come up with the perfect response: try to keep the flow going."

A quick wrinkle of his nose said volumes about Jonothon's opinions on characters named Xavier, thanks.

"On a relatively unrelated note, I'll be holding auditions here on Sunday for this season's performance of The Consequence of Being Frank. If any of you thespian types are interested, this is your warning to find a monologue to read to me then. And that's all for announcements, so pair off," he said, giving a clap of his hands, "and let's see what you come up with, hm?"

[Open to all!]

ihaveavideoblog.livejournal.com

Once again, a small crowd was gathered in the rehearsal area in the basement of The Boards. Lizzie waited until it seemed like everyone had arrived, and then she clasped her hands in front of herself and spoke.

( Commercials )

(Open for the Improv Class, and anyone else who'd like to pop in! Posted crazy-early because I can't seem to sleep, and because that seemed preferable to crazy-late.)

Current Mood: creative

furnaceface

In the basement of the boards was a small rehearsal area: a tiny stage, a number of seats. It had the right informal air for a workshop: not the intimidating air of the proper stage, but with a distinct theater vibe.

Lizzie was less nervous than she'd been last time, but that had been a one-off workshop, and not an actual class. And hey, she was a worrier, she could admit that.

She clasped her hands in front of herself and began talking.

"Hi, everyone," she said. "My name is Lizzie Bennet, and this is Jonothon Starsmore." Had everyone met Jono? If not, he was the big blue guy standing next to her. "We're teaching an improv class this semester, so if you're here for something else, then you're in the wrong place. In which case, stay anyway, because this should be fun. I hope."

( She hopes. )

[Open to anyone who wants to drop in!]

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