fandomhighdorms | Entries tagged with gratuity tucci

Another year, another afternoon spent in the lobby, selling tickets to a dance and trying not to fidget too obviously in her seat.

Was this whole thing easier when you were attracted to people? Harder? She imagined with attraction you at least knew a little better what to do about it, right?

Anyway. Tip was here, behind the table, attempting to meditate between ticket sales. Because that was going to help. Meditation.

Ugh.

[open for all your ticket sale needs!]

white_oleander

So the idea had been tossed around between Astrid and Sabine about a potential random party on the sixth floor, because why not, and there was apparently a party-a-month quota to be met. Monday might be a weird day for a party, but it wasn't like this place held to a tradtional sort of school schedule, and Mondays were usually the days that Astrid needed something like this, anyway, since she actually did wind up with more of a traditional sort of school day. It actually hadn't been too bad this week, though, and she didn't think looking forward to the party had anything to do with it. Because, if she was honest, she was feeling more apprehensive than excited.

She supposed, if no one showed up, and it was just her and Sabine vegging out on all the Chinese food they'd gotten (this time with egg rolls, and plenty of fortune cookies), looking at and admiring the art on her tarot cards, well, then, that would be fine by her, really. But, since she didn't know how well she could depend on that weird thing that happened when people just knew where to find the food when it arrived at the doors, she had ~~oh-so-handwavily~~ made up little individual cards, a hand-painted tarot face on one side, and the simple words "Monday Night, Sixth Floor" on the other.

Mysterious. Enigmatic. Probably the source of disappointment for at least a few people when they followed the cards and discovered it was just some half-assed party, but, hey, it got the word out, and Astrid had enjoyed spending the weekend making them. It wasn't like she was plannning on doing anything but drawing and painting, anyway.

She was also wearing her mother's white kimono, laying a cloth over a short coffee table, and laying out her cards with a bit of trepidation and regret. She probably could have gone back on the idea that she'd offer to read the fortune of anyone who was interested, but, at the same time, she was a little curious as to how it would go, and it wasn't ike many people were likely to show up, anyway....

[[ small ocd ~~incoming~~ is up! open party is open! ]]

intotheout

Another dance, another day spent in the lobby of the dorms selling tickets. Tip had come to kind of enjoy this, mostly for the people watching opportunities.

Bill, on the other hand, kept getting bored and trying to get her to watch his one-billboard water ballet again.

Hey. At least the bubbles were festive?

white_oleander

To hear her mother tell of it, Astrid never had a father. Deifying herself, Ingrid likened her daughter to Athena, sprung forth from her forehead like she was none other than Zeus. Astrid, of course, knew that wasn't even remotely true, nor did she expect that her mother thought she'd ever believe it. If anything, there was her birth certificate, naming the male part of her chromosomes as Klaus Anders, born in Copenhagen, Demark, residing in Venice Beach, California.

And then there was a photograph, though that was something of a secret Astrid wasn't supposed to have discovered. Tucked away in one of her mother's books of poetry, Windward Avenue, a Polaroid of them at a beachside cafe, with a bunch of other people who'd looked like they'd all come off in the beach - tanned, long-haired people wearing beads, the table covered with beer bottles. Klaus had his arm over the back of Ingrid's chair, careless and proprietary. They looked, to her, like they were sitting in a special patch of sunlight, an aura of beauty around them. They could have been brother and sister. A leonine blond with sensual lips, he smiled all the way and his eyes turned up at the corners. Neither of Astrid nor her mother smiled like that.

The picture and the birth certificate were all she had of him, that and the question mark in her genetic code, all that she didn't know about herself. Mostly, she just wondered what he would think of her. If they'd ever crossed paths. If one day, they'd meet. If one day, when she was a famous artist, he'd see her work and be struck in ways he could never quite understand. Or if he'd instinctively know that was the mark of his own flesh and blood.

Usually, Ingrid wouldn't allow dwelling on such sentimental things. But without her there, being both motherless and fatherless this year, all Astrid could do was dwell, up on the roof again as she'd felt it had the best track record for moping so far, running her thumb over the picture, over Klaus's face, as if trying to remember it, so she'd know and maybe he'd know if they ever truly did pass each other by.

[[ like I can refuse a good chance for a dramatic mopey post! slightly cribbed from chapter seven of Janet Fitch's White Oleander; open roof is open!]]

intotheout

It wasn't really very warm out yet, but Tip was tired of winter and had gotten pretty good at being outside in colder weather this year, so instead of reading quietly in her room, she decided to read quietly out on the deck. It was sunny and she had a nice soft blanket to curl up under, so she figured she was set.

Plus, this way she got to avoid any awkward meetings with tiny people that her fellow students might be having in the dorms. Those were funny to hear about, but kind of awkward when you were right there.

[expecting one, and open for slow play!]

intotheout

Selling dance tickets was probably Tip's least favorite part about being on Student Council on a normal day. On a day where she'd much prefer to be hiding in her room . . . weren't her hormones tired?! The rest of her was! Her arms still ached from smashing metal in class yesterday! Among other things!

But here she was, as a dutiful StuCo representative, sitting at a table with a cash box and a roll of tickets for the prom, trying to distract herself by scrolling through Tumblr.

And kind of wishing her tumblr aesthetic had gone more for "absurdist comedy" than "things I find pretty".

[open!]

refused2berescued

Uma had been sent flowers. Yeah, she'd gotten them hours ago, but she still didn't know why she'd gotten them. Or what to do with them. This was the first time she'd seen real flowers, never mind had any of her own.

Flowers needed...water, right? Yeah, that sounded good. She was just going to bang around the common room, looking for a cup or something big enough to hold her...stripey, purple flowers (what kind of flowers were they? Not-roses was the only guess she had) and hope that they didn't die while she looked for something appropriate to put them in.

How fast did flowers die, exactly? Why didn't school teach this kind of stuff?!

[Open! I have no work today!]

somethingwithturquoise

So, Summer had planned to go out for decorating for her New Years party, but Summer underestimated Summer's own laziness, and anyone coming in the room could clearly see where she started with all the streamers and glitter and balloons and where she started to just lose interest and get bored and just kind of said 'fuck it.' It really didn't help that it turned out her name for the party was too long even for the banner, so there hung over the food table something that just simply read: "New Years Party All Night Because Who Even Cares Tha"

Which seemed appropriate enough.

She didn't get lazy about the food, though, and she definitely didn't get lazy about the drinks, so there was that. And so now she just had to hope everyone got the invitation in some way or another and that they'd show up but people here were weird about parties. But, hey, she'd take partying by herself if it came down to it over sitting in her room by herself on New Years Eve.

[[and now ~~for a little OCD~~ all is prepared! ]]

justice_undone

Breq had heard the voices of children this morning. It definitely wasn't the strangest thing she had experienced here, and as she was anyway spending the morning in the common room watching music videos on the TV, she decided to put some extra breakfast food on the table. If any children should show up they could help themselves. For herself, Breq made tea, and then made herself comfortable on the couch.

Music videos were an interesting combination of songs and entertainments. They were easy to watch, and a perfect combination with breakfast. Hopefully the sound wouldn't wake up any students who were trying to sleep in.

[Open! Children also welcome, of course.]

justice_undone

Breq had ice cream and tea.

She knew quite a few Radchaai who would complain about the tea; for a start, it came in small paper bags, and was, as far as she could understand, made directly in a cup. She found it amusing to imagine the horror some of her officers would have expressed at the mere thought of it.

It was actually quite bad. Not that she cared.

The ice cream, on the other hand, was good. Not that food generally was important to her, but the bice cream definitely was good. Although it didn't go that well with tea.

She was sitting on the couch in front of the screen that showed entertainments. There were quite a lot to choose from, but she found most of them rather strange. Not that she wasn't unfamiliar with the stories of different cultures. Many of them remained after annexations, even. But still: Creatures drinking blood from you is sexy. The idea of an epidemic turning most of the people into cannibalistic corpses seemed to be a major fear. Spaceships were just machines. Spaceships who were not machines were evil. She actually took a little bit offence to the last one. Then there were the love stories. There was a lot of fixation on gender and marriage. And then there were the really strange ones where people were put somewhere together and then they dropped off one by one. It reminded her of the song about a thousand eggs, and without thinking about it, she began humming that song.

[Open!]

somethingwithturquoise

The need for parties and the social status assumed to go along with them was probably the easiest part of roboSummer's programming, easily the best lynch pin that connected the two Summer, that would make someone look at her eagerness to host a party and thinking yup, definitely Summer, nothing wrong here! She'd decked the place out with glitter and streamers, started pumping some sweet tunes, and made sure all the food and beverages were readily available and spread out on the table and counters.

And now all she needed was people.

...she really hoped there would be people, but, unlike OG Summer, she would definitely survive if there weren't.

Whoo, party!

[[ ocd ~~incoming!~~ has landed. go wild. ]]

somethingwithturquoise

You know, when Summer and Tip had talked about a party to weather through the storm, things hadn't yet been a full blown hurricane. That eventual hurricane had not yet picked up sharks. There hadn't been any sharks crashing into things, there'd only been a little rain, and there definitely hadn't been any ideas being thrown around about cooling down a hurricane to stop it and that freezing sharks was totally a thing.

The fact that all of that had happened by the time Saturday night rolled around only made it more evident to Summer that this was needed and it was needed bad. Because Summer now understood a little bit better that parties could be used for more than just trying to be popular; they could be used to try to forget that there was a freaking SHARKICANE going on outside. But she wasn't low-key panicking deep inside, no, shut up, whatever.

Mood lighting in the form of candles and lanterns and flashlights. Food in the form of leftover pizza and ice cream that they obviously had to eat because it would all go bad with the power out. Music from Summer's phone put into a cup to amplify it throughout the room, Summer's phone which was going to survive on the steady stream of back-up portable chargers she had bought and was going to try to return once this was all over. So now they just needed people, and she hoped they would come, because people felt safe.

[[and I think I might have some OCD ~~lying around here~~ up and ready to go. Open and up early for all your party needs]]

intotheout

Tip wasn't very experienced with throwing parties, but Summer swore that fliers were the Thing To Do. So after ~~handwavily~~ running around town picking up supplies, Tip whipped up some signage.

Weather got you nervous?
Full up on adrenaline with nowhere to put it?
Come to Summer and Tip's
Shelter from the Storm Party!

Get ready to bunk down for the duration
and eat everything from the fridge/freezer that might go bad
(we've made sure they're well-stocked with ice cream and pizza!)

First floor rec room,
Saturday til the storm breaks

Tip had helpfully drawn ominous storm clouds and lightning bolts all along the top margin, with an umbrella sheltering the text from the slanting rain-lines that came down from the clouds all along the sides. The bottom margin was filled with water wave lines, naturally.

It was all very dynamic. She was quite proud.

[open, if anyone wants to catch Tip along the way!]

intotheout

Tip was manning the prom ticket booth in the lobby. Which for Tip, meant that she was sitting at the table behind a book larger than her head.

She was still reading up on cryptozoology. It turned out, potentially imaginary creatures were fascinating. You know, when they weren't horrifying and racist.

What? She was a freshman. She wasn't supposed to be crazy into prom yet.

intotheout

Tip was still in a good mood from yesterday, with slightly wilted flowers tucked into her hair, and more flowers folded out of notebook paper lining the ticket booth. The whole "staring at her phone" all day bit might seem off-putting to her non-millenial fellow students, but she was reading fanfiction, so, hey. Also thematic.

Please pardon the occasional snickering and "whelp, that's not a word" that came from your dance ticket sales lady today.

era_two_triangle

There was a Camp Pining Hearts marathon on the television. Peridot had found out about it mostly by accident, and was now fixated on the television screen for what was probably going on the eleventh episode, now. She'd needed to break for class that morning, true, but that only meant that by the time she returned to the television, she had a rather large collection of hand-toasted marshmallows with her.

A few had even been dipped in chocolate, not because she figured they would be better that way, but because her hand had slipped and some had fallen into the fondue pot. There were some others that had similarly been dipped in cheese, which people were welcome to sample if they so desired. She wouldn't be, naturally. She would just be laying down on the floor in front of the television, a myriad of yellow roses and one white carnation sticking out from her hair here and there, enraptured by the antics of Percy and Pierre.

... And Paulette too, she supposed, even if she was terrible.

[OOC: Snow day, the revenge! Open!]

intotheout

Tip wasn't much into Christmas, as a general rule. She used to be. She used to love the holiday.

That was before she'd watched her mother get abducted by aliens on Christmas Eve, Tip's stocking halfway up her arm.

So she resented the hell out of the island's daily efforts to force holiday cheer on everyone. She was especially not into the particular way it was doing that today.

The fact that all she could find on TV were various film interpretations of Charles Dickens wasn't helping. "Ooo, a money-lender who hates Christmas. Wonder what that's code for." Bill danced around in the air to the catchy happy music from the TV, making little bubble stars around Tip's head. "Knock that off. Your culture doesn't celebrate Christmas, either."

Bill blew the bubble version of a raspberry.

[Tip is a grump. Open!]

intotheout

Fall in the Midatlantic didn't seem to be in any kind of rush to be, you know, fall-like, especially compared to fall in New York over the break. So Tip was out on the deck with her sunglasses on, wearing shorts and a tank top while she contemplated the large pumpkin in front of her. It was still a little early for a jackolantern that would last all the way to Halloween, but she was in the mood to stab a gourd with a knife.

J.Lo kept texting her ideas for clever two person costume themes they could be doing on Halloween if she wasn't so far away, which was apparently what Tip got for being best friends with the space equivalent of a melodramatic grandmother and then daring to go away for school.

She found herself a good "spooky" playlist, which mostly consisted of white ladies claiming to be witches (it had a lot of Fleetwood Mac on it), turned it up loud, and started scribbling ideas on her pumpkin with a dry erase marker. All her attempts at scary faces just ended up looking Very Disappointed in her. This was maybe going to take awhile.

[Open! Anyone else woken up from the breakweek nap?]

teenagewarhead.livejournal.com

After spending the last week stuck as a giant pending message icon, Negasonic didn't feel much like staying in her room. She settled for just wandering down the hallway and flopping on one of the couches instead.

Granted it was just like... five doors away from her room but at least it was a different setting.

For a late lunch, she poured herself a box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs and started flipping channels around on TV to find something to watch.

[Open]

endsthegame

It started around midnight. Big, purple globs of grape jello, raining down from the sky. Jello drenched the bricks, the emo garden up on the roof, and every window that happened to be on the wrong end of the wind.

An hour later, the dorm sirens began blaring.

By then, the lawn was already coated in a thin layer of jello, and it did not look like the weather had any intention of letting up.

[[ FIRE DRILL! open to all students! ]]

hidingthorns.livejournal.com

So, it hadn't actually been a dream, after all. Margaery didn't know whether she was disappointed or not when she opened her eyes this morning and once more wasn't greeted with the vaulted ceiling of her bedroom at home. On the one hand, she had no idea how to get back, or whether she could even contact her family at all. On the other, this place already seemed much more fun than she'd thought school would be. So perhaps staying awhile wouldn't be the worst idea.

She'd lazed abed for a while, and would blame the ache of being on horseback for two days if anyone should have questioned it, before finally rising and making her way out to face the land of the living. After retrieving an apple from her common room - she was immensely grateful to see something she recognized right away - Margaery made her way down to the deck she'd noticed the day prior to work on the first of several letters. She had always worked on her correspondence in the garden at home, and it was far too beautiful a day to develop a hand cramp indoors.

By her count, she had five letters to write to start, and so she'd brought her inkpot with her, as well. But she found, once she had quill in hand, that she had no idea how to start.

"'Dearest Grandmother, did you know you were sending me to another world?'" she tried out loud. "No, that's horrible."

Five variations on that later, and Margaery had a collection of crumpled parchments at her feet and was vaguely wondering if she should just write to Loras about the shirtless boys. That seemed easier to discuss.

[open open open!]

crimson_sister

Lucille had, like everyone else, woken up this morning without memories. This was strange, and obviously disturbing, and as the only things she could find in her strange home, apart from clothes, were two romantic novels, a collection of poetry and a phone, she had packed these in a small bag and left, hoping that the world outside would make things clearer.

It hadn't, which was why she was now sitting in front of a burnt out campfire, reading a novel called The Rose of Orlais.

[Open!]

intotheout

Tip would have gone to hang out on the deck after class this afternoon, but apparently being in space didn't stop June from being about a billion and a half degrees outside, and she frankly wasn't interested in sweating through her clothes while sitting still, just now.

So instead she parked herself in the nice, air conditioned common room, a bowl of tortilla chips and freshly smashed together guacamole on the coffee table, and wondered why everyone on this show she was watching had a name that started with the letter P.

At least it wasn't about crying breakfast foods. She'd made it through approximately three seconds of that one before changing the channel.

[with not actual apologies to the SU kids on the island. YOUR SHOW'S SHOWS ARE SO WEIRD. Also I've only been at work for two hours and I have already run out of internet and may be about to start spending money irresponsibly on Amazon. Please save me.]

intotheout

Tip was feeling restless and cooped up, and she wasn't about to go back up to the roof of the dorms any time soon -- thanks for that, Peridot -- so she headed out onto the deck, instead, bringing her notebook and pencil with her so she could practice drawing comics to send back to J.Lo.

She managed to get half of the outline of the shape of the deck onto paper before she got bored and frustrated and ended up doodling what looked a bit like some sort of flying vampire jellyfish in the corner instead.

Maybe she should just stick to writing.

[Open!]

intotheout

It was a particularly gorgeous day out, and Tip didn't have any classes or work or anything she needed to get done. She did have a care package from home, full of snacks from Mom's current grocery store (which included basically anything that would stand up to being dipped or coated in dark chocolate), a case of birch beer, and the world's ugliest belt, courtesy of J.Lo.

She was absolutely rocking that ugly ass belt, thank you. She was also munching on chocolate covered edamame and flipping through the paperback her mom had sent her (a cheesy looking YA romance about gay dragons, excellent) and kicking her feet out into the open air in a manner that would probably make anyone afraid of heights moan and cringe. Rihanna was playing on her phone, the sun was shining on her face, and all was right and pleasant in the world.

[open!]

intotheout

It was Tip's first Friday night as a high schooler, and there was no adult supervision in sight. Not that the supervision of adults had ever seemed all that functional or effective to her, but it still felt like it was an occasion to be marked with some sort of youthful exuberance or irresponsibility.

So here she was, sitting with her feet on the cushions in the common room, ready to eat her way through an entire bag of sugar snap peas in one sitting (her taste for snack foods had never really recovered from six weeks of eating out of vending machines when she was eleven) and watch MTV (not so much forbidden back home as awkward: Mom kept getting way to into the romances and J.Lo spent the whole time asking a barrage of questions).

There was some kind of supernatural teen drama on about selkies. The plot appeared to be made up of quick bursts of inexplicable action interspersed with longing looks exchanged between the romantic leads.

. . . She kind of missed her awkward family.

[method RP is method. Open, if anyone else is still about and in for the evening]

Fandom High RPG

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---       Master Game Index
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Out-of-Character Comms

---       Main OOC Comm
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Entries tagged with gratuity tucci

First floor lobby, Thursday

Sixth Floor; Monday Evening [01/28].

First floor lobby, Tuesday

The Roof; Sunday Afternoon [06/17].

The deck, Saturday afternoon

First floor lobby, Wednesday

4th Floor Common Room, Wednesday

Summer's New Years Party; Second Floor Common Room; Sunday Night [12/31].

4th Floor Common Room, Saturday Morning

4th Floor Common Room, Thursday Morning

Second Floor Common Room; Friday Evening [09/01].

Summer and Tip's Shelter from the Storm Party; First Floor Rec Room, Saturday Night.

Throughout the dorms, Friday afternoon

First floor lobby, Wednesday

First floor lobby, Wednesday

Second Floor Common Room, Tuesday Afternoon

4th floor common room, Sunday afternoon

The deck, Tuesday afternoon

Third Floor Common Room - Wednesday Afternoon

FIRE DRILL!, Outside the Dorms, Friday Night into Saturday

The Deck, Sunday afternoon

Main Campfire, Saturday Morning

Fourth floor common room, Wednesday afternoon

The deck, Friday afternoon

Dorm roof, Tuesday afternoon

4th Floor Common Room, Friday night

Fandom High RPG

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