[identity profile] ihaveniceteeth.livejournal.com
Gwen had gotten her freak-out over being a boy out of her system last time this had happened (the fact she'd turned into an attractive boy helped some), so right now she was more concerned with food and coffee, with the latter taking priority.

And if she kept checking herself out in reflective surfaces every time she passed one, well, she didn't look like this every day.

[Open like common rooms are]
[identity profile] weetinyreese.livejournal.com
Sleep-singing seemed to work up an appetite. Kyle, always knowing where the food was, managed to put together the makings of a big breakfast. If it was a breakfast food and cookable, chances were he had it. And if not? Well, he was happy to make bacon and eggs for anyone who stopped by. Or a sausage and egg burrito. There was salsa around here somewhere.

Kyle started working on the fire and found himself humming quietly.

[OOC - open to all who want breakfast and/or a song]
[identity profile] saltandammo.livejournal.com
Dean was up fairly bright and early -- or at least what he considered bright and early -- and out in the Common Room cooking mass amounts of breakfast. Both John William and Cas were helping and he suspected that even if no one else showed up, the three of them would be able to polish off a good portion of what they were cooking.

And then maybe later he'd take them out for pie.

The boys were Winchesters after all.
[identity profile] ihaveniceteeth.livejournal.com
Currently, there were three girls, one boy, and a dog on the deck at The Charles Townsend Agency. Of the group, the dog was the only one in their right mind.

Sabrina, Jill and Kelly had all jogged, slowly and braless, down to the Agency, being joined shortly thereafter by Bosley. Lounging in chairs, the angels waited for Charlie to contact them, or for someone who needed their help.

[Open! And they've all fled.]
sith_happened: (Got you babe)
[personal profile] sith_happened
A slightly gremlin-bit Anakin Skywalker, dressed in a way-too-tight jumpsuit, strode out onto the school lawn.

He stroked his--sadly, invisible--mustache and called out, "Cher? Honey? We're going to be late!"

This was going to be so very bad.

[OOC: Open like a thing that should be recorded by many, many people.]
[identity profile] saltandammo.livejournal.com
Dean didn't have any classes today and figured he could start off the term by making breakfast for whoever happened by. And if no one happened by, then there'd just be a lot of food for him to eat.

Really, there wasn't any bad here.

[ooc: open like a common room is, now with more free breakfast!]w
raspberryturk: (And?)
[personal profile] raspberryturk
Sometimes, being a TA rocked.

Other times, Reno ended up standing at a campfire in a black tutu, cute ribbons, and mime make-up, absolutely certain that he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to be able to do this without crawling under something to die, afterward.

Perhaps surprisingly, getting the tutu had been the easy part. Being a Turk meant that he had connections... well. Everywhere. Ones that tended not to ask questions.

Look! He was in a box! An invisible box! And he could not get out! And he hated you all!

The timer on his phone went off, and he broke into a loud, rousing chorus of I'm a Little Teapot, complete with hand-actions, before he went back into shock-silent mime mode again. Still in that box. Still hating you all.

Marcel Marceau would be rolling over in his grave, right about then.

[So, so open.]
[identity profile] ambassadorinara.livejournal.com
Well. This was...different. She felt tall and lithe. Streamlined. More like a thoroughbred than a show horse. Inara felt like dancing. This was a body made for fun, and dancing, and play. Amber was certainly very lucky.

So, she turned on the radio until she found an oldies station and improvised steps like she'd seen in old vids on the cortex as she made herself some breakfast.

[ooc: Oh, so very open!]
[identity profile] wannabe-pan.livejournal.com
Bowl of cereal in hand, Andrew flopped down on a couch and turned on the television. He flipped through the channels, finally landing on an episode of Dirty Jobs.

"Oh, Mike," Andrew said aloud, "I do so appreciate you reassuring me that life isn't that bad." He could always be working in a waste water treatment plant.

He sighed and tugged on his shorts. Going commando wasn't nearly as comfortable as he thought it would be.

[CR open!]
[identity profile] sonofmogh.livejournal.com
The day had started early for Worf. While he'd never admit how special the day was to himself, he planned to at least celebrate in his own way. Despite the rain there had been a successful hunting trip through the preserve. Worf had to skip the part of roasting it over an open fire but using a modified phaser setting was able to cook it without too much of a problem.

And now anyone near the Little Dipper cabin would probably notice the smell of the phaser roasted venison that Worf had cooked over the firepit. In addition there is other food available both modified Klingon and normal human food including variety of pies (cherry, apple and rokeg blood).

Considering it came from Worf... it was almost festive.

[Open for the Dippers or anyone passing by...]
[identity profile] cheminthehead.livejournal.com
Gladys had spent another night watching the stars. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but... "Why Am I A Pony?"

She was, indeed, a pony, and a rather perplexed pony, at that.
[identity profile] weefeetbigboots.livejournal.com
Kaylee...was not the best cook. But! Given what she'd been able to scrounge up, sweet-wise, she was doing just fine, thank you. She'd managed to locate a fair amount of candy and fresh fruit, and while her attempts to roast things over the fire weren't going very well (gummi bears, it turned out, were kinda melty), she was determined to at least try everything.

[open, as these things are!]

Fandom High RPG



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