fandomhighdorms | Entries tagged with katina choovanski

A rip opened in the middle of the dorms lobby-- but it was unlike any void the island had seen before. It didn't precisely shine, but white light did filter out, almost tentatively, like the rays of the morning sun. It did not pull or pluck at anything, and when it vanished, it would leave the dorms exactly as it had found them.

It was not a rift that would take; it was a rift that would give.

Give back the people it had taken, that is.

[[ for those who were formerly strewn across the multiverse, after they touch their part! come home, folks ]]

life_inshadow

"Hi everyone," Tara said tentatively from her position next to the cold campfire. There would be enough sugar during the meeting, so the snacks on the nearby picnic table tended to fruits, cheese and chips, and there were blankets for people who wanted to sit on the ground. "It's been a while since we did this, so we're doing a little bit of a get-to-know-you game. People played it at another club meeting and it seemed to be fun for everybody."

Not dirty. No, really. Even if suggesting it kinda sounded that way would have made Tara blush a lot.

She held up a bag of Spree left over from the mural and explained, "We're going to go around the circle and everyone has to say their name and one fact about themselves. If it's true for you, too, raise your hand or make some noise and you get candy. H-hopefully by the end of the meeting everybody has a wicked sugar buzz and we all know each other a little better."

Karla grinned at the bag of sprees, knowing exactly where that came from. "Now, while it's really easy for everyone in this group to find things about themselves that are unique to them, that's not really what this game is about. We want to find things we have in common and also get that sugar buzz Tara mentioned."

"But if there is something you do not feel comfortable admitting to, you are not required to ask for the candy," Raven added. "This is all supposed to be for fun." She just may have seen how these games were sometimes played when alcohol was involved and the statements got...interesting.

"Fun and candy," Francine amended. "So if you feel you haven't got your full dose of sugar when it's all over, you're welcome to grab some more, even if the only thing you have in common with anybody else is liking candy."

Tara glanced around the circle. "If nobody has questions, let's start."

[OOC: With thanks to

thatsamilkshake and

brat_intraining, who came up with this icebreaker to start with. Also cowritten with

glacial_witch and

trigons_child.]

thatsamilkshake

When the magic and support reservists showed up to the preserve this afternoon, instead of four girls standing around in front of a table full of food, they'd find four girls on a white sheet spread out on the grass, in a large, twisted pile of arms and legs and assorted other parts.

One of those parts was Francine's face, which was, thankfully, free enough of the human spaghetti-monster that she could say: "Hi, guys! Don't worry, we're fine!"

She'd say and not doing anything dirty but she was Francine and the concept of whose elbow is that and what is it doing there had only just occurred to her. With an eep. That she was trying hard to suppress, not joke about. "We're just demonstrating a teambuilding exercise!"

Yes. That was what the kids were calling it these days.

"It's a game called Twister, for those of you who don't know it, but the object here isn't to be the last person upright when everybody else falls: it's to support your teammates so everybody can keep going for as long as possible, whether that's with magic or just a nice strong shoulder to lean on."

Tara was flushed as she pried herself loose enough to talk. The position she'd been wedged into had given her a good chance at guessing not just the other girls' bra sizes, but also whether they favored underwires or padding. "If you haven't played before," she observed, "it really helps to be flexible and, uh, not too shy about contact."

She was working on that part. Really.

Raven was utterly convinced now that Earth games were created by the insane. That was the only possible explanation for this "Twister." Either that or it had to belong in 'Dite's shop. "It might also be considered good practice on control for those of you whose powers are based on or intensified by touch," she added.

She was really hoping that no one in the pile started to daydream about, say, Kennedy or Katchoo, or she was going to get a mindful of it.

If Karla was unusually silent, it might have had something to do with her Craft being the major factor in the pile of girls not being a collapsed pile of girls. ~~Or maybe the fact that the answer to Tara's guessing game for most of them was 'Padding? Ahahaahahahaha.'~~

[OOC: Writtenated with the lovely

life_inshadow and

trigons_child, with Karla's ~~boobs~~ presence totally modded with permission. OPEN!]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

Katchoo being shorter than Francine wasn't new; Katchoo being this much shorter than Francine was.

Also not new: Francine feeding people, where for the time being the term 'people' encompassed her tiny four-year-old roommate-slash-girlfriend, currently plunked down three feet in front of the TV and flipping through the channels because nobody wanted her anywhere near the food preparation. That remote control might get thrown sometime soon.

Why?

"STUPID GOLF! I WANNA WATCH SOMETHING ELSE!"

Because of that.

This could get messy, and that was even before the food.

[OOC: Francine modded with permission, common room is open. Beware of Chewie-flung projectiles.]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

Katchoo had felt justified in blowing most of her last paycheck on food for this party, because this was a girl who would eat half-raw macaroni and cheese if left to her own devices and you really didn't want her cooking. It helped to have a radio cohost who ran the diner ~~and could be shamelessly self-modded~~ and had the weirdest mushy soft spot for her and Francine, so she'd been able to call in favors from Lacey, who'd supplied trays of sandwiches, salads, a couple of fancy-looking pasta dishes, and a large chocolate and raspberry mousse cake.

She'd thought setting up for the party would be a lot harder, but . . . eh, this wasn't the kind of party that you had just to see how many high-profile politicians you could get blackmail material on in one night. Simple enough. And as far as Katchoo was concerned, a hell of a lot more important.

The music for the night was a combination of Griffin Silver and the Beatles, there was extra room on the tables for food in case anyone else felt like bringing stuff, Clocky made occasional tweeting circuits of the room, and the ball pit was there for you if you needed it.

And Katchoo was even around, her usual diffident expression dialed down half a notch. The things we do for love, man.

. . . and then a bed of plastic squirt flowers sprang up in one corner of the room near the ballpit. Sigh. Happy frikkin' April Fool's.

[OOC: Up eeeeeeeeearly for SP, ~~with the caveat that thatsamilkshake will be AFK until evening EST~~ and can has a birthday girl! ~~Wait for the OCD or I'mma sic Clocky on you~~ OCD is up, party is open, huzzah and go forth and all that jazz.]

pastmewrong.livejournal.com

Classes for the week all well over, and Effy not really being the sort to go for unnecessary work, especially with half term (spring break, whatever) coming up, was out getting her unwinding kicked off a little early.

Might be cold, but it was at least pretty and sunshiney and cold, and Effy was lost in thought and idly picking petals off her now wilting Valentine's day flowers, dropping them off the roof and watching them float down and away in the light breeze. Everyone relaxed in different ways, and Effy always had been... unconventional, to say the least.

This time in a couple days she'd be in the fucking Bahamas. That was a pretty good thing to be musing on, wasn't it? Especially since it was bloody freezing right here, right now.

[[Open roof is totally open, but work induced SP may occur.]]

Current Mood: peaceful

bitchprince

If Arthur had still been back at Camelot, the idea of holding celebrations for a servant's birthday would have seemed preposterous. But he wasn't, and it didn't, and if he were really honest with himself he'd admit he enjoyed it (or at least in as much as it involved picking out presents that made him fret some on the inside and yelling at people about getting decorations in).

The Sixth Floor was decorated rather decadently for a birthday party. There were some CDs of painfully carefully selected songs playing through the system - the ones Arthur had judged least likely to shatter eardrums (and maybe tending towards the classical and medieval).

And there was food. Courtesy of Francine.

Arthur didn't like half-measures much.

[[ open to all! ]]

therewaslife

There wasn't a lot to do today. That fact didn't particularly bother Bod, though. He'd learned to find entertainment in the smallest things so making his way down to the common room seemed like a logical place to start.

Of course, once there, a few options were presented. He could find something on television to watch. He could spend a few minutes flipping through the channels to find something good to watch and the probably settle on something boring (he'd spent time in hotels, he knew how television worked) or he could try and make himself something to eat.

Now, that option made him hesitate. While he'd been in the graveyard, Silas or Miss Lupescu had done the majority of the food getting. Since leaving, he'd mostly stuck with fast food and prepared meals. This would almost be cooking.

Okay, no it wouldn't. There was cereal (something called Captain Crunch to be exact) and Bod figured he could manage a bowl, milk, pouring and a spoon. Still, it was more than he tended to do. With that done, he was free to find something boring on television.

[common rooms are open places!]

Current Mood: calm

bitchprince

Just a few hours ago, the flamingoes had given up on their sudden, magical performance, and retreated to their usual perches for the night. The lights had gone out across Fandom Town, and so no one was awake to witness the start of the gentle tinsel snow. Glittering paper floated down, spreading across the fresh snow, coating it in shimmering colours. It was pretty, it was unnoticed, it was...

The fire alarm cut through the air without warning. The fragile peace of Sunday night shattered into tiny little shards, like a lunatic firing bullets into Christmas decorations with utter abandon. The tinsel? Kept falling. The alarm? Would not stop blaring. The firemen? Were out on the town. It was time for the annual 'strange weather' drill, and no man, woman, or angry pseudopod was going to dissuade them from ushering all the students away from the school.

As they rushed into the school, the tinsel kept falling. Enjoy, kids. We hope you stole a coat upon leaving, or you're going to be plenty cold.

[[ HAVE AT THE FIRE DRILL! Go here for our previous fire drill. Y'all know the drill! ... bad pun. bad. ]]

thatsamilkshake

There was a Francine, there was a top hat, and there was a very small, very fluffy, very white bunny trying to get out of the top hat.

"Will you please stay in there? At least while I get you some lettuce and grapes?" No carrots. "I don't want people to step on you."

Francine turned on the tv and channel-flipped 'til she hit a Bitterwoman repeat. So, you know. For about 30 seconds. "There. Watch that and... try to behave." Not that Francine's bedspread could attest to the pointlessness of that request.

[OOC: Oooooopen! BunnyBFF modded ~~shamelessly~~ with permission.]

bigdamndestiny.livejournal.com

Having ~~handwavilyomg~~ put up some very, very poorly spelled signs with Tara for people to know about this, Merlin was more than happy to get things started.

If only because there had been some rather insistent candy yesterday and he'd tried some out of pity and now believed Halloween may be evil. So, there was that.

But he had everything all set up and hopefully there wouldn't be an attack of some also horrible sweet from his time. But this was Fandom, so that was an actual concern. Damn Fandom.

[[Have at!]]

glacial_queen

Karla fled towards the dorms, running as if there were Hell-hounds flat on her heels. Just a little bit further, she thought. Just a little bit faster… She was flagging, and quickly, but she reached down deep in her reserves and dredged up enough energy for one last little burst of speed.

( Too bad it was impossible to outrun one’s own fragmenting mind. )

[ So starts the plot of Crazy! Open for reactions from anyone inside. Psychics, empaths, telepaths, people prone to odd dreams, random people up at stupid o’clock in the morning—anyone can react to the waves of emotion. Karla herself is not available for interaction. Further posts can be found here and then here. These posts are NFI, save for ~~Plot-slaves~~ Team Rescue! WARNING: MORE DARK THEMES AND CREEPINESS AHEAD. POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING. AFTERMATH OF VIOLENCE, PARTICULARLY SEXUAL AND AGAINST CHILDREN. I WARN BECAUSE I CARE.

Yes, my canon is MADE OF WRONG.]

death-and-pies.livejournal.com

It was a quiet night. Just after midnight, a steady rain had started falling, drenching the island quickly and showing no sign of slowing. A few hours later, at 2am, the peace of the night was broken when the fire alarm started blaring. It would shrilly blare, stop and then repeat the same shrill blare two seconds later. And it was not going to stop until the all clear was given.

Thus, all the students had to carry their tired selves from their snuggly significant others or their snuggly beds to go wait IN THE RAIN on the dorm lawn. The fire department was making sure all the students were a safe distance away from the school so there were no awnings to hide under. All the students would be stuck out in the steady rain.

The fire department headed into the building but this could take awhile. Enjoy your fire drill, kids!

[IT'S FIRE DRILL TIEMS! Just remember it's raining but it's warm. Have fun! See here for fire drill details! And take a look here for our previous fire drill!]

Current Mood: awake

solo_sword

After detention there had been some time to check messages and figure out if there was anything she needed to catch up on after spending her morning cleaning up alligator parts, and then she'd gone for the second shower. Her priorities were a bit skewed, but 'ew' was 'ew'.

Since she had some time on her hands, she settled into the common room of her apparently adopted floor with popcorn and her comlink on the table in front of her, flipping through channels and being really glad that Scifi's monster movies tonight had nothing to do with lizards.

[Omg people I have not actually played in TWO WHOLE DAYS. Seriously, no SP pings or ANYTHING. I need to post a CR to fix that. Open!
Oh, and it's Ogre and Grendel on Scifi tonight, if anyone is curious.Yes, I checked.]

Current Mood: relaxed

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

It could probably be argued that the roof of the cabins wasn't the best place to be when your purpose for being up there was to consume as much of the bottle of Jack Daniels and two packs of cigarettes (mostly that latter although the former was probably a concern too) you'd brought up there with you, but shut up, she'd brought a soda can for an ashtray and she wasn't perched on the edge, and she really didn't want to be in the cabin right now.

It could also probably be argued that it was a miracle that Katchoo hadn't started breaking things (or, you know, specific people), but she hadn't gotten past the numb depressive part and to the RARGHSMASHY rage yet.

Yet.

For now she was stuck on brooding, drinking, and smoking. On the roof. Because that was so smart.

[OOC: Of course it's open, if you think 'Do Not Taunt Happy Fun Chewie' is, in fact, an invitation and a blessing to do just that. Because it is.]

bigdamndestiny.livejournal.com

Once the sun went down, a rather spectacularly large bonfire was lit for the party. No, Merlin was not aware it was now celebrated on the first of May. Calenders change, after all.

There was even a crudely constructed maypole there in case anyone felt the need to dance around it. They did so at their own peril, of course. The mockery that may ensue would probably be great.

pastmewrong.livejournal.com

Effy had spent most of the past four days avoiding people. Something that was probably a good move on her part, and for everyone, considering that she wasn't the most openly friendly sort to begin with, and that would really only be compounded by jetlag and getting sent away to this fucking place. Boring as Bristol was, she couldn't say this was somewhere she particularly wanted to be either.

A few days on, she'd begun to see the attraction of certain parts. In this case, the attraction of getting to sit out by a roaring fire, poke idly at the embers at the edge with a stick, and watch them glow and fizzle with the air.

This was actually not bad, and for the moment even quiet.

And occasionally, she sat back to swig from a plastic water bottle she was keeping away from the flames. Chances were, it didn't actually have water in it.

[[Open like a big open campfire.]]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

It had been a week since Art Crawl, and a week since Katchoo had seen Francine. You'd think, living on the same floor of the dorms and all, they'd have run into each other by now but by pure dumb luck Katchoo hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of her best friend.

If that was still the case, considering the way Francine had run off after their last conversation. She hadn't exactly had more friends than she could count on one hand anyway, and at least two of them were graduating soon. Factoring that in wasn't helping with the melancholy. Yes, melancholy -- she didn't have the energy to work up a proper rage.

She probably should have been studying for finals, but please, when had Katchoo ever cared about things like that? So the roof it was, feet dangling off the edge as she lit up what was probably going to be the first of way too many cigarettes tonight.

[OOC: And the roof is smoky, but open, and Chewie's moody but mellowly so.]

bitchprince

Yes, Arthur was still technically wounded (and wearing that infernal sling so he couldn't actually use his regular sword arm), and if all had been normal, he wouldn't be here. Unfortunately, circumstances dictated that his only other alternative would be to be stuck in one room with Leto and a gaggle of screaming children instead, and he was fairly sure that was what other people meant when they talked about Hell.

The salle was the better option. At least he'd-- imprinted them all with the importance of discipline and swordcraft. Right now, it was a brilliant way to distract the little bastards. With any luck, Gawain would show up (or simply vanish into thin air, because weren't these things supposed to last two days) to make the insanity complete.

He was dragging Reno off to go drinking once this was finished.

He eyed Arawn. "Check your posture," he ordered, "You'll just ruin your arm like that. Morgana, don't point that at-- Down. It's called discipline."

It was going to be a long day.

[[ open to all, especially to insane au relatives of doom (tm) ]]

blondecanary.livejournal.com

Dinah was checking the barrier, checking the perimeter, and nervously eyeing the Preserve.

[ooc: totally open for fighters or zombies of the PC or NPC stripe. Chatroom : nobrainz4u !]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

So Francine hadn't been in her room when Katchoo'd stopped by earlier hoping to surprise her with a cake. That, in combination with last night's radio, had her in a Mood.

Not just a cranky one, or a cranky and repressed one, but a cranky, repressed, and morose mood.

It was a great combination, really, and so Katchoo was sitting on the edge of the roof by the planter garden, feet dangling over the side, chain smoking like a pack didn't cost way too damn much these days.

[OOC: Open roof is open, moody Katchoo is . . . well, Katchoo.]

Current Music: Indigo Girls - Collecting You

thatsamilkshake

A weekend of weirdness had happened in Fandom, and the only potentially embarrassing thing Francine had done? Had no witnesses. This was an event of epic proportions, and called for a celebration of epic proportions.

Or, you know, French Toast.

Because she really could make breffast.

Lots and lots of breffast, as it turned out.

[Open! Syrupy!]

Current Mood: hungry

iruinenglish.livejournal.com

At 2 am exactly, a loud buzzing sound rang through the dorms. An not just any buzzing. A loud, obnoxious "BZZZT!" followed by a two-second pause, followed by another "BZZZT!", followed by another two-second pause, followed by a... You get the idea. And the really bad part was the way it tended to feel like it was inside your head when it "BZZZT"ed as you were passing by in the halls.

So due to the "BZZZT"ing and fire safety regulations, the students had to drag their tired, cranky selves out of bed (or whatever), make their way down the halls and stairwells, and file out onto the dorm lawn in the chilly, damp weather, and did we mention it was 2 am?

The Fandom fire department was on hand, but they'd probably make everyone wait for a while just because they were cranky, too.

[And here is your fire drill post! See here for details.

How did it take us three years to do this, game? How?]

Current Mood: cranky

stocksgrrl.livejournal.com

Turtle had decided that she didn't want to take any chances and have something weird happen to her on the way to radio because she was going all over the place, so she was going to play it safe and just hang out a while in the common room. She had with her a very healthy dinner of sugary cereal seasoned with sugar and with chocolate milk instead of regular milk, and sunk comfortably in the cushions of the couch with the bowl in her lap and her feet up on the coffee table. The TV was on CNN, and she was having maybe way too much heckling the commentators.

"That's stupid!" she informed one guy. "And you're old, anyway."

It was, she felt, very good radio prep.

[[ I've spent almost all day away from the computer and now wants to plaaaaaay. Open! ]]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

No one had ever told Katchoo, explicitly, that the roof was the place to go for moping and emo and brooding and all of that; for one, she hadn't bothered to ask, and for two, the conversations she did have rarely lasted long enough to get to a point where the topic had a chance of coming up at all.

And yet, despite that, she found herself up here a lot lately, alternate superhero persona or not. Maybe it was the planter box full of cranky-looking plants; maybe it was the view. It was a nice change of scenery (and air) from painting in her room, that was for damn sure, and she'd lugged her easel and supplies up tonight.

Entirely unsurprisingly, she had a cigarette dangling out of the corner of her mouth as she half-blindly slapped paint onto whatever the hell this was turning out to be, painting more because the now familiar motion and feel of brush against canvas was comforting than anything else.

[OOC: I so meant to do this hours ago, but I conked out from a headache like whoa. Open!]

heromaniac

Momoko was sitting on the roof, clutching her knees and staring off into the distance. Every once in a while she looked down at the pages held captive under her feet. Coloured pencil aside, they included measurements of distance and speed, calculations of force, notes about which girl could strike easier from this or that angle, their reaction times and resistances to certain return attacks, as well as rough notes on weird alternative versions of Him and Mojo.

That girl had been a better Powerpuff Girl... a better leader... a better Blossom? and she was only 5 years old! Momoko was well aware it was her own fault for slacking off and simply having fun since she'd left Tokyo City, and sure the little girl had been annoying with the lectures, but she was going to sit up here on the roof and be sad about it for a while anyway.

[Roof is open, as they are.]

Current Mood: emo

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

Another day, another mopefest.

Razormouth was up on the roof again, in the same corner as yesterday, staring out over the island and pondering all the important questions of life.

Why am I on an island?

Where's Wallflower?

What's the value of pi to thirty-seven digits?

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Does the spearmint lose its flavor on the bedpost overnight?

αυτό που εσείς θα έκανε εάν τραγούδησα από τον τόνο?*

How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?

Sigh. Being a broody superhero was a rough life.

[OOC: * - What would you do if I sang out of tune? At least according to Babelfish.

For Wallflower primarily, but open! I may not be right in the head.]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

It had been a really intense day of brooding, moping, ruminating in languages she didn't know, and mentally narrating on things she wished she couldn't see through people's windows across the island.

And Razormouth had had enough for today. If only she could remember; it was like chunks of her memory were missing or something. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe she was really home sleeping in a warm bed. There was really only one way to find out.

She stood slowly, blonde hair whipping out behind her in a conveniently directed breeze, cutting a very emotastic and imposing figure for the equivalent of a full-page panel's worth of time.

Then dove off the roof, gracefully, like a swan.

"Crap! That's what I was afraid of! I CAN'T FLY!"

She fell. And fell. Well, at least it looked dramatic.

"LOOK OUT BELOW! HEADACHE!!!!!"

At least the crash looked pretty spectacular. She'd be fine -- superheroes like her were built to survive falls like this -- but she hadn't been kidding about the headache. Nice little crater she was stuck in now, too.

[OOC: Open! Feel free to react from any point where you might have seen the dive. Dialogue again stolen from "When Worlds Collide." Also I'd just like to note that I almost turned Chewie into a Wookiee for the weekend.]

kestrelswolf.livejournal.com

Firekeeper was hungry, but not a "going out to hunt in the preserve" kind of hungry. So instead she and Blind Seer were in the common room kitchen.

Currently, she was frowning at a bag of microwave popcorn, wishing she could remember how long it was supposed to cook for. Or for the fireplace from when the power had been out to suddenly reappear.

Blind Seer had somehow managed to get the fridge open, despite a distinct lack of opposable thumbs, and was currently nosing through it for something good.

[open like a CR!]

Current Mood: hungry

bigdamndestiny.livejournal.com

It had taken a few moments to figure out the DVD player, but Merlin did as he was told and just pushed buttons until it worked. It was a surprisingly good method.

He sat back, ready to watch this porno thing that Emmett had said would be interesting.

And in the first five minutes, he couldn't quite understand the draw of this sort of entertainment. It was only like Morgana and Gwen in the fact that they looked vaguely similar. The way they talked and the room they were in certainly didn't look like any castle he'd ever seen. And, really, those dresses were just terribly impractical for a lady or a servant. They must be terribly cold--

Merlin's eyes went very big as the dress issue was solved and they ladies started kissing. The only sound he made was the verbal equivalent of a keysmash.

[[Open like a common room where a wizard is being scarred for life is!]]

new-to-liirness.livejournal.com

Contrary to what radio might have expected, there were no bacon cookies in the common room.

Instead, Liir had the television on *gasp* and was enjoying a fresh-made sandwich. He wasn't in the mood for cooking today, oddly enough, but he was in the mood to watch other people cooking.

Hence the Iron Chef.

Makejoy on his lap, lemonade and chicken parm on the coffee table, he was quite settled in for a relatively relaxed afternoon.

[open!]

kestrelswolf.livejournal.com

Washing one's clothes in a stream meant that Firekeeper was actually quite comfortably attired as she (and Blind Seer, who just plain didn't need to worry about clothes) wandered in to the common room with boxes from one of the food-selling places in town. The smell of fresh-baked bread and cheese had drawn her in, but then she'd been asked about "toppings" and, not quite being able to decide, ended up leaving with a half-dozen of the disc-shaped bread things.

Which was far more than even a very hungry wolf needed, really. Which is why they were all laid out on a table, ready to be shared should anyone else wander in.

Meanwhile, Firekeeper flipped on the television and looked for something interesting to watch. Perhaps something along the lines of what they'd seen in class today, with explosions.

[ooc: open like a CR!]

lovemykilt

Priestly was perched on the counter again, this time next to the coffee pot. His mohawk was still green from yesterday, but it matched his "I sell crack for the CIA" t-shirt and he didn't want to risk getting dye on his clothes. He had his legs crossed -- never fear, he was wearing pants, no danger of accidental flashing here. And he was talking seemingly to mid-air.

"I'm just saying, man. I totally respect what you're fighting for, but you've got to be careful. Too many of you guys go on strike at the same time and it'll be really hard drumming up the right kind of sympathy for your cause. Plus you're totally risking potential union-limiting legislation. And look what happened to Hoffa. Okay, not what actually happened to Hoffa, but what people think happened to Hoffa. Not that I'm saying you guys have ties to the mob. And, anyway, you got to watch out for the scabs and stuff, undermining what you're trying to say. Are the French presses in the union? These are important questions."

The second floor common room had coffee. Caffeinated, even.

But only if you proved you supported the coffee makers' cause.

[ooc: open!]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling toooooooooo . . .

The disgustingly cheerful sound of the Carpenters echoed off the walls of the stairwell as Katchoo marched up to the roof, looking ragefully purposeful, her radio held up above her head in both hands.

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with youuuuuuuuuuuu!

The door to the roof slammed open, and Katchoo stomped to the edge.

Outside the snow is falling --

And the radio went flying off the roof, thrown with enough force to smash into a hapless tree.

"I'll give you falling, you frikking piece of (*@#&$)(@#$!"

Katchoo slumped down against the ground, back against the planter full of cranky plants (she'd taken to tending the damn things since she felt a kinship with them), and lit up a cigarette.

Stupid Christmas music.

[OOC: Had to. Open if you so desire!]

wantstodirect

Tony wasn't aware of the movie showing at the gym and so didn't have to make the heart-wrenching choice between Space Battles and Lee Nicholas.

Yes, it was Wednesday at 9 pm, time for Darkest Night again. This week, Raymond Dark and his mortal sidekick James Taylor Grant would uncover an ancient conspiracy of cartographers. Tony had popcorn and soda.

[Open to all!]

Current Mood: geeky

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

When Katchoo had gotten that copy of Elegant Waste from the library this morning, she'd been planning on reading it today. It had been a couple of years since she had, after all.

Clearly, she hadn't been planning on the book not staying a book, and now she was up on the roof with a pack of cigarettes, an easel and her paints, and a scrawny, trashed-looking kitten who was hitting the catnip way too hard.

Every now and then, it'd come up to her and mew plaintively as if it wanted a drag off her cigarette.

"No," she'd tell it. "Stick to your happy cat leaf, frikkin' furball."

And with a little woe-is-me sigh, it would pad back over to the corner under the Garden of Cranky Plants (as Katchoo had come to call it) and sprawl out in its little pile of catnip, one paw flung melodramatically across its eyes.

Frikkin' Fandom. All she'd wanted was something to read, not a tiny feline junkie. Well . . . at least she was getting really into the painting, and even if she didn't know exactly what she was doing, it was shaping up to be a pretty impressive, if faceless, human figure.

[OOC: Open like roofs tend to be.]

first-guardian.livejournal.com

Ichigo was lounging in one of the chairs on the deck, his feet propped up on the table and he was eating a blueberry muffin. He frowned when one bite tasted strange, but the next was alright so maybe it had just lain close to another pastry. It wasn't until the muffin was gone and Ichigo licked a crumb off his fingers that he tasted it again.

"Orange?" he didn't even notice he was speaking out loud. He hadn't eaten anything with oranges today. He sucked on the other finger and that was definitely orange. The back of his hand... still orange. The inside of his wrist; orange.

Did Shinigami have certain flavours and he just never noticed before?

[[Open.]]

Current Mood: confused

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

To say that Katchoo was less than thrilled about this whole cabin experience was like saying that Georgia O'Keefe had had a vague, passing interest in flower metaphors. (Katchoo could have told her a thing or two about dirty flower artwork, but anyway.)

Hoping nobody would bug her if she was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, she was set up beside the campfire with a pack of her usual cheap cigarettes and a sketchbook, staring absently at the blank page in front of her. Communal living was hell on her creativity.

[OOC: You know the drill -- open!]

senor-chado.livejournal.com

Chad was still a little bit confused by the lack of usual clothing and the seemingly abundance of tight pants and flowy shirts and bandanas that seemed to have worked his way into his closet, but he'd been here long enough to not worry about it until it had been at least a few days.

He did discover that he didn't like himself in those flowy shirts, though; he liked loose fits, sure, but those were just way too flowy. And he figured, if he was going to be shirtless, he might as well enjoy the sun a little, so he went down to the deck, and lounged a bit.

Because, you know, he needed a tan.

Well, Prince Oscar Pedro could use one. Lathered up with plenty of high SPF sunscreen, the cat lounged with Chad, enjoying the lingering sun of the day. And, yes, he had a nice bandana, too. He didn't even seem to mind. It wasn't nearly as annoying as the sweater, especially since Chad had wrapped it to give his ears freedom.

[[ yeah, like I could live with myself if I didn't use piratical shirtless Chad icon today. Anyway, open ]]

not_in_the_book

It was strange being back in Fandom, even after almost two weeks since his return. He'd not been getting out much, really, so it felt good to get up to the roof.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, the first pack he'd bought in the past... Well, quite a long time. He usually didn't smoke alone, but something about the night just begged for one. So he opened the pack, slicing open the plastic cover with a fingernail (he really needed to get those cut), and tapped out one cigarette.

The spell to light it was easy enough -- calling heat was almost rudimentary, and, really, took almost less energy than pulling out a lighter, or striking a match. Breathing in, he let the smoke fill his lungs, and then released it with a sigh.

[Open like a roof, for anyone who'd have any reason to be up here! :D ]

thismaskiwear.livejournal.com

Katchoo lugged the easel, the paints and palette, and a couple of the blank canvases she'd bought earlier in the week up to the roof, setting herself up in the corner with the garden of spiky plants. It had been a long time since she'd had a chance to do any artwork, and painting was still something fairly new to her; now that she actually had her life to herself again (for however long that lasted) she welcomed the chance to try her hand at.

Acrylics. She'd never painted with acrylics before, either, and though she'd never admit it out loud as she squeezed generous daubs of various colors onto the palette, she had no idea what it was going to be like. Some classically-trained artist somewhere would probably have a fit if they saw her guessing her way through this, she thought, lighting up a cigarette.

Absently, she dipped her brush into a color at random and began to let it trail over the canvas. This was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but it was soothing.

[OOC: Open like a roof is. Mind the temperamental artist, but she's a bit mellower today.]

minnesota-teen.livejournal.com

If Cal knew she was smoking he'd probably kick her ass. Which made her snort because that thought was entirely too amusing. Most likely he'd just give her a look and a shrug of his shoulders. But it's not like she was really huffing and puffing on a cigarette. They were cheap and to be honest with herself, they kind of sucked. How did people smoke and actually enjoy it? Uhg. But whatever, she was doing it anyway.

She was also thinking about that story, and more importantly that girl. The one with the freckles. All day long Amber had tried putting herself in her shoes, but with the advantage of knowing that someone was so infatuated with her. No.. it went beyond infatuation she thought.

The ashes on the end of her smoke was long and with a careless flick of her wrist, she knocked them off.

Amber wanted to be Antigone.

[The roof, it is open.]

walks-two-paths.livejournal.com

Savannah headed to the gym after workshops were over to set up for cheerleading practice. She was definitely in a better mood than she was last time and was bouncing around as she made sure things were in place.

She dragged out the practice mats and set up the tables for snacks and the sign in sheet. Once everything was in its place, she turned on the music and began warming up as she waited for the rest of the squad.

Current Mood: bouncy

not_in_the_book

After his morning workshop, 'Randy Miller', still rolling his eyes, dropped his stuff off in his room and then made his way to the common room. He smiled, and set to work making soup and sandwiches.

It was awesome how well his George Foreman doubled as a panini grill. Grilled chicken paninis and cream of vegetable soup were just exactly what he wanted today -- and there was plenty of soup, and plenty of fixings if someone wanted a sandwich.

[Open in an open way! I'm around for a couple of hours, then off to work until late.]

Fandom High RPG

About the Game

---       Master Game Index
---       IC Community Tags
---       Thinking of Joining?
---       Application Information
---       Existing Character Directory

School and Grounds
---       Fandom High School
---       Staff Lounge
---       TA Lounge
---       Student Dorms

Around the Island
---       Fandom Town
---       Fandom Clinic

Communications
---       Radio News Recaps
---       Student Newspaper
---       IC Social Media Posts

Off-Island Travel
---       FH Trips

Once Upon a Time...
---       FH Wishverse AU

Out-of-Character Comms

---       Main OOC Comm
---       Plot Development
---       OOC-but-IC Fun

⚙

Disclaimer

Fandom High is a not-for-profit text-based game/group writing exercise, featuring fictional characters and settings from a variety of creators, used without permission but for entertainment purposes only.

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Fandom High RPG