chef_chocobro: ((older) curious headturn)
Ignis Scientia ([personal profile] chef_chocobro) wrote2025-08-11 08:22 am
Entry tags:

MHA #18; Monday Afternoon [08/11].

There would always be a part of Ignis that couldn't help but feeling that retaining his lease on the MHA apartment was a waste of money and resources, though that part of him was swiftly quieted by the irrefutable evidence of just how convenient and useful still having it and having access to it had been. Not only as a conveniently closer location for quick bursts of romantic rendezvous, but also as an excellent place to work on things or to keep things that might run the risk of early exposure, thus ruining some surprise, were it to occur or be held at the mansion. Which did seem to make it quite the glorified storage unit, really, but a useful one at that.

Well, not just a glorified storage unit, but even if it was just that, regular maintenance on it was especially crucial because it was not being used. Letting something sit and forgetting about all the finer details was an excellent way to ensure its slow decay. But those romantic rendezvous were fairly regular...but what of the time in between them? Dust still collected, a staleness settled in the air, a dormant, vacant space was just an invitation to all sorts of settling uncleanliness and other things.

So Ignis had made it a habit, usually after his visit to the Consortium, of swinging by the apartment to clean. To check appliances and fixtures, let in some fresh air, change the linens, keep tabs on general wear-and-tear through the march of time...All those little things that kept a place habitable that flew under most people's radars.

Perhaps it was just old habits, too. He found a certain comfort and familiarity in being the steady, silent, unseen force that made the lives of those he cared about seamlessly better in ways they'd never even realize. Liliana might spend, at best, an hour or two a week in the MHA apartment, but that was no reason why it shouldn't be perfect and immaculate every time she did.

So, needless to day, when he came by that Monday to tidy up and discover it to be anything but the usual quiet stillness he was accustomed to, he was a little thrown. Even more so by the fact that he was greeted not only with an inordinate amount of activity coming from the kitchen (leading one to, for a brief moment, dread a potential raccoon- or gremlin-related break-in), but also the scent of cooking (or at least the attempts at it) and the occasional worrisome thump or clatter followed by rather unique and colorful cursing. Concern creased his brow for a moment (in part just because his mind was already thinking of the additional cleaning time required this week now), but then his head tilted with the curiosity that was overriding it as he ventured that way.

"....Liliana?"

[[ and for the unexpected kitchen invader, obvi~ and doubly NFB, se vois plait ]]
suitably_heroic: (dsp: argumentative)
Atton Rand & miscellaneous names ([personal profile] suitably_heroic) wrote2025-08-10 12:40 pm
Entry tags:

A Small Alternative Bar, Manhattan, Sunday Evening

If he was completely honest with himself, Jack was still kind of tired after last night. So many people, actually responding to what they were doing, in an unfamiliar place full of unfamiliar people. It was insane to remember that they'd started--

Well, right here, in this bar, with about ten people shuffling up to the front eventually while they made their way through a smattering of metal greats, pop-punk hits and snarky pop covers played at double speed.

Tonight, there were more people - the bar was close to packed - and most of the music on the set list was their own. The clink of glasses, the smell of illicit cigarette smoke and sweat, the wild hair in the audience. It all felt familiar, in a way that hadn't always been safe but had definitely made it there now.

You'll never guess where we were yesterday. )

[[ nfb, can be open to phone calls or unannounced bar appearances ]]
heroic_jawline: (neg: BUCKY?! wtf wai are you alive)
Steve Rogers ([personal profile] heroic_jawline) wrote2025-08-09 04:59 pm

Tony's Mansion, New York, Saturday afternoon

Steve had two puppies in cones of shame skittering over wooden floors and an ice pack over one of his eyes as he flopped onto the sofa in Tony's massive mansion living room.

"Who sells the information about puppies getting spayed to Hydra?!" he demanded, his outrage still high despite this being at least the fifth time he'd asked the question.

[OOC: For the husband!]
pocketpretzels: (laughing)
Llewellyn Watts ([personal profile] pocketpretzels) wrote2025-08-09 11:38 am

Honeymoon Lake Campground, Jasper, Alberta, Saturday Evening

The division of labour in their relationship- their marriage- meant that Steven typically handled the details regarding parties and get-togethers, while Watts handled those for holidays and getaways. Like this camping trip at Honeymoon Lake in Alberta.

They'd slept in that morning, catching the portal to the campground in the afternoon. After setting up the tent, they'd taken a walk to explore the grounds and then dipped into the lake for a swim.

With the sun setting, it was time for dinner: Just a simple dish of pasta with marinara sauce, prepared over the fire.

"I thought we could try something a little more involved tomorrow on one of the camp stoves," Watts said. "But for tonight, I figured this would do."
suitably_heroic: (lsp: this looks cool on earth!)
Atton Rand & miscellaneous names ([personal profile] suitably_heroic) wrote2025-08-09 08:18 pm
Entry tags:

A Practice Space, Brooklyn, Saturday Noon

Another day, another show, this time upstate. Dane and Trent had gone on ahead earlier that morning to get to their rental. But a bunch of Jill's gear was still locked up at practice, never mind some of Dane's amps, and so it fell to the drummer and the singer to roll all of their stuff out onto the street while they waited for their ride to show up.

"I swear if short range portals weren't so expensive, I would never drive anywhere again a day in my life," Jack groused, as he attempted to peer over the edge of the kick drum, just to make sure he wasn't about to bowl someone over.

"Oh please," Jill said, as hauled two of her toms over her shoulder. "You're too much of a control freak. You're going to grab the wheel in that car as soon as it gets here and we'll have to wrench it back out of your hands when we get there."

"I could give that up for short range portals." Jack squatted down to set the kick drum down by the side of the road. He stretched up, tilting his head sideways in a desperate attempt to dispell the crick in his neck. "Maybe with some kind of speeder that actually goes up the stairs, so we don't keep having to do this."

And then we'll get a unicorn... )

[[ nfb, nfi. ]]
giveittoyoursister: (Wandered into the matrix)
Vi ([personal profile] giveittoyoursister) wrote2025-08-09 06:54 pm

Suite Seventeen, The Ivy Hotel, Baltimore, Saturday Afternoon

Vi had had Plans back in February, and while that had been extremely derailed by the sex pollen, she had realised this early enough that she'd managed to move her reservation rather than lose it.

So now here she and Steph were for their fancy hotel weekend. Even if she was kind of low-key freaking out when she let herself think about why she'd picked this weekend in particular for their catch up trip.

And while she'd known from the pictures (and the sizable dent in her savings) that this was an expensive place, it didn't really sink in exactly what that meant until she got an actual look at their suite.

"Whoa."

[For the girl.]
hasaknightjob: Steven in suit (Steven in suit)
Steven Grant / Marc Spector ([personal profile] hasaknightjob) wrote2025-08-08 02:53 am

The Beach Behind Midnight Manor, Friday afternoon through evening

The weather had turned out rather nice for a late day beach party, being not too hot or unforgivably sunny.

When guests arrived they would see that the area behind the boarding house had been set up with chairs, blankets, towels, baskets with bottles of sunscreen, and umbrellas for those who wanted to enjoy the sun and sand. Closer to the house were seats and picnic tables for mingling and eating. The doors to the building were open for anyone who needed to go inside to get away from the noise or simply enjoy some air conditioning.

The decorations were simple. White tablecloths and napkins. Two banners were hung above the food stations which read "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WATTS" and "MAZEL TOV, WATTS AND STEVEN" Beautiful displays of red roses, sunflowers, and the occasional honeysuckle courtesy of Nell could be found in centerpieces as well as garlands hung up about the space. A dance area was set up off to the side with white fairy lights (the electric kind, not actual fairies) lending atmosphere. Music came courtesy of the outdoor speakers Cal had installed.

Food was set up on various tables for guests to help themselves. Vegan and nonvegan options were available at all stations, with labels on everything to help those who had dietary restrictions or allergies. One table had cheeses, crackers, fruits, raw vegetables, quinoa cakes with tomatoes, olives, dips, and other nibbly things. Another had various salads such as fig and blackberry, black bean and corn, rice with seasonal vegetables, and of course garden salads of seasonal vegetables and dressings. Another was a setup of soft pretzels and fresh popcorn, also with various moddable toppings.

For the mains, there were burger and hot dog stations with various moddable types of burgers, dogs, buns, and toppings.

Dessert was a Pretzel Cake with "Happy Birthday, Watts" written across the top, along with assorted cupcakes, mini ice cream cones, grilled tropical fruit skewers, a s'mores station, and popsicle cocktails.

Drinks were various juices, water, sodas, beer, and wines that Watts had picked out with notes about which paired best with the various offered foods.

Steven was there, dressed in his linen suit from the wedding. Because if you couldn't wear your wedding suit to the party that was in part to celebrate your marriage, when could you? He was going to be fussing over every possible detail until guests arrived to distract him. Or his husband did. Possibly both.

Watts was also dressed in the suit he'd gotten married in, because see above reasoning. He was currently distracted from distracting Steven from fussing because he was too busy watching said fussing with charmed fondness.

[Open to any who want to celebrate a birthday, a wedding, or just enjoy a beach party!]
solo_sword: (could be better)
Jaina Solo Fel ([personal profile] solo_sword) wrote2025-08-06 07:16 pm

IX Serendipity Place- Wednesday night

Aside from all the intergalactic political intrigue and maybe torturing a spouse via public games, life in the house was very normal. Like the argument Jaina was having over whether or not Daniel had to go to bed.

"I'm eight years old, I'm practically grown up!" he said, in complete seriousness.

"And I'm much older than eight so I win," Jaina shrugged.

"I shouldn't have to take this," he said. "I'm a prince."

"Don't care," she said.

"Daniel," Jag said from his spot on the sofa.

Daniel made a frustrated noise, but stomped off to his room without another word.

She made an annoyed face not at Jag, but in his general direction. "It's annoying that you could do that.
Thank you."


[For me!]
hasaknightjob: Marc casual (Marc casual)
Steven Grant / Marc Spector ([personal profile] hasaknightjob) wrote2025-08-05 01:44 am

Midnight Manor Boarding House, Marc's Office, Tuesday

Marc had needed to clear his head, so Sunday he portaled over to London. Find some places off the beaten path he knew from before everything that had happened with Steven. Places where he could get a drink and, well, suffice it to say blow off some steam. Slightly more happened than that though. Cut for allusions to violence. )

After which Marc got up, ate a quick breakfast over the sink in the kitchen, then headed over to his office in the boarding house.

He had a job. Several jobs, kind of, but really all of one thing. Now he was doing the one where he kept an eye out over the building he was responsible for and the people who lived in it. Even if that currently presented as sitting in the chair behind his desk and thinking about nothing as he watched the beach through the window.

[open!]
okteiviakom: ([neu] shoulder)
Octavia Blake ([personal profile] okteiviakom) wrote2025-08-03 02:42 pm

Lucifer's Los Angeles, Sunday

The portals back to Fandom seemed to be operational again. Octavia had half expected for it to have been just a blip when the first notificatins had abruptly hit Lucifer's phone, but no. Seemed like they were actually staying available, now.

Octavia was yet to take one. In part because maybe she'd been bracing for... something, after Rory had shown up. A swift change, maybe, but none had come. They remained at the same standstill they'd been all summer in LA so far, now just with the added complication of a daughter who'd been theirs but now wasn't.

And Octavia was stuck in the same pattern of trying to find something, anything, to hold on to.

Sunday was another one of those days. She traveled from Lux to the Rouge, first, and then with all of her little garden taken care of she just... picked a direction and took whatever means of transport there was to travel that way, to see where she would land, what she would see.

This time, she found a crowd. Not an unusual sight in LA, in itself, everywhere so busy with people, but this was different. More concentrated, standing outside a big building that couldn't have been chosen by accident, holding signs, chanting. That last part made the hairs on the back of Octavia's neck stand up, but she pushed forward anyway, curious. First to see the signs more up close, then to ask someone about them.

The people were making demands of the city. They wanted every new plan for housing to also come with plans for parks, they wanted the construction of houses itself to be greener, they wanted more of the city to be unpaved.

They planned for the demonstration to be ongoing throughout the following week.

And something in Octavia sang, maybe. Maybe this was what she'd been looking for. After all, she fit right in. Aligned with the goals, immediately learned some of the chants, struck up conversations with people who all told her of different grassroots efforts to make the city better for every living thing in it. She learned to scan QR codes and diligently bookmarked everything in her phone.

Later, as she was taking the elevator up to Lucifer's penthouse, her mind felt busy and her body was restless.

[ooc: NFB due to distance, but open.]
suitably_heroic: (dsp: oh ffs)
Atton Rand & miscellaneous names ([personal profile] suitably_heroic) wrote2025-08-03 01:41 pm
Entry tags:

A Dinky Apartment, Manhattan, New York City, Sunday Morning-Ish

It wasn't that the post-album-release storm had gone down, or anything. Kind of the opposite: they just kept tacking on gigs, or potential gigs (one of which Jack didn't want to think about too much, because it was-- much), radio stuff, the works. Jack'd thought they'd done pretty well with the first one, but this time, it felt a little like... momentum?

Weird.

Anyway, it wasn't like all of that had gone away. But they'd had a quiet Saturday at home, for once. )

[[ nfb, can be open to phone calls. ]]
pocketpretzels: (daydreaming)
Llewellyn Watts ([personal profile] pocketpretzels) wrote2025-07-30 12:32 pm

Midnight Manor Private Residence, Wednesday Evening

Sometimes, date night was an elaborate affair involving getting dressed up and going out to the symphony, or the theatre, or the like.

And sometimes, date night was an evening at home, curled up on the couch with takeout pasta and a documentary about penguins playing on the television.

Tonight was definitely the latter.

[ooc: for the husband and NFB please!]
chef_chocobro: ((older) conversing with gladio)
Ignis Scientia ([personal profile] chef_chocobro) wrote2025-07-30 05:40 am

The Opposite-of-Abandoned but Definition-of-Creepy Mansion in the Woods; Wednesday Morning [07/30].

If Liliana had just remained a cat this whole time these past two weeks, then Ignis would likely be fine with it, even with all the dead mice that had been left proudly for him, especially in their bed, which he could at least understand as the gesture it was meant to be. But there was something about having had her turn back oh-so-briefly last Thursday, only to revert back to her current feline state, that made everything exceptionally harder.

Though he would admit a certain respect for the dedication to academic pursuits/complaining about ancient assholes.

Which basically meant that the mansion was spotless, the pantry was filled with fresh baked goods and everyone's freezers had all sorts of prepped meals stuffed into them, he had at least two semesters' worth of lesson plans if he ever did start teaching again, and the training room was getting some extensive and intensive use these morning. Ignis had been so dogged and determined in nailing the drills that even Gladio was getting a little winded and wondering if maybe they should take it easy.

Which meant Prompto was practically dying, groaning as he plopped down on the floor and spread out his limbs, crying mercy.

"I'm too young to go this early!" he declared. "I have children! Do you want Liz to be a widow?"

"Well," Gladio offered, giving Prompto's foot a small nudge with his own, before offering out a hand to pull him up, "on the bright side, at least she won't have to change her wardrobe much for mourning."

"We've almost got it to perfection," Ignis insisted. "Just a few more times, and--"

"--and we're just going to get more tired and make mistakes, which makes it harder to get there," Gladio countered. "Aren't you the one who's always harping on us about pushing past our limits?"

"Oh," Ignis huffed slightly, "I haven't likely said that in years."

"Not for yourself, maybe," Prompto pointed out, and there was a bit of a pause, and Ignis sighed.

"Let's just run it five mor--" His words were buried in groans. "Three more times, and we'll have ourselves a break."

"Or," Prompto tried, "call it a day."

"Well, we'll finish the job once we do it right, then. Come on. Liven up. Practice makes perfect."

"Practice," Prompto murmured, mostly to himself, maybe a little to Gladio, "makes me want to just shoot a guy right in the butt."

"I heard that."

[[ for the lady of the house, please! and if you don't expect this to go NFSW then I don't know what you think you were reading... ]]
hasaknightjob: Marc drinking from a flask (Marc drinking)
Steven Grant / Marc Spector ([personal profile] hasaknightjob) wrote2025-07-30 02:53 am

Midnight Manor Boarding House, Marc's Office, Wednesday Morning

Marc was in his office. Don't ask him why. At least compared to other options available to him. It felt... the place to be somehow.

Maybe because it was his again. Okay, there were some pin up pens in drawers that he hadn't found when doing the clean out. And none of the Egyptian and moon motifs had ever been by his request in the first place.

But still. His. Where he...

Yeah, worked wasn't the word.

Whatever. He was there.

He also had vodka. Not a lot. He wasn't drinking right from the bottle or anything. But he'd gotten two shots into him by now. Ice cold, the way he liked them.

He held his empty shot glass in his hand, tapping it idly against the arm of his chair. He looked out the window towards the beach, watching the water lap on the shore.

Watching. Not thinking. Anything resembling thinking was getting drowned with another shot. So for now: watching. For who knew how long.

[NFB. expecting one but also open. Up early b/c someone forgot they had a doc appointment.] [Me, the someone is me. Ahem.]