Reading

Entry tags:

Outside the apartment above Needful Things, Thursday afternoon

Remy was now extremely familiar with breaking into the shop downstairs, but he seldom made his way from there up to the apartment above. Harley had been pretty clear about her boundaries, and he only really felt okay violating them in the shop itself.

But he'd just had a conversation with Pam and felt the need to offer at least a little something that might help Harley with her mood in these trying times. So after booking a quickie portal down to New Orleans, he returned to Fandom with a plate of what at first glance appeared to be entirely powdered sugar, but was, in fact, beignets. Direct from the very best source of the excessively sugared treats, Cafe du Monde.

He fully intended to just drop the plate off, knock on her door, and then duck speedily out of sight. Let it be an anonymous treat.

He might be ever so slightly off his game, though, with Pam's comment about Harley being an alternate version of her girlfriend, and what it would be like for him to have to hang out with an alternate Rogue every day, cycling through his mind. . . .

[for the one whose apartment it is, please!]

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!]

Entry tags:

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... ]]

Pick Your Poison; Wednesday Morning

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, Harley had shown up at the door of Pam's store sobbing uncontrollably, fully inconsolable and incoherent with the melodramatic weight of her grief.

The evening had been much the same, curled up on the sofa in the store, swinging between bouts of sad sulking and intermittent wailing. If Pam had gotten anything intelligible out of her beyond something about breaking up - not that that was hard to decipher into a more fleshed-out story just with educated guesswork alone - and another something about hitting a door (?) it was a small miracle.

And Harley was still there now, waking up on the very same sofa with a start. It took a moment of blinking for her to realize where she was, and another for her to remember why.

It twisted her face into something sad again, but at least she didn't immediately get into another crying jag. So, that counted as progress, right?

(for that gal whose store and person were modded with permission, with an option for that guy already in the store as well)

Entry tags:

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.]

Entry tags:

29 Chimera Court, Monday Evening (7/28)

After a very long and tiring day of getting to play with Saffron (which as far as she was concerned had been a fun and pleasant prospect for both of them), Steph was sprawled out belly-up at the foot of the bed, snoring tiny little kitty snores and occasionally thumping her tail as she dreamed about pouncing on Saffron. And then Vi's feet. And then Saffron again. And then...

She stretched out her front legs and kneaded at the air with her claws, butt wiggling as dream-her tackled Vi's ankles again.

[OOC: For the girl and SP.]

Entry tags:

Midnight Manor Private Residence, Sunday afternoon

Marc didn't like lingering over unpleasant thoughts. His entire being was set up to avoid that. Either he dipped and let Steven handle the world or, if he couldn't, he let alcohol numb feelings and thoughts until there was nothing left to handle.

Which he had done. That'd been last week. Even went into the vodka stash which now had a significant dent in it. But even Marc knew that wasn't sustainable in the long term. Then Steven had updated him about his talk with Harley on Thursday and that had added layers to things.

So now Marc had to think about it. Which was why, while Watts was upstairs practicing piano, Marc was downstairs on the treadmill. Moving the body kept him present in it, even as a run he didn't have to pay close attention to left his mind free to work the problem at hand. ( Not that he wanted to... )

[NFB, for the roommate and the resident sorcerer supreme, Watts modded with permission]

Entry tags:

A Construction Site, Gotham, Saturday? Sunday? Who Knows

( Pam wondered what was happening in the real world while she was stuck with... this. )

[[ previous part here, this is 2 of 2! taken from G. Willow Wilson and Marcio Takara's Poison Ivy #15. NFI and NFB, la. ]]

Entry tags:

Midnight Manor, Room 1C, Sunday Morning

Arden was perched on the balcony railing, singing. It was morning and clearly everybody needed help appreciating it. Don't worry Midnight Manor residents, she got you. She was singing her little heart out, welcoming the sun.

Well, at least for a little while. And then that singing turned into a a very human, very discordant shriek as Arden suddenly found herself back in her own human body, clinging to the edge of the balcony and trying not to pitch over the side.

On the plus side? That she was naked didn't even register yet!

[For the gentleman (and probably his droid) whose room this is.]

Entry tags:

A Construction Site, Gotham, Saturday

Gotham City had a way of getting under your skin.

You leave. You make plans. You decide never to return. Then, almost against your will, you're back, and you owe a favor to a guy shaped like a prehistoric refrigerator.

Pam stared up at the giant eyesore of a skyscraper. She'd found the hard hat and the safety gear on a now-unconscious guy out back; a simple, "I'm in landscaping," had gotten her past anyone else standing in her way. And now she was here, creeping into the bowels of this awful thing. Croc, she reflected, had been right. None of this looked like a building anyone would actually use for housing. It would just sit here, gathering value for faraway billionaires.

Like a tomb for wealth.

And like a tomb, it got quieter the further she went i--

"Skree..."

( Hello?! Who's there? )

[[ part 1 of 2, continued here. taken and adapted from G. Willow Wilson and Marcio Takara's Poison Ivy #14. ]]

Charleston Restaurant, Baltimore, MD [Friday night]

It had been a really tough few months and they'd managed to blow past their anniversary because of plane crashes, organ transplants, and medical discharges. Now that they were allowed to eat mostly normally (the wine was still a no-no as their livers regrew), Steve booked a reservation, swallowed hard at the prices, and actually put on a suit.

Well, not the tie, but the suit.

"Is this too fancy?" he asked Danny in an undertone.

Entry tags:

Harley and Pam's Place, Gotham City, Friday Evening

Harley's birthday weekend had been a massive success. Surprise parties, good gifts, good food, and a great heist of the local polluting chocolate factor, followed by an old-school fashion store robbery. A high point in a growing list of good days.

Sometimes life with Harley was like that. Sometimes it was... normal, domestic, waking up in her bed with a warm body snuggled against her and brief confusion about toothbrushes and weirdly-shaped pancakes with the wrong ingredients.

And then sometimes, life with Harley was like... coming home to this.

"Who the fuck sold my girlfriend a cosmic treadmill?!"

"Well, ya don't need to yell!"

( A short interlude before the storm. )

[[ adapted from Harley Quinn #31 by Tini Howard and Sweeney Boo. establishy ]]

Entry tags:

what: supper club

Nick's Fish House, Baltimore, Maryland, Thursday Evening

Lydia was given to understand that nothing could be more quintessentially Maryland than eating crab by the water, so she had found a location to do so, since the island only provided a lobster-based option. There was even live music!

She had to admit she was a bit nervous about how many people would actually show up, given the rash of animal (and vegetable) transformations on the island at present, but she was soldiering on regardless. She was going to learn how to eat a crab! It was very exciting.

Entry tags:

29 Chimera Court, Tuesday Night

For about a month now, Steph had been running a mini-campaign of Daggerheart on Tuesday evenings, and she was grinning with satisfaction as she shut her laptop and started clearing her books and dice off the kitchen table.

"That went well. Hopefully they'll all be down to play the next one I run."

She got points to bank and spend on throwing figurative wrenches into the players' mix using this system, and while she tried not to be too evil about it she did actually kind of worry that some of the players wouldn't be back next time.

[OOC: For the girl. *punts own brain down the driveway*]

Entry tags:

where: needful things

At the Door to Harley's Apartment, Needful Things, Sunday

There were a lot of opportunities in a year for someone like Harley Quinn to feel lonely. Pam knew that. Harley's birthday was a major one - one of several reasons why she was happy to be home in Gotham right now, making sure Harley-her-Harley had the best birthday of her life.

But she hadn't forgotten about the one in Fandom. So she'd prepared this package early in the week, packed it carefully, and given it to a rickshaw driver with specific delivery instructions.

He followed the instructions to the letter. He left the little basket of colorful flowers at Harley's doorstep, along with a tiny watering can and a note.

Put them in the full sun and water once every two weeks.

Some call them harlequin flowers.

Happy birthday, Harley.

-- Pam

Per instructions, after ringing the bell, the rickshaw driver got the hell out of dodge.

[[ for her reaction, if she wishes. otherwise establishy! front door of apartment modded with permission. ]]

Entry tags:

Regent's Park, London, Sunday Afternoon

Normally they only made a quick day trip to London on Saturdays. But Steven and Llewellyn had wanted to go on a bike ride and have a picnic, and it'd been ages since they'd gone to Regent's Park. Which made it more sensible to stay over in the London flat than it was to make two trips.

Besides, that way they had their first night in the flat as a married couple.

The next day they rented bicycles and took the easy loop around the park. Steven needed a little time to get used to it again but it was, indeed, just like riding a bike.

Once they'd worked up an appetite they stopped off at one of the many dining spots to get lunch to go and eat while enjoying the sights.

Steven pointed out a table in a shady spot. "How about there?"

[for the hubby]