[identity profile] adore-therockin.livejournal.com
Marguerite watched as it happened in front of her, her own hand raising and shooting off the pistol to stop them from murdering each other. They looked up addressed the fact that she was there then continued. Bloody men! But something caught her ear.

"They seek 'im here, they seek him thar, them Frenchies seek 'im everywhere! Be he in heaven, he might be in 'ell, that demmed an' dastardly Pimpernel!"


Marguerite woke in a tangle of sheets before remembering she was herself again and her dear Percy was still beside her sleeping soundly. How precious he looked when he slept, so innocent, how she adored lightly touching his skin as he slept just to hear him murmuring and trying to swat her away. They had yet to speak of that day, but Marguerite seemed to get the feeling everyone was in a similar situation. Well, with the clothing and the speech anyway. She closed her eyes and remembered what she heard Percy say before it truly sank in. "Pimpernel?" She repeated aloud. She silently moved out of bed and went to the door of their small cottage and saw the--small little scarlet flowers. In utter disbelief she walked back to bed in a haze, gazing on the sleeping form of her husband, taking his hand in hers and kissing it lightly before she saw his ring. It---it was changeable? Her fingers slowly moved the metal bit and it was a, flower. "Scarlet Pimpernel," she breathed before looking at his face again. Percy? Her own dearest Percy, the Scarlet Pimpernel? The man who stole her heart, who---who she nearly killed. She had sold him out, if he hadn't ended up here he surely would have been caught and killed.

Marguerite sat on the edge of the bed with her back to her husband, covered her mouth and sobbed. She would have killed her own husband!
[identity profile] dangeroushabits.livejournal.com
(Morning after the door meeting)

Having sobered up (under extreme duress, in his opinion,) achieved a more or less functional state and raided the dispensers in one of the men's rooms for several packets of liquid hand soap, John had contrived to clean himself up somewhat adequately in the lake. He was currently sitting on the shore near the riverboat dock, hung over, shirtless and soaking wet, a cigarette dangling forgotten from his lips, as he attempted to shave several months' worth of beard using his athame and a small sparkly pink Princesses mirror he'd liberated from a gift shop. Attempted being the key word, since his hands were shaking so badly he had to keep stopping or risk slitting his own throat.

After nicking himself for the fifth or sixth time, he swore quietly and lowered the mirror and knife, ready to concede defeat. But then a faint tingle at the back of his neck brought a cynical half-smile to his face. "Your new boyfriend know you like to skulk around ogling strange half-naked men?" he asked the unseen presence at his back without turning around.
[identity profile] kuchiki.livejournal.com
LeMoNaDe: Make An Offer FrEe!!!


In the middle of Main Street, two girls were stationed underneath a large, brightly decorated sign with several cups of lemonade and a large pitcher of more. Rukia was standing on a step ladder in order to make herself look taller as she peered out over the edge of the stand she and Orihime had set up.

The lemonade came in several colors and flavors -- the traditional yellow, cherry, lime, and other even more adventurous flavors, dreamed up by Orihime. There was a tip jar balanced perilously on the edge of the stand they'd made, though who knew what could possibly be put in it.
caycep: (I'm listening)
[personal profile] caycep
((The return of Cayce and Quixote! Wide open RP. If you haven't already, catch up with the adventures of Quixote, Setsuna, Cayce, and Adam here.))

At some point after Pirate Day, an announcement came on over the park PA system.

"Hi everyone. This is Cayce Pollard. I'd like everyone to come to a meeting tonight to discuss a new discovery that's been made about the park. The meeting's in the Honey I Shrunk the Audience auditorium, at sundown. This is pretty important, so please be there if you can."

That evening ...

Don't forget to keep your head warm )

***

After the various discussions had settled out somewhat, Cayce finally cleared her throat.

"Okay, so here's the plan. Tomorrow at midday, anyone who wants to join the underground expedition should meet at the statue. It sounds like the time dilation or whatever it is makes time pass more slowly belowground than up here, so I think Adam and Setsuna will be fine. We should take the time to get ready with whatever we'll need to bring with us." Plus, of course, it was Adam. Of course they'd be fine. "Then, once we're at the door and ready to proceed, the—the Master will send a signal to the Doctor, who'll lead the distruption. Anyone has any other questions, find me. Thanks, everybody."

((And there will be a fresh post for the expedition when my life is a little more normal.))
[identity profile] oui-ministre.livejournal.com
Beaufort woke up and realised something was incredibly wrong, even before he spoke. His clothes were...distinctly not a suit and not made in the 1940s. In fact, it struck him more as something distinctly historical. He frowned, wondering when he invaded one of the exhibits for clothes, how drunk he was, and where the hell he got that much alcohol from. There was also a sword. He was pretty sure it was not a good idea to go to sleep with a sword attached. After having woken up and realising his accent was...coarser, less educated and more prone to swearing at the situation, he shook his head and decided to head outside to see what the hell was going off.

Part of him, somewhere, was looking for one man in particular, as there was a pirate in him. A rather angry pirate.

((Peanut gallery is most welcome, but don't, um, interfere just yet, pleaaase))
[identity profile] grumpy-sunshine.livejournal.com
There were times when having a habit of talking to yourself had definite benefits. Sunshine had no sooner started muttering to herself as she started in on the days baking before she realized she'd just referred to her pantry as "the bung hole," and froze in horror.

Last year, the whole thing had struck her as funny, right up until it led to things...happening between her and her closest friend in the park. And while she herself would have been willing to try to laugh the whole thing off, Fett's reaction hadn't exactly been in line with that course of action: it had pretty much been The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak for months now.

The idea of it happening all over again? No. Sunshine headed immediately back to the storage room that served as her bedroom and went and put on the baggiest, least alluring t-shirt and jeans she possessed, went and hung the "Closed" sign on the restaurant door, and then, mouth firmly shut, set about baking a pan of Bitter Chocolate Death. She had a feeling she'd need it.
[identity profile] anthony-crowley.livejournal.com
Crowley awoke, not in his comfortable bed inside Club 33, but disoriented and hung over on a bench in front of the castle, an empty bottle of rum still clutched in one hand, mouth fuzzy, and head pounding.

"Ngk."

He brought up the other hand to guard his bleary, uncovered eyes from the glaring sun. It took him a moment to realize that there was a great deal more frilly sleeve around his wrist than there should be. Another second later, Crowley ever so cautiously moved his hand down to again discover a mustache and double braided beard.

"Why is the rum always gone?"

It wasn't what he meant to say.
[identity profile] shake-bad-guys.livejournal.com
Ray had a problem. Mickey'd told him he was edgy so he was supposed to go to Frontierland, which was fine, okay, and when he checked it out on one of the maps he found it was also where the Shooting Gallery was. He had an appointment to go yell at a time-travelling English chick about the way she defined "safe" in terms of people having guns.

Trouble was, he also had a whole damn dogsled loaded with gear to look after, and only one free hand to carry with. The other one he needed for his own gun. After swearing vociferously, Ray finally decided to load up a pack with the really essential stuff (his favorite leather jacket, all the weapons, Fraser's hat and uniform) and leave the other crap behind for now. If someone wanted to steal and eat his pemmican supply, let them. It would serve them right.

He stomped his way off to the Gallery, where he found a note.

He hadn't been here more than a few hours, and already women were messing with his head.

((He's got a destination in mind, but you're welcome to stop him on the way there or back. Posted now so as to avoid Ray having to do his yelling with intermittent "yarr!"s. Not that that would stop him.))
[identity profile] adore-therockin.livejournal.com
In the off chance that anyone is looking for me I wanted to assure everyone I am in fact still here. I will be living in Adventureland with Percy, in a small, cabin of sorts should anyone need me. I still plan on getting the cafe going, but it may take a little longer than planned!

Au revoir ! (for now!)

Beaufort )
[identity profile] swissdonkey.livejournal.com
So, Guy was in the park, and judging by the women he'd met so far and the fact that no patient of his could ever die, was quite enthusiastic about it. Sure, there was no Caroline or Mac, but there was also no Sue White, no Martin, no...Joanna. Instead, there were lots of sexy ladies, and...seemingly his competition was a lot of characters from Pirates of the Carribean and Doctor Who. Well, there was no Johnny Depp, from what he could see so far, so he was alright there.

He found his way to the First Aid Station, had a quick search through the medical supplies to see what he had to work with, then went and found himself a bed, where he promptly set about recalibrating his 'Sexy Ladies of the Hospital' league table on his Blackberry for 'Sexy Ladies of the Park', adding extra catagories for 'exotic dimensions/planets' and 'time period's social standards'.

Then he thought he better inform the good, sexy, people of the park that there was a doctor around again. He wrote up a note, and upon finding the bulletin board, set about the search for food.

Posted on the Bulletin Board )

((Oh, and if there's popular demand...I will begin to construct Guy's table of women in the park and I'll put it in his journal. XP))
[identity profile] kit-invelvet.livejournal.com
Kitty was, as she quite often found herself, bored. However, she decided to hell with what she'd told everyone, she was most definately sick of having to dress up like a man every single morning. So, after she'd told Arachne, which was her first mission of the morning, she was going to go out in what appeared to be modern women's clothing (not far off what she wore as a man, actually...) and be...normal.

It wouldn't be easy to tell Arachne, not after all that flirting, but she was pretty sure she knew how to do this without hurting anyone's feelings. So, she headed out to where Arachne lived, after her letter had gone unanswered. There was nobody there. Oh. She's just...gone.

After pausing for a moment in sheer shock, as she'd heard about this, but never expected it to happen to anyone she knew, she went to find a bench to sit on. She'd liked Arachne. Correction: she'd liked Arachne. She'd made her, on occasion, forget about how messed up things had become with Nan. She didn't feel nearly as comfortable in her newly acquired clothes as she did half an hour ago. After lighting a cigarette and taking a nervous drag, she sat back and looked at the sky, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do now.

((come bother Kitty. She's all girl now. Feel free to recognise/not recognise her.))
[identity profile] perfectly-right.livejournal.com
Phoenix shouldn't really have had anything to complain about. It was comfortable here, after all, if a bit... surreal. To him, at least, Disneyland was a nice place -- to visit. Living in it was an entirely different matter. (Why does everything have to be themed?) At least there was food -- unlimited food. That was pretty nice.

He slumped into one of the benches in Main Street's plaza and rubbed his forehead. Free accomodations, unlimited food, nice weather. Ideally, it should have been a vacation. (Except... I'm stuck here. Not to mention stuck here with talking animals, Edgeworth, and Franziska. Crazy Franziska.) And how were Maya and Pearls getting on without him? Did time even pass back home while he was here? It was like a horrible dream, except he wasn't waking up. And the concentrated happy of Disneyland gave him a constant headache.

At least there was free food.

((Eek, sorry for lack of activity! Open to everyone~))
[identity profile] yourshadowking.livejournal.com
Kyouya had been working lately; as difficult as it was to find more work to do, he had recently discovered some information saved to his computer that had allowed him to start some calculations he had previously been unable to do. Having an actual project had interested him, and he spent nearly a week buried in his work and plans, paying very little attention to anything else now that there was finally something that wasn't pointless to get done.

He was good at burying himself in work, which was why it hit so hard when he suddenly realized that he hadn't seen, heard from, or been bothered by Tamaki in days. Not necessarily completely uncommon, if Tamaki had gotten distracted, but not a happy discovery, either. He went to Tamaki's stupid house at Peter Pan's Flight, and...Tamaki wasn't there. Obviously there was still a chance that the idiot was just out bothering someone else, but after a few days and a thorough search of the park, there was still no sign on him.

Kyouya went back to the apartment and finished what he'd been working on, a process which took another day or two.

And then, he packed a bag with his wallet and phone, the clothing he'd brought with him, and Tamaki's things that he'd left behind, and left it in his room. However, he left his computer and computer case out, and with just that in hand, he walked to Mickey's house and knocked on the door.
[identity profile] swordandchalice.livejournal.com
It had been a bit much, despite Setsuna's adaption to Disneyland and the bit of maturity he had experienced; when Katou, Sara and Kurai disappeared, he found himself deeply depressed. He didn't feel like doing much, and as he could feel Kira's location, he locked himself in the theatre's radio booth. In the very least, he kept his music to himself, not wanting to draw attention to the radio, but none of it was very happy music.

Happy music, at the moment, just annoyed him.

There was, he feared, though, a limited amount of time before Kira discovered where he was, stalked after him, and dragged him out. That would be one reason he hadn't bothered going off into hiding. Kira would just find him anyway. For now, he stared absently at the door and tried to think about what he would do when Kira came along.

Nothing came to mind. He just hoped it wasn't for a while, and that Kira understood.
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
((closed RP for Sam and the Master))

(It's like an old picture in black and white from some noir film, a beautiful woman smoking a cigarette, the man across from her sipping something expensive from a highball glass. They're talking, words he doesn't quite understand, and there's laughter in their tones, an almost lightness. He recognizes her, it's Una, and the man)

(his eyes, darkening, it could be intimacy but it's not, and he knows that face too, that smile that's a lie, he met the Master at the gates when the man - alien - first arrived. he'd thought he could be a demon then and he thinks so now)

(at the sight of her pressed up against the wall, straining for air as the Master's elegant-but-cruel hands tighten around her throat, and he isn't stopping, isn't giving room for air, and the look on her face that suggested this could all be just a dangerous game slips under the sounds of a windpipe slowly collapsing beneath his fingers)


Sam gasped, seeing a distant glimpse of the ground close to his nose, was aware that (the same room, now in disarray; there had to have been a struggle.) his chest was heaving and the staggering, stabbing pain (the outside of the Toon Town City Hall, one door ever so slightly ajar.) behind his eyes was lessening some. The ground was wet where he'd dropped a half-drunk can of Coke-Cola, the sight slowly spreading liquid interspersed in his sight with the flagging pieces of the vision.

(Una's body, pale and broken and lifeless, and the Master's hands covered in her blood)

He hadn't had a vision since he'd come to the park. He'd never had a vision that hadn't been centered around one of the children like him, or the demon that stalked them. He'd never had a vision with so many complicated pieces. Sam let his forehead rest on the pavement, feeling how his knees ached from falling on them. He'd been right about what he told John- his visions were getting stronger.

Or maybe he was making them stronger.

And things are gonna slide in all directions, won't be nothing you can measure anymore. )
[identity profile] una-harlequin.livejournal.com
It was late in the afternoon, getting on toward sundown, and Una Persson stood on the deck of the Miss Daisy, smoking a cigarette and leaning on the railing in an unselfconscious pose slightly reminiscent of Garbo. It would have been all very old-Hollywood apart from the cartoon silliness of the boat itself.

"Some sod's up to something," she said out loud. As an observation it wasn't particularly helpful or insightful, because some sod was always up to something, but the sentence had the soothing familiarity of a mantra, and she needed that.

It had been a very bad day. )

((Open RP; feel free to stop and chat.))
[identity profile] brutalcrumbcake.livejournal.com
Still with his Flying V guitar in hand, Toki found himself standing at the gates of Disney Land. "Wowee." He blinked and looked over his shoulders. Did Pickles put something in his drink? He could have sworn Skwisgaar had just started in on one of his extended guitar solos. Toki was up next to record for the new album too, wasn't this against that...produktivatty thing they were supposed to be doing now?

"Ha ha, very funny, guys! Drugging me and leavings me at Disney Land! Ha ha ha. You really gots Toki!"

He laughed again. Then thought about how he was going to get back to Mordhaus. Then thought about drinking some vodka. And then he saw Mickey and that cat.

Prepare for the most brutal application in the history of applications. )

((Toki Wartooth is taken from the dark-comedy cartoon Metalocalypse. He is the rhythm guitarist of the band Dethklok. He is not a bumblebee. He is also a tad messed up. Toki is taken from the season 2 episode-before-the-finale, Dethrecord.))
[identity profile] seafoamrisen.livejournal.com
Aphrodite was aware that something had happened to Sylar, but lacking her daughter-in-law's particular affinity with the mortal soul, she couldn't really say what it was, or even guess at it.

Well, she hadn't seen him in a while, so this was as good an excuse to go looking for him as any.

Wearing one of her more low-key (relatively speaking) humanoid forms, Aphrodite made her serene way through the park.

((This is, in fact, an open RP. Feel free to bug the goddess.))
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
((Closed RP for John and Sam.))

It was too hot in fake-ass Disneyland for the heavy sweatshirt (it had Goofy on it, which he'd long since stopped caring about) Sam was wearing, but it made him feel a little closer to home. He was sitting in the Hungry Bear Restaurant, which was a good place to hang out since it was out on the edge of the place and more often empty, like it was now. He was sitting at a table, hunched forward with his arms crossed and the hood up, staring at a single spoon lying on the table.

'Actually, there’s, uh, somethin’ else, too,' he tells Dean, guiltily. The look on his brother's face says that Dean knows he doesn't want to hear it.
'Oh, jeez, what?'
'When Max locked me in that closet, that big cabinet against the door—I moved it.'
Dean laughs. 'You’ve got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for.'
'No, man, I moved it—' he doesn't say 'with my mind,' because that's stupid and cliche and not what it was, not at all 'like Max.'


Sam stared harder at the spoon, which remained still, boring and innocent on the slightly scratched wood.

'Bend this.'
'I can’t turn it on and off, Dean.'
Well, how’d you do it?
I don’t know.


Sam sighed, and drew a hand across his eyes, trying to ease the pounding headache behind them. Then he looked back at the spoon.

Well, Dean says, half-hearted and desperate. I’m sure it won’t happen again.
[identity profile] redo-fromstart.livejournal.com
Ponder liked working in teams, provided he had a vague semblance of leadership, and after much experimenting with magic, all he'd managed to do was blow up a couple of things (it certainly felt like something was hindering his attempts to mess with universes, and that was disturbing in itself), he decided he needed help. All the help he could get. This really, when he thought about it, was in everyone's interest. Organisation was also Ponder's thing, so maybe a committee was in order.

Posted on the bulletin board )

Profile

A world of laughter. A world of tears. A world of hope. A world of fears.

December 2016

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
1112131415 1617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 22nd, 2017 09:45 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios