nookiepowered: (bath (relaxing))
This was not Bo's first trip around the Fandom block, which was why security officer or no, you were not going to catch her Saturday night in the middle of a pumping, grinding mass of overly hormonal teenagers. Which... pretty much described the island now, and if she had her way, you wouldn't be catching Bo here either. But...

Let's just say that Bo's suggestion to the Portalocity operator when he told her there were no open dimensional paths to anyplace or anyone she would usually flee to was... well, if he'd been here and willing to take it literally, Bo wouldn't be having to settle for a long bath behind the Chinese screens, a Pinot Noir, and an audiobook of 49 Tints of Ecru.

Read by the most obnoxious voice actor she could find, just in case the prose didn't shut down her libido on its own.

...Goddammit, when did Gilbert Gottfried get so hot?

[For an unexpected interloper who may or may not be the mayor, but open for calls and yellings-up-the-stairs as well! Aaaaaaand now NSFW.]
nookiepowered: (action (swing))
"Seriously?" said Bo on entering her office. Because seriously?

Bad enough that all her calls to Portalocity were coming back Contact Declined this week, like somebody over there was actively trying to make sure she couldn't escape to Wales and certain undead residents thereof when certain feelings she lived with every day started twisting up the dial to Spinal Tap levels, but now this?

This being a security office now liberally bestrewn with colorful latex circles and squares (equal opportunity desecration; she supposed that was nice), battery-operated objects of various sizes and shapes, some more humanoid than others ("TENTACLES, KENZI? REALLY?"), some even already turned on (...shut up) like the line of yellow plastic ducks merrily buzzing their way across her desk.

Like her libido needed any had-to-have-come-from-'Dite's encouragement this week? And as for the leather swing hanging from a sturdy pair of chains affixed to the ceiling in the middle of the room...

Actually, that looked kind of fun. Maybe it would even cool her off a little bit?

Orrr maybe not. On the other hand, working up a sweat as she swung back and forth was keeping Bo just dizzy enough to forget why she was supposed to be annoyed about this.

{Aaaaaaand the followthrough, because there's always followthrough.}

[OOC: Office redecoration modded with permission, nay instigation from [livejournal.com profile] regretiz4suckas. Open, but... sex pollen. Succubus. Probably not safe for work despite the fact that she's at work.]
nookiepowered: (surprised (OMFG))
Saturday's weirdness? It hadn't exactly gone away, but it had died down a bit when Bo hermited herself up in her own place for a few days. Enough that she could talk sanely to insane people and while the delivery guy from Pizza Planet stumbled away muttering about the best tip ever, he was still conscious and vertical at the time, so it counted as a win.

So... maybe it was safe to try venturing out? She had to come into work sometime, after all, and things were still kind of...warm, but not out of control when she stepped out the door into the street.

One walk to school through the oh, so fresh air and twelve sneezes later, she'd found out the answer to that the hard way.

Which was why it was Bo who stumbled now -- out of the janitor's closet.

From behind her came the shuffle-scrape-THUD of someone doing the first three steps of a soft-shoe before giving up and collapsing to the floor with a faint but not unhappy groan.

"Don't you judge me. Don't you DARE judge me!" she stammered defensively to... an empty hallway.

Right. Okay. She'd get to her office eventually, but right now she'd just stay here and hold up this wall for a minute or an hour or two. Until she figured out why, even buzzing with energy as she was now, Bo was still hungry.

--
[OOC: Highly likely to be some flavor of NWS. Expecting two, but open to random encounters of the polleny variety! Though for the sake of not juggling logistics, let's OOCly limit the unexpected to people it's safe to have random polleny encounters with.]
nookiepowered: (action (smoking))
"Deb" (whose name was by no means Deb, and thank God she remembered that now, because sgajdhgakjdh what a freaking stupid name) leaned back against the brick wall and took a long, slow drag on her cigarette. One of her last three cigarettes. The one spluttering street lamp cast dull, intermittent reflections in the leather jacket that she wrapped closely around her against the cooling night.

Don't ask where she got a leather jacket; when someone from Costume hands you something, you wear it. Even over a flight-attendant uniform.

Three cigarettes. Well, two and a half now. What was she going to do when they ran out? What? Would her memories of who she truly was disappear back into the withdrawal-crazed cover-story that was "Deb" or was that recovery a permanent one?

What was the cargo on that flight, and had it been destroyed along with most of the passengers, or was it even now in the hands of the Skywalkers or the Starks, either of which could spell certain doom for the world if they realized what they held? ...Not that she remembered what it was.

Sigh. Two and a quarter cigarettes left.

[OOC: for one who ...possibly knows who he is? Probably. This weekend, who can tell?]
nookiepowered: (action (smoking))
"Deb" (whose name was by no means Deb, and thank God she remembered that now, because sgajdhgakjdh what a freaking stupid name) leaned back against the brick wall and took a long, slow drag on her cigarette. One of her last three cigarettes. The one spluttering street lamp cast dull, intermittent reflections in the leather jacket that she wrapped closely around her against the cooling night.

Don't ask where she got a leather jacket; when someone from Costume hands you something, you wear it. Even over a flight-attendant uniform.

Three cigarettes. Well, two and a half now. What was she going to do when they ran out? What? Would her memories of who she truly was disappear back into the withdrawal-crazed cover-story that was "Deb" or was that recovery a permanent one?

What was the cargo on that flight, and had it been destroyed along with most of the passengers, or was it even now in the hands of the Skywalkers or the Starks, either of which could spell certain doom for the world if they realized what they held? ...Not that she remembered what it was.

Sigh. Two and a quarter cigarettes left.

[OOC: for one who ...possibly knows who he is? Probably. This weekend, who can tell?]
nookiepowered: (z - lovecraft - early)
The wake-up routine for unfamiliar places was so painfully familiar to Bo that she could run through it in seconds, before she even opened her eyes.

Where: bed (not mine)
Somebody else in it? (yes)
Somebody dead? (.......................)

Okay, that one required a little thought this time, which was hard because not quite awake, but getting there enough to smile when the complicated yes filtered into her consciousness. Mmmm, vampires, and mmmmm, gray skin disappearing so fast that the only reason Mitchell hadn't stopped the proceedings to stare at her was hi, Proceedings, thank you very much.

So there was that, which explained the relaxed, glowy, ready-to-bounce-out-of-bed-anytime-now.... way that Bo didn't feel at all. Even opening her eyes seemed like an effort, and when she did, she regretted it because the room was somehow too bright. The hell?

Stumbling (sans sheet because somebody had it twisted around his legs) to the bathroom could be a thing, since it wasn't like that somebody needed a mirror in his bedroom. Stumbling both because she was keeping her eyes slitted shut and because the flu-y ache was back with a vengeance.

Almost like something that wasn't Bo wasn't at all happy with her erasing the signs of its presence in her body, and had spent the night going oh yeah? Heal THIS, biotch. But that couldn't happen, right? That wasn't the way her power worked.

Right. Bathroom. No light needed. Mirror.

"FUUUUUUUUU--"

[OOC: establishy, vampire-modding with permission!]
nookiepowered: (z - lovecraft - early)
The wake-up routine for unfamiliar places was so painfully familiar to Bo that she could run through it in seconds, before she even opened her eyes.

Where: bed (not mine)
Somebody else in it? (yes)
Somebody dead? (.......................)

Okay, that one required a little thought this time, which was hard because not quite awake, but getting there enough to smile when the complicated yes filtered into her consciousness. Mmmm, vampires, and mmmmm, gray skin disappearing so fast that the only reason Mitchell hadn't stopped the proceedings to stare at her was hi, Proceedings, thank you very much.

So there was that, which explained the relaxed, glowy, ready-to-bounce-out-of-bed-anytime-now.... way that Bo didn't feel at all. Even opening her eyes seemed like an effort, and when she did, she regretted it because the room was somehow too bright. The hell?

Stumbling (sans sheet because somebody had it twisted around his legs) to the bathroom could be a thing, since it wasn't like that somebody needed a mirror in his bedroom. Stumbling both because she was keeping her eyes slitted shut and because the flu-y ache was back with a vengeance.

Almost like something that wasn't Bo wasn't at all happy with her erasing the signs of its presence in her body, and had spent the night going oh yeah? Heal THIS, biotch. But that couldn't happen, right? That wasn't the way her power worked.

Right. Bathroom. No light needed. Mirror.

"FUUUUUUUUU--"

[OOC: establishy, vampire-modding with permission!]
nookiepowered: (action (walking in))
Mitchell might not be forced to sleep while the sun was up like certain other vampires, but Bo still waited until twilight fell to walk over to his place. While the sun was up and the students were still moving around the grounds, she'd felt like she ought to stay close to the cameras and the school, just in case Kenzi's scenario of rampaging razor-toothed deer breaching the walls turned into more than an attempt to ditch class.

Yeah, so, um. That gun on Bo's hip, the one she'd snatched from a cranked-up mugger what seemed like half a lifetime ago? She hadn't seen any more razor-toothed deer on the way to Mitchell's, but if one came her way, she wasn't going after it with a security-issue blunt-ended phallic symbol.

Her knock at the door was a little bit nervous, and a little bit dull. That would be the gloves.

[OOC: For the resident, modded with his permission, and eeeeeeeepic SP.]
nookiepowered: (action (walking in))
Mitchell might not be forced to sleep while the sun was up like certain other vampires, but Bo still waited until twilight fell to walk over to his place. While the sun was up and the students were still moving around the grounds, she'd felt like she ought to stay close to the cameras and the school, just in case Kenzi's scenario of rampaging razor-toothed deer breaching the walls turned into more than an attempt to ditch class.

Yeah, so, um. That gun on Bo's hip, the one she'd snatched from a cranked-up mugger what seemed like half a lifetime ago? She hadn't seen any more razor-toothed deer on the way to Mitchell's, but if one came her way, she wasn't going after it with a security-issue blunt-ended phallic symbol.

Her knock at the door was a little bit nervous, and a little bit dull. That would be the gloves.

[OOC: For the resident, modded with his permission, and eeeeeeeepic SP.]
nookiepowered: (smiling (dirty thoughts))
Who knew you could not only buy an obscenely large stone bathtub at the market across the causeway, but also hire three strapping half-naked possibly-Greek boys to carry it home for you, all for the low, low price of three Toonies, two quarters and a Ferelden silver coin, while not speaking a word of the language?

Yes, okay, fine. Bo knew. Yes, okay, fine, sometimes Bo cheated. Still, as pleasant as borrowing other people's might be, after weeks in this place, Bo finally had her own bathtub, the merchant had some interesting foreign coins, and even the delivery guys didn't exactly leave the premises unhappy. All's well that ends well, right?

Now all she had to do was figure out how to fill the thing, considering that even with the water and electricity finally turned on (thank you, unexpected second job, thank you), the hardware store didn't exactly have a plumbing hookup for an ancient Minoan bathtub.

Maybe she could hire the Greek himbos to come back and fill it with pots of hot water from the sink?

__
[Expecting some undead, non-Greek himbos gentlemen callers. That Mitchell and Eric were here is fine for broadcast; topics of conversation, probably not. Alllso getting NWS-y after the comment-collapse.]
nookiepowered: (smiling (dirty thoughts))
Who knew you could not only buy an obscenely large stone bathtub at the market across the causeway, but also hire three strapping half-naked possibly-Greek boys to carry it home for you, all for the low, low price of three Toonies, two quarters and a Ferelden silver coin, while not speaking a word of the language?

Yes, okay, fine. Bo knew. Yes, okay, fine, sometimes Bo cheated. Still, as pleasant as borrowing other people's might be, after weeks in this place, Bo finally had her own bathtub, the merchant had some interesting foreign coins, and even the delivery guys didn't exactly leave the premises unhappy. All's well that ends well, right?

Now all she had to do was figure out how to fill the thing, considering that even with the water and electricity finally turned on (thank you, unexpected second job, thank you), the hardware store didn't exactly have a plumbing hookup for an ancient Minoan bathtub.

Maybe she could hire the Greek himbos to come back and fill it with pots of hot water from the sink?

__
[Expecting some undead, non-Greek himbos gentlemen callers. That Mitchell and Eric were here is fine for broadcast; topics of conversation, probably not. Alllso getting NWS-y after the comment-collapse.]

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Bo Jones. Or maybe Dennis.

December 2015

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