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 [ profile] regretiz4suckas. Open, but... sex pollen. Succubus. Probably not safe for work despite the fact that she's at work.]
nookiepowered: (dubious (umm...))
"No," Bo repeated into the phone for what she was pretty sure was the third time. "We're not interested in purchasing a Cobweb Surveillance System. Even if we didn't already have our own security set-up that can detect when a gremlin thinks the word Skywalker, why would I want to keep track of cobwebs? What're they gonna do, stage a coup and take over the school if the janitor misses a spot while he's dusting?"




"So if the estimate team comes out today, can you have it installed by the weekend?"

Until then, she'd just be poking at the corners of her office every so often with that broom she stole from Fosse's closet.

[Open office is open. If cobwebby.]
nookiepowered: (z - teen (innocent))
Vacations at Lake Miniwappo and the occasional well-chaperoned slumber party aside, Beth Dennis was not accustomed to waking up in a bed that wasn't hers. Especially a bed draped in red satin and discarded lingerie (at least a cup size too large and ten shades too black to be hers, oh thank God, and thank God for the jeans and the blue flannel shirt she was wearing, as well) instead of flower-sprigged cotton sheets and a granny-square afghan. Especially a bed she couldn't remember getting into the night before.

In fact, nothing was very clear about the night before. Had she sneaked out to a party with Kyle, and not asked for water instead when somebody passed her a red Solo cup? It wouldn't be the first time, not that she'd ever admit that to her parents who were going to KILL HER, but she'd never drunk enough not-water to forget where she was -- and if her not-allowed-to-have-a-boyfriend had been with her last night, he sure as heck wasn't now.

There was nobody here but Beth, in this... it wasn't even a house. Just a giant room partitioned off by shelves and screens, with huge glass windows and a counter at one end. Was that a cash register on it? Beyond the industrial-style window blinds, the street was narrow, cobblestoned, and completely unfamiliar. Where was she?

Don't panic. You know what to do if you ever get into a bad situation. They might kill you later, but they'll always come pick you up first. They promised.

There was a phone on that counter, and given the circumstances, Beth wasn't about to feel guilty for the long-distance charge.


"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is not in service. Please try again, or dial the area code plus 411 for..."

Stupid fingers. See what freaking out gets you? Long-distance wrong numbers. Beth punched the buttons again, slowly and carefully.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed..."

Maybe now would be a good time to freak out after all.


Le Followup:

Max's party
Derek's...appropriated hotel room

[Establishy because fleeeeeing!]
nookiepowered: (thinking (thoughtful))
8/11/2012: Impossibly hot fake sisters (Leo and...Bitsy)
8/25/2012: Don't ask about the antlers (Derek Hale, Kenzi)
9/8/2012: Tina is not Bitsy (Guy, Phil Coulson, Carl Kolchak)
9/22/2012: A HORSE. (Bayanai, Kenzi, Kitty, Toby, Tyrion)
9/29/2012: Impossibly not fake sisters (Bitsy)
10/6/2012: Impossibly not getting not fake sisters' numbers (Tiny)
10/8 & 10/14/2012: Fall Break (Mitchell)
10/20/2012: Little people, big milkshakes (Jack Priest, Kenzi, Max Blum, Toby, Savannah, Mike Lane, Laurie Keller)
10/27/2012: Pre-Halloween
11/17/2012: I also do cross-stitch (Jaina, Pinkie Pie, Navaan)
nookiepowered: (friends (go team!))
Because I may have underestimated how long it would take. By five or seven hours. And 800 Photoshop layers.

Happy Birthday, FH. You're welcome for the brainbreaky ones.


Me: Oh god save me, I'm only up to summer 2009.
Len: ... what are you doing?
Me: making a rotating icon gif of....almost everything ever
Len: I don't even want to ask why, but that's even crazier than your usual shtick
Me: is for birthday post!
Len: I would like to point you back towards 'that's even crazier than your usual shtick'

(Also, this isn't eeeeeeveryone because of wanting to retain a few remaining brain cells, and our ahahahah lack of character-tracking OCD in early days and human fallibility and and and. If a character got missed, I promise it's not because I hates your face and/or toes.)
nookiepowered: (bath (inna towel smiling))
"Okay so yes, I have a giant bathtub and you don't?" Of which Bo had recent mildly saddening reminder. "But I still say the room service makes up for it."

[OOC: for the gentleman in question.]
nookiepowered: (sad (crying))
Bo woke up coughing and clutching her neck, and for a long, kind moment, wondered who what the hell she'd eaten to make her dream about singing to a photo of a middle-aged woman in pink. Wearing pink herself and teaching a class. Ahahahaha. On good decision-making. Ahahahaha. With Deadpool. Ahahahahahahahahahaha. Ha.

Then the rest of it flooded back in, the details rearranging themselves into a clarity and order too raw to be just fragments of a dream. The things she'd done, done so many times in wispy memories from further back that now they'd been as easy as breathing. The thing she'd let herself become.

She didn't quite make it to the bathroom before she discovered the answers to what the hell she'd been eating. In every damn sense of the word, but especially the messy ones.

[For the wee Russian one who did not leave her TARDIS bathrobe in the hotel room.]
nookiepowered: (object (WTF am I?))
Bo's final solution for the sounds coming from her desk had been the cowardly way out, she supposed, but...

Surely sticking a padlock on the drawer and adding three layers of duct-tape just for good measure could be looked at as a humanitarian gesture, despite the fact that neither she nor whateverthehell was in her desk were human?

It wasn't like they could escape from tha--


Um. Well, at least it wasn't like Bo was around when the thumping and bumping finally gave way to BANG BAM BOOM RRRRRIP BOING and a seemingly endless stream of
these things

burst out?

So, plausible deniability and all that.

Luckily for the school, the door was shut, the windows were open, and the Protogizkabunny horrors took the path of least resistance as they bounced away.
nookiepowered: (security (uniform default))
"You could fit three of me in these pants with room left over for Tiny, Herc, a raging polyester rash and a bachelorette to be named later!"

Today wasn't the first time Bo had worn her staff uniform in public. It was just the first time she'd given in to her hatred for the shin-length Agatha Christie skirt and tried out the pants instead.

Today wasn't the first time she'd bitched out loud about her staff uniform to an empty office, either. It was just the first time she got a reply.

From her desk drawer.

Of snorts, squeaks, thumps, and some sound Bo not only didn't have words for, she didn't want to have words for it.

"Stop that!"

No such luck. It just got louder.

"For Christ's sake, I'm a succubus. You think I don't know what you're doing in there? Cut it out!"

There might as well have been a post-it note attached that said If The File Drawer's Rockin', Don't Bother Knockin'.

"I have a gun!"

She did, and she wasn't afraid to use it. Even on something that looked like a bunny.

Mostly. Bo didn't know what she would do if it clucked at her, so she wasn't opening the drawer just yet.

[OOC: Drawer is closed, door is closed, post is open!]
nookiepowered: (action (reading - computer))
Bo? Waheeeeeeey too unavailable all day SORRY smart not to realize something funky was going on with all the bizarre (REALLY bizarre, and thank Christ that wasn't the one from Kenzi) voicemails she'd received while she was busy cleaning ALL THE THINGS happily drowning in her giant Minoan bath. So she didn't do anything stupid like try to return them.

Instead she just tweeted.

@msbojanglestoyou: Walrus the flock is up with all these volcano marbles? Anybooze knees? #whippedbyfandom

@msbojanglestoyou: EYG? I sang WHO THESE FREAK, not WALLPAPER. Volunteer munchkins? #WHAPPEDbyfundom

@msbojanglestoyou: Ox fear FORK STAKE! Idiot garble underpants!!! #FUMIGATEYOURFURRY!


[Mostly establishy, but totes open for latebreaking twitterfrakkery on the morrow, if you like!]
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: (negative (bitch freaking please))
Finding someone sitting in her chair when she arrived at her office was not exactly the kind of shock that would make Bo drop her coffee or anything.

Spinning the chair around to see not the expected tiny goth chick, but a doll, was...

Still not so much of a shock. Especially given the type of doll it was.

"Hi-laaaaaaaarious, Madrox!" Bo called over her shoulder, poking her head out the open door but seeing only an empty hallway. (Though after last weekend, she supposed there were a number of lightly-teased possible culprits who might want to get a bit of their own back.)

Then the back massage function switched on by itself, Bo turned around to find the chair spinning in circles, and what do you know, she needed to go buy a new coffee.

After she pulled the knife out of her boot and stabbed the thing in the head until it deflated, as you do.
nookiepowered: (security (sitting))
It was one of those days.

Not one of Those Days, thank God; Bo had two of everything she was supposed to have two of and none of everything she was supposed to have none of and she wasn't singing or standing on a crate to make milkshakes.

It was just one of those days when, three days after finding out the hard way that using Tiny as a barometer of drink-strength was only slightly smarter than kissing a fish, she was sitting in her office, going through her e-mail, and finding out the harder way that no one should let her near a computer on Saturday nights.

"I signed up for what?"

OkStupid  logoHi, theboobsthingwasatypo!

Welcome to the best dating site in the multiverse! We know you're anxious to start using the site and checking out our kabillions of active users.

Our matching system is the best in the business...


[C'est open!]
nookiepowered: (action (reading - smile))
This week's postcard was from Barbados, actually, not Morocco. It still put a much-needed smile on Bo's face as she relaxed in front of the tv with a Guinness in honor of other absent friends.

[OOC: for the tricksy tiny one. No, not him. The other tricksy tiny one. The one she's actually met.]


nookiepowered: (Default)
Bo Jones. Or maybe Dennis.

December 2015

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