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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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[personal profile] notthewoman
She was not accustomed to genuine fear as she was not sure she was truly capable of it. Instead she felt varying emotions that usually accompanied fear in a gradient of severity. She was mildly confused by her newfound surroundings, but she was learning quickly and not drawing attention to herself in the meantime. Freedom for Jamie Moriarty had been inevitable, and this twist of fortune was not something to be rushed into. There was almost too much freedom here, but then she was also positive that it was entirely impossible for such a thing to exist. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, and now the only thing left to do was make the most of it.

The library of the Nexus was appealing to her in much the same way she enjoyed the gardens. She favored solitude for the contemplation of things, and the Nexus itself had been catalyst for much deep thought as of late. The door back to her world was present in her very own room, and she’d made the trip back and forth between her world and this one without any notice of the guards who were designated to watch her. They thought the blood loss had weakened her, and that fact was quite obvious. She still felt weak and breathless and a bit chilly, though she could force herself above those particular setbacks if she found herself in danger. Thankfully, the Nexus had yet to present anything of the sort.

She found herself in a section of what she recognized as ‘Classic’ American fiction, her fingers brushing along legible and clean book spines as she sought out something simple to read. Moriarty rarely indulged in fiction, she seldom had the patience for it, but she was feeling a bit of a fat cat these days, and wanted something with which to curl up in a spot of sunshine and allow her to present the image of someone entirely wrapped up in their book, while allowing her mind to turn over the possibilities of this place. Her fingers came to a stop on a thin volume, small and compact, bearing the title To Kill a Mockingbird. She knew the subject matter, of course, though she’d also never read it for herself, and that alone meant it matched all requirements she had at the moment.

She closed her fingers around the slim book and slid it free of its neighbors, turning away from the shelf in search of somewhere to sit.
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[personal profile] concierge
Throughout the day on the 14th, the Nexus staff deliver single roses and accompanying notes to designated hotel guests in celebration of the Valentine's Day holiday. For some, the gesture will be a foregone conclusion; for others, it will be a surprise. For some, they might only guess at who sent them the gift in the first place.

[Comments with deliveries will follow are done. You may reply to yours with a reaction if you like!]

In The Sun

Feb. 1st, 2015 06:02 pm
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[personal profile] regimes_fall
Late January | Some Beach Somewhere

Joan made sure to get every patch of skin on Natasha's back covered, if only so she wouldn't have to feel too guilty afterwards if she ended up with peeling lobster-coloured skin. Just like people, they turned red after they had been thoroughly cooked.

Girltalk and boozing and baking in the sun will ensue|Ongoing

Jun. 27th, 2014 10:46 pm
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[personal profile] assistingconsultant
It had been an eventful few months.

Was that why Joan found herself in the Nexus, now, avoiding her life? Most definitely. Something had changed with her and Sherlock, ever since she had decided to move out. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew that, logically, she could not build her life around him. Still she wasn't feeling up to letting her life power forward and, even though she still did not entirely trust this hotel, she at least had to act as if she did, and she hoped her life didn't go racing forward while she was there in The Smoking Room, playing crossword puzzles at an empty table.

And, really, she supposed a broken heart was the least of her worries, but she had that, too.

Attempting to distance herself from her life, to gain some clarity, apparently wasn't helping her out, because she just ended up sitting around at the hotel wondering what she could do with herself. She had a bottle of beer on the table with her, barely touched. She had fancied herself to be self-medicating, but hadn't even, really, been in the mood for that. Her eyes ticked over the page. Had crosswords somehow gotten easier in the last year?

Ignoring the little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Sherlock and Mycroft combined, she filled out 7. getting better, eight words, with recovery. She looked at it, feeling suspicious. Typical.
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[personal profile] bornagoddess

Wearing her armor's metal plates and metal weapons Sif clashes violently into Erik Lehnsherr, a man who can manipulate metal with his mind. Neither one is in good spirits.

ONGOING|some violence


001: At the gym Sif sends a punching bag flying, narrowly missing Captain America's head. He is impressed, they bond over shields.
002: Later that day Sif meets Joan Watson (not the Son of Wat) during her search for the door back home

001 (ongoing|all ages) | 002 (ongoing|all ages)

APRIL 19-20 (after midnight) | THE HOTEL BAR[SEX SWITCH]

001: Sif stumbles out of her room looking like a man, meets Loki (who now looks like a woman) clad only in a fluffy short bathrobe. It's awkward.
002: Later that same night, Ruby comes tell drunken Dude!Sif that her robe is very nearly open, and offers to get the poor Sif some pants.

001 (complete|all ages) | 002 (ongoing|all ages)

Apr. 10th, 2014 02:01 pm
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[personal profile] assistingconsultant
April 8 | Zombie Door + The Nexus

Ok, that was a first. And strange how she thought of that in conjunction with being carried by a man on the run, and not about the fact they were being chased by zombies.

Luther's just stumbled into the Nexus - and then, unfortunately, stumbles right out of it. But that's what Joan is for.

warning for swearing and gross zombie killing / in progress

Mar. 9th, 2014 05:45 pm
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[personal profile] assistingconsultant
She'd decided to go with Caesar's Palace. It did have a nightclub in it, but Joan had decided to start with a bit of gambling before she started dancing. She'd gone to Las Vegas twice before, the first time with several other med students, for an exciting break from her studies. She had graduated with top honours, which meant she had lived a life that had no end to stress and pressure, and Vegas remained a shining blur to her memory. The second time she'd gone was for a doctor's conference, and it had been a relatively uneventful trip. She thought she'd grown out of wanting to go back, but the door within the Nexus was just so tempting she knew she couldn't resist its siren call.

"Have you ever gambled before?" Joan asked Ruby. They had picked an adequately flashy slot machine. They'd come through the door together - it had opened out at the end of a corridor in the hotel - but Joan knew that her, and the rest of the residents who had decided to come, were just as likely to disappear as stick around. Still, it was a girl's night in that Joan was insistent that if they arrived together, they would leave together. Vegas could be dangerous, some of the Nexus residents didn't even come from the same world - Joan wasn't even sure if this was the same Vegas she herself had been to or not - and safety first, as always. If she was going to convince people to step through she would at least keep alert enough to make sure everyone got back. Hence, they were to meet at the door again in six hours. Until then, free reign, and Joan would try not to worry.

She liked Ruby, who was younger than her, and had that sort of cheerful brightness that was infectious. Joan was around a lot of people who only saw the darker side of life, and it was refreshing to be with an optimist for a change.

[Joan will have sent a little message to everyone who was interested to meet at the Vegas door at 8PM, with a note that they will all return together to the Nexus at 2AM unless anyone makes other arrangements. She also left a notice at the front desk for anyone else interested. Feel free to tag Joan in the casino, Joan and Ruby, or start your own little threads anywhere else in Vegas. Obvs a gathering post for the ladies, anyone who identifies as a lady, or anyone who wants to pick a lady up! <3]

Feb. 23rd, 2014 10:31 pm
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[personal profile] thefinalsolution

John Holmes is a blogger who likes to write about unsolved cases. John Holmes is a bit clumsy. John Holmes is going to find out about Joan Watson.


Feb. 5th, 2014 01:25 am
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[personal profile] regimes_fall
It didn't happen often with Natasha, but on occasion cabin fever took form in her in a strange sort of mood that left her eager for company of any sort. She was alone practically all the time when she wasn't working, and it was something usually she did by choice and felt all the better for it. Being with most people wasn't easy for her when she didn't have a direction to go in or explicit orders in terms of a disguise she was maintaining, and while she could definitely be friendly enough when the time called for it, the company of strangers purely for pleasant conversation wasn't something she even know how to actively seek out, the concept was so foreign in practice to her.

The thought of walking up to a person and starting a conversation with them for no other reason than they looked interesting was an attractive idea, though, and Natasha was attempting to build up the nerve.

She'd gone to the bar for a bit and had only succeeded in getting drunk there, finding no opportunities to start a conversation with anyone, and had found herself out wandering about in the lobby. She'd put on a dress that she thought was pretty but felt utterly unlike her, which she supposed was apt for the situation. She also thought she might be a little overdressed for tossing about in a hotel lobby while perhaps a little too tipsy and feeling more playful than she had in a good while, but what did that matter?

Jan. 19th, 2014 08:15 pm
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[personal profile] ogunquit_girl
Frannie couldn't stop staring at the sleeping baby in her arms. She watched every intake of breath, every exhale. Her pulse spiked when his little face twisted into any expression other than serene sleep.

She was waiting for him to cough. She was expecting him to sneeze.

Even though she knew the flu wasn't here - it was contained to their world and it hadn't followed them here on their clothes (even if it had, she'd burned hers shortly after coming through to the Nexus, even the time she'd just walked into her bedroom in Maine for a few minutes before backing out in horror.

Still, Frannie watched her son sleep, listened to the soft silence of breathing unencumbered by snot or phlegm or whatever had choked the life out of her world. Against every odd there was, she was here, Stu was here, and her baby had survived arguably the most stress filled pregnancy ever, to arrive a respectable 6 pounds 9 ounces, with a pair of lungs announcing his arrival. Loudly.

If Frannie could remember how to pray, she would have right then and there.

Gathering type post - tag Frannie, tag each other (feel free to top level with Frannie asleep if you want, or just outside the room). If your pup saw the stationery post, feel free to jump to the conclusion that the hotel's only pregnant woman popped.)
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[personal profile] concierge
A large, decorative sign situated prominantly in the lobby reads:

The Nexus Hotel
proudly presents its

Event Location
Nexus Premises
6 PM - ?

1920's themed dress recommended, but not required for all guests

The sumptuous theme of elegance that typically surrounds the Nexus Hotel is out in full force on the evening of the 31st. With efficiency and very little said, a group had entered and snapped white tablecloths on long tables in the main lobby of the hotel, turning side-rooms into similar displays of elegance. Then came the food, followed by the alcohol, and the guests were quick to follow.

Drinks were on the lawn, in the hotel, making their way into the hands of party-goers who wore shining, shimmering, jewelled gowns of all eras, but only those from the 1920’s hung on a rack in the luggage room where hotel guests entered to check in and found themselves amidst a welcoming committee like none before.

In the skies between the hotel and the stars, fireworks shot off in hourly intervals, sparkling and accompanied by a great bang that the music from the band does its’ best to drown out (to no avail). And under those shimmering lights, the party for New Years Eve roared. It was not the only party, though, as a door had been propped open that led directly to the shining lights of Las Vegas, the gleaming neon of the strip beckoning any guests daring enough to try their hand at games of chance and luck.

Dec. 12th, 2013 09:58 pm
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[personal profile] bonetown
There's a story behind why Alex is sitting in the smoking room with a cigar, a peg leg at her feet, a pirate's hook (that she's currently trying to use to open up the cigar and why is this not as easy as when Brad does it) and a decidedly pirate wenchy skirt on her. Well, okay, so it's either a wenchy skirt or it's the new fall fashion. She doesn't know.

(And she should really kind of know because of the whole part where she owns a clothing store, but hey, so not the time to talk about it)

Now is the time for Alex of the High Seas to kick back and enjoy her conquests. She jock-nods at the next person who enters, gesturing around her from the peg leg to the hook to the dented silver coins at her feet with the pride that a person should have when they've got this kind of bling going for them.

"Jealous, huh?" she asks smugly. "You totally should be. I'm, like, the scourge of the seas." Never mind that Alex got most of this stuff by crying in the middle of a crowd of men who didn't know what to do with a child-sized woman breaking down after having eaten more of their food shares than was really provided for a voyage.

"If you're looking for a souvenir, Mama's got it for you," she says, picking up the hook and tapping it against her front teeth. "...Ow," she says, realizing too late (as always) that her idea isn't exactly the best.
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[personal profile] assistingconsultant
It was seven in the morning. She knew Sherlock was still awake; she hadn't heard him come up, and it wasn't the first time he spent all night sitting on the floor with dozens of files fanned out all around him. As for her, she'd needed sleep, but apparently he was rubbing off on her; after four hours she was wide awake, and wondering why he hadn't barged in yet waking her up.

With an annoyed sigh - now even her body was conspiring against her when it came to a decent night's sleep - she threw back the covers. She grabbed the sweater she'd dropped on her chair before going to bed, pulling it on in defense against the chill before crossing the floor to her bedroom door. She ought to see if she could go help, or at least get him to go and take a nap.

That was her plan, anyway, but upon exiting her room she suddenly stopped in her tracks. She wasn't at home. Instead she was in a well lit room, with tables, and a bar, and people... it had happened again.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed, turning around but, of course, there was no door to be found. It had magically disappeared. The first time it had happened she'd only been stuck for an hour, and she'd wanted desperately to chalk it up to a bad dream - exactly why she hadn't told Sherlock about it, because he would insist on knowing every detail and pointing out the fact that it was quite easy to distinguish dreams from reality and everything could be explained. And she hadn't been prepared for that with so little information at her disposal, so she'd stayed quiet.

Since then, though, she'd made sure to carry money with her everywhere, and just then she was grateful for her paranoia. She dug into the pocket of her sweater for the twenty dollar bill she'd stuffed in there earlier in the day. From what she'd gathered the first time, she was not the only person this happened to, so she hoped the dress code at this place would not kick out confused ex-surgeons wandering around in sleeping shorts, bed hair and bare feet. Because she really needed a coffee.


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