concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
shes_biochem: (pleased)
[personal profile] shes_biochem
Simmons has managed to find the most wonderful, impossible thing.

In the midst of everything happening back home that she's not even close to ready to cope with -- whatever is happening to Skye, what did happen to Tripp -- she'd decided that she needed time before her mental shields broke down and she cracked and had a nervous breakdown fit to rival the very worst. One day had turned to two and then somehow has drawn out to just over a week, but she feels better and relaxed and now she's standing outside of a very blue, very locked, very real seeming TARDIS that just happens to be parked in the lobby of the Nexus.

"Excuse me," she asks the concierge. "When did this arrive?"

They rattle off something about how they've never noticed it and isn't it funny that they have a police box and would Simmons like security called. She shakes her head urgently and turns her attention back to the TARDIS as her childish heart sings with excitement. She tries the door another three times, opens the phone, looks for a key (or better yet, the man who owns this box), but nothing seems to be working. It almost seems like it could be a prank. Surely the Doctor couldn't be real. Surely this isn't actually happening.

She drags one of the comfortable lobby chairs over to set up shop right outside of it, chin perched on her hand as she stares up at the TARDIS and wonders whether this is another of those things where reality and fiction manage to merge and mix, creating a result that gives her this. And of course, that cowardly part of her heart can't help but wonder if she can't break in and manage to steer her and all the people she cares about away from what's been happening.

"Brave heart, Jemma," she instructs herself, a sad smile on her lips as she crosses her legs in front of the TARDIS and waits for an owner or an explanation or anything in between.

Feb. 15th, 2015 10:25 pm
regimes_fall: (019)
[personal profile] regimes_fall
Natasha had taped her hands before going to the hotel gym. She had bound them in a way that was almost entirely foreign to her, as rarely did she ever fight so up close and personal. Punching and walloping her opponent to death had never and would never be her style for obvious reasons, and still it had felt nice to stand in front of the weighted, heavy punching bag and drive her fist into it again and again. She’d only sent it rocking, never outright swinging, as it was perhaps too heavy for her. She had wished for the strength of someone like Steve Rogers, who could’ve knocked it across the room and put a nice split down the side with a single punch. That had to be nice and satisfying.

All that being said, she wasn’t glum or even angry, but instead restless in a way that was both foreign and alarming to her. She didn’t want to run through another door and she didn’t want to drink. She had put the Valentine’s Day roses that had been sent to her in a vase together and had spent too long thinking on them, which was far less her style than even anything she’d decided to go do to the punching bag immediately after. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go, and she found herself then freshly showered in the gardens of the Nexus, sitting in a bit of sunlight with her hands aching only a bit and a half eaten club sandwich from the bistro sitting beside her.

She felt not at all at home amongst the flowers and greenery, but she liked it all the same.
concierge: (Default)
[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!]
concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
With the party still in full swing, the approach to midnight comes on fairly quickly. While some of the partygoers have left and some of the drink and food service had begun to die off, the waiters quietly and quickly cleaning things off stay in the background to allow for the continuing revelry to go on. Outside, the brisk weather is something to bear, but at midnight, fireworks are being drawn up to go off in the sky amidst the stars and to make the Nexus Hotel glow with gleaming colors of every sort. And of course, with the countdown comes the tradition of a kiss at midnight for good luck in the new year.

As the clock begins to wind its way down, shouts are heard throughout the party, giving notice that there's only so much time to roam through the hotel and find something for that kiss. "Five minutes to go," calls out one of the hosts from their spot at the front of the room, giving fair warning. With that, he continues on his way to mingle through the party, leaving the guests to do what they will.
concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
In the Nexus hotel lobby, the grand tree had been bedecked with a multitude of bright and colorful decorations made by guests. This morning, presents of all shapes and sizes were piled beneath the boughs, and every guest would find something there just for them.

The formal unwrapping event began at 8 that morning, with guests invited to bring their own gifts to exchange, find a place around the tree, and join in the festivities. Staff circulated with breakfast nibbles and cups of warm cider, eggnog, and cocoa, and there were plenty of throw pillows and blankets to snuggle into while watching the bows and paper fly.
thelostprince: (081)
[personal profile] thelostprince
Dec 5 | Tokyo, Japan

Loki brings Natasha through his door to show her the world under his care. Or maybe just to get drunk, as their hangout of choice is a nomihodai - an all-you-can drink bar - buried in the heart of Tokyo. Is it a date? Absolutely not. Will it get strange? Of course it will.

no warnings yet/ongoing
not_lost: (Default)
[personal profile] not_lost
It was turning out to be a subdued holiday season for Fiona, but with the chaos of the last year, she definitely didn't have any complaints. There was enough distance now between her and the worst of what had happened that she was able to really reflect on it all, and the calm atmosphere definitely made that easier. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little bummed at not being able to buy some extra presents for the kids this year, but she still had her bartending job and that meant the squirrel fund would stay full through the winter. She honestly couldn't ask for any more than that.

Today she was at that same job, writing in careful print on the large chalkboard behind the bar:

December Drink Specials

Candy Cane Cocktail
Maple Butter Kiss
Coquito
The Keats
Cherry Brandy Old Fashioned
Layered Christmas Shooter


She stepped back, dusting chalk from her hands as she looked over the list. Most of them she'd never made before, but she was a Gallagher, and that meant two things: She was adaptable and good with booze.

Turning, she offered a smile. "What can I get you?"

[Smoking Room gathering post! Tag Fiona and/or each other!]
not_lost: (Default)
[personal profile] not_lost
Her hair smelled like old grease.

The step into the Nexus had been unexpected, the dim clatter of Charlie's diner giving abruptly away to the chill cavern of the hotel lobby. The air was scented with fresh cut flowers and floor polish, Fiona a lone miasma of fried food and cheap coffee, and she regarded the scene before her with the weary acknowledgment of the working class. To think, she had once felt like she might actually belong in a place like this, as if trying hard enough made some sort of difference.

Shoulders still slumped, post-shift and tired, she looked to her feet with an outward twist of her right ankle. The hem of her skinny jeans was rucked up, caught against the sturdy black tracker strapped around her ankle. No blinking red light, no heart-stopping beeping. She guessed the purview of the Illinois Department of Corrections didn't reach across dimensions.

Gathering herself with a pop of her spine, she made her way on silent sneakers past the front desk and to the hotel business offices to see if she still had a job.

Fifteen minutes later she was perched on a stool in the Smoking Room, one elbow braced against the polished bar top, chin cradled against her palm as she stared into a tumbler of whiskey. She needed a long, hot bath and a soft bed, but this felt more familiar. More appropriate.

Jul. 12th, 2014 07:48 pm
namesgiven: (03;groundhog)
[personal profile] namesgiven
The humid air of the greenhouse was not what Vanessa was expecting to greet her. She paused just inside the threshold, hand still poised on the door. She kept expecting the rush of cold air and falling snow to hit her, but the scene in front of her was unwavering.

Fear mounted inside of her momentarily. A greenhouse -- a place that seemed pivotal now in the recounting of what had happened in the last few weeks. But this certainly wasn't the greenhouse she had been to previously. It was smaller for one, and while she expected the atmosphere to be tinged with malevolence, it wasn't. It was simply unfamiliar. Every inch of it. So much so that it was actually a curiosity. She let her hand leave the door and she continued on inside, ignoring how the heated and damp air made the collar of her dress stick uncomfortably to her skin.

This was London. That was the first thing the flowers told her, even though they were all from places far off. They whispered that they were not only from London, but this place was not home, was not London. There were flowers and plants she had never seen before and were quite unlike anything she had seen before. She paused at the sight of each one, letting her mind fixate only momentarily, fingers brushing the air near where leaves were.

No, this wasn't home, but that didn't explain how she had come to be here or how she had arrived.

Vanessa glanced up and around for another moment, and then, disregarding that she was in public, pulled out her worn pack of tarot cards. In such a strange moment, this action seemed allowed. She began to shuffle them slowly and then place them on a wider ledge, close enough that they nearly brushed the dirt.
concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Outside of the Nexus Hotel, waiters and hotel staff had begun to set up the umbrellas and the tables in the middle of the day. Soon, it became clear that something was happening in the shadow of the Nexus. White tablecloths were draped on the tables and drinks and food were brought out with the help of several waiters and servers, staffing tables with hot and cold foods beside bartending stations. Summery drinks in bright, neon colors are laid out one by one and soon, the afternoon light casts a radiant look on the scene.

Music plays faintly in the background and a note at the front desk invites all the Nexus guests to head outside and join in on the summer party, which promises to continue going as long as there are people to stay and continue keeping the warm atmosphere rolling.

On the lawn, social games had been set out -- lawn bowling, croquet, and tables were set up with chairs for anyone who didn't quite have the will or the spirit to get into such games. Soon, a small number of people had begun to mill around, but as with all parties, there's always room for more.

Jun. 28th, 2014 09:48 am
of_mirkwood: (Looking down)
[personal profile] of_mirkwood
It was difficult to determine his date of birth with the shift in calendar from Middle Earth to the Nexus and, furthermore, Legolas had been alive for so long that the years had all become something of a blur. Still, this was the time of year that he usually celebrated his birthday and it felt wrong to let the occasion go without even a passing mention.

Birthdays among elves were normally quiet affairs. Unlike the hobbits who loved to give lavish parties and bestow gifts upon their friends and families and unlike humans who lavished the celebrant with their own gifts, elves used their days of birth to reflect upon the world and how much had changed in it over the long years they had been alive. The older an elf was, the harder it was for he or she to remember what it was like when the world was young and the forced contemplation on a birthday was a good reminder.

When Legolas had left Middle-Earth, it was in the autumn of the world. The world was changing, swiftly, and the age of elves was ending to make way for the age of men. He had left the relative isolation of Mirkwood and embarked on a grand journey with the company of nine, only to get separated at Amon Hen and cast his lot with Gimli and Aragorn. They fought for Gondor and for all men, seeking to end Sauron's reign of terror, and Legolas did not know if they were yet successful - all hinged on the will and heart of a hobbit and his ability to bear the ring.

Not knowing the outcome of the war was something that disturbed him but Legolas had, as of yet, been unable to return to the battlefield. The few times he had made it into Middle-Earth, it was a younger Middle-Earth and the world seemed less troubled. The leaves shone with spring green and not the autumn he knew was the harbinger of war.

So today, he had decided to set up a target in the gardens and loose his arrows into it, wanting to hone his skills even if he could no longer go home and fight for his people and all the peoples of Middle Earth. When he heard the soft footsteps of someone behind him, he did not turn and, instead, merely spoke softly and evenly.

"It is impossible to startle an elf, even one who is far from home. Careful that you do not wander into the path of the arrow, please?"

Jun. 5th, 2014 12:00 pm
thelostprince: (051)
[personal profile] thelostprince
Loki had slept for days. His last year had not been very restful, but it had been operating the Tesseract - finally convincing it to open a doorway for him - that had truly taken it out of him. Once he had rid himself of Natasha and made sure his room was secure, he had gratefully fallen into bed and slept.

The quiet of his hotel room, so much more calming and closed in than the silence of deep space (which was not, really, silence; in reality there had been a low hum, at all times, imperceptible to his ears but filling up his head) made for a much better environment for sleep. For food, not so much. And as it could not be said that the Chitauri and their compatriots were restful folk, they were certainly not inclined to banquets either.

Loki usually ate often enough that food was mainly for pleasure - he did not crave sustenance quite so often as others, no doubt a trait easily handled by a member of a starving race - but now his body was ravaged, and while sleep had been the first step it certainly wasn't the last. He had bathed, changed out of his armour and into softer clothes which were still very reminiscent of Asgard, and after much deliberation secured the sceptre in a locked safe situated under his floorboards. Handy, how his quarters always supplied him with what he needed; hopefully, they wouldn't turn on him, at least not for the time he needed away. Only Natasha knew he had it, and if she wanted to tell others, that was her; he wouldn't help spread the word just yet with his own actions.

He would have gone to the Smoking Room, to see if Ruby was still around, but the bar didn't provide the amount of food Loki knew he would need to start recovering. So now he was at a table in the Bistro, with a bottle of wine, working on the first of what would undoubtedly be many courses. When hungry, he had an appetite that could rival Volstagg's, though each movement he made was calm, composed, almost sedate. Ravenous he was, in a hurry he was not. Everything was under control.

[Loki just experienced a yearlong canon jump, though slightly altered due to his interactions in the hotel affecting his character. He's a little unpredictable and sharp, but probably too tired to bite, so feel free to have dinner with him ;)]
thelostprince: (021)
[personal profile] thelostprince
June 1st | Nexus Hallways

She looked at him with no small amount of wariness, but did not feel she was currently in danger. He was volatile, or at least he had been once, but just then he seemed distracted, almost scattered, as though the pieces of him had been thrown willy nilly into the air like a jostled puzzle and he was currently attempting to place them all.

Natasha encounters Loki in the hallways while in a weakened state, and helps him to his room.

ongoing/all ages

May. 20th, 2014 06:12 pm
thelostprince: (030)
[personal profile] thelostprince
May 10 | Nexus Grounds

Having returned to their usual genders, Loki and Sif attempt to take their ease in the sun - a strange pursuit for both of them.

Ongoing/All Ages

May. 19th, 2014 08:55 pm
iron_y: (Default)
[personal profile] iron_y
"Shit," Tony Stark muttered. He stopped pacing to glare across the long room, past dozens of rows of ficus plants, at the thread of smoke rising from one of them. It was clearly visible against the white walls.

"Jarvis, is that supposed to happen?" Tony asked.

"The plant involved is one of the controls," Jarvis said. "Nothing to worry about, sir."

"Hmmph," Tony said, and resumed pacing and glaring at random ficus plants. A ficus had been good enough for the late Maya Hansen may she rest in peace, back when she'd still been a promising scientist and not a moral quandary, but what Tony was finding was that biology was not nearly as satisfying as engineering. Plants took time to grow. Obvious inferior design, right?

If it had been Tony with the Extremis problem, this whole thing would be a lot further along, because he'd already thought of about twenty short cuts to this whole process...but it wasn't him. It was Pepper.

"If I may make a suggestion..." Jarvis said.

Tony stopped pacing again. "Jarvis, I warn you, this had better be--"

"Duck!" Jarvis said.

Tony was ducking even before he consciously registered the lack of the usual sir, a sure sign of urgency. The fire extinguishing foam from one of his stupider robots passed over his head and hit the plant right next to him just before it burst into flame.

"Good job, but next time--" Tony started to say.

But the damn plant burst into flame anyway, and the foam went everywhere, and the overhead sprinklers made an ominous noise.

"No, wait for it," Tony muttered. The plant next to the flaming plant was still stable, and as long as...

"Oops," Tony said as another plant -- on the far side of the room, no less! -- started smoking. "That shouldn't have happened. Jarvis--"

"Activating sprinklers," Jarvis said.

"Shit," Tony said as a whole row of plants along the far wall burst into flame too. "Shit shit..." Blinking against smoke and hunching against the spray, he ran to the nearest door and wrenched it open. "Shit," he said to the quiet of the hallway, and then pulled out his tablet.

"Better fireproof partitions," Tony muttered, scribbling down notes as fast as he could think. Water dripped onto his tablet, but that was okay, it was waterproof. "And more testing, lots more testing with heat, and...chemical stimuli, and...magnetic fields, how about a focused electromagnetic field?" He felt a weird sort of relief at having something to do, even if it was something he should have thought of before the big fire took out at least half of his work. "And Jarvis, don't tell Pepper about this, okay?"

There was no response. "Jarvis?" He looked around, and realized that he didn't recognize the hallway where he was standing.

Apr. 29th, 2014 08:42 pm
thelostprince: ({fem} 004)
[personal profile] thelostprince
Still a woman, and Loki was doing his best not to worry about it. It certainly did offer an interesting spin on things, though, especially when it came to him going out and about in the hotel. When it came to attractiveness Loki had very little opinion, one way or another, regarding his own face. But as a woman he could easily see that he was attractive, at least to a certain type of person, that person being himself. It brought a strange sort of confidence to someone who was already confident, but not in the ways he was aware of.

So in that regard, he had decided, for a moment, to flaunt it. The dress he wore was a weave of green and black, off one shoulder and cut just above the knee, revealing more pale, creamy skin than he ever had as a man. A good section of calves was revealed, as well, topped in heeled, laced ankle boots. Style from different worlds was never something he had much difficulty in grasping, though certainly he had a tendency to stop once he had found something suitable and wearable. This had a distinct brush of Ruby's influence, though mostly he had simply followed the direction she had pointed him in.

While some of his peers from Asgard were more interested in keeping their body tuned, Loki preferred to keep his mind sharp first of all. He was sitting on a bench in one of the hotel's gardens, which he understood had an 'oriental' theme according to Midgard, and beside him there was a stack of books. The topics were all in relation to one another - they were extensive histories of different continents on a certain planet, covering everything from its societies to geological movements from fresh Stone Age to dirty, polluted end. One, however, described the pattern of movement of that planet within a certain solar system. Whoever could have written these documents, he did not know, for it was information that could be compiled only by a strange, vast mind. Yet Loki had read it all, and now he was translating it.

The original text was a very dead language, and he was carefully and calmly inscribing it using pen and notebook into the alphabet of Midgard. He didn't know of anyone who would like to read it, but it was something to do, kept his mind active. Translations were always interesting - though Loki read, wrote and spoke many languages, there were always words that fell into and out of use, or had no counterpart. In that he was entertained.
bornagoddess: (Default)
[personal profile] bornagoddess
EARLY APRIL | THE HOTEL GROUNDS

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



APRIL 11 | THE HOTEL GYM/HALLS

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. 20th, 2014 01:22 am
littlerubyred: (057)
[personal profile] littlerubyred
April 13th | Loki's room

Ruby has been having some problems that she thinks may benefit from some friendly advice from an otherworldly prince.

Low. Some talk of adult situations and gore, but nothing at all graphic.| In Progress

Apr. 19th, 2014 01:36 pm
almightythor: ([The Dark World] Smiling)
[personal profile] almightythor
It had been a long time since Thor had celebrated much of anything but he was delighted to learn that Midgard, too, seemed to celebrate Ostara in a similar way to how he'd celebrated it as a child in Asgard. It seemed that traditions were passed down and celebrated with little regard as to how they came about; he was unsure what a man dying had to do with a fertility festival, for example, but Thor was willing to embrace all of it.

For his part, he had gotten eggs and dye from a shop back in New York and brought them through to the hotel to decorate them in one of the restaurants where he had wide tables to work upon. There were not small children around here the way there were in Asgard but it did not matter - perhaps others would want to share in something that reminded them of their childhoods too.

He had never exactly mastered the way to dye eggs without getting it all over him and after about ten minutes and precious few eggs, his fingers were stained all manner of colors, predominantly purple, but the grin on his face was wide and bright.

If only his eggs looked like something worthy of display. Sadly, they did not.

[[Come dye Easter eggs with Thor. Tag him, tag others, have fun!]]

Profile

all_inclusive: (Default)
All Inclusive

Code

Post Header


Linkdrop Code

Tags