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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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[personal profile] concierge
From grand galas to informal gatherings, parties of one sort or another were not an unusual occurrence at the Nexus Hotel. Today was no different, a low-key affair erected in the rotunda of the Italian gardens with the aspiration that tea sandwiches and mimosas would facilitate mingling of the hotel's ever-shifting population.

What was unusual, however, was the inclusion of a wayward, bipedal lizard courtesy of a door standing open on the hotel's facade. Green, spry, perhaps five feet long and roughly as tall as a man, this new guest featured a curved, hard plate across his (or her) forehead that was perhaps indicative of the stubborn nature lurking beneath -- Perhaps because the foliage was so tasty, this little dinosaur resisted all attempts by the staff to corral it back to its home. It would run away from ropes and outstretched arms, knocking over bottles of champagne and destroying the decor before settling several feet away to chomp on some accommodating flowers.
incurablydishonest: (m: unimpressed)
[personal profile] incurablydishonest
NYE 2015 | The Nexus & Elsewhere

In retrospect, Jordan supposed that she and Erik both ought to have known well enough by that point that when the universe gives you such a clear signal to stay in, it's wise to take heed. Being themselves, however, and possessing an innate fondness for (and superiority over) large parties, they neatly made their own beds with a bit of soda water and a hair dryer.

a horizon of painful complications
hopeagain: (focused)
[personal profile] hopeagain
1962 | Somewhere over Europe

If entering the USSR with a cache of CIA operatives had seemed convoluted, it was nothing on the exit process.

backstory | ADULT CONTENT | complete

May. 30th, 2015 09:36 pm
boldly_going: (Smirk; crop)
[personal profile] boldly_going
Jim has spent the last month or so investigating the various doors that make up this Nexus and he has yet to discover the rhyme or reason behind it. It seems like the Nexus is some sort of hub between universes, some sort of place where inter-dimensional travel is nothing more than walking through a door to a new destiny. It doesn't have the same impact as piloting a ship, of course, but it's not half bad.

Jim wants to know more. He thinks that there's enough doors out there to warrant further investigation on more than just an intellectual level. What if there are refugees who need a haven or resources they could harness to make the Nexus better? These things are the crux of his own five-year mission, the one he's temporarily detoured from, and he thinks he should continue it in whatever way he can.

As much as he likes to think he can do this on his own, Starfleet has taught him that teams are always a better option. Four heads are usually better than one and he thinks if they could organize teams of four to explore the doors, they could do recon and research and catalog the new worlds they encounter and put together a database of which worlds are safe and which are never to be explored alone.

He puts out an announcement on the hotel's network for those interested to meet him in the Smoking Room for a drink and sets up there, enjoying a nice glass of whiskey.
morethanhuman: you're the only thing i ever want anymore (wanna believe in everything you believe)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
Mid-July 2014 | The Smoking Room

He was startled to remember how new this still was to Charles. The genuine curiosity in Charles's thoughts had hooked him like a fish, the sudden bright flash of his interest bursting in Erik's mind, irresistible. Charles forgetting to be distant made him forget for a brief instant as well, and he was halfway to asking if Charles wanted company before he remembered that even if he did, he wasn't going to want theirs.

But he hadn't asked Erik to leave yet either.

Erik and a powered-up, genderswapped Jordan find Charles drinking alone, and Jordan uses her new empathy powers to nudge them toward civility.

Nearly complete.
morethanhuman: to fit right in (we're painted red)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
In the dark, Erik ran, the sounds of skittering and and an eerie humming echoing, ambient, in the air around him. They didn't wear metal, any of them, except the ones who carried knives— but they didn't need knives to hurt, to kill. He'd seen that firsthand.

He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.

Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—

"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.

Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.

Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.

[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
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[personal profile] shifting_skin
She could not breathe.

She could not breathe.

The smell of ozone lingered in her nose as she tried, gasping against the taste of rust in her mouth. Mystique had, in her panic, bitten the inside of her cheek and while she could not remember when, could not think of anything but of the betrayal of her body, the taste of blood only served to keep her in that frantic state.

She had been walking down the hallway in the guise of a sharp-lined man, generic enough in coloring to go unnoticed in a crowd even where months and months within the hotel had offering nothing of evidence to a danger within its walls. She had stumbled, she was sure of it, and thrown out a hand to brace herself against the nearest wall as her body shifted, one shape trading for another without the least bit of her will behind it. That loss of control had been frightening enough, but to discover that no matter how she tried, she remained in the shape into which she'd been thrown.

It was very much like her own. That blonde form she had worn as her default for so much of her life. Yet it was different, just shades of it then as she was aware. Nothing of its shape, but her hair was darker and river straight, her skin lacking the warmth of the that golden tan.

Only after recognizing that she had lost her clothes along with that borrowed shape had she managed to get to her feet, fleeing directionless until she had found the laundry and stolen something to cover herself. She sat huddled at the bottom of a stairwell then, in a too large shirt and shorts that were inexplicably lettered with the word 'juicy.' She could not breathe. She could not stop shaking.

What had been done to her?

Apr. 6th, 2015 10:29 pm
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[personal profile] boldly_going
"Mr. Sulu, take us out."

Sulu confirms his order and Jim decides that as much as he likes the Captain's chair, he needs to spend some time in the Captain's quarters for a while. It's been a whirlwind over the last year or so - the revelation that a high-ranking Admiral in Starfleet is a traitor and the destruction of a large swath of San Francisco would qualify as eventful in anyone's book, even his. Still, it set the pace for something grander, something with a bit more ambition and Jim had jumped at the chance to take the Enterprise on an extended, five-year mission.

The chance to chart uncharted portions of the galaxy and expand the Federation's presence throughout known and unknown space? The chance to potentially make first contact with species that had recently acquired warp technology? Jim is neither scientist nor diplomat but he thinks the beauty of being captain is that he can be a little of both. He's still a wide-eyed little boy sometimes when it comes to Starfleet and he thinks it's fitting that he was born in space; there's no place else he feels at home. There's no place on Earth that feels like home to him but on a starship with the engine purring beneath him and his boots on the bridge? That's home.

It just feels right to be captain again and he's glad that his demotion was only a temporary one. He's glad to be in the chair again and he thinks this time, he's going to respect it the way he didn't before. Being captain means holding the lives of your crew in your hands and knowing that you have the power to determine their life or death based on your decisions. One wrong move could be detrimental not only to oneself but to everyone else on board. It's weighty and meaningful and something that Jim thinks he never truly understood until just recently. It's one thing to cheat the Kobayashi Maru just to say he beat the test. It's quite another to actually live it and he understands the point of the test now - and the point in it being a no-win scenario.

(He is never, ever going to admit that to Spock.)

He presses the button to enter his quarters and steps through the door once it automatically slides open. It's automatic to start dictating into his captain's log now and while it's not something that he'd ever thought about before, keeping a journal, it's nice to have a few minutes to unwind each day by putting his thoughts down. Maybe that's how captain's logs started out to begin with.

"Captain's log, star...wait a minute." His quarters just...aren't there. In their place is what looks like a hotel or a resort and the plush surroundings are utterly foreign after spending so much time amongst the utilitarian and spartan surroundings of the Enterprise. Federation starships are all sleek and modern, nothing like this. And certainly not in his captain's quarters.

"What...what the hell is this?"
aspecialkindofwoman: (hair up)
[personal profile] aspecialkindofwoman
April 2 | The halls

Milady arrives to the hotel and immediately finds the first and last person she's looking for.

No warning | Rated U for unrequited and unresolved | ongoing

April 6 - Open

One of the things that has kept the woman known as Milady de Winter alive in all she's been through: she is resilient and she is tough and she is opportunistic. She has learned what she thinks there is to learn about this place and eyed a few doors, but she hasn't tried any yet. This isn't cowardice; it's canniness. She needs to know what she's doing. So this is how she comes to wander through the shop then making her way to the Smoking room. She's looking at everything and everyone; the clothing some wear here is ... intriguing. She's tempted to take some; it would be easy enough. But in the meantime, she walks, hip swinging, offering a smile at the men that she thinks could benefit her, while sizing up the women. She'll have a drink or maybe more, seeing who might be buying.


Apr. 2nd, 2015 02:33 pm
the_dawnster: winchesterway (Dawn ♦ 93)
[personal profile] the_dawnster
This nineteen year old is pacing through the hallways, stopping at each door on every floor whether it's a personal room or a room to another world. She knocks on the door and if someone answers she'll explain her dilemma. If no one answers, she'll be peeking inside whatever rooms are unlocked. If a room is one that leads to another world, she'll step inside and call out the name of the person she's looking for before going to try the next door.

One by one the people from her world had been disappearing. Dawn could cope with it as long as she had her sister her. But now that Buffy had been missing for a few days, now that Dawn literally could not find her anywhere, well... her usual vibrant nature was drastically muted. She felt very alone and she was not okay.

She's practically vibrating with energy, barely able to keep herself from completely and entirely freaking out and shutting down. If she could find the door that leads to her own world she would go through it and never come back. But even that has proven difficult.

Sadly, being left behind is not a new occurrence for her. It happened all the time at home. Between everyone having their lives to live and occasionally saving the world, sometimes she got lost in the shuffle. There was a difference though, between being left behind at home where she knew all the people and all the rules and being left behind here where things were still so uncertain. Dawn, sadly, didn't do being alone very well.

It's later, after she's exhausted every door and every room and spoken to too many people to name in her search for her sister than she winds up sitting on the floor in the hallway outside Harvey's door like a stray cat who's suddenly hanging around for no reason at all. Without her sister here, he's the one she's closest to. He's her friend. Of course she'll gravitate toward him.

Dec. 27th, 2014 10:49 am
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[personal profile] iron_y
(OOC Note: I'm providing three different starters here because I've got a lot of ideas about what Tony is doing and I'd rather write a variety of circumstances and moods, etc. Just pick any one of them to reply to. Like an ordinary open post, any scenes that happen on this post, no matter which starter they start from, will proceed in parallel.)

#1, in which Tony Stark is still not a soldier, no matter what Nick Fury gets him into. )

#2, in which Tony Stark brings the party (and Howard Stark leaves the legacy). )

#3, in which Tony Stark has grease on his forehead and mice in his pockets. Live mice. )


Dec. 21st, 2014 03:47 pm
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[personal profile] birthrightblack
Winsol is always celebrated on the darkest days of the year and there's no darker day than that of the Winter Solstice - this day is shorter than any other and the night is long and cold. Winsol is a celebration of Blood and magic and all of the powers of Witch. It seems strange to be in a place that doesn't celebrate it exactly as Jaenelle is used to.

Oh, there is a holiday. There's a holiday called Christmas and the decorations are oddly similar to Winsol ones. There's the exchanging of presents and the trimming of trees and drinking of good spirits and sharing of good food. It's not her Winsol, no, but Jaenelle is pleased enough to celebrate the holiday of this new place in her life. Just because something has a different name doesn't mean it's inherently different; she'd learned that for herself when dealing with Kaeleer.

So today, she's out in the gardens hoping to practice a little magic. She'd always tried to decorate the Winsol trees with magic back at the Keep and SaDiablo Hall and she's...for lack of a better term...terrible. Every time she thinks she's got the right balance, the right little delicate turn of magic, everything simply explodes.

Explosions are common in her life.

She's just about got a set of fairy lights twinkling on one of the hedges when a sound breaks her concentration and the whole thing poofs up in a flame and black smoke. "Stay back!" she shouts, casting a shield over it so the fire can smother out. She'll have to heal the hedges, too, but first she needs to do damage control.

"You'd think I would be better at this, after all these years, but I'm not."
armedagainstlove: (on trial)
[personal profile] armedagainstlove
July 30| Hell Disneyland

Athos finds himself amidst screaming children, stuffed characters, and more bright colours than he even thought existed. Luckily, Erik is there to rescue him from the madness.

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[personal profile] concierge
Anyone who passed the billiards room in the evening was treated to the sound of light laughter, billiard balls being struck with firm confidence, and the clatter of glasses and plates. The notice had been posted only that day for the tournament, but all were welcome to join in and play, while free drinks and small morsels of food were passed around for the enjoyment of all. The two billiard tables were rarely empty, even though the prize wasn't much to speak of, but pride was always a great motivator in people's ambitions and the ability to say you'd won was always on the line.

The billiards tournament was casual and many were lingering around, watching as the players took their turns. Waiters circulated the room with their trays, and every once in a while, new competitors were welcomed into the informal billiards competition that had begun only a few hours earlier.

Everyone was welcome, though some people would be leaving the event with a loss on their backs. It was lucky, then, that there was alcohol, food, and good company to help dull the defeats.
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[personal profile] dayswithoutincident
Manage your expectations. It's a simple enough concept, but one a lot of people struggle with, and Bruce Banner is no exception. There's a trick to it, of stepping apart from yourself and finding true objectivity, of having the strength to recognize your own weaknesses and strengths.

What Bruce hadn't realized until recently, however, was that when it came to his own life, expectations involving any degree of reasonable normalcy were so far removed that they might as well have been on another planet. Another planet in another universe, actually, but only if it was one about fifty trillion lightyears away and at least ten thousand years from producing anything resembling intelligent life.

At this point, Bruce isn't sure what reasonable expectations for the average person would even consist of, but he's pretty sure he can rule out accidentally tripping through wormholes to alternate dimensions. What he's also sure of is that it says a lot about him (and how much time he's been spending with Stark) that it hadn't shocked him much to step out of his bathroom and find himself at Pocket Universe Inn. He has colleagues who use robotic suits and giant hammers to fly; it's probably past time to redefine what 'normal' means.

Not that it didn't occur to him that he should probably be a little worried about the whole benevolent way station vibe of the place. There's apparently some kind of celestial philanthropist of unknown motive providing his room and board, but overall it's calm and quiet, and there are dozens of ways out. He hopes it doesn't come to it, but if all else fails, he can take a running leap into the abyss. It's more than he can say for where he came from.

This is his third day, and he's still deep in the thrall of new discovery, a quiet figure skirting awkwardly around other guests on his way outside. On the lawn he pauses, face upturned like a child. The view of the sky is still breathtaking, the infinite cosmos bending around their little island like a stream parting over a stone.
trulyoracular: (shades and shirtless)
[personal profile] trulyoracular
Behind the bar and dispensing drinks in little more than a loose tank top, Olaf feels like he's found his calling in life.

(Never mind that this isn't actually him working so much as he'd ducked behind the bar to steal his own drink, accidentally served someone else a drink, and that had been two hours ago)

Olaf's pretty sure that he could do bartending on a regular basis. After all, he knows his liquor, he's had endless amounts of experience listening to people's problems, and being an oracle means that he not only usually has a solution, but most of the time, it's pretty sure the right one! True, 'most of the time' for Olaf depends on the sun in the sky and a lot of other factors, but he's pretty sure that he's having a good day today.

He serves up a screwdriver, a sex on the beach, listens to a hotel guest mourn her ill luck with men, and drinks a beer all before he notices that there's someone new having approached the bar. True, he's not actually the bartender or anything, but given that Olaf pretty much fills his days with a hazy miasma of slacking off and generally not giving a damn, he thinks that playing at bartending for the day can't hurt.

Of course, if this gets him banned from the bar, that could have some severe ramifications down the line.

"What can I get you?" he asks cheerfully and hopes the answer isn't 'your arse out of here, now'.
morethanhuman: cus all the silver girls gave us black dreams (leave the silver city)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
mid-February | the Nexus, Room 26

"So," he said as he turned back, forcing a lighthearted tone. "Am I pathetic enough for full intoxication, or shall I only be allowed a giddy buzz?"

The vulnerability in Erik's voice, his expression, was a keen reminder of the tender places within her that she had been trying for so long to forget. Somehow, despite her most concerted efforts, they never quite seemed to harden like she hoped.

"You aren't pathetic, darling," she replied at length, lifting her eyes to Erik and then pushing restlessly from her seat. "I very much doubt if you've been pathetic for an entire minute together in your life."

After his disastrous altercation with Charles, Erik calls on Jordan to do her duty as his best and only friend, and join him in drowning his sorrows.



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