Daily Entertainment

[themightyspazz]

You ever stop and wonder just how much better your life would be if it were written by Joss Whedon?

I do. All the time.

FOURTH WALL BREAKDOWN, Y'ALL.

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[themightyspazz]

In the gym, there are four people.

Voodoo's geared up, leaning up against one of the walls as he fidgets and checks a nearby clock.

John's doing much the same, albeit further down the wall.

Mako's in a tanktop and sweats, finishing up the last of a particularly grueling set of pullups.

And there is a reasonably athletic-looking 19-year-old of Scots-Irish descent in worn-out sweatpants, Asics, and a UC Davis UnderArmour tee working over a punching bag with a few combinations, his hands wrapped in black elastic cloth. He's still got a long way to go before he can try out for the fight team, but he's getting there.

[agoodmusekickin]

"Overachievers, the lot of you."

There's an average American sized 30-something woman leaning in the door frame to the gym.

"Seriously. You guys could be doing anything and you're working out. What's up with that?"

[camwyn]

"You know, I'm never gonna be able to see that icon of yours out of the corner of my eye without thinking of the Yay Clusters ad on Hyperbole and a Half."

[yakalskovich]

My life *was* apparently written by Joss Whedon, but he handed the show over to somebody else when I was in my early thirties. Last year, that new show- runner did some shark- jumping, but the ratings are still doing well, thank you.

No fourth wall breakdown for me,though.-

[yakalskovich]

Famous last words. Refusing to break down the fourth wall here because of too much to do, I promptly went on to break down the fourth wall elsewhere with an utterly unsuspecting RL friend who just happened to mention 'the restaurant at the end of the universe' in a comment to a G+ post. Of course I had to defend our food and drink! Poor guy doesn't even know what I'm talking about, though...

**evil cackle**

[aberration]

If Joss Whedon wrote my life, I'd be dead.

Really, I'm just playing the odds here.

[gypsyjr]

That just means the audience will love us, making our inevitable demises that much more tragic.

[genarti]

Yeah, agreed.

My life would probably contain a lot more snappy banter! But I'm not sure I'd call it better in any other way.

[psyched_you_out]

There's a not-psychic in the corner, sitting with his feet on the table, taking up a ridiculous amount of space as usual.

"What's up?"

[jjprobert]

A young man walks through the door to the main bar, carrying two bags, one a rucksack slung over one shoulder, the other a large canvas bag filled with with various leaflets and free stuff he picked up at the careers fair.

"Oh thank goodness. Time to sit down for lunch."

By which, he probably means those Marmite sandwiches he grabs out of the rucksack, rather than the Laptop he seems to be focusing most of his attention on.

[musesbyaura]

There's a twentysomething woman sitting sideways in a booth, a mug of tomato basil soup on the table, laptop in lap, and tears on her face.

Don't be fooled. Her eyes are just irritated as hell. It's probably some seasonal crap. Stupid autumn. Every now and then, she takes out a bottle of Visine and applies directly to the eyeballs.

"Why are you applying false tears?" asks a man nearby.

"These're supposed to make my eyes feel better," she answers before blinking her eyes hard and turning to get a good look at him.

And Aura ends up shutting them again when it's Lohengrin she sees. She mouths an expletive and discreetly closes a couple of tabs on her browser.

"Have you been hurt?" the Knight presses.

"Not by anyone, so don't worry about that," she says, waving off his concern. "Say, could you do me a small favor?"

The Knight nods without thinking before answering, "I don't mind."

"Could you kind of sit down and be my eyes? I should probably keep a lookout for a couple of people but I don't know how much looking I can actually do."

And so Lohengrin ends up joining her while she describes a woman with black curly hair and a young blond boy in a striped shirt.

As for those in question, Mia is sitting in an armchair by the fireplace while Lucas has fixed up a blanket fort out of another booth nearby.

[gforceinmyfaaaace]

The fourth what?

Oh. Oh! That thing!

It's so fragile...

[leeshajoy]

"Really? You want a generally mediocre life that still gets massively hyped on the Internet because it has a well-known name attached to it?"

(Someone's feeling a little trollish today.)

[crazyfurries]

"If Joss started writing my life after right now, I'm saying this much. There had better be monsters WORTH MY TIME in the show."

Meet the mountain huldra of 'meh'.

"...trollish, really?"

[bjornwilde]

Yeah, I am quite sure Whedon took one look at my script and passed. I can maybe see Hughes taking on the project or the producers for Parenthood but not Whedon. I'd likely have died in the first five minutes if he had though so I'm not arguing. = ]

[bcgphoenix]

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-squeeeeeeak.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-squeeeeeeak.

That nice straightaway off to the side there? Probably a good idea to stay away from it unless you want to get plowed over by a woman on quad skates. Phoenix, done up in full derby gear, is sprinting from one end of the bar to the other, stopping right before she hits the wall by spinning into a 180 and rocking up on her toe stops (which accounts for the long squeeeeeak as they drag across the floor).

So far, she doesn't look too graceful, but the less-than-perfect stops get the job done. Most of the time.

Though there's also a faint "Waugh, fuck!" every so often as she teeters on the verge of losing her balance or almost slams into the wall. Fuckin' turnaround stops, how do they work.

[agoodmusekickin]

Bing perches on a table near by. She's some how managed to score a bag of popcorn and a red Solo cup of Bud.

[visible_sariel]

A twenty-something woman - dark skin, black curly hair, red Starfleet uniform - is over in one armchair, a couple of books in her lap and one more in her hand. The datapad to one side is quite empty, if anyone's looking, except for one instance of the ubiquitous circle and X symbol. Sariel's attempts at rune research are getting nowhere, apparently.

Just inside the door, meanwhile, there's another twenty-something - jeans, pale shirt, stocking feet, waist-length brown hair. "What the? Oh hey, the bar is in my bedroom this time? At least I only went back for perfume. Bosco, no way."

That last is to the near-white yellow Labrador who's just stuck his head round his owner's knee and attempted to nose his way into Milliways. "Not without me you aren't, anyway. The heck if I'm losing you in here, weirdness in the forest or not. With my luck, the Wells's would adopt you before I could catch you, and as much as I like Yorkshire, I'd sooner keep you. Fluffball."

[agoodmusekickin]

"If Joss wrote my life I'd have been cancelled long before now," quips the brunette with glasses seated at a table with two turtles, a rat, combat android from outer space disguised as a cranky librarian, The Avatar and son.

"Well that woulda made the last few years blessedly quiet," quips Raph.

"Raphael," Splinter warns.

"Hah ha, busted!" Mike says with a chuckle...which is quickly cut short by a smack upside the head from his father. "...ow."

They're playing Lunch Money.

"Spinning backfist coming at you, Bumi," says Aang.

"Yeah...I'm going to block that...Dad." Bumi's a little unnerved by the fact that his father looks to be about 12.

"Hey Nicodemus, you're not actually trying to hide your score over there, are you?" Ida cranes her neck to get a better look at Splinter's health number.

"No..." He lies like a rug.

"Heh, Blood in the water, boys!"

[alchemistseraph]

"Your people scare me sometimes, you know," says a youngish woman with black curly hair sticking up in all kinds of ways. (Don't ask why she's got one of those bug zappers that looks like a tennis racket. You probably don't want to know.)

"I don't even want to think about what my life would be if Joss were in charge. I really don't."

[crazyfurries]

That fourth wall thing, was it supposed to be set up to block the cats out of the living room?


...well poor luck, a young lady, matching the description of appearing 17 years old, stocky, dark blonde hair and currently in her pjs is walking in, rather blindly thanks to the three large baskets of laundry. And trying to dodge the 20 pound maine coon cat purring and twining about her legs trying to trip her, he really doesn't care how much she scolds him.

"Bonzai, git! Git! I-" The young lady stops and peers beyond the side of one basket, balancing them and holding still.

"...awww biscuits. Why does this always happen when I have a mountain of chores."

[chanter1944]

"Kitty!" squeaks a twenty-something with seriously long hair, in a totally, utterly dignified fashion, we swear. Beat. "Want me to be a cat distraction while you ditch the... you're carrying something, I think? I thought I heard something rattle. Anyway. Unless the kitty's escaped into the bar already, in which case I'm not going to be much use."

[anthologia]

A 5'2", glasses-laden brunette blinks at the bar and does a power pump with her fist. "Aw yeah! Procrastination central!"

No paper-editing for her here! No, sir! Instead, she takes over a couch with a comfy blanket and pillows to play Name the Fireplace Fish.

[silveraspen]

"Right now, I'm not entirely certain that Joss isn't writing my life. I am DONE with this day."

The door slams behind Aspen, who ignores it as she carts an armload of books and papers over to the nearest table. Strangely, they all seem to be wrapped in bright red tape.

"Please tell me this fourth wall breakdown comes with extra tea."

[bcgphoenix]

Right on cue, up skates Phoenix bearing a tray of tea like one of those '50s-era cafes.

"Yup. Always," she says as she glides to a stop next to Aspen. "Hey."

[alexiscartwheel]

There are three students in the library. They're the same three students that are always in the library—not that they ever really come to study—but hey, at least only one of them is brandishing a weapon right now.

The librarian eyes her young charges, wondering if what they need today is an exasperated sigh, some sage advice, or a witty rejoinder. Possibly all three. What they don't need is for the librarian to join them in the Gangnam Style dance. The point of the dance may be to dress classy and dance cheesy—and her tweed jacket is the epitome of classy—but there are some lines that musn't be crossed. She has a professional reputation to maintain.

Besides, she hasn't fully ruled out the possibility that the dance might summon a horse demon.

She tried to warn the students of this, but being teenagers, they weren't really listening.

[withherhands]

"If Joss is writing my life, I wonder if this is a good omen or not," a young woman says walking in, looking at a rather dirty but intact pin-back button. On the button is the image of the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo with a cartoonish image of a certain donut-eating, un-ruffleable agent.

"Not that I'm going to argue with finding this thing after I lost it on my way to work yesterday. Or argue with news from NYCC last weekend."

[minkhollow]

A twentysomething girl (long, curly brown hair, black long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans) comes in and promptly flops on a couch by the fire.
"Cars," she says. "Don't talk to me about cars."

[bbq_platypus]

"Well, I don't know anything about cars, so no problems here."

Another twentysomething is leaning against a wall near the corner of the room, holding a glass of whiskey.

[bbq_platypus]

There's a slightly overweight twentysomething with bushy sideburns sitting with his elbow propped against the bar. He lifts his glass and sighs deeply.

"I'm thinking today's a Black Label day today, Jim."

"I'd be inclined to agree, sir," Jim says.

"Well, you would."

"I would as well, if I knew what that meant," remarks the leather-clad huntress in a seat further down the bar.

"Means I need a drink," the mun says. "What do you think, Kane?"

The bald man at the other end of the bar rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to his EVA display.

"Too cool for this party, huh? Have it your way, then."

The mun takes another sip. "Yup. Black Label day."