[location: John Everton's House] [OPEN TO ALL!] BLOCK PARTY!!!

[aesthetic_mojo]

The time had come. Charlotte left John in charge of setting up the bar, giving him only the one request that he have a decent selection of beer, and did the work of dialing up the food. She knew she was going way over board. For all she knew no one might show up, even though she'd gotten a bit of a response to her invite. How could people resist, though. Food, drink, Dean's music, kittens? Okay, and an ex-vampire, but that wasn't his fault.

Pushing that thought away, she continued laying out the food and the carefully crafted warding spells that would protect it from the kittens. They had been given run of most of the patio, but not the yard, and not the food area. That meant they'd still be popping in and out of people's laps, but at least they wouldn't do it to plates.

When everything was ready, Charlotte ran up to change into skinny jeans, a crisp white button down and a ridiculously shiny pair of cowboy boots. Not unlike Dawn, not that she knew it, Charlotte was having too much fun with the fashion options the replicators afforded. Properly armored for the event, she headed back to the patio to wait for their first guests.





OOC: This is an open event, folks, anyone should feel free to tag in, even if they just discover the party. Start a new thread with a label if you want or just tag in on another thread. Feel free to hop around, too. IT'S A PARTY, PEOPLE! Also, this will go on as long as people are interested, so backtag all ya like. We know people will be in and out all weekend. Have fun, drink all the booze.

1; [holo]

[dexmcduff.livejournal.com]

"Duffy, lay off the pre-sleep pizza."

There's a young man on the pedestal this time, hand on his forehead in exasperated realisation. It's weird, of course, that he's actually managed a lucid dream for the second time in his life, but the first time, he'd actually tried. And the first time, he'd actually been sleeping beforehand, which he seems to remember now. The hand comes down in a more shocked sort of realisation, and he looks around.

What the hell, Dexter. Sleep? He'd just been walking to the basement, very, very far away from any... space agey beam-me-up things. And that's about when he notices the bracelet fused to his wrist, his panic becoming more and more apparent in his expression. One, it's not coming off. Two, digging at it hurts like hell. Three, the bracelet's not the only thing on his arm. A small, bright green gecko skittles its way down his forearm, stopping next to the metal. Dexter stares at it.

"Roy?! How did you get -- okay, okay: bigger things afoot, you just... stay there."

Well, the teenager thinks, eyes darting around the room wildly, no way is flailing around post-abduction going to get you anywhere. He falters, glances at his violated wrist and his confused gecko, then clears his throat.

"Take me to your leader...?" He intones at the last possible second - voice cracking, to boot - feeling like a total tool.

"Hello? Uhh, bridge? Star Command? Captain? Houston? ... Petey? Shaun! Somebody, help me out here! I'm stuck in a tin can, probably losing oxygen and all I have is a - this thing, Roy and a -- hoooly souped-up iPhone."

He picks the device up and squints at it, lifting his head a little and squinting to see it more closely under his glasses.

"Is this thing transmitting or something?"