(no subject)

[ex_enlisted288]

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Village & Environs
WHEN: July 4 - 5
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: TBD

---

All American Star-Spangled Boy

[ There's nothing special about this morning, as opposed to the handful of mornings Steve has had here. He wakes up, changes his dirty scrubs for the other pair, and tidies up his room at the inn. It makes him feel better to have a little order, to be able to do something under his own steam. Then he heads out and takes a run around the village environs. He can't run thirteen miles in half an hour, not like he could back home, but just expending a little energy feels pretty good. Another little bit of control.

And after the morning jog, he heads back to the Inn for a decent breakfast and to see if there are any familiar faces around. Beyond that, he's not sure what to do with himself for the day. Supplies are limited, so he can't buy a drawing pad and charcoal pencils from the corner store, or even an easel and paints. He ends up just wandering around, staying within shouting distance of the village, with an eye out in case anyone needs help. Or just wants to chat.

Because there is absolutely nothing special about today. ]


When You Wish Upon A Star

[ Sometime well after midnight, when sleep is more of an optical illusion than a thing that is actually happening, Steve gives up on staring at the ceiling and counting non-existent sheep. Not that this island has anything as normal as sheep. He throws on some clothes and heads outside to get some fresh air.

But it's not until he gets outside that Steve realizes that the early-hours fresh air is also accompanied with some rain. Rather than turn around and stomp back inside, though, he decides to take his life in his hands and go for a walk. With no super senses. Around a world he's been in less than a month. Because he's just that stubborn.

Time to find out what trouble an insomniac former super-soldier can get into. ]

Lord, make Us Instruments of Your Peace.

[collaronhisneck]

WHO: Father Francis Mulcahy
WHERE: The Church/House 26
WHEN: Beginning after the network shenanigans are known and continuing for as long as people want to come
OPEN TO: Anyone
WARNINGS: Likely going to be some serious topics in threads; please mark for any that show up.

---

He'd seen the way so many people reacted to the network showing things they didn't want known. Some people were entertained and laughing, and that was good - but not everyone was. There wasn't much he could do, he certainly couldn't seek out those who'd been disturbed and upset and force them to talk to him, that would entirely violate the sanctity of his calling and ruin the trust he's building within the community. He wants to help, but he learned long ago that no one can force someone to accept help.

The best he can do is make himself available. And so he does, making an announcement on the network (not caring that he outs himself and some of his decisions from the past), then waiting to see who shows up, if anyone does. When someone knocks, or simply walks in, they'll find Mulcahy either praying over the rosary he keeps in the front room or playing with his ragdoll cat, Martin.

[Locked] We are very sorry to inform you that we are entirely out of the fruit in question

[living_proof]

WHO: Liv Moore
WHERE: 6I inn kitchen
WHEN: 4 July, afternoon
OPEN TO: Bucky Barnes
WARNINGS: Embarrassment and innuendo are pretty much a given. Also, Janet Jackson.

---

I'm going to be up front here and say I really don't know if this is a date I have today. You would think that as an adult person who has dated a sufficient number and variety of men that I could figure this out, but apparently there are a lot more things about this place that are a little iffy than you think at first blush. Ravi has firmly put the kibosh on the level of fun I'm allowed to have, but you can have dates without that, right? That's a thing people do.

I'm cooking, and there is a guy coming to eat my food who last night was talking to me really emphatically about nailing things. But he also was surprisingly angry about the state of modern bananas, in the literal sense, so I just don't know anymore.

I'm playing this one by ear, is what I'm saying.

It also happens to be the Fourth of July, and I wouldn't be me without a little cooking on a theme. The Yankee Pot Roast is done, keeping warm in the blessedly electric oven as the last of the regular inn lunch is cleared away by the remaining few volunteers. Dessert is less impressive, just caramelized peaches, but I have set myself the dubious task of whipping cream for them from what's on hand.

With Janet Jackson playing on a loop in my head. Thank you, Kira.

Back to the door, giant bowl braced against my hip, I sure am singing painfully embarrassing lyrics while I work the whisk. Oh yeah.

"All my girls at the party, look at that body, shakin' that thing like you never did see, got a nice package alright, guess I'm gonna have to ride it tonight," and buddy let me tell you, it isn't loud but it's loud enough.