#lfl.starter

[ash-blythee]

WHO: Open! WHERE: The Rabbit Hole

Val's never felt so fortunate as they are, sitting comfortably at the bar-top with a little grin. Pale eyes only see blurs around them so they turn to the shifting shapes that spell out a person by their side. "So I scored a free drink because both bartenders made the same order by accident... I dunno, y'think I can continue my stroke of good luck? Anyone else out there who looks like they would pay for a lovely psychologist's next fruity cocktail?"

#lfl.starter #!!! #have a lil val starter #pronouns are they/them

[yaseminguven]

where: liddell hippodrome

who: open to all

Wandering off on her own she made her way to the table with the food once again. In her defence, it was tiny and delicious, she could hardly say no, especially since it was free. She'd be a fool to turn down free food. There has never been a time she'd said no to free food, it went against her nature. Besides, there was more than enough for everyone so it's not like anyone could say something to her and if they did, they could go fuck themselves. She was wearing a mask, she might as well make use of her anonymity. So there she was, loading up her plate when she felt someone's eyes on her from the side so she turned towards them, looking them straight in the eyes. She had no idea what they wanted from her, but she thought better to get this over with quick and then she could focus on the food again. "Is there a reason you're staring at me?"

#lfl.starter #event: behind the mask

[ofiends]

Open! Location: Liddell Hippodrome

Yelena wasn't great at this sorta thing. At caring.

Crowds and music and flashy wealth never sat right with her. It was all a bit much. A bit too in her face. A bit too chastising. She thought back to the fucking disaster of an apartment she grew up in, how wires hung loose from the ceiling like big bright snakes. How they couldn't use the freezer because rats had built a nest in it. How Oksana hadn't bothered to fix any of it.

Yelena glanced across to the long tables over laden with food, lobster tails and caviar on silly little crackers, and thought explicitly, of burning the whole Hippodrome to the fucking ground.

She made a noise then, a deep grumble of disapproval in her throat and then, stalked away from her little vantage point over the main floor. She was handed a glass of wine by a waiter, and upon a closer inspecting sniff, Yelena decided it was no better than dog piss in a nice glass.

She promptly dumped it on the floor and wondered if she hung around long enough, would she see some snotty old-money bat slip, trip and crack a hip on it.

"Get lost-" Yelena said suddenly, aware of the presence at her side. She was still holding the empty glass, her grip tight around the slim stem. She didn't bother looking, didn't bother doing much other than stare at the puddle on the floor and pick absently at the scab on her eyebrow, a pretty little souvenir from her last gig.

#lfl.starter #event 001

[ellafalling]

When Kaan had suggested that she update the hours to stay open later, at first, Eira was hesitant. Wouldn't being open for the two main meals make more sense? But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it had been getting busier and more crowded towards the end of the previous scheduled hours, so it was worth a try. Now the food truck would be open from 18:00 to 3:00 in the morning.

Admiring the newly updated sign on the front of the truck, Eira smiled enthusiastically at the person who approached, waving as she did. Despite the late hour, she remained canty and greeted them cheerfully, "Hi there! Welcome to What the Truck Vegan Tex-Mex! What have you been up to tonight? What can I get for you? Whatever you choose, I highly recommend the Mexican hot chocolate-- it's delicious."

#lfl.starter

[lonelyhxert]

OPEN STARTER for whomever London's streets, late evening, after a street fight

Lukesh hated being included in something when they weren't on the job. When their face was recognised or when they felt that annoying itch that they had to participate, which is what they did. And after they always regretted it. They weren't dressed to deal with it, their shirt was ripped and their lip bleeding.

But a few of the fighters had been arrested and they were free to continue their night. As if that was such an easy thing to get back from. Lukesh licked their lip and hissed at the pain. "Fuckers and alcohol, I swear, almost makes me want to take up drinking myself."

#lukeshthreads #lfl.starter #//I don't know what this is ;-; but please accept #injury tw

[kingbriar]

Open Starter for: All Jolly Rogers!

When: March 2024

Where: Liddell Hippodrome

If you had asked him a week or two ago, Ansel would have excitedly said there were few things he loved more than a masquerade theme and launched into a rant about how he was developing looks any of the other Jolly Rogers who didn't have the time or the stylistic eye to put something together that would be up to par but still blend in- a complex mix of thrifting, hand tailoring and shopping for strategic pieces that had taken up nearly all of his studio space and practically had Ansel wagging his tail like a proud puppy.

The day of, however, hurriedly checking people over in the vestibule of a mostly-ignored back entrance with a shorted out security camera was a very different story. "I had to hand cut this whole suit to fit you properly and learned couture-passible leather working in a fucking month to make the mask you wanted." He leans in, smoothing the jacket over their shoulders and whispering in their ear. "If they get ripped, scratched or stained in any unplanned way I'll kill you myself. If you're lucky, I'll take the time to make it look like Liddells did it, and you won't you won't have a heart cut into your forehead. Are we clear?"

#lfl.starter #event: behind the mask

[somewheredarkcr]

where: the liddell hippodrome when: evening with: open!

It wouldn’t be entirely accurate to say that the day’s festivities aren’t up Max’s street. On the contrary, if the horse racing had taken place at a different venue (ideally one without his family name attached), he’d be carousing with the best of them, his seemingly-endless supply of money transforming miraculously into champagne and betting slips.

Not so, tonight. Following his recent conversation with his older brother and the unpleasant reminder that his supply of money is not, in fact, endless, Max is on his best behaviour, and disturbingly sober for an event where he’s at constant risk of bumping into one of his siblings.

He winds up at the bar in spite of himself, irretrievably caught in the gravitational pull of the one thing that promises to salve the wound of his being here - but one drink couldn’t hurt, surely?

His mind made up, Max signals to the bartender for a finger of whiskey, then turns his attention to the person standing beside him, the warmth of his smile clearly visible beneath his half-mask (which is admittedly doing precious little to preserve his anonymity). “So, are we celebrating a victory, or drowning our sorrows?”

#lfl.starter #max: behind the mask #this was a long way to go for not a lot of payoff 💀 #he’s wearing a lion mask (his hair is the mane 😌🦁) #alcoholism tw

[enderali]

WHO: Anyone! WHERE: The snack table at the Liddell Hippodrome WHEN: Before things go Absolutely Wild

It wasn't that a masquerade party was really that much more dangerous than any other formal event--from a security perspective, people's hands were more telling than their faces--but considering everything else that was going on, Ender didn't like being surrounded by so much anonymity. And even though Hector could have had a bit of privacy, too, the Prime Minister had refused to wear a mask. So now everyone knew who he was without having to reveal their own faces, and Ender didn't like that at all.

Ender wasn't wearing a mask, either, which meant anyone familiar with Hector's public appearances could have recognized him, but in a plain dark suit at least he wasn’t dressed like a cop. He hoped that would help him figure out what was going on. All of today’s complications—the protest, every fiasco at the racetrack—seemed like more than just coincidence…and yet, his team hadn’t been able to draw any conclusions. So, after leaving Hector in the care of a few trusted officers, Ender had decided to take a short break from his post. If he had any luck, he’d find some clues about what was happening—and at the very least, he wouldn’t be starving anymore.

The buffet table was filled with hors d’oeuvres and desserts of every kind, and as he chose a selection, Ender turned to the person behind him. “It’s crazy out there, isn’t it?” Every time the music stopped or conversation lulled, the protestors’ muffled chanting would fill the silence. “Did you have a hard time getting inside?”

#hello I have never written a short starter in my life so PLEASE feel free not to match length #event: behind the mask #lfl.starter

[adxrations]

status: open to all ! location: l'antique c'est chic

Delicate fingers pluck a small, ceramic mouse from a wooden shelf. Twisting the figurine this way and that as Ophelia surveyed it before engaging with the closest person beside her. "Perhaps I am merely inexperienced in the 'art' of antiques, but I cannot fathom how such a small decor like this could cost 20 pounds." She held up the small mouse, beautiful though it was, had fading colors from its aged existence. "Do you suppose I could bargain for a lower price?"

#oc #oc convo #lfl.starter

[caffeinatedcounsel]

where: a small, local coffeeshop when: friday, late afternoon with: open!

He's never put a lot of stock into what's fated or written in the stars, but the one thing horoscopes can reliably get right about Sefa is that rituals are sacred and not to be disturbed without a good reason. Especially if they're one of his few indulgences. For example, he only drinks decaf exactly once a week: once the office closes Friday evening, and he can go out of his way to the slightly more obscure coffeeshop for a decaf caramel latte, a couple teacakes, and some delicious peace and quiet.

People who know him know exactly where he is, and usually avoid it.

There's a low rumble of conversations scattered through the mostly empty shop and some softly crackling jazz in the background, and periodically one of the baristas has to go over and futz with the record player if it starts to skip. Sefa lets himself close his eyes and breathe out.

But when he opens them again there's someone in front of him, obscuring his people watching. His mouth twitches, displeased, but able to keep what he wants to say down for the moment. "... Sorry, can I help you?"

#lfl.starter #come one come all and bother the man #needs more coffee | bookkeeping

[edgarxyang]

who: open where: hyde park

People watching was a skill which required precision, a skill which Edgar had honed since his childhood days. He could sit still for hours, so perfectly calm that he was nearly imperceptible, which was quite a feat considering his stature. He’d learned to document every facial expression, every movement believing that they were indications of feelings and thoughts which bubbled under the surface. 

So, when the man seated just a few spots over suddenly developed a tick in the jaw, Edgar couldn’t help but cock his head in the direction of the stranger. He couldn’t hear exactly what was happening but he could tell that the man's companion certainly not pleased with him. “I can’t decide if I’m amused or feel sorry for the poor man,” he said, turning his attention to the person beside him. After a few seconds, Edgar spoke again. “Okay, I’m definitely amused.” 

#lfl.starter #feel free to assume connections

[masterzmei]

With: Open!! Where: A dog park When: Afternoon

Mishka, for her big, soft eyes and stubby, plodding little body is deceptively conniving. Zmei fears he's been a bad example, bringing her along sometimes when he coaches, because now she's decided she likes a clean takedown as much as the best fighters, always gleefully standing on his chest for the pin and licking his face victoriously whenever she can successfully take him to the ground. She knows to go for the knees, or has been known to walk off with his cane like incapacitating him is a game to her, and now it seems that Mishka must have also told her new, bigger friends from the dogpark to exploit his weaknesses as well.

But no matter how heelish or unsportsmanlike his dog might be, Zmei still finds himself laughing as his back hits the soft grass, sitting up as best he can before he can get trampled and throwing the ball she'd dutifully brought back and dropped amongst the chaos.

He watches the pack run after it, and finally takes a second to assess. Everything seems fine if a little muddy, but his knee is none too happy about bending enough to get his feet back under him. He reaches for his cane just in time to hear footsteps approaching, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, no worries but, ah... Could I have a hand? I think my knee's had it for now..."

#lfl.starter #sports column | writing

[assassincte]

where: one man's trash open to: jolly rogers (or anyone who's braving one man's trash) when: midafternoon

It wasn't like she had nothing better to do. In fact, the list of things that Maria had to accomplish was both long AND complicated. Yet still here she stood in the front room of One Man's Trash, surrounded by knick-knacks and tchotchkes of varying levels of gaudy, milling about. It was hard to say how intent she was about anything — a moment was spent seriously contemplating a ceramic frog, for instance — and how much of it was just a way to unnerve people.

It's safe to say that Maria has a huge intimidation factor.

#lfl.starter #if you have a reason to be in one man's trash #you're golden #nothing gold can stay #stay gold ponyboy #idk

[sixstringcharley]

WHO: Anyone! WHERE: St Pancras Station WHEN: Valentine's Day

Now that the work rush was over, St Pancras had quieted down just a little. Every once in a while, someone hurried past, clearly on their way to catch a train or a taxi, but for the most part, people were strolling--maybe to visit the world's longest champagne bar, maybe to check into the high-class hotel, maybe just looking at the architecture and artwork. Charley had staked out a spot under the giant statue of two lovers embracing, hoping maybe it would entice people to listen to songs about love.

But not his own. Charley had written plenty about his brush with love before--but on Valentine's Day, he figured most people wanted to hear about when it'd gone right.

The terrace was empty enough that he'd taken a little break from performing, though, and had his notebook propped on top of his guitar. He'd play a couple notes, scribble something; play something else, scribble more. It was hard to capture the true depth of a feeling if you hadn't experienced it yourself, and he'd never had the chocolates-and-roses kind of deal. So the next best thing was hearing from someone who had, and when a person passed by close enough to talk to, he asked them, "Have you ever loved somebody?"

#lfl.starter #(also feel free to not match length)

[likeakiss]

where: the crooked hand's office (l'antique, c'est chic) when: open! with: open (jolly rogers)!

"Well, you've officially been lurkin' in my doorway for five minutes, and that's about as long as I can stand," Joaquin says, finally glancing up from deciphering the report Sal had left on his desk, the customary cigarillo dangling from his bottom lip, "So, whatever you've got to say, spit it out, or piss off back downstairs."

#lfl.starter #sort of an open starter #but also sort of not

[cassandranarvaez]

OPEN STARTER for everyone. WHERE | WHEN: Portobello Road Market, afternoon.

“Oi, babes, I don’t mean to bother you—” Except she absolutely does. “But, do you think this smells good?” she asks while holding out a candle with a variety of notes to it, complex yet fresh. “I can’t make up my mind on whether or not I should get it, so my fate is in your hands now.” A lot of pressure to put on some innocent shopper.

#lfl.starter #{ – chitchat. – }