a_blessing:

Harmony always opted to go to St. Vincent's for mass on Sunday mornings.  They were one of the rare Catholic churches that still did sunrise services once a month, services that had been Harmony's favorite since she was a little girl back in Kansas.  Nowadays they were more than just favored; now they were practical, given how nocturnal Sin generally was.  He'd been very honest from the beginning--he didn't do the "God thing."  Much to her surprise this hadn't put her off.  Harmony chose to accept it and not to press.  He never stopped her from worship and she appreciated that.  It was just an item of life they could not share but had found a middle ground.  This was, she thought, how relationships were supposed to work.  It didn't mean that she had to completely leave Sin out of the little things that made her sunrise mass so important to her.  Coffee and pastries were also part of the routine for her and sunrise services played to her advantage: this early in the morning there were now crowds, only the devoted slipping from the cathedral and onto the morning-lit streets.

Smiling to herself, she paid for breakfast before slowly walking up the street and back to Sin's.  Her mind was already on surprising him, thoughts far from anything more than that.  Distracted, she misses the way the shadows pull from the corners of buildings and that the birds have stopped singing.   She misses everything until she hears a rustle of wings and then a blood-curdling screech-like noise right behind her as a dark, winged creature descends from the sky and heads right for her sending the other people on the street scattering.  And the winged beast is not the only one, just the largest in what appears to be a small army of gargoyles come to life.

Harmony screams.

temperence:

Alisa did not really tell a whole lot of people when her Birthday was, there was no need to, really. It was just a day she was born, no big deal. Though she did manage to tell Corey and Argo about it, since they were close friends. Nick, well... he knew about her Birthday since it was on her work file. But those were the only people who ever knew besides herself, and her twin brother.

Twenty one years. How the time flies. Ennie was away, missing their birthday this year. Well, physically at least. Alisa took every dime she earned from working with Nick and had his new Harley sent to him, with a big red bow on it and a Birthday card. It was the very least she could do for the brother who gave up everything to protect her. Now, she realized there would be no cupcake this year, no present, no Ennie.

A bit down, Alisa decided to throw her own party... even if she was the only guest. On the roof of the Motorcycle shop, she set up an old boom box she found and fixed up on a table. She tuned the radio on the boom box to a rock station that played her favorite bands
, and then walked over to the side of the roof, looking at all of New Orleans, in all it's glory.

"Well... it ain' like Corey's Birthday, but it's a Birthday, neh?" She spoke to herself. "Well, might as well do sumt'ing..." Alisa took out a spy glass she managed to make herself, and began watching all the cars pass by, using a notepad to mark down each kind of car or bike she say, and what color. "Red one.... blue one... anoder red one..."

nextgen_parent:

Amara Aquila Drake smiled as they stepped out of a portal and into the Champions' headquarters in New Orleans. She carried gifts in her arms and wore a smile on her face. Corey was seventeen today and they had to celebrate his birthday. Irina had been nice enough to travel to Nova Roma and bring Bobby and Amara to New Orleans to see their son on his birthday. There was a brief stop in New York to get Cait and the four of them continued on to New Orleans.

"Cornelius Drake!" Amara called out.

temperence:

If there was anything Alisa knew about Argo, it was that he was a loyal, trustworthy friend... and he had an incredible with chocolate ice cream. She needed someone to talk to, and he was there. With a charming smile, Alisa had managed to get Argo to come with her to an ice cream parlor in the French Quarter... one that did not have a bunch of kids running about to drive them nuts. She ordered him his favorite chocolate ice cream, and she got herself a cup of vanilla ice cream with sprinkles.

Alisa was still dressed in her work clothes, a pair of black army boots, blue, baggy cargo pants, and a black tank top with a bra underneath. She seemed to have a variation of the same outfit, so she would never get bored. It was a whole new thing to have a wardrobe of her own, and she planned on taking advantage of that! She just hoped Nick did not mind that she took an early break, but she needed someone to talk to... other than him.

"T'anks for comin' wit' me, Argo. Ah jus'... well... ah sorta needed a good friend to talk to." Alisa smiled, putting her spoon into her ice cream and then taking a bit of it. She never really had ice cream until she and Ennie lived on their own. It was a big treat for her, though she was not much of a sweet tooth. "Dis place 'as some o' de best ice cream in de quarter! T'ink you'll like it!"

lytaworthington:

Lyta drove her car back from New York. It'd taken her a couple days, but she was back in New Orleans, at the Champions' headquarters.

She'd been away from the team long enough. She'd recovered from being kidnapped and brainwashed (mostly, though she still had the occasional nightmare). Once she'd parked and turned off the engine, Lyta took her suitcase out of the trunk of her car and entered through the kitchen.

She'd unpack her things, but first, she'd have a class of water and make herself a sandwich for a late lunch. She'd drove without stopping as much as possible along the way, food was required before she did anything else.

son_of_hercules:

Unlike his Asgardian former companions, the Son of Hercules possessed at least some familiarity with the mortal world and its customs.  One of which, he understood, was the day devoted to Saint Valentine.  A day for celebrating love and companionship!  A day for people coming together everywhere!

A day when single women congregated to drown their sorrows over being single.  A day where a handsome young demigod could easily swoop in and sweep them off their feet.  Which, in turn, would lead to a night of many, many delights.

He was showered, he was combed, and he was dressed.  His was a face that would turn the heads of countless mortal women, with a body that did not lag far behind at all.

All he had to do was leave.

ng_murderworld:

The van that turned down the street in front of the Champion's home looked like any other brown delivery truck. Black and gold letters painting it's side and a man in a uniform consisting of a hat, button-up shirt and shorts the same drab color of his van looking as bored as one could with his job. The van stopped just short of the former night club's entrance. The delivery driver turned around in his seat and rummaged around for the small package he had for the inhabitants.

Hopping out of his van, 10x10 box tucked under his arm, he headed to the door and rapped on it three times. Not waiting for an answer - there was no signature confirmation requested - he set it on the top step and went back to his van, signed off on his clipboard and started the vehicle up.

By the time the door to the old club opened, he was already driving away to carry on with the rest of his deliveries.

The brown cardboard box, ten inches by exactly ten inches was addressed to The Most Worthy 'Champion' and weighed perhaps three pounds at the most. There was no return address.

sandcastlegod:

They'd started moving into the renovated abandoned restaurant/nightclub covered scrap metal. Corey'd even arranged a recycling dumpster next to the regular one. Once the kitchen was finally covered in his explanatory signs -- one explanation of food storage and recycling having the very direct heading 'You Will Not Waste' -- he took an awful lot of sorted bags of packaging out to said recycling dumpster.

vicious_cycle:

Its been a long ride, though as the Rider goes, a fast one. The trail led him, eventually, to the outskirts of New Orleans, and, of all things, an abandoned amusement park. Before exploring too far, he lets the flems die out, returning to his mortal guise, and hits the nearest payphone to let the team know where he's at.

nextgen_misc:

"Today we cut the ribbon and open a new shelter for the homeless here in Manhattan. The facility has two hundred, yes, two hundred beds and a kitchen that can feed all of them. New York will not ignore the homeless any longer. They are citizens of our city and we will help them."

The crowd around cheered.

"This is but one of five shelters, one in each of the five boroughs, opening today. These shelters are but the first of new shelters that will be opening here in this great city. I urge all New Yorkers to volunteer at these shelters and help your fellow man. There are some that call us New Yorkers rude, arrogant and cold, but I say they are wrong and it is time we show them how wrong they are. Show them by being generous with your time and energy. Show them what it means to be a New Yorker!"

The crowd cheered again.

perenawska:

The cold winter wind blew through the streets of New York and over rooftops. The cold and the wind was a sharp contrast to the warm Southern California weather she and Argo just stepped out of. She immediately spotted Nicholas.

"Are you okay?" she asked Argo. "Sometimes people do not react well to teleporting."

old_saint_nick:

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy.

Christmas Day is a Christian holiday, it's true, but it also has become increasingly secular. It is an opportunity for love, charity, and goodwill, even in Los Angeles, arguably the most superficial city in the country.

There is some debate within mystical circles if there is indeed such a creature as the embodiment of Christmas Giving known as Santa Claus. But whether or not there is such a being, the spirit of giving itself is very real, be it incarnated in a fat man in a red suit or not.

Throughout this small blue planet of Earth, people have brought trees into their homes, decorated them with lights and ornaments, and placed them in locations of honor. Stockings have been placed on the chimneys. And gifts have been placed under the tree.

Some are looking forward more to the receiving than the giving. But for many, it is the act of giving which warms them, which fills them with the holiday spirit.

Each person, in their own way, becomes a part of this spirit of giving. Each person, in their own way, becomes Santa Claus.

The Defenders Manor has been decked out with lights, as has most of the grounds. Ohu has made hanging lighting a top priority, and every tree on the grounds -- including the palm trees -- is well lit with multi-colored lights. Despite the warm location, Ohu has made sure that there's plenty of snow on the grounds, too, with a bit of magic. As for the gods themselves, and their mortal keepers...

perenawska:

Irina dropped Nicholas off in New York and then teleported out to Los Angeles. She had an address and that was enough to get here outside of the Defenders' compound. No way would she teleport inside of it. Not with six godlings on the team. Popping in unannounced would be asking for trouble.

Irina rang the buzzer on the gate.

ohu_amane:

Halloween was incredible, of course, but Ohu is having a hard time thinking of a better holiday than Thanksgiving. There is food! And there's more food! And then dessert... and all kinds of more food.

Ohu has been very careful not to eat all the food as he helped cook dinner and dessert for the Defenders, and worked hard to make certain everything was ready. This would be a feast fit for gods and their favored friends. After everything that Sydney did for the main course, it was the least he could do to make certain dessert was taken care of.

"Dessert is served!" he declares to the base as he places the last pie on the table.

ohu_amane:

It's taken much of the day to prepare. Thankfully, Griffen's been in his lab for the entire time. And now it's time to get him.

The spell keeping too much sound from reaching the lab has held. The webbing on the door to the lab remains sturdy -- he hasn't tried to leave the room yet.

He adjusts his beret, pulls the two tiny triangles of his temporary mustache out to fine points, and tucks the old-style megaphone under his arm.

He dispells the webbing, then opens the door to the lab, ducking his head in with a big smile.

"Friend Griffen!" he calls. "Are you in here?"

nextgen_misc:

In Los Angeles, the stretch of Wilshire Bvld between Fairfax and La Brea Avenues is known as the "Miracle Mile".

In the early 1920s, Wilshire Boulevard west of Western Avenue was an unpaved farm road, extending through dairy farms and bean fields. Developer A.W. Ross saw potential for the area, and developed Wilshire as a commercial district to rival downtown Los Angeles. Ross's insight was that the form and scale of his Wilshire strip should attract and serve automobile traffic rather than pedestrian shoppers.

Wilshire saw a few firsts in American automotive traffic flow; dedicated left-turn lanes, the first timed traffic lights in the United States; he also required merchants to provide automobile parking lots, all to aid traffic flow. Major retailers such as Desmonds, Silverwood's, May Co., Coulter's, Mullen & Bluett, and Seibu eventually spread across Wilshire Boulevard from Fairfax to La Brea.

As wealth and newcomers poured into the fast-growing city, Ross' parcel became one of Los Angeles's most desirable areas. Acclaimed as "America's Champs-Élysées," this stretch of Wilshire near the La Brea Tar Pits was named "Miracle Mile" for its improbable rise to prominence.

Although the preponderance of shopping malls and the development in the 1960s of financial and business districts in downtown and Century City lessened the Miracle Mile's importance as a retail and business center, the area has retained its vitality thanks to the addition of several museums and commercial high-rises. The Petersen Automotive Museum, Los Angeles County Museum of Art, (LACMA) A+D Museum: Los Angeles, and La Brea Tar Pits museums, among others, positioned "Museum Row" on the Miracle Mile.

A sculptural bust of Ross stands at 5800 Wilshire, with the inscription, "A. W. Ross, founder and developer of the Miracle Mile. Vision to see, wisdom to know, courage to do."

Today the Miracle Mile saw a different sight. Two very large individuals faced off against each other amidst the stopped LA traffic. It was one of the busiest streets in America and today the traffic was at a standstill. People fled their cars as they sought shelter and safety in the various surrounding buildings.

son_of_hercules:

So! This was the City of Angels, here in the realm of the mortals! Truly a place of wonder!  It was easy to see why the daughters and son of Thor had chosen such a location for their home in the mortal world.  True, great-Uncle Pluto was said to have his fingers in this city, but the same was supposedly said of many of the gods of the Underworld.  In truth, it mattered little.  Whatever demons might arise, they were surely no match for the son of Hercules!

He had the address of the compound where he was supposed to go.  And his father had said he would speak to Tony Stark of his coming, as soon as he could.  Granted, battle, women, drink, and song did tend to distract his father, but small matter.

So lost in thought was Argo, the Almighty Son of Hercules, that he did not notice the mortal conveyance coming at him as he crossed the street. It skidded to a stop--not that it could have harmed his godly form--and the driver climbed out, well muscled, for a mortal, fist shaking in anger. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? Why don't you watch where you're going? I oughta clock you one good!"

Argo regarded him with a boisterous laugh. "Thou art welcome to try, friend! I wouldst love to share the Gift of Battle with thee!"

"What're you? Some kind of nut?"

"Nay! I art Argo, the Almighty! Son of Hercules! Here to drink thine mortal beer, seduce thine mortal women, and battle thine mortal super-villains!"

He considered something. "Though not, perhaps, in that order."

"Great," the man said, rolling his eyes.  "A nut job.  Inna skirt."

Argo lost his jovial mood.  "Thou wouldst insult the scion of Hercules, Lion of Olympus?  The raiment of Argo the Almighty art forged from the finest Olympian-steel!"

The man backed away slowly.  "Oookaaay, I'm just gonna step away now before you start going on about gladiator movies..."

He got back in his car, and pulled around Argo.

"Most strange, " Argo mused to himself, as he continued to cross the street.  

The second crash, however, was not his fault.  A larger mortal vehicle, a semi-truck screeched through an intersection further up the road as its breaks began to fail.

One leap carried Argo in front of it.  He braced himself and put his hands forward, bending his knees ever so slightly.  The truck slowed... then stopped completely, all without harm to the driver or spilling the contents of its trailer, marked with strange symbols he did not immediately recognize, but still seemed to convey some form of danger.

The crowd was still for a moment, and then the clapping began.  Argo grinned mightily, his hands up in the air, drinking in the praise.  There were several comely women in the crowd, all looking quite impressed.

Perhaps meeting the Asgardians could wait a time.