you're the fairy bomberman

It was the day after Valentine's Day, and that meant Envy Adams was 29 years old today.

But perhaps more importantly, she was just barely acclimating to non-touring life after spending most of last year (and the majority of January, because those NYE concerts had been a killer when multiversal timezones streched out to like two weeks of shows in her personal timeline) on the road.

It had been her idea, to come to Fandom for a little weekend getaway. Maybe because it was one of those spots in the multiverse that was more of a no-man's land of sorts. Not really Envy's, not really Peter's, but the place where they'd been just kids in the middle of other kids, even if just kids was a gross underestimation of everything they'd already been doing back then.

It had seemed like a good place for her to center herself back into something a little less hectic.

But, of course, now that they'd made it past the causeway onto the island proper, Envy was already feeling something was... off. As they walked, she spent a long while squinting at Peter, as if he'd somehow changed his hair after yesterday, or the cut of his clothes was particularly flattering, but she just couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

And then she breathed in a particularly big breath, and the feeling grew, and suddenly she knew exactly what was up.

And so she snorted softly, and shook her head. "Oh, we're being Fandomed already."

[ooc: Primarily for the Hegemon, and potentially NSFW-bound because this week is what it is.]

Natalie had been in this exact same situation once before. Fumbling with a key at the door to a hotel room a the Arms, distracted by whatever the island was doing to mess with her hormones.

The difference was, of course, that back then she'd at least been dating Sam. Who was here again with her. Also, the island hadn't been specifically messing with her ability to use the key last time.

Damn lock was a little to the left the first few times, but she got it eventually.

[ooc: For the co-conspirator of fabulously bad ideas, and NSFW bound.]

So, that had been an awfully short school dance experience for both Natalie and Sam. She couldn't speak for him but she personally was just fine with that. They'd gone there, they'd made an appearance, they'd talked to a couple of people for about ten minutes or so, and then they'd been on their way.

On their way here, specifically. The hotel. Where Natalie had just managed to get the door to their room open after some minor fumbling with the key. Or, major fumbling.

"That was weird."

Or maybe she was just a little distracted.

[ooc: For the hormone-addled necromancer, and bound to be NSFW. It's sex pollen time, what did you expect?]