27 May 2017 @ 11:33 am
 
[oom: He hated that he couldn’t defend himself, when not a half hour earlier, he’d been having plenty of fun fighting people for money.]

Wilford has made a decision. Things have to change, because it's unacceptable as they are. And luckily, Jim and Sherlock have given him the means by which to make that change. When Wilford walks in with a black eye and a split lip, he heads straight to the Bar to make some new arrangements. The first thing he does is rents a room and slips the key onto his ring. Then he gets a change of clothes and heads toward the gym.

An hour later, he's back at the bar, sweaty and exhausted in a new tank top and shorts. He's also enjoying the first real meal he's had since he opened his old save - a big bowl of bibimbap - and a copy of the local paper to read over. Despite that black eye and split lip, life's pretty good right now.


[ooc: warnings for violence and PTSD freak-outs in the link.]
 
 
25 May 2017 @ 12:44 pm
 
 
So. This is...pretty awesome. Far more fun than dealing with an old manuscript, which is what Jim had thought he'd be doing next time he found this place. He blinks at the decor for a second, then goes to investigate.

Ten minutes later, he has a lightsaber (red, natch) in one hand, and piece of cake in the other. He examines the games on one table, and plays around with them for a bit. But there are other things, so he heads outside and whooshes around with the lightsaber for a while spends half an hour climbing over the ships on display. But there's a flight simulator! And actual pod-racers!

The racers get the first go, because he has a feeling he won't be getting out of the simulator once he's in it. And it's a beautiful day, made even more so by zipping around the place in a Star Wars pod. Excellent fun!


[OOC: open through the weekend. Catch him anywhere around the place, playing with whatever. <3]
[Tiny!tag: 
galen erso]


 
 
 
21 May 2017 @ 09:47 am
 
It's in a predictably bad mood that Wilford comes into the bar today. He shows no sign of having been blown up by a maniac outside, aside from the fact that he may be plotting said maniac's death. But he doesn't want to find Jim right now. That might end with one of them burning the entire place to the ground, and even Wilford can understand that such an outcome would be undesirable.

So instead, he sits down in front of the fire, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and quietly thinks about all the ways in which he can make Jim wish he hadn't done what he did.
 
 
18 May 2017 @ 08:53 am
 
It’s a quiet day, like any other day. Outside, there’s a dog barking in the distance. Birds are chirping in the trees.

And then there’s an explosion from somewhere in the forest, so big and so loud, you might be able to hear it from inside.




And then, all is quiet again.

[warning: death by dog plot. No dogs have been harmed in the link. Reactions only.]
 
 
13 May 2017 @ 09:04 am
 
Wilford has had a few days to calm down and think about the current situation at hand.

No, that's not right at all. Wilford has had a few days to get riled up into a hair-trigger rage. His dog is still missing, and the responsible party has yet to nut up enough to admit guilt. Though, he has had some time to think, and may have changed his mind about some details. Not that Teja's smug ass will be getting any sort of apology, since he shouldn't have threatened to steal the dog in the first place.

dog plot )

It's with all this circling around in his head that Wilford is over by the fire, pretending to be going through notes, but in reality, being too angry to even focus on his own writing.

[ooc: there is no violence or dogs under the cut. There is violence in the thread with Jim.]
 
 
08 May 2017 @ 09:41 pm
 
Guppy is at the bar, with a cup of tea, completely minding his own business...

[ooc: Thread with Wilford concerns Wilford's dog plot]
 
 
08 May 2017 @ 01:07 pm
 
Wilford's been busy with a a new assignment, which has kept him from the bar for the last few days. When he comes in today to eat his lunch and go over his notes, he can't help but notice that there isn't a dog jumping all over him, begging to be fed. Nor does the dog appear out of nowhere to look at him pitifully while he eats.

In fact, the dog doesn't seem to be anywhere in the bar. Wilford waits until he finishes his lunch before going outside to make sure Buster hasn't got himself stuck in another tree or paddled out into the lake and got lost, but there's no sign of him outside either.

When Wilford comes back inside, he notices the state of the dog bed the kids set up. Or, rather, he notices what's in the bed: a piece of baseball bat. If Buster went somewhere without his bat, it would only be because someone didn't think to grab it when they snatched him away.

Wilford doesn't know where to find the person who very recently made all sorts of threats about doing just that, but he knows someone who might know where to find him. And it's a very angry Wilford that storms back to the infirmary.

[ooc: dog plot. Catch Wilford at any point during this post.]
 
 
03 May 2017 @ 02:34 pm
 
The door opens, and whoever is on the other side seems very angry.

"Of course it's your fault! You were driving. Gas pedal. Step on it next time!"

Wilford turns around as he steps through the door, and finds Billy completely unable to argue back. Fine. Good. Whatever. He doesn't want to argue with an idiot right now. Not after being pulled out of a news van on the freeway and thrown into the next lane.

He's not sure if the pain in his side is from hitting the pavement, or from the knife the other guy was carrying. The scrape on his jaw is definitely from the pavement though. Wilford grumbles all the way over to the fireplace, ignoring the way his dog starts jumping all over the place for attention the second he spots Wilford step through the door.
 
 
02 May 2017 @ 07:28 pm
 
 
Jim would rather not be here, it's fair to say. After introducing Sherlock to his new place of work, and securing somewhere modest to live, he'd prefer to be out there thinking up fun ways to terrorise the citizens of Los Santos, and making interior design choices. But seeing as his younger self showed up while he was away and certain things went badly, he figured it was better to come back and make sure the kid couldn't get back in and vent his frustration. Also, three days were up, and there's a certain fiction to maintain.

This is why he can be found at a table by the Observation Window, leafing through magazines that all claim to be able to provide him with the ideal home. He very much doubts it - none of the pictures involve rooms full of computers, a chemist's lab, or any surveillance equipment at all - but some of the paint combinations are nice. It keeps him from trying to find someone who can time-travel him back a few years, so he can throttle himself, at least. 


[OOC: first link is NSFW at the start and end, but fine in the middle. Second is completely SFW, unless teenage tantrums are against your work's regulations.]
 
 
 
19 April 2017 @ 01:58 pm
Emcee comes downstairs looking like the opposite of what he'd looked like to anyone who'd seen him last.

That is, he looks like himself. And more importantly, in the bigger scheme of things, he feels like himself.

Clad in his usual repurposed tuxedo trousers and suspenders, a white sleeveless undershirt, and grungy boots, he's also made the effort to put on makeup. Smoky blue eyeshadow, crimson lipstick. Because this is who he is.

When he reaches the Bar, he receives a note from Sinric saying a fond farewell. And he also receives a note from Bar herself, saying that he has bartending duty now. Never one to shirk a bartending shift, he takes a moment to ask for a few items before agreeing and lets her have her nap.

He sets up an iThing music player on the back shelf to play a collection of electro swing, beginning with a little ditty called Star Wars - Cantina Band. Emcee has no idea who or what this is but it's catchy, and he bops in place as he writes the specials on the board.

Happy Hour Specials
Cocktails:
Gin Rickey
French 75
Sidecar
Bee's Knees
Corpse Reviver
Hanky Panky


With that done, he pours himself a glass of cherry schnapps and snacks on Belgian fries from a huge bowl, enough to share with anyone who comes by.

[tiny tags: cassian andor, baze malbus, chirrut imwe, mary of guelders]
 
 
18 April 2017 @ 04:13 pm
 
Some people, if they were in the bar when Jim Moriarty was last around, might have noticed a few events. Such as Jim getting his baseball bat smashed by a magic hammer, and Jim himself getting carted off to the cells.

(Thor is many things, but subtle is rarely one of them.)

Some time later, Thor emerges from the Security office, with a look of suppressed exasperated annoyance that makes him look rather like a very shiny and warrior-like teacher of thirteen-year-olds.

He leaves two notes with Bar. The first is a note from Jim to Sherlock, written in pink crayon: Locked up again, darling. Two nights. You don't have to visit, but can if you like. xxx

The second is one to X: My friend, I trust that you and yours are well. I wished to inform you that I have arrested Jim Moriarty for violence attempted upon an innocent creature in the bar. My sentence was two days in the cells, but if you wish to alter it to something you find more creatively fitting, I make no objection. I did not increase his sentence for being annoying, but I was sorely tempted. By my hand, Thor Odinson.



[OOC: First link goes to an EP that contains animal abuse; second link just goes to a visiting post for Moriarty in the cells. He'll be there for two days, and it's open to visitors! Edit: probably going to be at least some references to animal abuse in the Wilford thread in the comments to this post, too.]
 
 
 
15 April 2017 @ 04:26 pm
 
 
Jim had a lovely day yesterday, and is in a great mood. So great he's in danger of getting annoyingly manic, which is why he's brought himself downstairs. Better to annoy random others than Sherlock. Unfortunately, that also means that he's at a loss for things to entertain him - he tries a walk, but is bored within ten minutes. The music in his headphones isn't enough, making Bar flick through a few hundred TV channels gets old very soon, and he only manages twenty minutes on the piano before shutting the lid and tapping his fingers over it restlessly.

And then he spots the dog. And smiles.

Ten minutes later he can be found crouched on a sofa by the fire, with Buster's Bonehead's baseball bat in one hand, and a dog biscuit in the other. This thing is going to learn to sit, one way or the other. Every time he manages it on command (mostly by accident), he gets half a biscuit. Every time he doesn't...well, even a half-chewed bat does the job it was intended for. 


[OOC: catch him anywhere in his wandering around the bar, or with the dog. Open until next week! Link warnings for tattooing, jealousy that does not come from Jim, disgusting amounts of devotion and happiness, and inevitable NSFW behaviour.]

 
 
06 April 2017 @ 08:07 pm
 
YT didn't know there were cherry trees here. Although granted, there weren't, until recently. She found a gnarly old-looking one that she could climb and now she's sitting halfway up the tree with her back against the trunk, legs straddling the branch she's on. YT's just kind of chilling out there, enjoying the blossoms and listening to music on her phone.
 
 
03 April 2017 @ 10:54 am
 
Wilford comes into the bar with a small tape player, a stack of tapes, and a laptop that manages to both be small and clunky all at the same time. This isn't supposed to be his job, but the only other person in the building who was stupid enough to admit to knowing how to do it just walked out. So now on top of everything else, it is Wilford's job. With nothing but a pack of stale vending machine chips to keep him company, Wilford sets up at a table to transcribe a bunch of poorly-recorded phone interviews.

He can't wait until stuff all starts going digital.
 
 
21 March 2017 @ 11:24 pm
It was the lack of sound that he noticed first. Not that the noise outside his door was usually all that loud, but it was expected. Every 15 minutes the guard on duty walked past. Every half an hour, the rounds lined up so two of them passed at the same time, and they usually said hello to each other. At least once an hour, someone would knock on his door.

But something was wrong.

Dr. Alto Clef, currently of the SCP Foundation glanced curiously at his door. Was someone setting up a prank? He briefly checked his calendar, another four months until 050 was up for grabs again... But certain people didn't care about that.

He eased up out of his chair, lick his lips. Nervous? No. But sometimes-

He ran his hands across the front of the door, a frown on his chubby features. Did it feel warmer? No, just his imagination. Was someone giggling? Wait, that sounded like bottles clinking... He glanced at his trusty shotgun, then shook his head. No, not this time.

Carefully easing the door open, he looked out... and stood stock still, staring. "Huh. Class S physical location manifestation, in my site? Likelier then you'd expect..." He sniffed the air, and smiled. "And that's some good booze, too. Huh."

He could stay in his room, call some people, get it taken care of... but where's the fun in that? The best way to learn what a skip does is to explore it.

So, he makes a quick note on his desk, in case he doesn't come, and swings the door open wide... before stepping back, to grab his trusty ukulele. Then he steps forward into this brave new world, crying his world famous battle cry: "Konnie, you rat bastard, I know this is your fault!"
 
 
20 March 2017 @ 07:15 pm
Shortly after an awkward exchange with a kid named Fry, a note is written and left with the Bar for Wilford Warfstache. The note reads:

Pinkstache,

I met Fry who is taking care of Buster and he set me straight. He told me Buster has special needs and you actually really care about him. I guess you pretend not to give a shit because you have some kind of macho 'tude thing going on, which is dumb but hey, it's your life to screw up.

Anyway, I'm glad that Buster is okay and Fry is taking good care of him. I should not have tried to rescue Buster from you because he didn't need it. I'm sorry he got hurt and you got locked up for three days because that cop Gene was obviously out to get you.

Regards,
Yours Truly

P.S. - This doesn't mean we are cool now or that you can talk to me or come near me ever. I still think you're an asshole but at least you're not a depraved dog abuser.


[OOC: Plotlocked to the recipient of this note.]
 
 
20 March 2017 @ 09:48 am
 
Wilford's over by the fire today, not sprawled out on the sofa like usual, but in a chair taking up as little space as possible. Ostensibly, he's watching the rhythm of the bar over a large mug of chicken soup. In reality, he's simply trying to will away the early feelings of sickness. But it's too late. He knows that. It's already in his joints, making everything stiff and painful.

This is all he needs.

There's a dog on the floor in front of his chair, but he's ignoring it. As long as it stays quiet, it can do whatever it wants.