Jul. 8th, 2009

young_gun_billy: (Default)
[personal profile] young_gun_billy
Billy has been gone for awhile.

He left without any word, and he's returned much the same. He needed some time to do some things, to think and whatnot, and to get used to the whole being 'dead' thing.

Going back to New Mexico was interesting, although he was somewhat disappointed to find that a world without Billy the Kid is much the same as it was before, but it's also the first time in a long time he's been able to travel freely without worrying about posses and lawmen out on his tail. There was a confrontation or two, but those were dealt with easily enough and now he's back, planning for the future.

And, settling the past.

Right now he's at a table with a map of the New Mexico Territory circa 1881. He's been introduced to the highlighter and has his map pretty well marked up. Towns are circled and crossed off and scribbled through and he looks pretty satisfied as he leans back and examines the paper.
[identity profile] binaried.livejournal.com
Coffee is a necessary part of life when you're a college student. In fact, some people don't event acknowledge the existence of most of creation without that first cup. Merlin doesn't think he's quite that bad, even during the summer when he's taking a well-deserved break before the final year hits and everyone scrambles toward getting their diplomas.

However -- it also must be said that walking into a cafe near the Berkeley campus expecting caffeine and breakfast, but ending up with a bar, isn't the best morning welcome for someone who hasn't had that lovely little wake-up call. He turns, glances behind him at the hot summer day, and steps in fully.

He's just going to stare for a couple of minutes and wonder if Candid Camera had something to do with this.


[ooc: Just as a heads up, Merlin is reset. Details here, reading before tagging is suggested. Pingable at frenetic ennui on AIM, and be aware of random slowtimes involving kids. Open until falls off the front page.]

tiny tags: chuck bartowski, sparrow
[identity profile] shadowsusannah.livejournal.com
[OOC: OOM:

I saw a wheel within a wheel; I heard a call within a call
Lord let me die with a hammer in my hands
I dream a highway back to you]
ikissdhimbck: (Default)
[personal profile] ikissdhimbck
After her remarkable entrance Saturday evening, Kate has refrained from doing anything particularly noteworthy. Exhausted from the traumas of the past few weeks, she'd slept away half the day on Sunday, only rousing herself for a few hours to return to the bar for a meal. She's been to check on Beaut (and Corella's new foal) a few times, but aside from that -- and the occasional bite to eat and nap by the fireplace -- she's stuck mostly to her room. She knows Doc is back, but has thus far been able to avoid him.

However, she can't stay in her room forever. So this afternoon, she slides herself onto a bar stool for a late lunch. Despite the hot weather, she is wearing a long duster with the collar turned up, in an attempt to hide some of the bruising on her beaten body. They've fully set in now, and instead of the shaded browns and swollen reds from a few days previous, her neck and face are mottled in blues and purples and greens. By comparison, the cuts she sustained in Weyland's world don't look so bad.

A cupcake pops up in front of her with a small, lit candle. She blinks at it in confusion. "...Bar?"

Happy Anniversary, Katherine!
It's been one year.
:)


She scrutinizes the napkin before carefully picking up the cupcake and examining it.

One year. One whole year since she first stumbled upon this place. She'd gone from a lady to an outlaw, from a schoolteacher to a bandit, and from a girl to a woman. She'd suffered a hundred heartbreaks, and witnessed a million wonders. She'd made friends, and lost loves. One year.

Another cupcake pops up on Miss Bar's gleaming surface, likewise lit with one small, flickering candle. Kate blinks at it, and shakes her head.

"What's the second one for?" she asks.


[tiny!tag: Kissin' Kate Barlow] EEEEE, BABY'S GOT A BRAND NEW TAG! ♥ THANK YOU, STEPH! ♥♥♥
a1enzo: (Default)
[personal profile] a1enzo
Enzo in a booth, doing his homework and looking pensive. The one may or may not have anything to do with the other.
[identity profile] cullenteddybear.livejournal.com
Emmett wanders into the bar and orders a glass of animal blood. He glances around for a table and takes a seat near to the bar. He puts his feet up on another chair and begins sipping the blood. Thoughts crossing his mind about everything that is happening with Bella and the family. He seems occupied but buggable.
boundxkitty: (Default)
[personal profile] boundxkitty
On a couch, Liz is stomach down on the couch, arm draped along the floor and resting on the keyboard of a laptop that is settled on the floor. For all intent and purposes, she looks asleep. And yes, this sounds an awful lot like the last time she was in bar. It's a comfortable position. Unless you can tell that her breathing is wrong for it, the computer is occasionally making sounds, and her hand on said keyboard is moving ever so slightly. Sims 2 is running. This time it's Nathaniel and Asher's house she's playing with.
[identity profile] mr-ryan-wolfe.livejournal.com

Ryan walks to the bar to get his nightly meal when a note shows up reading it he smiles as he thinks what to do for the evening.

Grabbing something he writes on the board.

All domestic (United State brands) Drafts half off.

All other drafts 25% off.

He also has found a table and has a stack of red Dixie plastic cups setting them up on each end, with a basket of ping pong balls on the bar top

Walking back to the board he grins.

All Beerpong winners get a free glass of their choice of beer.

 

[identity profile] mr-smarty-vamp.livejournal.com
It was a busy night, even busier than usual, which was truly saying something when it came to working at Danse Macabre. Damian had thought there was a limit to how many overbearing, twittering females he could dance with and feed from in a single shift.

Apparently, he was wrong. He had broken his record by 1 AM. Unheard of!

He started the night with a sip from Zane, who was always more than willing to endure the pleasure of his bite when he requested. If he had known the club was going to be so unusually packed, he wouldn't have bothered. The vampire had felt so bloated halfway through the evening that he had gone back to the dressing room to bleed himself like a bulemic purging after a binge. It had put him in a foul mood, one that didn't dissipate throughout the rest of the night, though he put on a good show and did his job admirably, as always.

Now, saying his last farewell to the females that lingered, both drunk and entranced by his appearance, he turns and heads back to the dressing room. He is more than a little eager to get out of his costume. The shoulder armour was custom made, but that didn't stop it from chaffing against his pale shoulders and pulling at his unbound, crimson hair. Real armour isn't crafted for comfort while dancing. But hey, it left his pale torso bare and gleaming, and he is sure that was the point. Add that to the armbracers, shin guards, and the metal belt riding low on his hips with the forest green lycra that encases him like a second skin, and he looks like some warrior not out of the medieval era, but from some overbudgetted, pornographic film.

He might be indebted to Jean-Claude for having saved him from his old mistress, but this is pushing it.

Opening the door to the dressing rooms, he looks up to find himself in... a bar? Emerald eyes blink, and he looks behind him, but the door he came through is gone. He is instantly on guard.

The damned costume didn't come with a sword. Go figure.


[[ooc: First time. Be gentle! XD]]

[[ooc: ETA: Slowtimes from here on out. Must get to bed due to summer school in the early  morning. Open for tagging till it falls from the opening page. Another EP to follow with him not being so... growly. ^^]]

[identity profile] politestpirate.livejournal.com
It has been quite some time.

(This is mostly due to powers far outside Wellard's control- ie, a mun and IRL, so on and so forth.)

However, 'quite some time' hardly means 'forever', and thus there is a young man with dark hair and eyes, wearing a shirt, waistcoat, trousers and boots that would fit in with quite a few time periods, sitting at a table reading a book. For once, it is not to do with any sort of research, being simply a worn copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel. Soon, he will have to see about another cup of tea, as the cup on the table is nearly empty and certainly cold-

But that can wait until the end of this chapter.
[identity profile] coreenfennel.livejournal.com
Coreen Fennel, ladies and gents, has just finished the baby blanket she's been working on.  She's looking at it to make sure all the angles look right and it's not lopsided.  It looks good. 

She's got it draped over her belly as she sits outside and watches the day come to an end. 


She'd love company.

[tiny tags: Coreen Fennel]

[identity profile] renegade-enzo.livejournal.com
"No, really; I insist."


Today, Bob is being given his opportunity to rest and relax, while Matrix takes care of Mairi.

So far it's going quite well. But that's because she's sleeping now.

She looks innocent when she's sleeping.

Hugging that "special effort" trophy like it's a teddy bear.

The one she was teething on earlier, and Matrix would've allowed to continue [at least it wasn't anything Matrix was particularly fond of], were it not pointed out by his wife that although the trophy is made of low-grade metal, and is light to boot, she still could chip a tooth on that thing, and Bob and Dot would be Displeased.

So she ended up gnawing on his finger instead.

He took that like a champ.

But now he's hungry, and unfortunately they're out of snacks at the apartment, so he suggests to AndrAIa that they pop into the bar instead. [With sleeping!Mairi in tow, just to ensure someone's keeping an eye on her in case she tries to float off or something.]

Bar always provides.



[Two muns, two pups. Get one or the other for a discounted price of free! :D]
the_cupbearer: (Default)
[personal profile] the_cupbearer
Ganymede is curled by the fireplace with a glass tumbler of Gatorade; he hasn't grown any more enamored of the drink since the first time he tried it.

The rats wouldn't give him anything else, and seem to be looking with great distaste at the rope burns on his wrists. He's thinking, about a great many things he has no experience with...and it's sobering, even without the wine he usually drinks. The immortal looks conflicted, and keeps fidgeting with the ruby earring in one ear, though this does nothing to block the view of the two little puncture holes in his neck.

[OOC: open till the next ep, even after it falls off.]
[identity profile] singintheoven.livejournal.com
It's not really a surprise that it's happened again.

So she's always the one to have fun with, never the one to take home to meet the family. So another man has broken another promise. Story of her life--why shouldn't it be the story of her afterlife too?

But when life gives you lemons, the best thing to do is ask that man behind the bar (aren't they always good-looking and kind of flirty?) what kind of drink he can make you with them. And it never hurts to expand one's options.

Which is why Hedwig is curled up on one of the couches, in jeans and a faded Roxy Music t-shirt, flipping through her new beauty school textbook.

Oh yes. Soon, she will no longer be merely an internationally ignored song stylist, but also an infernal beautician.

Be afraid. Or, y'know, go say hi. She doesn't bite.

[open until it falls off the page, and slowtime is love.]
noteful: (Default)
[personal profile] noteful
[OOM: Millitimed to just after this. In the immortal words of Gerry and the Pacemakers, it's gonna be alright.]
noteful: (Default)
[personal profile] noteful
It has been, to say the least, an eventful couple of weeks.

But Meg trying to be optimistic, cautiously, about the next couple. And the couple after that, and so on.

So tonight finds her in a quietly good mood, with ginger ale and a murder mystery.

Botherable.

[OOC: Slowtime, please? Thanks]
[tiny tags: castiel, emmett cullen]
friend_of_lucy: (Default)
[personal profile] friend_of_lucy
Tumnus enters as he flips through a book and murmurs to himself about various inconsistencies in the text before he sets down and waves for some tea and pulls a small notebook from his scarf that he scribbles on.

He would be quite grateful for a distraction from the writings of someone who does not understand Fauns at all.
aaaaaaaagh_sky: (what's with the sky fire?)
[personal profile] aaaaaaaagh_sky
[Out of Milliways: Big Town. In which there is trouble, to say the very least.]

Ellen ducks into the Bar, her stealth suit streaked with drying blood and caked-on dust, and her face burnt an interesting shade of pink beneath a layer of same. "Oh thank God," she says fervently when she sees where she's arrived. "Um. Is there a surgeon in the house? Or something of that nature?"


[tinytag: Ellen (Vault 101 Dweller). Spoilers for Fallout 3.]
[identity profile] mr-smarty-vamp.livejournal.com
After Nathaniel's quiet assurance that he doesn't mind Damian dying for the day on his bed, the vampire had let the dawn spirit his soul away.

Come sunset, he is awake again. Small wonder, considering Anita is not here to raise him with her necromancy. He chooses not to dwell on that too long, as he knows wondering about it will make his head ache.

Despite all but gorging himself on his female dance partners the night before back in St. Louis, he is more than ready for a feeding. He restrains himself, though. Call it a habit. The need is not overpowering, and he knows that he can simply ask the strange, magical Bar for blood like Nathaniel said. He's hoping not to have to do that, but he'll do what is needed when the time comes.

The art of survival was to make pleasure out of necessity.

He's good at surviving.

Putting up his inner barriers and his best facade of calm, he enters the bar from the residential wing and instantly winds his way to the sofa that Nathaniel had used. The wereleopard's scent is faint, but still there, and he sits down. He is comforted by the familiarity of the scent and that comfort is important while he thinks about what he is supposed to do while here. He doesn't have to go to work, for here there is no Danse Macabre. There are no duties for him to perform for Jean-Claude. There is no Anita to ignore him or sap his energy to (unwisely) push the ardeur back at an inconvenient moment.

The sudden freedom unnerves him, though he maintains his outward calm.

Care to save him from his own thoughts?


[[ooc: Less growly Damian, as promised. ^^ Slowtimes welcomed! Still open to Asher and Jason. *hints* ^_-]]