(no subject)

[dog-of-mishap.livejournal.com]

Vext is sitting in the rain. He'd like to get out of it, but no matter where he goes, the rain follows him. He tried going indoors but that just got the bar wet and slippery. It also earned him some unfriendly looks from other patrons. So, he went outside where, perhaps, the rain could do the plants some good.

(no subject)

[slayer_fray]

happy hour!

[kemo_soggy]

Specials:
hot cider (hard or not)
hot chocolate

It seems to be cold in a lot of places, so Moist figures warm drinks are the way to go.
Between customers, he's poking at a ThinkGeek catalog. Because, well, what do you get the mad scientist who has everything?

First Entrance

[ohnoitsjools]

The door opens and a young lad casually walks into the bar. He takes a few moments to look at the decor. He pauses, realising he's not quite sure where he is. After a few moments, he simply shrugs and makes his way toward the bar.

"Must've went in the wrong building," he reasons to himself.

Already having forgotten where it was he was originally heading, he orders a pint and wanders over to the fire place. A pub with a fire place? What a smashing idea.

<sub>[tiny!tag: Jools, the Devil]

[ooc: Open until it scrolls. And, yes. I got permission from Bing for this.]</sub>

(no subject)

[never_misses]

Sam's a bit lost in thought, as he walks in the door. It's been one of those days where his unexpected celebrity is more present than others, and that's still a weird feeling; he's not sure he's ever going to get used to it.
(Just as long as no one tries calling him a hero. It's sort of the point of the whole exercise that he's not one.)
Even with other issues on his mind, it doesn't take him more than a few moments to realise this is not where he intended to be. It's rather more brightly lit than Frothing Otters tend to be, for one thing, and then there's the matter of the strangely dressed clientele.
"...So this is new."

(OOC: Open till it scrolls off the page.)

[tiny!tag: Sam]

(no subject)

[g00d_d0ggie]

It's a winter wonderland out behind Milliways today. The lake is frozen over, icicles hang from every bough and eave, and there's a foot of snow on the ground with more coming down.

It's lovely to look at, but less lovely to be out in, if one is a biological life form that's not adapted to cold temperatures.

Combat droids, however, like it just fine.

(no subject)

[ami_imperfect]

[Milli-timed to sometime during November:

Enzo spends a holiday from school in Amity Park.]

(no subject)

[notaphony.livejournal.com]

After a recent conversation with her (now former) roommate, it's been made abundantly clear that Joan needs to look for a new place to live.

In the meantime, she's holding lodgings in Milliways - but one thing she's quickly discovering for herself is that the bar at the end of the universe doesn't exactly come with its own personal bellhop. She's had quite the afternoon, lugging all of her belongings in and up to her new room, and there are still plenty of unpacked boxes laying around, but it's starting to feel a little more homey.

"I think that's enough for one day," she says to herself, and, after showering to wash off the grime of moving, promptly heads downstairs to the bar to have a drink.

Her first act, once there, is to light a cigarette.

[ tiny tag: joan holloway ]

(no subject)

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Thanksgiving has sailed on by, tragically (or not) without the turkeys Charlie gifted to the mess hall. Those had disappeared along with the boy, and McCoy feels it's more than a fair price to pay. It's near Christmas-time back on Earth, and the mood on the Enterprise couldn't be grumpier. Between teenagers on their first multi-year cruise suddenly realizing they won't be home for Christmas, disgruntled closet fundamentalists taking pot-shots at each other about competing religions, continued drama from those Charlie played his games on, and the current running battle between Kirk's loose command style and Spock's eye to rules and regs, it's a wonder, in McCoy's mind, that someone hasn't set the self-destruct yet.

And every time he thinks it, he finds a bit of wood to knock on, just in case. No need to be tempting Murphy when you're sailing through vacuum in a glorified tin can.

Thus, this particular country doctor can't be too sorry when the door leads not to his quarters, but to a bar where for a little while (one hopes) he won't have to sort out anyone else's problems.

He'd be more than happy to help someone sort out a bottle or two of good Tennessee whiskey, though. He'd be the ruggedly handsome fellow in Starfleet blues bellying up to the bar, in case you're wondering.

(no subject)

[renegade-enzo.livejournal.com]

One very large green sprite + one big mess of READMEs + one notepad that's occasionally being written on + one rapidly-diminishing-in-its-contents glass of sprite intoxicant = a lot of growing frustration.

Why?

Matrix is trying to pick suitable names for his still-in-development baby daughter, that's why.

I think he needs help, a distraction, or both.

(no subject)

[fiery_ring]

[oom: Having contacts in the first form turns up some puzzling new information.]

Carlotta is in the rafters, thinking.

Well, by thinking, read balanced upside down on one of them, holding the pose perfectly on one hand. She would argue that by increasing the blood flow to her head it can only improve thinking.