milliways_bar | Sep. 12th, 2010

Sep. 12th, 2010

[OOM: Moving Sucks]

Teller walks through the door and makes his way straight toward the Bar. After he and the Bar share a quiet conversation (well, quiet aside from all the tapping Teller does on her surface), Teller leaves again, making sure to prop open the door to his apartment.

A few moments later, he walks through the bar with a large tank of mice, which he takes upstairs.

Relieved of his tank full of mice, Teller makes his way back through the bar and to his apartment. Then he returns with another tank -- this one, full of cockroaches -- which he also takes upstairs.

He'll be at this all night, working slowly to move all sorts of strange contraptions and hundreds of books upstairs to his newly-rented room. It's tough work, but he's determined to get this done so that he can get working on moving anything that goes unsold from the shop up there next.

Fake Tags: Teller

guppy_sandhu

As of this unexpected kitchen incident, the smoke alarms in the kitchen have just gone off.

So if you're sitting in the main bar right now, there's a loud alarm, and the sprinklers are pouring water over your head.

(Oops...)

[ooc: Guppy and Jools are still in the kitchen fixing this, so this is primarily for anyone who wants to react to it. Guppy-mun is going to bed and can pick up tags in the morning if required, but Jools-mun will be around for a bit. Otherwise treat this as a party post style :)]

thatinyourpipe.livejournal.com

A not so happy nature god tip tapped his way in from out back. Fires. He never likes the fires that swept through forests and fields. And he was tired of the snappish behavior of the seas lately from that not so little oil mess. Little wonder the floods were greater this year and Pan was certain to know just whose temper tantrum was responsible for *that*. His hooves tapped harder on the floor than usual, and he gave a few annoyed bleats. Mortals... such utter fools.

He ordered some Atlantean from the Bar with express instructions to keep his glass full. Luckily Lady Bar so far was being obliging, but she was usually kind to him. He idly rubbed her surface and asked after her family.

It was times like this that he missed the simpler days when offerings were plenty, and the trees were so much younger. The world was younger.

Still he knew part of his funk was from the chill creeping into the days. Fall was coming, and winter right after. His least favorite times. It always put him on edge.

His bearded face turned to watch the others, and raised an eyebrow at some decidedly interesting newcomers.

A small smile crept upward as he remarked idly to anybody sitting near him.

"Well, well, things are getting livelier around here, aren't they?"

(ooc: Mun is heading to bed soon, but wanted to get this up. Will catch up with tags tomorrow.)

diced_tartan

[OOM: Sunday Morning]

sunbaked_baker

The sunshine that blazed into the bar when the door opened was pure midsummer. It let in a little girl of six or seven, carrying a workbook with a mechanical pencil clipped to it, before closing quietly.

The girl paused just a little ways in. This wasn't the coffee house she'd meant to enter. This was that... bar. That place that had appeared where her and her mom's room should've been, that one time, this past winter.

The memory was a brilliant ray of light in a six-month murk of distress and misery.

Charlie and her mom had said she could work at the counter at the coffee house, if she didn't bother the customers. That was all right. Sometimes Aimil was there - she was nice, and helped Rae with her multiplication tables (up to twelve!) and cursive, though the other girl was two whole years older than Rae was.

This place, though... Through the window, Rae could see that it was a brilliant day outside. The counter at the bar looked a little too high for her, anyway. >_>

It's not long before she's stretched out on the warm grass in the late summer heat, her workbook pinned down with handy rocks to keep the breeze from blowing it away. Rae chews her pencil in thought as she soaks in the sunlight, trying to figure out if that particular cursive capital letter is a G or an S.

Second grade was hard!

(ooc: Slowed for sleep, but open forever! New tags will be picked up tomorrow! <3)

Current Mood: busy

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

Pwing!

There's a table and a chair, and the chair has a big blond guy in it, and the table has a big ol' sign on it:

Security On Duty
Belar Ulsson, at your service

The way he sees it, that should be enough, right?

claudiometer

Claudia comes in favoring her right leg (apparently, kicking out an SOS on a girder when you're stuck to it and can barely move hurts for the next couple days), and still trying to shake a writer's cramp out of her right hand.
She's been working through both - Artie would just treat her to a death glare if she did anything else, considering she got herself into this mess. But right now she just needs to stop for five minutes. (Or okay maybe a little longer it's totally lunchtime yes? Yes.)
That decided, she makes her way to a couch and sends a rat in pursuit of a sandwich.

(OOC: Subject to bouts of slowtime throughout the day, most especially twoish to sevenish EST for work/dinner, but open until it scrolls.)

ash-imperfect.livejournal.com

Asher was minding his own business, walking past the bar when a napkin folded up into an origami crane fluttered past his face. Catching it relexively, he unfolded it, read the note upon it, and looked at the bar.

"If I must..." He sighed, knowing it was futile to try and outstare Bar. He rolled his eyes, shed his coat and stepped behind the bar, scrawling specials on the board and rolling up his sleeves.

One mildly cranky vampire, three themed specials courtesy of Jean-Claude's various establishments in St Louis.

Specials

Albino Vampire
Vampire's Kiss
Coffee Of The Damned

Halfprice drink if you can come up with a vampire-themed cocktail that doesn't involve tomato juice or rasberry liqueur

[Open until 11pm GMT, slowtime of pre-existing threads after that]

itwasjustified

[ oom: "got a verdict yet?"
"took you long enough." ]

[ tiny tags: dani reese, raylan givens ]

[ warnings for explicit adult content ]

wasp-ish.livejournal.com

[OOM:

August
October
April
June

(as a girl she was legal prey)

Warnings for allusions to domestic violence, institutional abuse, and sexual assault, as well as language and vague spoilers through The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest.]

TinyTag: Lisbeth Salander

hopeitsworthit

It's not that Dean really took a whole day to talk himself up to walking out the door to what has been, up until now, his room.

It took that long to convince himself to start walking down the stairs.

(Well, that and trying to sleep. And then dealing with what happened after he tried to sleep.)

But all that's in the past now. As of this moment, Dean Winchester is a free man, moving at an easy pace down the stairs and across the room toward Bar. Ignoring the fact that the number of people in the room feels like being hit with a 2x4. In the face.

Bar's nice enough to pony up on a tall glass of water, though. That's gonna do wonders for his suddenly dry throat.

So.

This isn't an entirely unpromising start, right?

vyvyan

Vyvyan's been on a little trip, to the cliff edge he drove over by mistake once. He managed to scrape together enough of the bank robbery funds to come back here and pay off his tab.

There was just enough left over for some proper food for a change. So he's sitting with his bare feet on the table, and a cheeseburger.

He gets a bottle of his experimental ketchup out of his pocket, dashes some on the burger, then quickly stuffs it into his mouth whole. He belches a small cloud of smoke, puts the bottle back in his pocket, then looks around for something... entertaining.

Failing to spot anything, he gets a penknife out of his other pocket and starts using it to cut his toenails.

[Tinytag: Vyvyan.]

reallyaduck

The bar looks just the same, Duck thinks, as she comes in, putting one foot carefully in front of the other.

The school and the dorms and everything look just the same too. It's weird - she feels like at least something should be different now. Now that she beat the raven and saved the prince and everything. Shouldn't something be different?

Or maybe it's Duck who's a little bit different. As evidenced by the fact that she's heading over to the bar, and there's a chair in her way, and she's thinking deep thoughts, and she actually manages to walk around it instead of tripping over it.

. . . she then walks straight into a waitrat with a tray, though, so maybe not that much has changed after all.

royal-guarantor.livejournal.com

The door opens, and in steps a tall figure with long blond hair, dressed in clothes glittering with jewels.

He doesn't speak as he looks around, just nods in quiet acceptance. This isn't his first visit, after all, though for him it's been several years - not since he was a child.

He moves with dignity and grace towards the Bar, and is clearly very aware of his surroundings and the sudden change in them, he isn't that far lost in thought, but something in his eyes says he's walking through a nightmare.

It probably isn't to do with the place.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy spent most of today cleaning the smoke mark and melted plastic up in the kitchen. He didn't want Jools to get into trouble.

Nobody has come to claim the bottle of spontaneously combusting sauce, so he brought it out and is looking for somewhere responsible to put it.

one_man_army

OOMS:
(warning for some rough imagery in 2nd link)

step in to the unknown
where your path rewinds
(see if you can find out what you came here for)

The front door opens to darkness; Carl (sporting the fading remains of a tan on his skin, a scruffy two-week-old beard on his face and shaggier-than-usual hair, along with a black leather jacket) freezes as he crosses the threshold.

(For a moment, he doesn't believe he's really here.)

Then he steps through and pushes the door shut. He doesn't head upstairs and he doesn't head for the counter. He does adjust the black rucksack on his shoulder and move towards the fireplace, hoping he can find a quiet spot on the floor near the flames to just sit for a moment.

He ends up resting against the arm of one of the couches near the hearth, bag at his side and one arm wrapped around a knee that's pulled close to his chest. Watching the fish swim among the embers. Distracted.

[open 'til i say otherwise;
handwave he left notes with bar.
(if your pup would want one when he left a few days ago.)]

theantisuit.livejournal.com

Mozzie is walking down the street, minding his own business, on his way to Friday. Before he can go home he has to pick up his dry-cleaning.

    Opening the door and walking in, he frowns slightly. Where is the place he brought his clothes, and why is there a bar here? What are the feds, the suits, the KGB---anyone and everyone---up to? Places don’t just change like this. It’s a government conspiracy, he can feel it in his bones.

    Walking slowly, softly, with side-steps, he looks around. He places his hand on his satchel, not wanting the feds to get ahold of his tools if this is them. And, really, who else can it be?

    “Okay, who or what agency is in charge of this?”

[ooc: Open until it scrolls. I just got inspired and wanted to drop him in. He's also pre-canon.]

[ooc: Tiny paranoia tag: Mozzie]