(no subject)
Jan. 30th, 2008 06:18 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com"Peekaboo!"
Sarah giggles when Valerie starts to flail about at her touch. She tickles the baby's belly some more, smiling as little legs and arms kick out of the carrier. It's not quite the traditional game of peekaboo - this one involves far more tickling and hiding of Teddy. But once through with tickling, Sarah Jane leans forward to kiss Valerie's forehead.
There's a laptop at the booth beside the pair. She'll return to writing eventually.
Sarah giggles when Valerie starts to flail about at her touch. She tickles the baby's belly some more, smiling as little legs and arms kick out of the carrier. It's not quite the traditional game of peekaboo - this one involves far more tickling and hiding of Teddy. But once through with tickling, Sarah Jane leans forward to kiss Valerie's forehead.
There's a laptop at the booth beside the pair. She'll return to writing eventually.
might be instamatic flu.
Jan. 30th, 2008 05:21 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comDifferent kinds of stress (current reelection news still ringing in her ears) causes different physiological changes (dreading the next four years) in the body. Stress can raise cortisol levels and weaken (the singing and what he said) the immune system and make someone more susceptible (still caught in her head) to colds.
Ana woke up (from a dream of a dystopian society) with a sore throat and (Big Brother's eyes) a headache.
It's brought a bundled-up woman to one of the chairs beside the fire. To tuck up with a book (Where the Sidewalks Ends) and a cup of ginger-citrus tea.
Ana woke up (from a dream of a dystopian society) with a sore throat and (Big Brother's eyes) a headache.
It's brought a bundled-up woman to one of the chairs beside the fire. To tuck up with a book (Where the Sidewalks Ends) and a cup of ginger-citrus tea.
(no subject)
Jan. 30th, 2008 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
supaahiroAnd there is the bartender.
Tenders.
Two Hiros got a note. Two Hiros stand together. Well, if by one of them writing on the board in very sloppy english and the other looking over the Big Book o' Cocktails, well, benig 'together'. They're sort of like the odd couple -- not really together, but never really apart.
The 'base' Hiro writes, on the special board:
QUOTABLE NIGHT!
GIVE ME FAMOUS LINE FROM COMIC, MANGA, SCI-FI, OR OTHER GEEK FANDOM
STUMP THE OTAKU, GET DRINK HALF OFF!
The other Hiro looks less then happy with this 'special', but there they are: ready to serve.
[Slowtime now in affect! Sankyuu!]
Tenders.
Two Hiros got a note. Two Hiros stand together. Well, if by one of them writing on the board in very sloppy english and the other looking over the Big Book o' Cocktails, well, benig 'together'. They're sort of like the odd couple -- not really together, but never really apart.
The 'base' Hiro writes, on the special board:
GIVE ME FAMOUS LINE FROM COMIC, MANGA, SCI-FI, OR OTHER GEEK FANDOM
STUMP THE OTAKU, GET DRINK HALF OFF!
The other Hiro looks less then happy with this 'special', but there they are: ready to serve.
[Slowtime now in affect! Sankyuu!]
broadway goes brutal: opening act.
Jan. 18th, 2008 06:36 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comWhen she comes in-- head bopping, eyes closed, mouthing words beneath her breath-- she isn't entirely paying attention to where she is until she bumps into one of the passing (the one she privately refers to as Jellybean because of the shape of one of its splotches) waitrats.
She swings her head around and opens her eyes wide. Tugging the earpiece of the headphones away (music pouring from the overly outdated Walkman) to listen to the sounds of the bar.
There is singing around here. Why? It occurs to her that it might be one of those things that the bar is known for (didn't eat anything, so what the he--)--and she can't help herself. She holds her head up high, singing as she continues on her way to a booth, "And I am sorry. I am not a maiden fair. And I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere."
She swings her head around and opens her eyes wide. Tugging the earpiece of the headphones away (music pouring from the overly outdated Walkman) to listen to the sounds of the bar.
There is singing around here. Why? It occurs to her that it might be one of those things that the bar is known for (didn't eat anything, so what the he--)--and she can't help herself. She holds her head up high, singing as she continues on her way to a booth, "And I am sorry. I am not a maiden fair. And I am not a kitten stuck up a tree somewhere."
(no subject)
Jan. 11th, 2008 09:00 pmcallitavesper.livejournal.comThe vodka martini would taste so much better were he in a more sophisticated setting. But people fall into dietary habits that eschew setting. If they are addicted to piping hot raspberry mochas, they will consume it any time of year even in the midst of a piping hot summer. If they are addicted to French fries, they will want them even in a four star gourmet restaurant. And if they want green eggs and ham...
This is the ???th (upteenth? bajillionteenth?) vodka martini he's consumed in the bar despite no sign of the classy surroundings he typically enjoys it in. Oh, well! He's just got to have it tonight. Maybe it's something to do with the unease he's been feeling. He doesn't know why (oh, he might be feeling a tad claustrophobic), can't think of a good reason (he's not doing anything; he can't distract himself). But it's okay. The vodka martini'll make it all better.
If you want him, he's at the bar, smoking and, of course, drinking.
This is the ???th (upteenth? bajillionteenth?) vodka martini he's consumed in the bar despite no sign of the classy surroundings he typically enjoys it in. Oh, well! He's just got to have it tonight. Maybe it's something to do with the unease he's been feeling. He doesn't know why (oh, he might be feeling a tad claustrophobic), can't think of a good reason (he's not doing anything; he can't distract himself). But it's okay. The vodka martini'll make it all better.
If you want him, he's at the bar, smoking and, of course, drinking.
(no subject)
Jan. 9th, 2008 08:26 pmostro_gothTeja is in the forge, folding steel and pondering the ups and owns of the universe, and fate.
More precisely, will that eunuch ever come back to be fought?
The forge door is open, though, for business as for the merely curious.
More precisely, will that eunuch ever come back to be fought?
The forge door is open, though, for business as for the merely curious.
(no subject)
Jan. 9th, 2008 08:21 pmnitro-is-ace.livejournal.comOutside, in the dark, one might hear howling.
It is not the wolfpack.
It's Ace.
"THROW THE MILK THROW IT NOW IT'S GAINING!"
(ooc: So, once, many moons ago, Ace and Raven tried to make cookies. Their attempt, sadly, was a major disaster. What they didn't know, between one thing and another, is that the dough is now aliiiiiive, and, it seems, wnts revenge. This is a VERY OPEN and UTTER CRACK thread of... crack. Tag, get chased, whatever. Crack, people. Yes, you. Tag. You know you want to. Type of dough not specified - perhaps it is morph-capable dough, the Mystique of doughs.)
(ooc2:The Dough Strikes Back: So it's been a long day in Ro-ville, so I have to crash, but don't let me stop you! Threadhop and things. I'll try to tag everyone tomorrow, and go on tagging, if slowly, for as long as people want to keep replying. May the silpat be with you.
It is not the wolfpack.
It's Ace.
"THROW THE MILK THROW IT NOW IT'S GAINING!"
(ooc: So, once, many moons ago, Ace and Raven tried to make cookies. Their attempt, sadly, was a major disaster. What they didn't know, between one thing and another, is that the dough is now aliiiiiive, and, it seems, wnts revenge. This is a VERY OPEN and UTTER CRACK thread of... crack. Tag, get chased, whatever. Crack, people. Yes, you. Tag. You know you want to. Type of dough not specified - perhaps it is morph-capable dough, the Mystique of doughs.)
(ooc2:The Dough Strikes Back: So it's been a long day in Ro-ville, so I have to crash, but don't let me stop you! Threadhop and things. I'll try to tag everyone tomorrow, and go on tagging, if slowly, for as long as people want to keep replying. May the silpat be with you.
(no subject)
Jan. 9th, 2008 06:26 pmslasherofprices.livejournal.comIn lieu of the newspaper that has increasingly bored him is a book of poetry. The setting is usual: a table, something to drink (wine; he's feeling relaxed tonight). He's very engrossed in the book.
Except for when his eyes are fogged over and staring at a vague spot that's not the book. Thoughts can be so invasive.
Except for when his eyes are fogged over and staring at a vague spot that's not the book. Thoughts can be so invasive.
Happy hour!
Jan. 7th, 2008 08:37 pmcollects_earsWritten in chalk is the following.
DRINKS YOU'VE (POSSIBLY) NEVER HEARD OF 101.
Step one. Bartender selects drinks he's never heard of.
Step two. Bartender makes said drinks.
Step three. You (the patron) consume the drinks.
"Tonight's drinks are: Daring Dylan, Quiksters Delight, Upper Cut and Wadliegh."
Come try something new.
"What'll it be?"
DRINKS YOU'VE (POSSIBLY) NEVER HEARD OF 101.
Step one. Bartender selects drinks he's never heard of.
Step two. Bartender makes said drinks.
Step three. You (the patron) consume the drinks.
"Tonight's drinks are: Daring Dylan, Quiksters Delight, Upper Cut and Wadliegh."
Come try something new.
"What'll it be?"
snow is unfolding
Jan. 5th, 2008 09:36 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comOnce she sorts the tags out, there's things at the bar. For--
( Simon Skinner )
( Zuko )
( Jason Denton )
( Lissar )
( Simon Skinner )
( Zuko )
( Jason Denton )
( Lissar )
(no subject)
Dec. 21st, 2007 03:45 pmlissla-lissar.livejournal.comOOM: California.
One woman, seven dogs, and a smile. Lissar has a book from the library upstairs and is curled on the couch with Ash draped across her legs and the rest of the dogs spread out on the ground around her. Lissar is sunburned, and about as relaxed as she ever could be while in public. Her sunglasses are on the arm of the couch next to her. If she's to go back today she'll want them.
((Saturday Morning ETA: Post is still open! Feel free to tag!))
One woman, seven dogs, and a smile. Lissar has a book from the library upstairs and is curled on the couch with Ash draped across her legs and the rest of the dogs spread out on the ground around her. Lissar is sunburned, and about as relaxed as she ever could be while in public. Her sunglasses are on the arm of the couch next to her. If she's to go back today she'll want them.
((Saturday Morning ETA: Post is still open! Feel free to tag!))
all fles--er, cookies must be eaten.
Dec. 12th, 2007 08:03 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comIn the bar there is a booth. In the booth there is Ana. Who has caught up on the some of the holiday baking and needs to work on the accompanying paperwork of order receipts and bills and and a couple of local charity donations and payroll for her first real employee. She looks very busy at it, napping soundly.
And on the table of that booth there are two slightly chipped and brightly colored (one in eye-searing shamrock green, and the other in cinnabar red) platters that have been attacked by stacked legions of (the undead that are starring in their very own holiday zombie movie: All I Want for Christmas is Your Braaaains.) smiling gingerbread men among papers of various sorts.
The only difference between the two platters is that the buttons of the men on (the red) one have carob chip buttons as opposed to the ones that have red-hot or gumdrop buttons.
That might mean something.
[ooc: Slowtimes ahoy!]
And on the table of that booth there are two slightly chipped and brightly colored (one in eye-searing shamrock green, and the other in cinnabar red) platters that have been attacked by stacked legions of (the undead that are starring in their very own holiday zombie movie: All I Want for Christmas is Your Braaaains.) smiling gingerbread men among papers of various sorts.
The only difference between the two platters is that the buttons of the men on (the red) one have carob chip buttons as opposed to the ones that have red-hot or gumdrop buttons.
That might mean something.
[ooc: Slowtimes ahoy!]
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:14 pmslasherofprices.livejournal.comBar can has a Sissy Skinner? Bar can has a Sissy Skinner. A Sissy Skinner with a basket o' flowers, even*.
(Said Sissy Skinner has a confused cousin back at home wondering what's gotten into him, why he didn't bellow out a greeting and act in his usual bombastic, invasive and theatrical manner, why he, in short, was acting normal. She is not the only one in Sandford to wonder that lately.)
* No, you cannot has flowers. Not yours! Unless your name is Ana Pascal.
(Said Sissy Skinner has a confused cousin back at home wondering what's gotten into him, why he didn't bellow out a greeting and act in his usual bombastic, invasive and theatrical manner, why he, in short, was acting normal. She is not the only one in Sandford to wonder that lately.)
* No, you cannot has flowers. Not yours! Unless your name is Ana Pascal.
(no subject)
Dec. 6th, 2007 05:45 pmlissla-lissar.livejournal.comIn celebration of the anonymous gift of paid time and icons, have a Lissar. She's smiling, surrounded by dogs, and reading through a manual on some car or another. One hand rests gently on Ash's side; she can't feel puppies yet but the bitch is out of heat and looking smug.
(no subject)
Nov. 13th, 2007 09:39 pmslasherofprices.livejournal.comSimon Skinner [is at the], fireplace [with a], book [and a glass of], wine.
His actives? So descriptively exciting.
[ ooc: mun is not feeling so hot. not a plea for tags, more like a warning that she might be slower than usual. ]
His actives? So descriptively exciting.
[ ooc: mun is not feeling so hot. not a plea for tags, more like a warning that she might be slower than usual. ]
(no subject)
Nov. 8th, 2007 09:33 pmjules-hilbert.livejournal.comJules hadn't been aware that redecorating the library had entailed turning it into a costume bar, as well as removing the books. Remarkably, although he's suffering a great deal of shock, he's still got a hold of the stack of books he was planning on returning.
Maybe he'll just do that later. For now, he's leaving.
He turns, hand reaching instinctively for the doorknob, but it's gone. There is a long stretch of silence in which he simply stares at the place where his door had been.
"There are some extremes to redecorating, and that includes installing disappearing doors," he mutters, finally turning back to the bar.
The worst part is, the majority of the weirdly dressed people don't even look like undergraduates.
Maybe he'll just do that later. For now, he's leaving.
He turns, hand reaching instinctively for the doorknob, but it's gone. There is a long stretch of silence in which he simply stares at the place where his door had been.
"There are some extremes to redecorating, and that includes installing disappearing doors," he mutters, finally turning back to the bar.
The worst part is, the majority of the weirdly dressed people don't even look like undergraduates.
(no subject)
Nov. 6th, 2007 06:46 pmsynapse-circuit.livejournal.comJ.C. is in the bar, on duty. He's leaning against a wall in an out-of-the-way corner and, oddly enough, playing around with a yo-yo. He's doing a lot of simple tricks like Sleeper and Walk the Dog - stuff that doesn't require too much concentration and lets him keep an eye on his surroundings.
But...what the heck is a guy like him doing with a yo-yo? Does anyone dare ask?
But...what the heck is a guy like him doing with a yo-yo? Does anyone dare ask?
cómo y dónde
Oct. 19th, 2007 09:06 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comShe's reducing a hazelnut-cappuccino scone to crumbs and working on her second cup of hot chocolate, wondering when she signed up to be part therapist, part party planner, part organizer and partly to blame for anything that can possibly go wrong--
(and imagine how terrible the dress might be)
--filling the role, she expects.
human abstract
Oct. 11th, 2007 07:02 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comWatching the destruction like a birth in reverse, everything comes back together in ten minutes. She is watching it all from her seat at a table that has a mug and a plate half-full of apricot jam Rugelach. Her skirt is indigo patterned over with white flowers-- they call it Queen Anne's lace, I think --smoothed down over her knees. High-topped feet tapping idly against the floorboards to something in her head.
Ana ignores the crack in the window. If it is a crack spidering the glass.
Doesn't matter, it isn't a source of potential apprehension.
She is delighted with the idea that she might be inhaling the dust of the universe with every breath.
[ooc: As of 12:15 EST I claim slowtime. :)]
ana-pascal.livejournal.comShe saw the temptation.
Oh, the temptation. Staring at her. And they were all paper. That's begging to be pounced.
But she's better than that. Stronger than it. Really.
(No. She isn't. She's hiding behind the sofa. Using her previously discarded clothes as a nest with
this, ripping it apart for the catnip inside.)
Oh, the temptation. Staring at her. And they were all paper. That's begging to be pounced.
But she's better than that. Stronger than it. Really.
(No. She isn't. She's hiding behind the sofa. Using her previously discarded clothes as a nest with
this, ripping it apart for the catnip inside.)isolate the box
Oct. 2nd, 2007 11:10 pmana-pascal.livejournal.comThere's a sweater.
And there's a cat in that sweater that is crouched on the bar. Without that sweater she would be shivering like an empty-brained heiress' crack-addled chihuahua going through withdrawal spasms. So...
...she also appears to be reading a paperback (
In Search of Schrödinger's Cat
) book. Keeping her narrowed, slit-pupil eyes on the current paragraph. Her paws pressed down on the edges of the pages. And when she's finished, she turns them with a nudge of her nose.In this new shape, she really thinks Schrödinger was a huge asshole, and would have benefited from having the cat in question lock him in the box to teach him a lesson. Or, at least, have punished him by making him clean up horked-up hairballs.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2007 08:34 pmvisible_sarielThe number of humanoids in the bar has just risen by one.
This is fairly remarkable, given the state of affairs in the place at present.
Sariel's perched on a bar stool, glancing around at the... even more varied than usual patrons in the room. There's mint tea and vegetable soup in front of her, but both items are being all but ignored in favor of critter watching. Is that really what it looks like over there? "What in the world...?"
she likely wouldn't mind company, even if said company has more than the usual number of limbs.
This is fairly remarkable, given the state of affairs in the place at present.
Sariel's perched on a bar stool, glancing around at the... even more varied than usual patrons in the room. There's mint tea and vegetable soup in front of her, but both items are being all but ignored in favor of critter watching. Is that really what it looks like over there? "What in the world...?"
she likely wouldn't mind company, even if said company has more than the usual number of limbs.
what are you going to call her? fluffy?
Oct. 1st, 2007 07:24 pmana-pascal.livejournal.com...There was a biological imperative to run and hide from anything larger than herself that could be considered a predator (read that as: canine, vulpine, and the assorted larger felines, and she'd probably count the badger-badger-badger-ooooh-snake.)
That is why she's tightly wound up on the bar right now, flehming the air, and trying to find a way to get higher up.
