milliways_bar | Entries tagged with cre'hktdi

gothams-knight.livejournal.com

[...There is Major American Entertainment

"Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen..."]

There is a SLUMP.

And a whumph! against the door.

Which promptly falls open to reveal a thirty-something man wearing a very expensive suit (now on the floor) and the inside of a pantry. Shelves stocked with exceedingly expensive (and organic!) spices, herbs, and general munchies.

Something is going on outside the door, but anyone who will attempt to enter will find the doors barred. Occasional shouts, noises, and from time to time-and this is the worst-silence.

As it is, a good portion of one Bruce Wayne's snacks and various assortments are on the floor along with the thirty-something male.

If you Read The Papers you might recognize him.

But given that he doesn't look like he's waking up soon, now might not be the best time to ask him about it.

Ladies And Gentlemen, District Attorney Harvey Dent!

[Mun might possibly vanish, but slowtime is eternal love? will be up all week and then Harvey'll be bound. Also. PLEASE BE GENTLE. The affects of what occurred will wear off in about an hour as far as Dent's concerned. Reactions, poking with a stick, chidings about evil, notifications I'm breaking rules, anything!]

[I believe in tags: Harvey Dent, First entrance.]

sighteddancer.livejournal.com

Cre'hktdi is ~~because the mun needed a reason for her not to wildly overshoot her status with all the new hunts she gets!~~ single-momming it up watching over her sister's adopted child.

But she needs to be here for her security shifts ~~as she has been all along just very handwaved for RL~~ and now, well, here she is.

She welded her Security badge to one of her favorite shoulder plates. And currently, while she is not watching the bar, she is buffing hairline scratches from her armor. It looks as though it has been scratched all over by a terrible multi-clawed beast!

...in a way, that's what's happened.

[[Gordon Freeman wears a tinytag]]

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Spoon enters the bar, ready to have a beer. That's it. That's all he wants. A beer. Except that after he steps into the bar he wants more like six or seven of them.

His first more coherent thought is You know, I'm STILL short. For.... his second one is Oxygen BURNS. Happily his mask is still where it was...although it's not exactly the same as it was when he walked in.

It fits the rest of his current, bar-given body.

...Someone care to help him figure out mandibles?

swishystjames.livejournal.com

Marc is on a mission. A mission to get all of the turquoise out of MODE HQ and dump it somewhere that no one would never ever drag it out from again. Or at least, not until next season. Because, as everyone knows, the biggest colours on the runway this season are reds and grayscales. As such, he comes through the door, still trying to make a point about how the storage closet really does not need so many blues.
"For the last time, turquoise is not this sea---"

What.

As weird as the storage closet may be, this is definitely not it. This is not even the Marc Jacobs party he is slated to accompany Wilhemina to tonight. This is a bar.

The expression on Marc's face goes through a series of rather agonized looks before he whips around, hands scrabbling for the door handle. There is too much blue here for him to be able to stand it, not to mention the general look of outfits around here. Unfortunately for Marc, his door is gone.

Letting out an extremely distressed noise, he turns, and slides down the wall, curling up his knees against his chest and trying to make himself as small as possible.

He thinks he feels an asthma attack coming on.

Help?

[ ooc; Alright, slowtime. Will pick up tags tomorrow, love you all! ]

maybeblink.livejournal.com

Nothing could possibly Surprise Hannibal King.

Nothing at all. Sure. Right.
You know, except for when he's in the middle of firing a gun with UV-pulsating bullets at a few bloodsuckers, breaking through a door, and.... Finding himself here.

The door closed before the others who were after him could get through, which left him panting on the floor, looking up a rather interesting ceiling.

"Where in hell have I gotten myself now?" He thought aloud. sitting back up and taking a look around.

This was definitely not a blood bank. It was way too well decorated for that.

The sound that came from Hannibal's mouth next was something akin to "Zuh?"

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Even the most casual of comparisons between now and when Spoon first entered the bar will prove that he is far, far closer to sane than he was. The stretches of good days can span weeks at a time without a break.

That doesn't mean he doesn't have bad days now and then anyway. They aren't as bad; he won't slip his form unawares, he won't completely lose track of the place and the time, but there are still days when silver dances behind his eyelids and memory won't be completely shut away.

Spoon is stealing extra time away from Yorkshire out back, today, working the patterns that Lan is teaching him and reaching for peace. He could hold the Flame and the Void, but it is better (in his mind) to work through things without it if possible.

Fewer repercussions come the moon.

sighteddancer.livejournal.com

Cre'hktdi has a routine.

She comes in, she makes herself available as Security backup to the member on duty, and then climbs up to the rafters before she cloaks. If there's a larger number of aliens up there than usual, she doesn't cloak at all.

Today, she comes barrelling in maskless (it's hanging from her shoulder) and making little sharp huffing sounds, anxious precursors to a bark of frustration. The sounds turn rather more stressed when she hits the bar, because oxygen is toxic to preds in this concentration. She'll be fine for a few hours and right now, she doesn't care.

Her body language isn't angry, so she could always be asked what the problem is.

gone_byebye

[OOM: After quite a lot of people do quite a lot of running around and fighting and screaming, everything eventually comes to its logical conclusions...]

... and the door opens on September in New York City, and Ray walks through. "That," he says to no one in particular, "was an experience."

The Bar gives him a glass of the green stuff without him even asking.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

After the events in Ray's world, Spoon got shoved through the door just in time to dive for safety, shed clothing and spend the last night of the full moon healing. FYI? Healing a limb over the course of a night hurts like hell and sets your hunting all off balance.

But today he's got two good arms, a hell of a lot of food, and a collection of bones which he is wiring back into place. When he takes the skull back to the clan, the trophy will have it's trophy firmly lodged in it's teeth.

gone_byebye

[OOM: Today, in Ray's world, is really not a good day to be an NYPD detective. Not if you want to keep your blood pressure levels from skyrocketing.

Ray, mind you, knows nothing of this. He's in ur museum, lookin at ur fossils, when the power goes out. Eh, big deal, he'll walk home, right? Right.

At least, assuming things don't get any crazier...]

But we all know better than to assume, which is why Ray looks more than a little wild-eyed when he comes into the Bar. "Hey, question," he calls out, just a little too casually. "Is there anybody here with particular interest or expertise in dealing with prehistoric predators of, oh, creatures somewhat larger, meaner, and tougher than a twentieth-century white rhino? Say, in a heavily populated, not-especially-mobile, modern urban setting? I'm, um, just wondering."

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Hektor finds a door and then the hunter Kou'te-bpe steps back into a place he hasn't been in years. He has his weapons, his trophies, but nothing else. Everything that belongs to him that is not for war is Rhene's, now.

The smells are nearly overwhelming, and he stands still while he lets himself reacquaint with them. His skin is bronzed, where it is not scarred, and he is dressed in a way far more familiar to Hektor, son of Priam, than to Ace McShane.

is-out-there.livejournal.com

After closing their latest case and feeling decidedly anticlimactic about it, Mulder felt some light reading was in order. He'd been meaning to reread the entirely absurd, but equally interesting, book he'd bought at a sci-fi convention a few years ago, theorizing alien foreplay rituals; he'd lost it, however, somewhere in the recesses of his closet. As he started to sort through the clutter, he pushed aside some boxes that he was reasonably certain had been there before he'd even moved in, and paused when he noticed a door.

Ever curious, he turned the knob and pushed it open, his eyes widening as he stepped through the doorway and into...a bar? That certainly wasn't the usual thing that happened when one rifled through their closet.

"I guess I should have cleaned it out a long time ago," he mused.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells is in a supremely foul mood this morning, thanks largely to yet another fruitless round of searching for Spoon. We're talking a real winner of a bad mood here, the kind of thing that drove other universes to go "MMM TASTY PROSIUM" as an alternative to letting the mood loose in the rest of the population.

This is why he's outside, beating the living daylights out of the heavy bag. He knows better than to pick up his gun when he's in this kind of a temper. He'll be coming inside later, whether for breakfast or for lunch, but not until he's safe to go within walls.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace is tired. She looks it, too, when she comes through the back door, making a beeline for the notice board. Her shoulders slump just that little bit more when there aren't any notes for her. Nothing about Spoon.

She takes a seat at the bar, orders up another over-chocolaty giant mocha and drags notepad out of the pocket of her coat, along with a pen. After scrubbing her face to try and come back to some semblance of alertness, she begins writing.

penderwydd

Tegid was helping Llew find lodgings for the new arrivals. They were the Eothaeli, refugees who had resisted Meldron. The houses on the crannogs and on the shore would be cozy this Sollen.

Tegid sighed and lifted the covering of the door…

A barrage of noise assaulted him. This was not one of the houses. He did not know these sounds. He cocked his head listening. He heard the rough language that he recognized as the one Llew had been speaking when he first met him. There was s difference though, he understood what was being said.

Tegid grasped the long ask staff that he used for finding his way, this was unprecedented! He touched his face, he felt the strip of cloth still covering his eyes. He felt the strap of his harp around his chest. All was dark.

To those looking on, he was a man of normal height with longish fair hair. He was wearing a long blue cloak folded and clasped at the shoulder, a large bulge underneath his cloak denoted the harp strapped underneath. A strip of blue, faded cloth covers his eyes, and the ash staff he has at hand gives his blindness away.

little-miss-sue.livejournal.com

She looks a little nervous, as if through means completely illogical she had some clue that her time in this place is nearly over *coughmetacough*.

That said, she sits by the window and watches, waiting for any of her lovely friends/lovers/worshippers to come by.

sighteddancer.livejournal.com

There is a yautja in a bar.

Specifically, there's a yautja sitting on a table near one wall. She would be on a broken chair, but she needs to have room for her breastplate. She's still decently wearing other armor, a more battered set of interconnected plates, but she's busy trying to figure out how to attach her Security badge to her better piece of armor.

It isn't going too well.

Distract her before she tries to melt it on?

thechaosbringer

...AKA, a "first entrance-y thing".

[OOM: Before Milliways.]

Journeying across time, space and universes he arrives at this place.

The End of the Universe.

There is chaos here, and if anyone knows chaos, it would be Unicron.

No Heralds are here to announce his arrival; they have not made it this far in time. Instead, he just ... shows up.

Floating [if you can call it that] above one of Belar's mountains.

And casting a very big shadow too [even though he's actively reduced his physical form to half the size of said mountains*].

Let's see who's brave enough to approach the Chaos Bringer.

( *Note from the mun-thing. )

Current Location: Outside the bar, near the mountains.
Current Music: "Breakdown" - Alan Parsons Project

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Yesterday was so much less than ideal that Wells didn't bother going home. He left a note with the Bar for Annie saying that he'd be back as soon as he could manage, and he stayed in the room upstairs for as long as he could. Which didn't last long this morning, because the full moon begins in seven days, and that means he's got to be outside if he doesn't want to feel like the walls are pressing in on him from every conceivable angle. He got himself to the Academy all right and got through classes without giving any of the girls too much grief, but the instant his classes were over he turned around and came straight back to Milliways- and then went straight out the back door.

Laps around the lake are not his ideal means of improving his time over the sixteen hundred meters, but they'll do. He's got a lot to run to ground today, and he did tell Spoon that he needed to start running in armour again to get the feel of it once more. At least the stuff is still mottled greys and blacks from the camo paint job he did before the battle with the Cybermen.

taoist-gb.livejournal.com

((See here.))

It isn't easy to have the apprentices that Master Kau has. If one of them isn't playing jokes the other one is making social blunders that embarrass him in front of clients and potential clients. The fact that they also chased his guest off two days early did not in the slightest help his mood.

The door to the temple opening to a bar did manage to change the annoyance to complete confusion, for what that's worth.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Standing patiently in a corner of the bar, Rand is dressed for battle. His white shirt is tight, sword buckled at his hip, black pants a little loose for movement, black boots with hard soles. The glow of Saidin is alight about him, and his gaze sweeps the room as he looks for those who are joining him today in the hunt.

He then looks down at the map on the table in front of him. It looks freshly drawn, unlike all the other maps he's had with him recently, and is marked about with red ticks all over the place.

Next to the map is a small note from Nita Callahan, which has been unfolded and read over, then folded again. He frowns a little when he looks at the note, but plans never stay as one wants them to.

[ooc: Feel free to tag, but note that thread is for specific plot; those participating in plot will be replied to first]

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

((The night everyone else came back from the Silvery Cybermen outing, Spoon and Christine had one last errand to run before coming back. Wherein Spoon proves weirdly cold and Christine offers Predator affection over the shards of a broken trophy.))

Spoon is back in the bar, finally, with a pack of fags and absolutely no weaponry at all. Dogs, yes, but no weapons. The dogs do not count as weapons, in the slightest. Right now they count mostly as a large, fuzzy, footwarmer. The four puppies are rolled up into a single mass that begins with a bottom layer of balled Ovcharka twins and ends with Josip half-draped over Snowflake.

The blue of the air is smoke, not cussing. Spoon is reading something fluffy and light. For values of fluffy and light that involve Shakespeare's sonnets.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: Years ago, a scientist took the idea that one might improve one's country's soldiers by replacing their lost limbs, and ran much, much too far with it.

Tonight, in Orkney, several teams of Milliways' best managed to put right what Dr. Ormvist once put wrong.]

The door opens on what promises to be a dark and stormy night in Scotland. Several people who have been very, very busy tonight stagger through.

One of them, for all that he's armoured from throat to toes, looks like absolute shite. The bloody bandages wrapped around his head (and over his right eye) don't help at all.

Neither does the fact that, while he's got to lean on someone or something to stand up straight, he absolutely insists on hanging onto what looks for all the world like a robotic head.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Spoon is settled in at a table, polishing weaponry. He's also got a tumble of puppies having a discussion over possession of a squeaky ball. Not because there is only one squeaky ball, but because Stepan and Josip decided they wanted Raisa's ball, and Snowflake is giving commentary over the whole matter. Life could be worse. It will be, soon, but right now it's not bad.

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

There's a paff! of blue light and Belar appears in the Bar. "Hey, can I get a pint of the apple ale they make in Yar Gurak?" he asks the Bar. "Thanks..."

As he picks up the tankard he just so happens to notice the new item tacked to the notice board. One good squint later, and- "SWEET! I got it!"

... that would be one dancing God in the middle of the Bar. Not one spilling his beer, you understand. He's a way better dancer than that.