(no subject)
Jul. 9th, 2008 08:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
uksupercop.livejournal.comThe bar is currently plus one policeman officer, who is currently partially hidden behind a large stack of paperwork.
Bother with care.
Bother with care.
uksupercop.livejournal.com
(no subject)
Apr. 13th, 2008 06:15 pmgot-red.livejournal.com"You are not supposed to be back there, mate."
Neither is he, really, but as he chivvies Ed out from behind the bar, a napkin note appears in front of him.
"... Huh. Alright then. Guess that's only fair."
A few minutes later, the following is scrawled on the specials board
[ooc: slowtimed for the night. Thanks for the awesome, guys!
Neither is he, really, but as he chivvies Ed out from behind the bar, a napkin note appears in front of him.
"... Huh. Alright then. Guess that's only fair."
A few minutes later, the following is scrawled on the specials board
SPECIALS
Half off anything you have to tell me how to make.
Don't mind the zombie.
Half off anything you have to tell me how to make.
Don't mind the zombie.
[ooc: slowtimed for the night. Thanks for the awesome, guys!
(no subject)
Apr. 1st, 2008 10:29 pmfatboyrun.livejournal.com--There is something of a shriek yelp, from the doorway.
Dennis Doyle looks down at his policeman's uniform; the jacket, the trousers, the shiny shoes, the black gloves and the cap on his head that he can't see. His face (not-his-face) is sharper than it ought to be. He touches his (flat, toned) stomach.
He lifts up his aviator sunglasses.
"I'm -- fit."
(Under the cap, his hair is a platinum blond.)
[tags: assassins, dennis doyle]
Dennis Doyle looks down at his policeman's uniform; the jacket, the trousers, the shiny shoes, the black gloves and the cap on his head that he can't see. His face (not-his-face) is sharper than it ought to be. He touches his (flat, toned) stomach.
He lifts up his aviator sunglasses.
"I'm -- fit."
(Under the cap, his hair is a platinum blond.)
[tags: assassins, dennis doyle]
(no subject)
Apr. 1st, 2008 07:42 pmuksupercop.livejournal.com"I should have known this would happen sooner or later."
[tinytag: gordon o'dell, jake o'dell, dennis doyle]
[tinytag: gordon o'dell, jake o'dell, dennis doyle]
(no subject)
Mar. 14th, 2008 11:23 pmuksupercop.livejournal.comFrom out by the lake comes the sound of a tennis ball smacking the ground, followed by the excited growls of a dog in the throes of a serious case of fetch-mania.
"Think he's had enough yet?"
They've been doing this for almost an hour.
"Think he's had enough yet?"
They've been doing this for almost an hour.
(no subject)
Jan. 17th, 2008 11:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badboybuttermanThese two police officers hear the jamming. They decide that it's pretty good. They also...experience a strange urge... (No, not that kind of urge.)
"Y'know, Nick," says Danny in an oh-so casual tone as they leisurely stroll toward the Bar, "it's times like these when I've got only one burning question on my mind..."
[OOC: Not plotlocked, but reactions to complete and utter whiteness are welcome.]
[Tinytags: Broadway Goes Brutal plot]
"Y'know, Nick," says Danny in an oh-so casual tone as they leisurely stroll toward the Bar, "it's times like these when I've got only one burning question on my mind..."
[OOC: Not plotlocked, but reactions to complete and utter whiteness are welcome.]
[Tinytags: Broadway Goes Brutal plot]
(no subject)
Jan. 3rd, 2008 10:18 amcall-me-kick.livejournal.com[ooc: Post is very much open for tagging, but I won't be around until later this afternoon.]
It's fairly early when Kick and Nero come trotting down the stairs, early enough for Nick to still be sound asleep, buried under a mound of blankets that Kick insisted she needed. It was cold last night.
The pair moves to Bar, where they're both provided with breakfast: waffles for Kick (naturally), and some meat of indiscernible origin for Nero.
Nero, though, seems to be distracted. When Kick sets the plate down on the floor, he doesn't come running.
"Nero?" she calls, blinking. "Where'd you go?"
After a few moments of searching, she spots him sniffing at the floor near the door.
"Come on, you," she says, still some distance away. "Y'gotta eat."
The wolf seems to be ignoring her. Sniffsniffsniff.
Irritated, Kick huffs and walks over to him. "Nero, it's --"
When she catches sight of what he's found, she claps a shocked hand over her mouth. The little object is sparkling blue in the morning sunlight, and she doesn't have to pick it up to know what -- whose -- it is.
Quickly, she dislodges it from the crack in the floor and stuffs it in her pocket. "Not a word to Nick," she says sternly to the wolfpup. "I'll give it to him later. Don't even think about it -- I know how you two do that weird thing with your thoughts."
With a small whine, Nero ducks his head and makes his way over to his dish.
Unlike Kick, he still feels like eating.
(She may only be seven, but she's seen and heard enough to know that something like this is usually a Very Bad Sign.)
It's fairly early when Kick and Nero come trotting down the stairs, early enough for Nick to still be sound asleep, buried under a mound of blankets that Kick insisted she needed. It was cold last night.
The pair moves to Bar, where they're both provided with breakfast: waffles for Kick (naturally), and some meat of indiscernible origin for Nero.
Nero, though, seems to be distracted. When Kick sets the plate down on the floor, he doesn't come running.
"Nero?" she calls, blinking. "Where'd you go?"
After a few moments of searching, she spots him sniffing at the floor near the door.
"Come on, you," she says, still some distance away. "Y'gotta eat."
The wolf seems to be ignoring her. Sniffsniffsniff.
Irritated, Kick huffs and walks over to him. "Nero, it's --"
When she catches sight of what he's found, she claps a shocked hand over her mouth. The little object is sparkling blue in the morning sunlight, and she doesn't have to pick it up to know what -- whose -- it is.
Quickly, she dislodges it from the crack in the floor and stuffs it in her pocket. "Not a word to Nick," she says sternly to the wolfpup. "I'll give it to him later. Don't even think about it -- I know how you two do that weird thing with your thoughts."
With a small whine, Nero ducks his head and makes his way over to his dish.
Unlike Kick, he still feels like eating.
(She may only be seven, but she's seen and heard enough to know that something like this is usually a Very Bad Sign.)
(no subject)
Dec. 27th, 2007 02:38 pmroyalty-dahling.livejournal.comChristmas is a big holiday for Dahlia, so she didn't even think about slipping off to the Bar when it came by, at home. She's here today, however, sitting at a booth near the door and drinking from a big glass of eggnog.
She's relaxed, for once, not even blinking or staring when the waitrats scamper by. Instead, she's just steadily paging through a newspaper from back home, looking dreadfully bored - but calm and, for once in her life, honestly unstressed.
Which, of course, means she's also decidedly botherable.
She's relaxed, for once, not even blinking or staring when the waitrats scamper by. Instead, she's just steadily paging through a newspaper from back home, looking dreadfully bored - but calm and, for once in her life, honestly unstressed.
Which, of course, means she's also decidedly botherable.
Mistletoe Madness
Dec. 23rd, 2007 11:59 amred-cg-insanity.livejournal.comHex was floating above the observation window, affixing a small sprig of mistletoe to the frame. It was strange mistletoe; if you looked close enough, you would find that each little white berry bore a miniscule, mask-like face, each with a different expression. If you listened very hard, you might hear them insulting you, , or weeping, or laughing maniacally.
Hex giggled to herself. This was just the sort of thing that could make living here interesting. Descending, she pulled up a chair and watched to see who would be snared first, a look of evil contentment on her face.
(OOC Read this and Post here or in your own EP... either way, it's fine.]
Hex giggled to herself. This was just the sort of thing that could make living here interesting. Descending, she pulled up a chair and watched to see who would be snared first, a look of evil contentment on her face.
(OOC Read this and Post here or in your own EP... either way, it's fine.]
Tags:
- carlotta brown,
- clark kent,
- dalek,
- danny butterman,
- dean o'dell,
- gibbs,
- hawkgirl,
- hexadecimal,
- inyri forge,
- kick carraway,
- le chiffre,
- madolyn madden,
- metatron,
- mia ausa,
- nicholas angel,
- she-hulk,
- sir guy of gisborne,
- teja,
- the giant purple snorklewacker,
- tom (re your brains),
- wes janson,
- will scarlett
(no subject)
Dec. 22nd, 2007 11:46 pmbadboybuttermanIt was snowing in Sandford. It always snowed around Christmas time in Sandford for as long as Danny could remember. That was one of the many things that made that little town so special...made it worth fighting for, and worth staying for.
It was also snowing in Milliways. ...Well, not in Milliways. Outside it, naturally. And Danny supposed that it was just another thing about this little end of the universe that made it special, too. That, and the fact that he could always find a nice, quiet spot away from everything. (And the chips from Bar were pretty good as well.)
Danny carries two cups of hot chocolate over to the couch beside the fire, handing one of them to Nicholas, before sitting down beside him and settling in with a contented sigh. "This's nice."
It was also snowing in Milliways. ...Well, not in Milliways. Outside it, naturally. And Danny supposed that it was just another thing about this little end of the universe that made it special, too. That, and the fact that he could always find a nice, quiet spot away from everything. (And the chips from Bar were pretty good as well.)
Danny carries two cups of hot chocolate over to the couch beside the fire, handing one of them to Nicholas, before sitting down beside him and settling in with a contented sigh. "This's nice."
(no subject)
Nov. 1st, 2007 01:22 pmgot-red.livejournal.comShaun spent the night in the bar last night. No one's told him about the rooms upstairs, and going home looking like a zombie was liable to get him shot. Yawning, he stretches-
"Thank you."
"Thank you."
(no subject)
Oct. 31st, 2007 07:07 pmuksupercop.livejournal.comSomebody was in the bar yesterday without getting transformed. Somebody thought he'd managed to avoid the fun.
Silly man.
"... I suppose this is my own fault, then."
How the hell did he move in this thing?
Silly man.
"... I suppose this is my own fault, then."
How the hell did he move in this thing?
(no subject)
Oct. 30th, 2007 11:44 pmbadboybuttermanHe doesn't have a bevvy of babes with questionable monikers; he doesn't have a car that fires machine guns from its grille; he doesn't know anybody named Q.
But you can call him Butterman. Danny Butterman.
...He doesn't like martinis, though. So. Y'know. Don't bother offering to order one for him.
[[OOC: Slowtimes as of 1:30 am est. Will pick up tags all through Halloween and beyond.]]
But you can call him Butterman. Danny Butterman.
...He doesn't like martinis, though. So. Y'know. Don't bother offering to order one for him.
[[OOC: Slowtimes as of 1:30 am est. Will pick up tags all through Halloween and beyond.]]
(no subject)
Oct. 14th, 2007 07:17 pmnotboundnow.livejournal.comPrometheus is biding his time.
See, the last time he was in the Bar, Charlie handed him a book and told him to read it. After he'd read it, they could talk. The book was by Stephen King: its title was Firestarter.
Prometheus has been written about. He's vain enough to have tracked down just about every possible tract that's used him as a character or a metaphor or an allegory and read it. But very few of them were actually true. This book Charlie gave him, about her parents and about her early life, it was accurate. The author'd never met her. That shook him.
There's only one person he'll be discussing that with, though. So to anyone else, there is a lanky man with a wild thatch of black hair sitting at the bar, leaning on his elbows and staring very intently into the middle distance.
If you ask him what he's thinking about, he'll make up a very entertaining lie.
See, the last time he was in the Bar, Charlie handed him a book and told him to read it. After he'd read it, they could talk. The book was by Stephen King: its title was Firestarter.
Prometheus has been written about. He's vain enough to have tracked down just about every possible tract that's used him as a character or a metaphor or an allegory and read it. But very few of them were actually true. This book Charlie gave him, about her parents and about her early life, it was accurate. The author'd never met her. That shook him.
There's only one person he'll be discussing that with, though. So to anyone else, there is a lanky man with a wild thatch of black hair sitting at the bar, leaning on his elbows and staring very intently into the middle distance.
If you ask him what he's thinking about, he'll make up a very entertaining lie.
C iz 4 Caturday, datz good enuf 4 me.
Oct. 13th, 2007 04:19 pmkittehnpip.livejournal.comAutumn is in full swing in the simulated Scottish landscape behind the Bar. There's a chill in the air, the birds are flying south (not that it makes much difference), and the ground is covered with--
"LEAFS!" Pip gallops out of the Bar on all fours and dives into the discarded foliage. "Leafs leafs leafs!"
Kitteh watches from a short distance away, bemused. What does that boy see in leaves?
"LEAFS!" Pip gallops out of the Bar on all fours and dives into the discarded foliage. "Leafs leafs leafs!"
Kitteh watches from a short distance away, bemused. What does that boy see in leaves?
(no subject)
Oct. 10th, 2007 12:15 ambadboybuttermanSheepdog!Danny is under a table gnawing on a tennis ball while Dobie!Nicholas is curled up nearby. They'd both noticed the sudden decrease of animals in the bar, and figured that it was only a matter of time before it was their turn to change. It's just that they didn't know when. They weren't going to risk being caught off-guard, though, as they'd heard the shrieks of embarrassment quite clearly.
So, nom nom nom, goes Danny the sheepdog on his tennis ball, when he suddenly picks up his head. He feels something. He feels something funny. Fuzzy eyebrows twitching, he looks pointedly at Nicholas.
"Uh oh," he whuffs.
With a great canine leap, possibly occurring in slow motion, but without the firing of dual-fisted guns, Danny springs toward the Bar.
"Robe, please!"
P W R O M
Danny lands heavily on his shoulder, rolling himself up in the dark blue bathrobe as he takes a tumble that's as choreographed as an action movie sequence. Because that's just how he works, mofos.
"Helluva draft in here!" Danny gets to his feet and ties the robe close around him. On the bartop is his police uniform, which looks like it's been laundered, along with his aviators, two-way radio, notepad, cuffs, and hittin' stick. "Aw, Bar, well ain't you a sweet'eart."
So, nom nom nom, goes Danny the sheepdog on his tennis ball, when he suddenly picks up his head. He feels something. He feels something funny. Fuzzy eyebrows twitching, he looks pointedly at Nicholas.
"Uh oh," he whuffs.
With a great canine leap, possibly occurring in slow motion, but without the firing of dual-fisted guns, Danny springs toward the Bar.
"Robe, please!"
P W R O M
Danny lands heavily on his shoulder, rolling himself up in the dark blue bathrobe as he takes a tumble that's as choreographed as an action movie sequence. Because that's just how he works, mofos.
"Helluva draft in here!" Danny gets to his feet and ties the robe close around him. On the bartop is his police uniform, which looks like it's been laundered, along with his aviators, two-way radio, notepad, cuffs, and hittin' stick. "Aw, Bar, well ain't you a sweet'eart."
(no subject)
Oct. 5th, 2007 08:21 pmandy-wainwright.livejournal.comAt present, the badger formerly known as Andy Wainwright has claimed a small bit of floor by the fireplace, and looks about as peaceful and/or dead as a badger can be. Which says a lot.
Placing a possibly overlarge confidence in the fact that he will eventually (read: soon) go back to normal, he has come to terms with his badgerdom. It really isn't that bad, given that he has fangs and claws that can be used against certain other small mammals.
One badger, completely botherable.
Placing a possibly overlarge confidence in the fact that he will eventually (read: soon) go back to normal, he has come to terms with his badgerdom. It really isn't that bad, given that he has fangs and claws that can be used against certain other small mammals.
One badger, completely botherable.
(no subject)
Oct. 4th, 2007 11:58 pmbadboybuttermanSheepdog Danny is sitting by the fireplace.
He's hunched over and making a lot of strange noises. Noises that sound like "HUUURK" and "HORRRK" and "GACK". He seems to be in discomfort, but he's okay, really. He's just trying to cough up what could be a hairball.
"HRRRRAAAACK."
Almost there...
"GRRRRRRK."
Almost...
"HNNNGGHHHgarghfuck!"
*blink*
"Wait a minute...! It wasn't an 'airball a'tall... I- I can talk again!"
He hasn't heard the sound of his own voice for a few days now, and holy crap, this is AWESOME. He has to TELL SOMEBODY.
...But now he has to chase his tail for a few minutes out of sheer joy.
He's hunched over and making a lot of strange noises. Noises that sound like "HUUURK" and "HORRRK" and "GACK". He seems to be in discomfort, but he's okay, really. He's just trying to cough up what could be a hairball.
"HRRRRAAAACK."
Almost there...
"GRRRRRRK."
Almost...
"HNNNGGHHHgarghfuck!"
*blink*
"Wait a minute...! It wasn't an 'airball a'tall... I- I can talk again!"
He hasn't heard the sound of his own voice for a few days now, and holy crap, this is AWESOME. He has to TELL SOMEBODY.
...But now he has to chase his tail for a few minutes out of sheer joy.
(no subject)
Oct. 3rd, 2007 08:04 pmslasherofprices.livejournal.com[ Sandford, 20 March, 1987: Happy Birthday, Sissy Skinner. Warnings for, er, references. Can you guess to what? ]
A pub is a great place to wind up in when you're having a crappy day. Voluntarily winding up in a pub where it logically would be is even better. Involuntarily winding up in a pub where your house is supposed to be is not so good. Involuntarily winding up in a pub full of animals where your blessedly animal-free house is supposed to be is even worse. It's not the same as being dumped or mocked or seeing off your vehicular baby, but it's definitely not good for one's mental constitution.
Color Simon Skinner, age 37, very WTFBBQ.
Any patron, fuzzy or non, is welcome to tell the tall guy at the door where he is.
A pub is a great place to wind up in when you're having a crappy day. Voluntarily winding up in a pub where it logically would be is even better. Involuntarily winding up in a pub where your house is supposed to be is not so good. Involuntarily winding up in a pub full of animals where your blessedly animal-free house is supposed to be is even worse. It's not the same as being dumped or mocked or seeing off your vehicular baby, but it's definitely not good for one's mental constitution.
Color Simon Skinner, age 37, very WTFBBQ.
Any patron, fuzzy or non, is welcome to tell the tall guy at the door where he is.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2007 11:21 pmgotapenny.livejournal.comThere is a Whippet in the bar.
Hyper? Check.
Squeeky toy? Check.
Wagging of the tail so hard the whole backside moves? Check.
Even as a dog, Luz is a happy dog. He has a chew toy and a way to get out the excess energy. What is currently on his mind (not the omgwtfbbq? question) is play. Playplayplayplayplayplayplay!
Thus why the little Whippet with a pair of WWII dog tags on is running around the bar chasing his squeekie toy that looks like a Panzer tank. Someone has a strange sense of humor.
[ooc: and sadly the mun must call for slows because of school in the morning. tags tomorrow before class and after!]
Hyper? Check.
Squeeky toy? Check.
Wagging of the tail so hard the whole backside moves? Check.
Even as a dog, Luz is a happy dog. He has a chew toy and a way to get out the excess energy. What is currently on his mind (not the omgwtfbbq? question) is play. Playplayplayplayplayplayplay!
Thus why the little Whippet with a pair of WWII dog tags on is running around the bar chasing his squeekie toy that looks like a Panzer tank. Someone has a strange sense of humor.
[ooc: and sadly the mun must call for slows because of school in the morning. tags tomorrow before class and after!]
(no subject)
Sep. 30th, 2007 10:24 pmuksupercop.livejournal.comAs of yet, Nicholas is blissfully unaware of any critter-related shenanigans. He's simply sitting at a table eating dinner and reading the paper from home.
Out of sheer habit, he's scanning every article for typographical errors.
[ooc: not plotlocked, but slowtime is inevitable.]
Out of sheer habit, he's scanning every article for typographical errors.
[ooc: not plotlocked, but slowtime is inevitable.]
Obligatory Entrance Post!
Sep. 26th, 2007 01:24 amandy-cartwright.livejournal.com( oom: Very little work gets done when the Andies are about, but the mention of alcohol usually brightens their day. )
The dash to the local pub had been a wet one, and even with the aid of using leather jackets as rain shields, the weather had significantly dampened the two Andies. Andy Cartwright's spirit was anything but dampened though, as the door swung open, shaking himself dry with the thoughts of a lazy night of beer drinking and rumour spreading was high up on his list of priorities.
The backdrop was a quiet and wet English village, the sort with expected church fetes, accented farmers, local knowledge, caring community and the more than occasional psycho. Exactly the sort of place that would never welcome a modern bar of Milliways proportion into their streets. The local may have been under new management, but this new design for it was just over the top.
No prizes for guessing that the sight of the place is more than a little surprising for Sandford's two Detectives, then.
( ooc: Two pups, two munsand a f*ck load of a cutlery and a generic first entry! )
The dash to the local pub had been a wet one, and even with the aid of using leather jackets as rain shields, the weather had significantly dampened the two Andies. Andy Cartwright's spirit was anything but dampened though, as the door swung open, shaking himself dry with the thoughts of a lazy night of beer drinking and rumour spreading was high up on his list of priorities.
The backdrop was a quiet and wet English village, the sort with expected church fetes, accented farmers, local knowledge, caring community and the more than occasional psycho. Exactly the sort of place that would never welcome a modern bar of Milliways proportion into their streets. The local may have been under new management, but this new design for it was just over the top.
No prizes for guessing that the sight of the place is more than a little surprising for Sandford's two Detectives, then.
( ooc: Two pups, two muns
(no subject)
Sep. 22nd, 2007 12:56 ambadboybuttermanSo, there were these free brownies. Danny had some. They made him happy. Ridiculously happy. Giggly, too. Even more than usual, that is.
So, there he is, sitting at a table, flipping the pages of his notepad, watching the doodled cartoons backwards...and forwards...and in slow-motion...and really, really fast...and then backwards again...
And omg the burglar getting his head blown up is SOOOOOOOOO hilarious, even after the 30th time he's seen it.
So, there he is, sitting at a table, flipping the pages of his notepad, watching the doodled cartoons backwards...and forwards...and in slow-motion...and really, really fast...and then backwards again...
And omg the burglar getting his head blown up is SOOOOOOOOO hilarious, even after the 30th time he's seen it.
Pickles Bakes Brownies
Sep. 20th, 2007 11:17 pmdingdongdoodily.livejournal.comPickles has spent a couple days in the kitchen of Mordhaus, cooking. Why? Because he felt like it.
And what has he baked up?
A BIG OL HEAPIN' HELPIN' of his world-famous, first class "special" brownies.
And with the help of a few roadies, he brings in the plates full of them, sets them on a table, with a sign,
"Take one."
And walks back out, roadies following behind him.
And what has he baked up?
A BIG OL HEAPIN' HELPIN' of his world-famous, first class "special" brownies.
And with the help of a few roadies, he brings in the plates full of them, sets them on a table, with a sign,
"Take one."
And walks back out, roadies following behind him.
(no subject)
Sep. 14th, 2007 12:27 pmnitro-is-ace.livejournal.comAce came into the bar to get more coffee (a lot more coffee) and to check the Bar for any notices/letters/ransom notes.
She managed to get the coffee, at least. She then sat down at a table (not the couch, the couch was too comfy) and started writing out more places to look. She has a system now - she's searching in specific spots, each a set distance in time and space from the last, to ensure less chance of missing Spoon by accident. If he's even in the universe she's searching in. If he's still alive.
But Ace doesn't get very far. She doesn't sleep very often, but she does need sleep occassionally, and she's been up for a week and a half, her time.
Pyro with a half-empty cup of coffee, face down, drooling on her notebook, utterly asleep. Suzi would be happy, anyway.
She managed to get the coffee, at least. She then sat down at a table (not the couch, the couch was too comfy) and started writing out more places to look. She has a system now - she's searching in specific spots, each a set distance in time and space from the last, to ensure less chance of missing Spoon by accident. If he's even in the universe she's searching in. If he's still alive.
But Ace doesn't get very far. She doesn't sleep very often, but she does need sleep occassionally, and she's been up for a week and a half, her time.
Pyro with a half-empty cup of coffee, face down, drooling on her notebook, utterly asleep. Suzi would be happy, anyway.
