milliways_bar | Entries tagged with danny williams

The sun silently beats down on the grounds, waves of heat radiating off of everything. But then, a soft rumble begins. It grows louder and louder, starting in the mountains and crashing down down down until a great roaring avalanche of snow arrives...

( Ice, ice, baby. )

Once the rink is complete, the boy heads off to help an industrious ten-year-old set up the food and drinks table. There are some things too heavy for Rae to lift.

[Credit to the respective muns for their pups' part in the EP! Standard party post rules apply, all tags welcome.]

thebesteverseen

[OOM:

"Good luck, Aquaman!"

]

herr_bookman

There is a note on the bulletin board today for those interested, with the handwriting made anonymous by clever spellwork:

ATTENTION
A portion of the lake will be frozen over next Thursday for ice skating, with an avalanche of snow courtesy of Rabastan and Mia. There will be no lip or barrier around the edges, so do try not to fall in.

Also, it is imperative that the lake denizens come to no harm. Anyone caught doing so will be eaten.
Alive.

[OOC: Reaction tags only, please! <3]

m_is_for

[OOM: By God, she hoped she'd gotten this one right.]

The door opens, and a short, silver-haired woman walks through it. She's obviously distracted by the ringing in her purse; a ringing that cuts off abruptly as she steps in.

Her head snaps up at the light and the sound around her, hard, blue-grey eyes scanning the room with equal measures of suspicion and disbelief.

This is decidedly not her flat, nor is it any place she recognizes. Defintely not a welcome turn of events for someone in her line of work.

"What in the hell is going on?" she asks, and the ring of authority in her voice seems to imply that she expects an answer.

[ooc: Uncle! Uncle! No more new threads, please! :D I promise I'll put M in again soon and I'm glad people are so eager to thread with her. :D]

haole_cop

Some days, the job gets to you.

Some days, it's all shootouts, drug busts, bulletproof vests, Steve shouting orders, and chaos. Some days, they don't win.

Some days, you know, some days, it is just straight up bizarre, okay, some days it's all about island culture that he doesn't get, Steven, because it doesn't make sense. Dealing with Kawika and the kapu, is it really necessary? Were the Blue Hawaiians? And just what, really, what is island time, because it seems to shift depending on who is waiting and who is doing whatever it is people do here. Surf. Spearfish. Get attacked by sharks.

He thinks his tongue is still blue.

At least his knee is feeling a little better, and he's got his cane slung across his shoulders, adding a little sway and swagger to his step as he heads out of the office and straight into, oh, hey, look at that. Turning, he glances through the door, where he can see Chin bent over the computer in the war room, the office quiet with Kono away at the memorial service, so he shuts it behind him, heads on into the bar.

"Please," he says, sliding onto a stool, fingers pinching together, specificity in every motion. "I beg of you. A beer. Just a beer. Brown, carbonated, untouched by fruit. A pils would be great. Lager. Perfect. Anything at all. Save me from cocktails, all right? Not that there's anything wrong with cocktails. Call it a personal preference, okay, nothing against anyone else, but me, personally, I like my drinks not the color of the rainbow. Please."

As he waits, he opens his mouth, checks his tongue in the mirror behind the bar, and sighs, the deep, shoulder-heaving sigh of a man whose world has simply stopped making sense.

Still blue.

That's just perfect.

bookemdanno

Steven J. McGarrett isn't a man you can surprise. He prides himself in this. That's why he finds himself at a lose as to why he's in a bar instead of his shed. It would also explain why he's wearing boardies and carrying a surfboard sans shoes. His hair is wet, and he has a towel around his shoulders and arms covering his tattoos. Walking to the bar he lays his hand on it to look around for someone behind it to talk to.

Picking up the note that appears on the napkin by his hand he reads it shrugging. He can do this. Leaning his board against the bar he puts his hands on the bar heaving himself over to stand behind it. No he can not just walk around. It's not in his nature.

Picking up the chalk he writes specials.

Specials

Mai Tai
Piña Colada or Chi Chi
Tropical Itch
Longboards

Welcome to Milliways Steve.

[Tiny Tag: Danny Williams, Steve McGarrett]

[OOC: Open until next Steve post. Tread up and half fun. Ask why he's half naked. He can handle it. He's a SEAL after all.]

singsometimes

So, life has finally started to resemble something that might be referred to as 'normal'. At least ... it's something normal-like, according to Miss Jessica Day. Mizz Day. Jess. The Jess-ster.

It can be noted that Jess is pretty much used to things never really going the way they should, or the way she wishes they could in her head.

(Like the whole thing with her ex, Spencer; and her spontaneously moving in with a bunch of guys - who are honestly the best, so really, no regrets there - because she couldn't stand living with a bunch of models anymore.)

But people are often singing out their feelings in these situations in her head. Sometimes, there's even a random dance number. So maybe it's best that they don't really go the way they do in her head.

In any case, she's standing in the doorway with a slightly rumpled, but still brightly coloured solar system diorama in her arms, eying the new locale with a fair amount of confusion, skepticism and disbelief on her face. Her large-framed glasses slide down her nose.

That is when Saturn decides to come loose from its string, the spray-painted orange and brown foam ball bouncing to the ground and rolling off towards a table.

"Oo-kay. I'm pretty sure this ... isn't supposed to be here."

tiny!tag: jess day, danny williams, darius

[ooc: Aaaaand I'm off for the night! But h'omg this was the best. I'll be tagging all slowtimes and such tomorrow!]

awesome_lilly

Lilly stumbles downstairs, yawning, her arms overflowing with packages. She makes it to the bar and starts dropping them off.

( Delia, Goldy, Jack Harkness, and Puck )

( Hawley Griffin )

( Miho, Boromir )

( Malcolm Reynolds )

( Drusilla, Darla, Lust, Eri, Adam/Felicia )

Lilly heaves a sigh of relief, and that's when the flowers and note appear. They're pretty, if rather... unexpected. Of course, unexpected doesn't necessarily mean unwelcome and so she smiles, snags the bouquet, and heads back upstairs. Doing all those packages was tiring, and when it's hard out here for a pimp... sometimes the pimp just goes back to bed.

awesome_lilly

Someone still has a sign. And a grin. And more potential whores to talk to. You're probably one of them, and if so?

Madam Lilly Wants YOU...

...to be a whore. Hey, odds are good that if you've wound up here, you're probably already a slut. Sure, try to deny it, but I was here on Halloween. I remember the leather. So why not make some money at it? Join Madam Lilly's Delicate Flowers*, have sex, and pay off your tab. It's a win-win situation! Just not a business. Because that would be Wrong.

*Male, female, dead, and other are welcome to apply. Must be willing applicant and of legal age in home universe. Applicants may be required to demonstrate skills. Madam Lilly's Delicate Flowers is an equal opportunity employer.

[OOC: post is locked to anyone who tagged backroom post with interest, but if you'd like to talk to her and haven't tagged yet, or inexplicably do not want to be a whore, reporter, bouncer, etc, just ping 'da emmy gee' on aim. Thanks!]

but-i-will.livejournal.com

Here's a little blonde vampire you've not seen in a while.

She's been around, doing whatever it is she does to amuse herself. It's less exciting than her old ways, but that's par for the course when you're on what's either afterlife number two or four, depending on how you're counting.

This is just to say that there is an extremely bored Darla out on the prowl tonight. You may not be able to tell that she's on the prowl, considering that she's just sitting there looking perfectly innocent and sipping a glass of something that is shockingly not blood, but rather simply white wine. What? A girl can't vary her tastes now and then?

She absolutely will bite, but probably only if you ask. She's not uncivilized, you know.

b-a-summers.livejournal.com

(OOC: The hardest thing in this world... is to live in it.)

There had been a few moments of

(no fear)

bliss, absolute beauty

(no pain)

and rightness.

(no doubt)

A possible lifetime, or maybe a few short months. Weeks. Days.

And then -

The door opens. She's wearing a cream sweater and brown jeans. And an expression of exquisite anguish.

Dying to save the world... to end up in a bar.

"Oh, come on. Somebody up there's got a wicked bad sense of humor. Where did the megawatt lighting go to?"