sunbaked_baker: (Default)
[personal profile] sunbaked_baker
Sunshine finally finished up her solstice-gift baking earlier today. It'd taken longer than she'd expected, but soon, baskets with tags labeled "Happy Winter Solstice, from Sunshine" are left with the Bar for: ExpandBalthazar Blake, Thirteen, Ben Wade, Ned, Axel, Teja, Finvarra, Urquhart, James Watson, Howard Stark, Gene Hunt, Elrond Halfelven, Juliet O'Hara, Shawn Spencer, Burton Guster, Steve Rogers, and David Stutler )

The baker herself, is asleep on the couch next to the fire. In Sunshine's opinion, whoever said that winter was 'the most wonderful time of the year' was lying through their teeth.
aaaaaaaagh_sky: (one hand up)
[personal profile] aaaaaaaagh_sky
[Out of Milliways:

Suspects
The Water-Beggar
Brother Gerard
Mother Curie

Spoilers for Fallout 3: Broken Steel.]


Ellen staggers through the front door, her long white overcoat hanging loose over her Vault suit. One hand is pressed to her side. "Oh, thank God," she mutters. "It worked that time."

She picks her way over to one of the tables and sits down to catch her breath. She's got a stimpak somewhere, and some Med-X, but right now she just wants to stop her hands from shaking before even thinking of picking up a needle. Or looking for anybody else medical to help her, for that matter- pain isn't all that conducive to good judgment even at the best of times.
forgottenmotley: (Fooled you! Giggle)
[personal profile] forgottenmotley
Trolling Fool is trolling.

He's following people around with a grin on his face. When they turn around he turns around and pretends like he's not. Also he's got a bunch of peanuts in his pocket which he'll occasionally flick at people.

You would think he'd learn from his recent experience getting punched in the face by Red. However if he did that he wouldn't be the Fool, now would he?


Is he trolling you? :O
[identity profile] 777thdegree.livejournal.com
The door opens to the deep, oddly electronic sound of plasma and girly screams.

And someone snickering discretely. Or not-so discretely - masters don't need to be discrete, after all.

"You didn't clear your mind, Dave." Balthazar calls back over his shoulder, thinking he's stepping into the alcove he's found that had a kettle and a heating ring - tea always helps the learning process.



...


"Mmm. Time for a cinnamon roll." After all, being a master is hard work. Balthazar is a considerate master, however, and leaves the door open for Dave to discover, once the boy is done being zapped by his own equipment.

exit post.

Jun. 28th, 2011 11:10 am
[identity profile] merlinianblood.livejournal.com
[ooc: Open for reactions!]

Among the long list of unpleasant things stress can do to people is the following certainty: If overly stressed, you will, at some point, make a stupid mistake.



It seems Dave's mistaken his own door for the door that leads outside.

The shock and confusion that immediately follows keeps him from reflexively slamming the door and before he can shout for help, a large, gray wolf pounces on his chest, tackling him to the floor.

A voice in the background yells, "Bring him to me!"

And David Stutler is thus dragged out of Milliways, the door slamming itself behind him.
no_vampires_plz: (Default)
[personal profile] no_vampires_plz
Yesterday was Equestria's Summer Sun Celebration. While the official celebration wasn't in Ponyville this year, there are local festivals all over the kingdom to commemorate the longest day of the year. For Twilight Sparkle, this day has another, more personal meaning: it's the first anniversary of the day she and her friends saved the world from Nightmare Moon, and of her permanently moving to Ponyville. Such an occasion definitely calls for celebration in the company of friends.

So of course Twilight has spent the last forty-eight hours combing the Ponyville library for any mention of "Milliways" or "humans," when she wasn't writing frantic letters to Princess Celestia on the subject. Both activities have been fruitless so far, so Twilight is going for Plan C: returning to Milliways for further study.

(Yes, she knows how to get back there now. She marked a trail on her way back, she's not stupid.)

Once again we find a purple unicorn pony out by the lake, but this time she's wearing saddlebags packed with paper and writing utensils, and is marching to the Bar proper with a look of purpose on her face.

Look out, Milliways, Twilight Sparkle is about to Learn Something.

[ooc: Open until it scrolls, but tags will be slow as I'll be running errands for most of the afternoon/evening.]
[identity profile] hoochedseal.livejournal.com

Sam smiles as he walks in. Having a tux on, he was coming back from Hawaii and when he walks to the bar to thank her for getting them there he sees the note. Okay he can do Happy hour. Why is he in his tux? He wishes he could change but that just isn’t a choice right now. Getting the pen he does the special board.

 

Nightly Specials.

Mojitos

Any domestic beer (domestic to Sam)

Bloody Mary’s

************

Clementine stumbles in two seconds later, wearing a black sundress and sandals.  She glances at Sam, at the specials, and scribbles the following under what he's written.
    "Me too."  She's eloquent and she's just a little sunbaked. 


[ooc: We are both here. You can have one or both. Just let us know. Open forever and thread hopping (Given who they are maybe even bed hopping) is encouraged. We're both in Crackchat and Pingable.]

sunbaked_baker: (Default)
[personal profile] sunbaked_baker
Midsummer's Day. The longest day of the year. The day when daylight banishes the night, before the slow tide of the year turns again toward winter.

Out in the blazing sunlight of this summer's day is a ten-year old girl in an abrasively orange t-shirt and frayed blue-jeans. Today is her birthday.

Rae sits with her legs crossed, a tiny white pebble from the lake shore held in her hands. Only the pebble is currently a handful of sunflower seeds. The girl closes her hands around the seeds, and concentrates. When she opens her hands again, the seeds have been replaced by a different color lake pebble than the first. Her hands close again, and open. The new pebble has been replaced by an acorn. Close, open. The acorn has turned into a small tomato, a bright and sudden red against her hand.
[identity profile] merlinianblood.livejournal.com
It's mid-morning when Dave comes barreling into Milliways through his door, the sound of growling and barking not far behind. He slams the heavy slab of wood shut and leans against it as he tries to catch his breath, then eventually sinks down to a sitting position.

As he rests his forehead on he knees, he starts to laugh in that hysterical way that suggests he's had a very, very, incredibly long day.

Even though it's been a week since Milliways has seen Dave, it's only been a handful of hours since Dave has seen Milliways. It's still his birthday.

His twenty-first birthday has officially beat out his eleventh birthday for the coveted "Worst Birthday in History" title. Yeah, sure, his eleventh was filled with complete humiliation and what he thought was temporary insanity, but at least he didn't have to run from any magical effing wolves.

Something scratches at the door to his back and he springs to his feet, making a bee-line for the bar. Thankfully, nothing makes a move to jiggle the knob or push the door open, and the sound stops as quickly as it started. Dave, knees weak and heart racing, slides onto the nearest bar stool and decides it's time for that drink.

He orders a Corona, but it's more of a formality than anything. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do, especially given the state he's in, but he feels more like distractedly picking the label off of the bottle than drinking from it.

At least he's not accusing it of being a hallucination?
[identity profile] merlinianblood.livejournal.com
[OOM:

Dave's birthday does not improve by much after his introduction to Milliways.

Unfortunately, things are going to get much worse much more quickly than he—or anyone—imagined possible.


Warnings for canon spoilers, and thanks to those who helped me edit!

]
[identity profile] merlinianblood.livejournal.com
The relatively scrawny young man who shuffles into the bar looks very much like he's just rolled out of bed. His hair is tousled, his Pac-Man tee is rumpled, his boxers are... well, boxers, and he's only wearing one sock.

He looks around, blinks, and decides that this is somehow Bennet's fault.

"Dude," he sighs, turning to face the door through which he came (which, for the record, should have been the bathroom door), "I know it's my twenty-first birthday, but—"

David Stutler's train of thought derails, crashes, and explodes.

The door is gone. And, now that he thinks about it, he's sure he woke up in his own room. He distinctly remembers walking down the hall of his apartment and stepping on one of Tank's chew toys, and he knows the door he opened was the bathroom door because the handle was loose.

He slowly turns back around and surveys the area, eyes widening with the realization that something is very, very wrong.

"Glucose imbalance," he mutters to himself, backing up against the wall. "I'm hallucinating. That's all this is. That's all."

Because it definitely can't be anything else.

[ooc: As of 10:40 PM EST, my slowtime flag is officially up! New tags are still welcome and my tags will be sporadic for the rest of the evening. Thanks for the awesomeness, everyone!

And an edit for the weekend: Tagging will likely resume on Sunday, as Relay for Life has kicked my butt in so many ways. Zzz!]