milliways_bar | Entries tagged with father mulcahy

[Play Ball!]

[OOC: The link above takes you to the beginning of the Milliways Baseball game. From there, everything is linked in sequence, or you can hop around looking for your friends and relations. Spectators are still welcome. Later this evening, there will be a link to the post-game party, and everyone is invited.]

thursdays_angel

[OOC: Eco-friendly recycled post.]

Castiel has arranged his table very carefully. The sign-up sheet is front and center, with three ballpoints lined up to the side. His own pen (the tiny Mounties floating lazily along the Rockies) and red notebook are within easy reach; he wants to be able to jot down questions to pass on to Meg.

And he has a sign. Bold black marker on neon blue poster board. Castiel has never heard the adage, Brevity is the soul of signage. And he had quietly delighted in writing something of his own composition.
Baseball Team Sign-Ups

Sixteen to twenty people or beings are needed to play a game of baseball.

Players who sign up will be divided into two teams by the casting of lots. Lists will be posted.

The game is for fun. You do not need to know how to play. Rules will be provided.

He'd enjoyed the sign making so much that he had made three extras. Sanskrit on hot pink. Russian on bright yellow. And Mandarin on fluorescent green. All four are taped to the edge of the table.

Castiel waits. Expectantly.

[Please see this Back Room post before tagging.]

cheerychaplain

[OOM: Millitimed to the 25^th, a small service is held upstairs.]

[tags: aramis, athos, cal chandler, michael, the old firm, william banks]

cheerychaplain

Father Mulcahy asks the bar for the day's (as in early December 1951) New York Times. He receives the newspaper, and a note comes with it.

His eyebrows furrow as he reads. "December 21^st? Really?" His next request is for a large sheet of paper and a marker, and he busily sets to work.

The final result is a new notice on the board, beside an old one.

CHRISTMAS SERVICES

For any patrons who are Bound and unavailable to attend services (or for any patrons who would like to attend), I will be holding Mass on Christmas Day, upstairs in room 215. My specialty is Roman Catholic but all are welcome, and I take requests!

Yours truly,
Father Francis Mulcahy

P.S. - I cannot promise the quality of my Hebrew, but if anyone is interested in a Shabbat Chanukah service, please leave a message for me with the Bar and I'm quite certain that we could work something out.

Adjusting first the old sign, then this new one, Father Mulcahy gives the two pieces of cardboard a satisfied pat and then heads for the bar again. NEW PLAN. (After all, it's only a few weeks from Christmas in Korea, as well, and it seems seasonally appropriate.)

Thus, there is a slight man in glasses and a Panama hat sitting at a table and very carefully stringing popcorn chains; he's wearing boots, fatigue pants, a black collared shirt, and a cross. Scattered across the table: several spools of thread, a pack of needles, and two big bowls of popcorn.

Mulcahy may be humming to himself.

[tags: bill guarnere, cal chandler, klara prast, michael]

[OOC: Explanatory back room post ahoy!]

advocatusdei.livejournal.com

It's been a while since Gabriel stepped through the door to Milliways, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, and only now does he find himself here yet again ~~also known as a case of mun chickening out, but bucking up again~~.

So, taking a seat in one of the booths, a cup of tea appearing before him, Gabriel sits back to watch and observe.

If there's one thing that can be said about Gabriel, it's that he never does anything without good reason. What that reason is, on the other hand, well, that is neither here nor there, as they say.

Current Mood: content

pirate_jack

"--what do you mean calling yourself a tavern-keep without having any rum on hand, you pestiferous, feculent, maggot-ridden excuse for a --"

He's shouting back over his shoulder as he comes barreling through the door, but when he swings around and realizes where he is, Jack Sparrow breaks off there with a start.

"Well now. That's much more better."

Grinning broadly, he saunters toward the bar.

cheerychaplain

"There's a step up, Hawkeye," says a muffled voice, and then the door opens.

"It's always a step u--" says Hawkeye Pierce, and he stops, his head cocked to the side and his eyes bandaged as they were before. He's wearing a particularly loud blue-and-white Hawaiian shirt under his bathrobe.

Father Mulcahy blinks behind his glasses. "Oh my. We're--"

"--In Milliways," Hawkeye finishes wryly, patting the shorter man's arm; the arm that his hand was already resting on for guidance. "I can smell the universe ending from here."

"I can smell the pancakes from here," says Mulcahy, his eyes lighting up, and Hawkeye laughs.

"I've got to admit -- breakfast here would definitely involve less gray than anything I could get in the mess tent. What do you think; to the bar?"

The priest smiles. "Certainly!" As they make their way to the bar, Father Mulcahy guiding Hawkeye past obstacles and patrons: "Just don't tell Igor; I did promise to try his creamed corn."

"The creamed corn?" Hawkeye asks incredulously. "Really, Father? You don't have to be a martyr, you know." Mulcahy chuckles and the easy conversation continues; in short order, the pair from the 4077th are settled on stools at the bar, debating breakfast orders.

Or, well. Hawkeye is debating, changing his mind every three seconds. Father Mulcahy put in an order for two eggs sunny side up and a mug of black coffee five minutes ago and is watching Hawkeye waffle -- pardon the pun -- with a bemused expression.

[OOC: Tag one, get both! Should be around for ages tonight; please be forewarned that slowtimes could get very slow.]

mycursedface

[OoM: and back on the night of the seventh, Father Mulcahy runs into Medusa and Sam.]

Current Mood: giggly

mycursedface

[OoM: Out by the lake, Medusa and Mulachy talk of many things.

It goes a hell of a lot better than their last conversation.]

cheerychaplain

There is a slight man seated at the piano this afternoon, hacking his way through "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." There are several sheets of crisp music in front of him, which may give away that this is not his normal fare; Father Mulcahy tends to play music that he knows and loves by heart; ragtime, the occasional jazz, pieces that are bright and cheerful and peppy. This is none of those things, and it is difficult. That much can be seen through the care with which he picks out the notes, through the way that he's leaned forward toward the sheet music and how he frowns at it.

Bar had supplied it with his coffee (the coffee that is now resting, on a coaster, on the small sort of shelf down at the low end of the keyboard), and so he'd taken it to the piano to give it a try, but it is rather advanced, and as Mulcahy will gladly point out himself, he has never been more than a mediocre pianist. He plays for the joy it brings him, despite the notes that he misses and chords that are mashed.

This is, quite possibly, even worse than normal. The tempo seesaws back and forth as he hits parts that he can play more easily than others, and when he strikes wrong notes, he has to try one or two more times before he finds the right ones. It's all very well, though, as he wasn't feeling particularly inclined toward bright, cheerful, or peppy, this afternoon.

You may have seen him at the ~~handwaved~~ Christmas services, or have noticed a sign still attached to the noticeboard. He is unmistakably a priest, wearing Army khaki greens, but with a collared black shirt and the ever-present white hat, and the cross hanging around his neck.

[Tag: Hades, Hedwig]

awesome_lilly

Thanksgiving had been... interesting. But in a mostly good way, until Lilly discovered her cable wasn't working. This happened occasionally, reception being a little extra tricky post-end of universe and all.

Unfortunately, this time it had happened right before a three-day marathon of Tentacles of Our Waves and Lilly was so not about to miss that.

Instead, she's put on cute pajamas, stolen the remote from Bar and colonized a comfy booth with a great view of the TV. There are pillows, sleeping bags, fruity drinks, not-so-fruity drinks and snacks.

Now all she needs are viewing buddies.

[ooc: Open to any and all tags all weekend long! See backroom post for details.]

necessary_child

Sam's lazing on a sofa by the fire, alternating playing cats-cradle and juggling with shining magics, so that it looks like his hands are full of rainbow. He's chatting to Father Mulcahy, who has a nearby seat and looks slightly nonplussed but bemused, his eyes following the occasional especially bright flicker. He has a notebook in hand, pen behind his ear and a closed Bible on his knee.

[OOC: Two pups, two muns, one computer (God help us). Tag one, but you'll probably get the other as well. Father Mulcahy will be vanishing at 1.45 GMT, and slowtime with him is sadly not an option. The devil will be here all night, though, folks, or at least until Bethan collapses.]

[OOC2: And, much later than advertised, the Father is out of all threads, folks! But Sam is (...more or less) still here, for all your tagging needs.]

gonna_live

Kaylee stares at the note in her hands.

(This is, hands-down, the best news she's had in months. Several of them.)

Then, with an ear-splitting grin -- first one in a long, long time -- she seats herself and says, half-laughing, "Rum?"

A bottle, we may be sure, ensues. Kaylee, still beaming, sets to work.

(People keep telling her it'll get easier; maybe this is proof.)

i_grenfelz

The boots up on that table are high-heeled, strappy, and rather alarmingly pink.

(Recently they've been decorated with neon green laces. They look like they could probably induce epileptic shock at this point.)

And the legs they're attached to are attached to Carmela (shockingly, we know), who is tilting her chair back at an angle that is just begging for disaster.

She's also wearing a relatively sedate gray tank top with great pride.

cheerychaplain

Father Mulcahy sits in an armchair tonight, busily bent over the crossword on his knee. Every so often, he pauses to press the tip of his pencil to his tongue and stare at the empty boxes.

He also occasionally glances around, warily.

Somewhere, somehow, there is a young lady who is far more interested in him than she ought to be; if he catches so much of a glimpse of her, he is bolting.

The effect is something like that of a startled rabbit filling in a crossword puzzle.

[OOC: Will only be here until 11 PM EST]

http://users.livejournal.com/_romana_/

Even Time Lords get care packages. This one is from her third cousin, twice removed, on her mother's side, and it came this morning while Romana was getting her breakfast together. It looks like a multicolored box, but really it is a puzzle, with the package inside as the reward.

No, Gallifreyans don't even give uncomplicated gifts.

Romana is sitting relaxed on the couch, with a cup of tea, while she busily works away at this new distraction.

...

At this rate, she's never gonna get that thesis done.

puckishly.livejournal.com

You know, what's the good of having preternaturally fabulous weather if you aren't going to take advantage of it?

And furthermore, what's the good of having a sharkless lake if you're not going to take advantage of that?

And what's the good of giant squid in that sharkless lake if you don't occasionally descend to the depths to taunt them?

Hence, enter one Puck, now breaststroking rather rapidly towards the shallows. His jeans are slowing him down somewhat, but all in all he swims like a fish: If you're looking hard, you might even catch a flash of gill.

Once safely in shallow water, out of Sunshine Dust's (rather considerable) reach, Puck sits up in the water and sighs.

"Terribly sorry, darling," he calls, a little breathless.

Summertime, and the living is easy?

artfowler.livejournal.com

There are many doors in Fowl Manor. Artemis Fowl the Second, of course, has known of this for a very long time and not even the hidden doors, and there were many of those as well, manage to surprise him.

In fact, he knew the two hundred acre estate quite well. It would be a silly thing not to know the grounds that you lived on, after all. But this had never quite factored in before and Artemis is...

Well, he's quite flabbergasted though his expression says little of it.

Because, you see, the arched double doors that on any other normal day lead to his chambers now leads to what looks like a pub and one with quite the view. An exceptional view, actually, and one that Artemis cannot take his eyes off of as he stands before the observation window.

Of course, he does so in such a manner that makes him look like any other person that has been in Milliways before and not, as he is, a brand new patron.

i_grenfelz

Carmela's current outlook on life is revolving on that annoying getting up to go to work in the mornings thing. Did someone miss the memo that it's summer? And that's it's the weekend after Fourth of July? Some people have been exercising their rights as Americans to stay up until godawful hours.

Stupid work.

Anyway. Suffice it to say that Carmela is sprawled on one of the couches, trying not to--

Yawn.

--Well, not trying very hard, evidently. Good thing she doesn't snore.

gorgonfondness

Mia is sitting in a booth with her usual pot of tea.

She's not particularly sad, but not particularly happy. Neither high nor low. Not a terrible state to be in, all things considered.

Company, as always, is welcome.

passthefudge

"Maddie! Bring my fudge down when you come!"

You hear that bellow? It's coming from the Door which has just swung open on a set of stairs. At the top, you might glimpse bits of living room furnature...but not for long. The view is quickly blocked by a large, orange object which barrels down the stairs and into Milliways. As it skids to a stop, you can see it's a rather large, jumpsuit-clad human. A very shocked, larged, jumpsuit-clad human.

He stares for a moment, wheels in his head audibly grinding.

"GALLOPING GHOSTS! MADDIE! THE LAB'S BEEN COMPROMISED!"

shufti

Chairs set out, a gazebo at one side of the garden. Little bunches of flowers decorate the makeshift aisle.

It's a warm sunny afternoon, with no sign of rain, perfect for a wedding.

ff-ambassador.livejournal.com

Inara enters the bar, coming from Delicate Flowers. She has a few papers in her hand and she's studying them, trying to see if she's missed anything in her planning for the brothel party on Friday. She takes a seat at the bar, takes one more look at the papers, then sets them aside and orders a light lunch.

As she eats, she looks around the bar, smiling at various people she sees, whether she knows them or not. It's always good to keep her people skills sharp.

cheerychaplain

Unfortunate fact #1 for the evening: Father Mulcahy chose a certain table in the middle of the bar.
Unfortunate fact #2: An altercation broke out.
Unfortunate fact #3: Father Mulcahy felt compelled to do something about it.
Unfortunate fact #4: That well-intentioned action resulted in the priest being swept to the side, hard, which in turn resulted in him losing his balance and:
Unfortunate fact #5: There was a chair right there.

Father Mulcahy is just -- going to sit here on the floor for a while, with his back against the Bar, and concentrate on remembering how to breathe. It's a little difficult to do when he has had the wind knocked out of him. He looks like nothing so much as a bespectacled, slightly comical fish as he gasps for air.

Thankfully, he's out of the danger zone of said ongoing altercation.

[OOC: Now is the time ~~on Sprockets when we dance~~ when I realize I have far too much homework combined with early class tomorrow. Will pick up slowtimes tomorrow!]

callitavesper.livejournal.com

[ Le Chiffre's insinuations rouse Sarah Jane's curiosity. Unfortunately for her, she has a penchant for falling into bad situations. Fortunately for her, she has a boyfriend with a penchant for saving the day. Warnings for torture/violence in the second link. ]

There's nothing out of the ordinary about what happens next.

It's just the figure of Le Chiffre being hurtled down the stairs and into someone's table.

Nothing out of the ordinary about that at all.

[ plot locked! see back room post for details. feel free to have your pups react in separate threads--also, if you want to start conversations in the reaction threads, go right ahead! :D ]