milliways_bar | Entries tagged with ned the piemaker

Honestly, she hadn't meant to take a nap today. One wouldn't think she would need one, judging by how late she slept this morning. Rae had intended to do some baking, and maybe take a walk outside (since there was some sort of building with guns blocking her normal running route around the lake).

But she hadn't felt like baking, and her walk just took too much energy. Sitting outside in the sickly redness of Milliways' sunlight hadn't helped, either; it had just made her sick to her stomach. Not even her usual jolt of caffeine really helped her feel more like herself. So, calling the day an utter bust, she'd curled up on the couch to do some reading (Altar of Darkness, today). Except that plan had failed, too. She had fallen asleep, book still open and balanced on the couch armrest, right in the middle of the plot twist.

Current Mood: gloomy

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: ( Balthazar 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.

Current Mood: sleepy

piesordeath.livejournal.com

It's that time of year again: Pi Day.

A day to celebrate pie and pi (π) and what better way than to come up to the bar this evening for a slice?

There are several warm pies set out for choosing.

Take your pick (apologies, however: there are no meat ones available) and enjoy.

All proceeds from tonight's celebrations will go to Bar's many charities.

[ooc: I apologize, but I really need to call slowtime. My brain shut off for the night. :( I will pick up all threads tomorrow! Thanks for tagging!]

sunbaked_baker

Stop the presses; it's official. Rae didn't like being sick. Not one bit. Her throat hurt and she felt achy all over- not at all like her usual self.

Wrapped in a satin dressing-gown (a cream color that flattered in all the right ways) that she had found in her closet, she made her way downstairs and over to the couch by the fireplace, where she lounged. There was just something romantic about a roaring fire when it was chilly outside. Combined with the feeling of satin against her skin, it was perfect.

Or would be, were she not still feeling sick. Maybe if she ignored it, it would go away on its own.

(Tiny fragile plottag: IMDB Flu)

sunbaked_baker

Rae has to make a few trips to the Bar from the kitchen before all of the gift baskets of baked goods have been delivered. Each has a note with them, and contain a variety of baked goods, from cinnamon rolls to Bitter Chocolate Death, from Lemon Lechery to Cran-Paradise, from apple-walnut bread to rosemary-garlic rolls, the ratio of sweet to savory depending on the individual's personal tastes.

There are baskets for:

Thirteen, Ben Wade, Ned, Axel, Teja, Demeter, Sirona, Finvarra, Urquhart, Mia, Bobby, Kate Barlow, Olive Snook, Moiraine, Squall, and Vincent Valentine.

And once they are delivered, Sunshine returns to the kitchen once again to retrieve the tray of leftovers, which she fully intends to sell to help pay for the ingredients used in those gifts.

She settles at a centrally-located table with a book and a cup of tea, with the tray of warm, fragrant baked goods at her side, each kind with a little sign indicating price.

sunbaked_baker

As it does every so often, the bar door opened, and someone stepped in. As arrivals sometimes do, the person who walked in looked as though they hadn't expected to find a bar behind the door that previously had not led to a bar.

Sunshine simply stood there as the door closed behind her, looking out across the bar and its patrons. The noise washed over her in her quiet vantage place. It seemed like forever since she'd been there. Everything was the same as how she'd left it. Really, she wondered at herself, had she been expecting a major overhaul of it's appearance, a new color scheme, a new menu (how does one spice up a menu when you serve everything?), completely different patronage? She didn't know what she expected, just that she hadn't expected to see this place again. She was supposed to be dead.

But she wasn't. Instead, she was in a bar.

(ooc: Open to everyone, forever. Mun has RL bad situation and needs cheering up.)

lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com

Charlotte Charles, age nine (and very much alive), has never been to Milliways.

Until right about now -

- when the door crashes open to make way for a terrifying dinosaur scattering cars and buildings in every direction under her feet, a giant behemoth that would make any right-minded patron quake in their very seats!

Or perhaps not. The dinosaur's 'roar' dies off as she lowers her arms, tilting her head in obvious confusion.

"Well, this isn't downtown Tokyo," she says matter-of-factly, picking up a toy car and a bent cardboard skyscraper from their places on the floor.

It isn't even Coeur d'Coeurs, from the looks of things - and that, young Chuck thinks as she casts a tentative glance back in the direction she's come from, is very unsettling indeed.

lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com

Chuck's in the kitchen! Baking pies!

Or attempting to, at least.

At present, there happens to be more flour on her face and hands than actually on the table underneath the pie crust she's currently using a roller to flatten out - but she has a happy expression on her face, and she's humming something from one of her aunts' old records underneath her breath as she works.

Hopefully, someone in the bar likes peaches.

Reese is sitting at the far end of the bar, staring at one of the more peculiar patrons of Milliways without trying to make it look as though she's actually staring.

She's just never seen anyone that - blue before.

Shaking her head, she stares down into the dregs of her coffee mug. Even after all this time, she's still trying to convince herself she's not hallucinating any of this.

Beckett is trying to remember the last time the bar surprised her in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom.

By the way she's looking around, slowly blinking sleep from her eyes: it was a very long time ago.

She's already awake; she's got a call about a double murder in Greenwich Village, but Bar makes better coffee than she could at this hour, and she'll be able to get a real jump-start on her morning this way.

(She's not awake enough to realize her thoughts are starting to drift to the kind that are not related to work in any way, shape or form.)

Last, but certainly not least, there's a doctor in the house - with daughter in tow.

Cuddy has seemingly mastered the ability to hold Rachel with one hand and sip her afternoon latte with the other.

It really is the little things in life sometimes.

[ tiny tags: dani reese, mark hoffman, otto chriek ]
[ ooc: open until their nexts. ]

sunbaked_baker

(OOM: What do you do when you know you have two days left to live?)

The girl that stumbles in, tonight, is surprised to see this place. She had expected her apartment, where she had been going to wait the last two hours until sunset.

She swallows hard, eyes watering as she realizes where she is. Again. And at this time. Her hand is still on the door-knob; she can still turn back now.

But she knows, there are people here. People she's grown close to, despite the weirdness of this place. She needs a chance to not-say-goodbye to them, too, even if it's just for her own peace of mind; Rae's hand lets go of the doorknob, letting the door fully close behind her.

As she steps forward, her skin glimmers faintly. Points of golden light, a faint latticework, a web or net of sunlight set into her skin and hair, shine from within as she approaches the bar for a cup of tea.

(ooc: Mun has gone to bed for the night, but will catch any tags tomorrow. With great love. <333)

Current Mood: distressed

sunbaked_baker

It is midsummer, the longest day of the year. The time when the day floods and the night ebbs to its lowest point.

It's also the birthday of the young girl who has just stepped into the bar.

At least, it's her birthday here. It is nearing midwinter in her world, the bitter cold barely kept at bay by the walls of the narrow, dark basement apartment her mother had been able to afford for them after she had left the girl's father. The girl's winter clothes are a size or two too small for her, her pale wrists and ankles showing when she moves. Her movements are lethargic despite her cutiosity, and her eyes slightly unfocused as though she were ill.

The girl knows at once that a bar shouldn't be behind the door to the bedroom, that her mother (when she eventually gets back from work) would be angry with her for going into such a place without her. Without her mother there, the girl isn't supposed to leave the apartment-

- the stupid, dark, miserable apartment. All the girl knows right now is that it's warm here - and technically she isn't leaving the apartment by entering the place that had suddenly replaced the bedroom, right?

She'll just... thaw a bit before she goes back, maybe. The man at the coffeehouse where Mom worked was nice - he always smiled when he saw her - and sometimes made her milkshakes. There might be milkshakes here, too.

A six-year-old Raven Blaise steps into Milliways, looking around in wary curiosity.

Current Mood: listless

piesordeath.livejournal.com

When Ned enters the bar this evening (dressed in grey and black; the usual), intent on simply getting a small cup of coffee and maybe a cookie, he doesn't expect the vidscreen that pops up in front of him.

(Well, he doesn't expect to find the place looking like a five year old's birthday party at the Papen County's equivalent of Chuck-E Cheeses either, but that's neither here nor there.)

"Cubefall," he says suddenly, sounding delighted. "It's Cubefall, isn't it?"

The screen offers the following choices:
1) A pretty cool robot form
2) A dark black Labrador dog
3) A Jedi - with a strong connection to the Force and everything (like the lightsaber? Yeah. TOTALLY AWESOME.)

... (embarrassingly) filled with glee, but still remaining generally stoic in expression, Ned picks the third option.

He feels pretty comfortable in his brown and tan attire, complete with cloak and belt (with a clip for his lightsaber) - even if it is a little itchy.

Mostly, though - he feels like this is the coolest thing he's ever experienced ever.

[ooc: I'm off to bed now, but this post is open until the end of Cubefall! Feel free to tag!]

sunbaked_baker

There is a wide open space of green, green grass; the rare sun of Scottish springtime is shining down on the field of grass and the figure lying out upon it (as well as the bakery bag and the bowl of strawberries by her elbow).

Despite the warm embrace of the sunlight, the look on Sunshine's face is troubled.

Current Mood: troubled

piesordeath.livejournal.com

Having had a successful Pi Day last year, the familiar smell of sweet, delicious, warm pie is once again wafting through the bar's space.

The Pie-maker has been busily preparing for this day to celebrate 1) nerdiness and 2) pie - and you're welcome to join him if you want.

Just ask the Pie-man for a slice of that apple, or maybe blueberry, peach, or pear - there's a wide selection to suit nearly everyone's taste. (But note: you won't find any meat in these pies.)

All proceeds from this event will go to the Bar's many charities.

[ooc: Bar-mod/Mod-approved! I'll leave this open for a couple days, and we'll work out the millitime kinks.
Feel free to threadhop into other threads as well. It's a party for pie!

ETA: aaand the mun has now lost pretty much all brain function. Slowtimes on existing threads - please and thank you!]

betagainstme

Alice is buried under a pile of books having to do with renovations. It's easier to throw herself into this work than to dwell on...things that aren't important.

By buried, we mean sitting in an armchair with a dangerously tall pile of books beside her. A dangerously tall pile of books that has just...tipped over into the walkway. She stares at them and sighs. "Eugh, of course."

Help her pick them up?

[OOC: I am so so so so sick feeling. I need to just...lay down a while and when I'm back, I'll try to continue. D:]

sunbaked_baker

Despite how much she complains about having a cheerful apprentice in the coffeehouse, Paulie's habits must be rubbing off on her somewhat, because Sunshine is humming faintly under her breath as she carries a tray out of the kitchen and sets it on a centrally-located table. Arranged upon the tray are various baked goods, aromatic breads and desserts, all warm and freshly baked.

From a pocket of her red jeans (slightly dusted with flour where it got past her apron) she pulls the sign she made, unfolds it and sets it up where it can be seen.

Sunshine's Freshly Baked Breads and Toxic Sugar-Shock Specials
Cinnamon Rolls-As-Big-As-Your-Head: $2.50ea
(Extra Icing: $.50)
Bitter Chocolate Death: $2.50ea
Killer Zebras: $2ea
Lemon Lechery: $2ea
Maple Cornbread: $2 per piece
Rosemary-Garlic Bread: $5 per loaf
Muffins: $.75ea
(cinnamon-oatmeal, strawberry cream, chocolate chip, almond lemon zest, jalapeno sweetcorn)

With the sign set up, she takes a chair at her chosen table and settles down with a book (new vampire novel, though she thinks she knows how it's going to end) while she waits for customers. She's found that if she holds the book and her head still enough, the words on the page don't shiver and lurch sick-makingly from her wonky vision.

(ooc: ~~Running away to see a movie with friends. Will return afterwards and pick up any new tags then.~~ <3 <3 <3 Am back!)

sunbaked_baker

(Somewhere Under Milliways: Sunshine's large, lovingly-collected library of gothic vampire lit will likely never be the same refuge of fantasy escapism ever again. She may burn them all when she gets home. If she survives to get home.)

From the kitchens come the sounds of startled, squeaking rats, of a large basket of paradoxes overturning as someone runs unsteadily towards the reassuring light and noise of the bar. The door to the kitchen slams open a moment later, letting through a pale and shaking Rae, clutching her wrenched and bruised right arm to her chest as she runs.

Her head is still reeling, her eyes watering and blurring her vision, the realization of what had just happened - what she had done - and to whom - causing her stomach to rebel violently.

Luckily, the cleaning crew prefer a clean bar and have put trash cans up at strategic locations, for Sunshine doesn't make it to the restroom before being physically ill. She falls jerkily next to it, clutching the trashcan rim with a white-knuckled grip in an effort to steady herself and counteract the tremors she can't seem to stop.

(Warnings in OOM for... well, gothic horror.)

(Tiny tags: A Gothic Winter Tale, Vlad Dracula)

(OOC: Mun has gone to bed. Will return to tag up on threads tomorrow. EP is open for new threads/tags forever and ever, amen. <33333)

Current Mood: terrified

itty-bitty-o.livejournal.com

Olive's back again (the door was in her kitchen. she'll never understand that magic), so she's making the best of it. She's at the bar with a hot cider, wishing it could warm her heart, and not just her stomach.

Can she bend your ear with her troubles?

[ooc: open until her next post.]

sunbaked_baker

Sunshine is at a table, this evening, with trays of savory loaves (rosemary/garlic, sun-dried tomato, parmesan-cracked pepper, among others) and sweet teabreads (maple-orange, blueberry-pecan and cranberry-cream), decorative paper and baskets.

It's time to celebrate the return of the sun, and Sunshine wants to arrange some tasty gifts for the friends she's found here.

nita_callahan

[Morning after this.]

Nita wakes up feeling like crap. It takes her a minute or two to realize where she is -- laid over her books in the Milliways library. She must have fallen asleep finishing her paper. --Which is still unfinished, she finds, when she looks over her notes. Groaning, she stands up.

And sways, grabbing for the table as the room tilts.

Geez, this would be the perfect time to get sick, wouldn't it.

By the time she makes it downstairs, she's wondering if it is just some kind of cold. She hasn't felt this bad since the week after she died in the Rose Reading Room. She makes a wobbly beeline from the stairs to the closest empty booth and sits down heavily.

She hasn't noticed the neat puncture wounds on her right wrist, yet.

[tinytag: a gothic winter tale]

[ooc: Open forever!]

piesordeath.livejournal.com

There are many things Ned has yet to check off his proverbial Things To Do Before I Die list, and bartending at any sort of bar is one of them.

(But why not add a couple of extra points for uniqueness? Throw in a bar at the end of the universe, too.)

The Happy Hour specials are written in very precise, neat handwriting and reflect his day-job. It's hard to stray too far away from pie-making, it seems.

Tonight's Specials

Apple Pie in a Glass
American Pie
Mud Pie

He quickly gives the bartop a wipe-down, then turns to the bar space at large.

"Okay. What'll it be?"

[ooc: And the brains have officially decided they've had enough. Slowtimes for all, please! And thanks for tagging!]

lonelytouristcc.livejournal.com

[OOM: Somewhere, ~~in a galaxy far, far away~~, the Piemaker has a dream.

Later, at the Pie Hole, he tries to figure out what it all means (with Emerson Cod's reluctant help), while the former tourist known as Charlotte Charles discovers some interesting information. ]

[ tiny tag: emerson cod ]

makesthings

He knows he has to go home and start on what he needs to do, whatever that is, the dream whatever that was with Harry made him sure it was time. The dragon is finally finished and he repaired Ned's umbrella so they're sitting beside him on the Bar.

In front of him are lots of pieces of paper as he tries to write notes, he hopes that he doesn't have to wait too long before he comes back but perhaps Mogget will influence the Bar and he won't see it for many months.

The dragon keeps walking across the papers and almost knocking over the ink but Sameth doesn't fully notice as he tries to find the words to speak to his mother.

(OOC: Open for ages as its time for head back to canon, slowtime promised for today until I'm done with class.)

young_tmriddle

The funniest thing about Tom's transformation when he steps into the bar is that he doesn't notice he's changed into a circa 1930 gangster. The violin case in his hand is the only new thing he's aware of for a moment, because honestly, his normal clothing is not too far off from his new outfit.

When he glimpses himself in the mirror, though, his eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, right, it must be Hallowe'en." He grins, makes sure his tie is straight and his hat brim angled just so. "It's been a while."

ooc: open all weekend!

piesordeath.livejournal.com

When the door opens, a tall, lanky man walks in with droplets of rainwater dripping down the length of his (black) coat. His hair looks a bit wet and in disarray, and in one hand, he's holding a broken black umbrella, metallic bits sticking out in awkward ways to show that this umbrella has been through one hell of a torrential rainstorm, and did not survive the war against weather.

Behind him, lightning flashes. Rain seems to be zipping down in an almost horizontal direction, and the wind is cold.

He shakes himself a little (as if that would do very much), and walks into the warmth and dryness of the bar at the end of the universe.

He could definitely go for a cup of warm tea right about now. And a garbage bin for his no longer usable umbrella.

[ooc: open for car keys, non-car keys, and everything in between!]

itty-bitty-o.livejournal.com

Without quite knowing how, or why, Olive has managed to find the bar again. She sits in a booth by the door--

(No, for your information she hasn't been watching the door whenever she comes here, ever since Chuck said "Ned's around, some days."

Or maybe she has. Whatever.)

-- Anyway, see the lonely heroine, yonder: sitting. sighing. Drinking a glass of lemonade, and looking generally desolate.

Say hi.

[open for all until it scrolls off the page]