milliways_bar | Entries tagged with shaun riley

Gene had stayed after last night's zombie invasion. Not with any intention to help clean up, of course, but because he finds himself with an unpleasant job to do. He turns up in the bar in - thankfully - clean clothes, and with a dog at his heels. The destruction gets a hard eye passed over it, but that's not why he's here either.

Bar provides pen and paper. He doesn't spend long thinking about what to write.

( Sunshine, Dinah, Charles Xavier, Guppy )

To the one who's name he doesn't know -

( Co-owner of Urquhart's dog )

'Make sure they all get that, would you, luv? Ta. I'll have a bottle of Johnnie Walker, and a bowl of somethin' for the mutt.'

He sits with the air of one who doesn't plan to go anywhere for a long time, and lights his tenth fag of the morning.

smiley_riley

The door bangs open with the force of someone slamming his entire body weight against it, and in stumbles a man, out of breath, disorientated, and spattered with blood head to toe.

Don't worry; none of it's his.

From the other side, the door led to a small bookshop shop with large windows. On the inside, it's a large bar, full of people. So sudden is the change of scenery that Shaun can't help but give pause as he stumbles gracelessly back to his feet.

"What?" he asks, all squeaky and out of breath.

And then there's the groaning behind him. Shaun spins round, realising that he'd left the door open. And now it's far too late to close it. They followed him in, and there's nothing left for it now but to leg it.

"Oh, SHIT," he hisses as he runs through the bar, knocking over chairs and leaping over tables as he goes, making a line straight for the back door. Meanwhile, through the front door comes the shambling horde of the mobile dead. You might want to pick up a blunt object right about now. Or a gun. Someone might want to get that door shut as well.

[ooc: Zombies! mini-plot begins now. Short explanation: Treat it as a party post and kill some NPC zombies! Long explanation: See this post. Happy Halloween!

ETA: This post is open indefinitely. Millitime magic applies to all resulting posts, but feel free to keep tagging in!]

got-red.livejournal.com

At some point during the past few months the timeline in Shaun's world caught up with the timeline at Milliways, so he's not entirely taken by surprise when he pops in for a drink and finds himself looking like a cross between a Vulcan and a Smurf.

It's probably about the best thing that can be said of his current mood.

got-red.livejournal.com

Shaun hasn't seen Milliways in a while, but he's glad to have found it again. Between the care and feeding of zombies and selling appliances to middle-aged housewives, it's nice to be able to relax and have a pint.

Even if planets happen to be exploding outside the window.

re_mybrains

[OOM: Over a year ago, Tom got chased into Milliways by a shamble of zombies. Turns out they're still there -- but this time Tom's brought reinforcements.

Some of the party isn't so thrilled to see the undead again. Some of the party, on the other hand, is having a blast. And some of the party is content to rain death from above in a businesslike manner.

It turns out, though, that just because the zombies are dead doesn't mean the drama's over.]

[Warnings for language, some serious zombie-gore, and angst.]

re_mybrains

So. Today's the day. Go time. D-Day. The final countdown.

. . . you get the picture. Insert your own cliche here.

Tom is at a table by the door, keeping an eye out for his compatriots. His backpack's on the floor beside him.

He'd considered getting coffee, but judging from the way he's drumming his fingers incessantly, he doesn't really need the extra nervous energy.

[ooc: Plot-locked.]

re_mybrains

"--No, I'm fine.

"No, seriously, I am perfectly happy with my current body. Form. Whatever.

". . . Well, okay, yeah, the big smashy claw is kind of awesome. --But mean, no, I'm fine.

"Well, okay, I'll take a look at it."

Tom takes his copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves, Our Cybernetic Arms, only a little dubious, and starts for a chair -- and turns around and trots back to Bar.

"Wait wait sorry I'm a dumbass. Can you give a copy of this note to, um, Shaun, Andrew, Elle, and Hawkgirl? Thanks."

(The note reads Let's do this Saturday. --Tom. All the other phrasings he came up with sounded even more like he was asking them to dinner and a movie. Way too awkward.)

That done, he heads for a table and sits down to flip through the book, distractedly. Saturday is -- not that far away.

[OOC: This is Tom's last open entrance post for a while, so it's open for tags indefinitely.]

[tinytags: Gordon Freeman]

got-red.livejournal.com

Shaun isn't exactly oblivious to his current surroundings - you'd have to be pretty out of it to not notice the complete reconfiguration of an entire bar - but it's fairly obvious there are more important matters on his mind. His sole concession to the festivities is the abstract pile of blocks on the table in front of him.

He thinks better when he has something to play with.

Current Mood: pessimistic

re_mybrains

The front door, apparently, is fascinating.

No, really. Or at any rate, Tom apparently thinks so, because he's frowning at it like he's going to be tested on the grain pattern in an hour and he wants to get an A.

He's seated at a table not too far from the Bar, pondering the door over a Mountain Dew.

(Part of him is thinking I'm really gonna miss Mountain Dew, man.)

got-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

SPECIALS
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!

re_mybrains

Tom finally has bullets. Which means finally -- finally -- he can get in some target practice without worrying about wasting ammunition.

"Hey, Bar? I need some targets. For shooting practice." Beat. "Shooting with a gun. I mean, with bullets."

What? It's Milliways. Maybe people go out back and target practice with beams they shoot from their eyes.

Bar, exuding amusement, provides several life-size cardboard cutouts. Tom stares a little. "Thanks. I think."

Outside, he sets up well away from the bar, takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that some instincts don't disappear even if they're not used for a year.

BANG BANG BANG.

". . . Crap. I'm dead."

Aim, apparently, isn't one of them.

[ooc: ~~Here for about two hours~~ Going, going, gone; slowtimes welcome! Man, could this post futz around with time any more?]

uksupercop.livejournal.com

"I should have known this would happen sooner or later."

[tinytag: gordon o'dell, jake o'dell, dennis doyle]

got-red.livejournal.com

The only things Shaun had on his mind today were doing a favor for a sort-of-friend and having a nice cold pint afterwards.

What he definitely wasn't expecting was ending up several inches shorter with someone else's face.

"Ohhhh fuck."

goonandrun.livejournal.com

"Oh, holy fuck."

Gordon is one of those people who do not particularly appreciate having the interior of any space drastically redone without their notice.

What he appreciates even less is the drastic re-doing of his clothing.

If he looks like he can't move, you'd be right.

[ tiny tag ; gordon o'dell ]

got-red.livejournal.com

The manufactured weather at Milliways is still cold enough that the seats by the fire are prime nap locations. Shaun is taking full advantage of this by sprawling across the entire sofa.

He'll move if you poke him hard enough.

[ooc: not in the best headspace right now but wanted to play anyway. Warning for probable slowtime.]

got-red.livejournal.com

He should have done this ages ago, really.

Still in his work uniform, Shaun pops in just long enough to post a notice on the message board. Noticing the debt collection posting, he mutters a curse and leaves a handful of notes and assorted coins on the bar.

His tab is now... marginally smaller.

got-red.livejournal.com

"-Look, just fill out the form and I'll get to it as soon as possible."

The sounds of a busy shop follow Shaun in as he shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

Being promoted is one thing, but being promoted because your immediate superiors have been eaten is quite another.

zombiequeenliz.livejournal.com

When Liz treks out to the shed in her slippers, she expects to find Shaun and Ed playing video games.

Instead, she finds a pub.

A pub.

"This isn't funny, Shaun," she says, standing in the doorway with a half bewildered, half annoyed look on her face.

... at least it's not the Winchester.

Tinytag: Liz (SotD)

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Here's someone who's been busy with his shop in Lunar, but now Draco was piling over notes, contract laws in the Wizarding world, and Lunar. Also commerce regulations. It was all scattered haphazardly over a table, with a tea service half buried in paperwork and parchments.

The Slytherin young man had plans. Big plans.
And he might even tell you about them.

fatboyrun.livejournal.com

"But I don't want tooooohhh holy shit."

The door clangs shut behind a pair of men, both dressed in suits that were (presumably) once clean, and wrinkle-free. One's missing the flower in his buttonhole, and the other looks as though he'd been running his head under a cold tap for some time, although he's showing signs of drying off. The one who came in first, Dennis, has his hand on the lapel of the other's, Gordon's, suit, and it looks as though the former dragged the latter in.

Dennis is the shorter of the two, with matted, orange-reddish hair, and a bit of scruff. Gordon is a little lankier, the dark hair on his head looking ready to fly away at any given moment.

Both have their mouths open in complete and utter shock.

Also? They're both drunk beyond their wits.

This fact is a great aid to Dennis’s coping abilities. "Gord’n," he says, after a long moment of staring like an extremely inebriated slackjawed idiot. "There’s a bar in the toilet."

Suffice it to say that, even what with being drunk out of his mind, Gordon hadn't expected the bar to actually be there when they stepped through. Still, he manages to get out a, "I told you so," before going into a somewhat comatose state.

Putting up a hand and saying, "Pah," Dennis stumbles his way over to the bar. It take some time, as someone seems to have placed an obstacle course of tables, chairs, and people in his way, but he is bound and determined to reach his destination. Upon doing so, and making his tottery way onto a stool, Dennis lays a palm down flat on the bar. "Bartenner," he says, eyes focusing and unfocusing a couple of times (is that a bright yellow bra behind the bar?). "Wh-whiskey, please."

As it turns out, Gordon is having much more difficulty with said obstacle course than Dennis. It's a while before he manages to make it to the bar, and he does look worse for the wear. "Whatever he's having." Substantial mental effort? He thinks not.

[OOC: Link features tiny, tiny spoilers for the premise of Run, Fat Boy, Run. Two pups, two muns, both ~~here until one passes out!~~ gone as of 5:30 GMT! Thank you for threads!]

undead_ed

OOM: Zombie wants beer.

Shaun not giving him beer.

Zombie wants to go to pub.

Zombie fed up with toolshed.

Zombie yanks chains free!

Zombie breaks through toolshed door!

...Zombie in Milliways!

"Huuurrrrh?"

Zombie syntax quite similar to Neanderthal syntax, which is completely unintentional. Mun will stop it now, it's silly.

[OOC: Slowtimes requested as of 12:30 am EST. Ed- and Shaun-muns thank everyone for tagging and creating a small, contained explosion of awesome!]

get-help-boy.livejournal.com

There are plenty of things you expect to see coming into Milliways.

Oddly enough, however, an little boy on a bright red bicycle is probably not one of them. It's just too normal. And Timmy, why, Timmy is as normal as they come. He's a normal eleven year old boy.

Unfortunately, that means that he has the reactions of a normal eleven year old boy who just peddled at top speed into a place that suddenly appeared in the middle of the street he lives on. A very inside sort of place without much space to, say, hit the brakes.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"

Current Mood: shocked

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.]

notahugfan.livejournal.com

At this very moment in the town of Coeur d'Coeurs, Young Ned was 9 years, 27 weeks, 6 days, and 3 minutes old. His dog, Digby, was 3 years, 2 weeks, 6 days, 5 hours, and 9 minutes old...and not a minute older.

Digby loved to play, and loved to play with Ned. Running down the hill from Ned's house, Digby crossed into a highway where an 18-wheeler slams into him, throwing him into the air.

Ned knelt next to the dog, touching his cheek, consoling his passed friend - or himself, maybe.

Until Digby stood up and ran off.

This was the moment young Ned realized he wasn't like the other children, nor was he like anyone else, for that matter. Young Ned could touch dead things and bring them back to life.

The door to Milliways opens, revealing young Ned and Digby to the bar as a whole, shutting behind them with a short click.

Hopefully our young Ned is also a quick study in his new surroundings.

[ooc: Both boy and dog, here in Milliways. Digby is a golden retriever, Ned is as pictured in icon, minus a constant 'wow' face. Please see the back room post regarding his powers, or IM stephmuji.]

haveasituation.livejournal.com

Dead is not, strictly speaking, the most appealing state of being. However, it's an unavoidable one to all humans, especially to those who have had themselves mauled by zombies.

Like David, for instance. Having been in the unfortunate position of being in front of a window when the zombies broke into the pub, he was promptly nabbed and pulled out into the street, where he was devoured, but not before his legs were popped off in an attempt by his friends to pull him back into the pub.

At present, he's lying on the floor of Milliways, and, contrary to the description above, he's perfectly whole. Just a little bit bloody, 'a little bit' here meaning 'very'. Also, he's more than a little bit dead.

He's also having a little bit of trouble figuring out what the hell is going on.

"Aren't I dead?" is his first thought. Getting to his feet, he immediately begins to wobble, shedding more blood on the floor.

Pardon him if he falls on you.

[ ooc; Mun requires sleep, and thus, slowtime. Thanks to all of you who tagged. ]