Kirk is not surprised to get a cupcake shaped like a stovepipe hat with his coffee today. it is February 12, after all. And that's one of those days that means a lot to many people, being the birthday of both Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin (literally on the same day in 1809
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Whistler is pretty good at seemingly minding his own business. It goes with the territory. Phone phreaks are usually pretty good at running below the radar when they're not in the process of making Ma Bell and all her successors cry like someone's given them a face full of cut onions. Whistler's even better at it than most, since people generally
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OOMs: War. War never changes... Infancy Age ten Age sixteen Age nineteen The surfaceThe door opens on a dank, rough-walled tunnel lit only by a handful of lamps. A thick-bodied figure of average height slips through and glances sharply about. It's wearing the sort of helmet and body armor one might reasonably expect of riot police, and the bloody
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Today, Bob is looking considerably more cheerful (and less toaster-y) than the last time he was seen in Milliways. He's even humming a little to himself as he strolls in and drops a small stack of VidWindows on the bartop
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The thought of running up a tab doesn't go down well with Adrian, but he really doesn't have a choice; he had thirty dollars in his wallet when he left for Black Mesa way back when, and his credit cards are all run through banks that no longer exist in his world. So he'll deal with that with the Bar, although he won't like it
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Whistler originally had an entrance post about Thanksgiving and looking after Mother rather than going to Akron, but LJ ate the damn thing. This is the second time it's happened today, so you have been warned
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Suzi is sitting in a chair being car-keys bait for Mario and Nikola Tesla. She's knitting with hands and tentacles alike, as well as reading her books on citizenship tests. The test is tomorrow, and oh is she ever taking the Milliways time to study like hell.