milliways_bar | Apr. 22nd, 2006

Apr. 22nd, 2006

[OOM: Millitimed to yesterday, there was sweet and happy. Bill and Fleur talk and plan for things, life, and bebe.

Today, the shit hits the fan. There is a first time for everything. Even fights.]

prydeful

[OOM: Dragon babies are born. And there are purple twins. Congrats, Lucy, that egg was yours.]

Lockheed stumbles in.

"IT'SSSS A BOY! AND A GIRL! AND A GIRL! AND A GIRL!"

He rushes to the bar and orders as many cigars as he can carry before beginning to circle the room and hand them out.

Eventually, Kitty comes in after him, laughing hysterically.

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

((OOM: Archie finds another door, another possibility.))

The front door opens, and Archie Kennedy staggers through. It takes two steps before the memories of all of his past entrances into the bar hit him.

They stop him in his tracks.

He stands there, unable to move for long moments, while a pain flows through him that makes the cuts and bruises that cover him seem like a balm.

They had told him that she was dead. They had told him that she had drowned, that she had died at Ragnarok, that she had burned to death on another world, that she had fallen frome the tower, that she had been torn to pieces by his best friend, that she had never been there, that she was with someone else.

Which was the truth? He can barely remember his name, much less anything else.

He has the sword though. And he is still alive. Or as much as he ever was here. Maybe more so.

((OOC: Warnings for lots of angst.))

moody-protector.livejournal.com

Isuzu in the bar still.

She sketching things out again by the fireplace.

Todays sketches are of different clothing designs.

She's also got a bandage on her cheek.

Pup and Mun are in a relativelyy good mood, feel free to drop by and have a chat

emptiedstreets

All assurances aside, Ronan is holed up in a corner booth, surveying a table top that is only marginally visible beneath a coating of papers, notebooks, and textbooks.

Observers will possibly notice a number of drawings depicting various violent ends of certain English kings admit the jumble and mess.

bev-marsh.livejournal.com

The bar's getting a bit less intimidating, and it's not like her room is getting any more interesting.

So Bev's perched in a chair by the fire--sideways, with her legs dangling over one arm--sipping a Coke, and people-watching.

countofserenno.livejournal.com

Dooku and Bonzo chat about lightsabers

no-more-chianti.livejournal.com

There is a note with the bar, scribbled hastily on a scrap of paper.

( Sheriff Harry Truman )

rigthegames.livejournal.com

OOM: Millitimed to the 8th of April, Sands' eyes are regrown.

gorlim.livejournal.com

[OOM: Spiders are yucky. Namo gets Gorlim cleaned up, and Kelly accounts for everyone. Warning for mild sexual content and extreme cuteness.]

http://users.livejournal.com/_estsanatlehi_/

Blame Raven, go on, do it, it's probably his fault anyway.

At least, he was the one who gave her the idea, and it took a bit of doing and a bit of figuring out how to have the fire make the magic blanket work while the whole thing was covering the jelly molds that were in the icebox.

But in the end, it had worked.

That is to say, girl-goddess in the bar with a flock of marmalade squirrels, gooseberry jam goldfinches, blackberry raccooons and strawberry mice. None of them more than two inches tall or long.

At that particular moment the entire host was running around in circles stickying up a tabletop and Ana was watching and laughing.

(posting from work, replies may or may not be patchy)

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

Mal is in the bar again.

She's more mobile, and has mostly just been wandering, determined to be completly healed and able to walk without sitting down by Sunday.

Judging by how many times she's been plonking herself into empty chairs, this may not be a realistic goal. And sadly, she has reached the inner core of Milliways, where most chairs and booths are in use.

Is it possible she's sitting next to you?

jackdriscoll.livejournal.com

Jack Driscoll is yet again in the bar, in a booth, with his cat. Pinot is not mobile today. In fact, she's asleep. Jack himself is reading a book, occasionally letting his hand wander to scritch Pinot on the back.

balletrat

*Meg's sitting comfortably at a booth in the bar, engaged in sewing ribbons to two pairs of small ballet slippers.

If certain people - say, any students of hers - were to approach, these shoes would vanish LIKE THE WIND.

Meg is crafty like that.*

awesome_lilly

[OOM: Millitimed to this evening, a party is beginning. Invitations have been liberally distributed, a sign was posted, and there was even an ad in the Say True. Everyone over the age of consent in their home universe is invited, and formal dress is suggested.

(The real dress code is whether it'll get you by Raph.)

Madame Lilly's Delicate Flower brothel is officially open for business. Please feel free to stop by. ;-)]

OOC: MASSIVE slowtiming will occur, as one of the whore-muns isn't even here yet. Please feel free to tag in any time, it'll all be summarized and relinked in the end.

always-a-liar.livejournal.com

Out of Milliways:

In the Second Age, Ishamael sends Mesaana a short note.

balletrat

The Say True has come out a day early this week, in order to prominently display the ad for the Delicate Flowers kickoff party.

[OOC: It also has actual written articles, for the first time in . . . a time. Enjoy!]

venusadept_2

It's Earth Day; of course Felix is about. At the moment he's by the lake, making small Djinni statues. Most of them are of Venus Djinn, but there are some representatives of the other elements as well.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Today has been a quiet day, for the most part. Quinn woke late (for him, 'late' is 'a little after sunrise'), went to the stables, and set to work on Ross's stall as he does most mornings. That's long since done, as is exercising the horse and cooling him down.

He's in no mood to go back inside just yet. Some days, the fact that there's a truly living outdoors is enough to keep him on this side of the Bar door, and this is one of those times. It occurs to him that Creedy's probably around here somewhere; might as well go and find him, right? Maybe there's something worth seeing further into the woods.

[OOC: You can tag if you like, but the main thread of this post is plotlocked to Creedy, Rabastan, Arithon, Draco, and Sam Linnfer. Anyone more than that and my brain's going to go up in smoke. My AIM is camwyn cwru; page me if necessary. Thanks!]

buriedmybrother.livejournal.com

Antigone is outside again, sitting on the grass.

She is wearing her boots, and there's a knife in its sheath hidden somewhere in her skirts.

For all of that, however, she appears largely content.

If ever-so-slightly on edge.

bloodyrockgod

Charlie, having resolved to cheer the hell up, is playing guitar out by the lake.

( Read more... )

One step at a time.

hollywdcockroch.livejournal.com

The door opens to reveal Carl Denham. Tired, haggard, he's got a Massive stuffe ape under his arm. Taking a seat, he sits the monkey down in front of him and orders a Jack Daniels.

When the waitrat arrives, he waves a hand, "....Jus' leave the bottle."

The Rat might squeak, but hell-he's got a look on his face that says "don't argue with it."

Drunken Carl Denham with a massive stuffed ape. Ask him what's up? Talk to him about it? Order one?

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

After this, Faith is sitting at a table with coffee, Mickey Mouse ears (personalized), and an utterly woebegone expression.

Alas for ruined friendships.

lvpd_sidle

[OOM: Sara learns the difference between her chosen family and her blood family. And the difference does not surprise her. Whitetext and angst.]

Sara takes a seat near the fireplace, altering the skirt Angel had given her.

She'd welcome an interruption.

thecoolone

( OOM: a few moments earlier )

When the door opens, Bill's face falls: he hadn't meant to come here.

He hadn't meant it at all; turning again, he decides to simply suck it up and go straight back to Fleur. If it's not an apology he owes her, it's at the very least a discussion. He can be man enough to do that.

The problem, though, is that the door doesn't seem to want to open for him. A trick of the lock, perhaps; wand drawn, he taps it. "Alohomora." Still, the door doesn't open.

"Fuck!" He pushes it and pulls it, kicks it and swears at it, but it won't budge.

"Of all the times... damn! This isn't funny. It's not fair." Again he tries the door but like it or not, it won't open for him. "Fuck!"

It's a very useful word. Racing to the bar, he gets writing supplies and dashes off a brief note: Fleur, I'm at the bar. I can't leave. Door won't open. I'm sorry. I love you. Bill. He offers up a quick prayer, though he's not a prayerful person, and sends it off with one of the bar owls.

"Fuck." Once more for good measure: "Fuck."

With that, he turns and heads upstairs. At least he's got a room here.

At least he didn't get sent back to the Death Eaters. And at the moment, Bill's very thankful for small favours.

namo

He is in the bar.

The Vala is seated at a booth.

In front of him, both in snug baskets, are Kelly and Gabriel.

They are watching him as they eagerly drink from their bottles and he sips his tea.

"... And when your Ada wakes up, I am sure he will be pleased that you have been bathed, dressed and fed," he can be caught saying to them. "I know I am." Waking up with two stinky children had not been pleasant.

But he is a father, and he is quite in love with them.

Gorlim was left in bed, quite dead to the world, still recovering from spider venom, and so Námo has their children in front of him.

Safe and watched.

Care to poke at them?

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

Molly is in a booth (and has been for hours), reading again from the journal that Cain gave her. She's also got a couple of other books stacked beside her for reference, which she occasionally refers to. She's also making notes here and there on a scrap piece of parchment.

There is a milkshake slowly being consumed as she reads, but her eyes are getting tired, and she should probably take a break soon.

Come and say hello or, you know, tell her that she's got ink on her nose.

[ooc: seeing as Cain is in this thread, it is rated N for Naughty and A for Adult and S for smut.]

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

[ooc: a small contemplation from Jack, lately of the Frost and at the moment of nothing in particular because life is strange that way. Things he can't seem to get away from.]

someonesdog

Angua is in the bar, sitting in a table near the centre, complete with mushroom omelette and a pint of beer, leafing through the latest copy of the Times.

It's been a quiet few days in Ankh-Morpork. She doesn't trust it.

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

The door to the lake opens, Sands and Mal walking through. Both look different then they were, both a little more calm, both almost-

-regretting.

They sit, slowly, near the door, neither speaking, Mal pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

This might actually be a nice time to talk.

[ooc: Two muns, two pups, tag one or both, but please specify.]

slayer_fray

Mel is sitting at a table, Security badge pinned to her holster, and poking at a burrito.

She's still wearing the mouse ears, but even though she's humming that Hiho song over and over under her breath, she looks a little blue.

Post holiday come-down.

piecesofmodesty.livejournal.com

(OOM: from here.)

A tall olive skinned woman with jet black hair and pale blue eyes steps through the door into the bar, clad in a pair of black silk pyjamas and a short robe. Her feet are bare. One hand is reaching up to unpin her hair, and as the waves fall around her shoulders, her mouth falls open.

She is a cool customer, this one, but even she is shocked by finding a bar where her bathroom should be. Still, her mouth shuts with a snap, and she looks around curiously. Someone better explain what's going on.

Welcome to Milliways, Modesty Blaise.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

The back door creaks open, and a shortish pyro slips in with more grace than she usually does.

Almost feline, one could say.

Sometimes, it's good to change perspectives for a while. Of course, a good long run with a demonic bunny chase to follow is also good, when one wants to avoid hunting bar patrons. So Ace is slightly muddy, and very happy, and very tired as she flops into one of the armchairs by the fire and soaks up the warmth. Mmmm. Warm. She might even be purring at this point.

almost-arabian.livejournal.com

Lawrence is seated at a booth, cheerfully polishing his scimitar. His gun, it appears, has already been detailed and is sitting next to him, gleaming and looking significantly better than when he picked it up from the bar.

He does so love conditioning his weapons. He also appears to be sipping a rather large glass of lemonade.

Go on, bother him.

ways-lust.livejournal.com

Lust walks into the bar, a contemplative look on her face. Something isn't going as well or as fast as she feels it should, and this disturbs her. There's also a tiny something different, but nothing she can place her finger on.

She orders a cup of coffee and sits at the counter, thinking, sipping and watching people.

shelley_winters

Shelley is wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a cardigan, with an air of defiance. And trainers. And her hair in a ponytail.

She is from England, dammit. Wearing dresses every day is just stupid, and she refuses.

She's angry. But breaking things and screaming at nothing, which was yesterday, did help a little. So now she slips down, whispers an apology - and a promise to pay for the vase and the mirror - to Bar, and retires to a booth with hot chocolate and some paradoxes.

Current Mood: angry but calm

mandercommander.livejournal.com

And Bonzo is in the Bar, at a table in the corner, looking over a small blizzard of schematics, drawings, doodles, rough sketches, etc., just about giving himself a coronary trying to adapt at least one to a design change he suddenly has to make. Someone should interrupt him before he goes bald with stress.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

The door flies open, revealing the grey slanting light of early March on the other side. Two people fall through it- one blond, in wizards' robes, and one dark, in worn Muggle clothing.

The wizard appears to be on fire in places. The not-wizard is trying, it would seem, to enforce the 'drop and roll' parts of 'stop, drop, and roll'.

countofserenno.livejournal.com

There is a Count who's not yet a Count in the Bar, sipping on some nice Alderaanian wine, as usual, and eating dinner. He looks content, if slightly bored, though he won't complain about the food. Or being interrupted, for that matter. Any takers?

street-sparrow.livejournal.com

Gavroche is in the bar. Wearing mouse ears with his name on them, from Disneyland.

He's still working on whatever he was doing to Alain's bracelet.

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

Michael comes in through the front door, looking a lot better than he was now Trillian and the others are home and safe.

There's still a certain amount of strain, though.

comma-sticks.livejournal.com

Shannon's been around in the past few months. Honest, she has. You just haven't noticed. Yes.

She's here now, anyway, sitting in a corner booth and paging through a magazine that she's paged through several times already. Shannon is Bored, and it does require the capital letter.

Any sort of social interaction would be nice right about now.

[ooc: I'll likely only be around for an hour and a half. Or so.]

rigthegames.livejournal.com

Out near the lake, Sands is sat with his back against a tree. His face is tired and drawn, eyes half-closed and bruises vivid against pale skin. Holding awkwardly onto his shoulder, white knuckled, his mouth a thin white line of pain.

In his other hand, a fresh white bandage wrapped around the palm, he is flicking his lighter idly, eyes not quite focused on the flame.

angelus-amadeo.livejournal.com

He's not in such a bad mood this time as he has been before, but he's by no means made of puppies and christmas, that's for sure.

He's actually looking for someone - kind of - but he's sitting in a booth, alone, for the minute.

Looking very buggable.

Current Mood: blah

galactic-prez.livejournal.com

It's been months, bar time, since he's been here. During that time, Zaphod Beeblebrox, ex-President of the Galaxy, con artist, ex-convict and purveyor of fine second-hand ballpoint pens, has been in and out of three different time continuums, prison, and brief commercial sub-etha spots.

Something, though, has drawn him back to Milliways. Something very dear to his heart. Something fun. Something he craves. Something he needs.

In other words, there's a party somewhere here, and Zaphod does not intend to miss out.

"Hey, Milliways," he says with the sort of grin that gets most people locked away in a room with soft walls, "miss me?"

magius-unlocked.livejournal.com

There is a CRACK and two forms appear in the main area. One is Magius, in simple tunic and pants, starting to look bloody, looking desperate already. The other is Max, in his arms, obviously shot.

he looks up as soon as he appears.

"I need a healer! Now!"

(ooc: this isnt plot locked, but for lack of multiples, please contact Changeable Jenn on Aim before tagging. Thank you!)

jackdriscoll.livejournal.com

Yes, Virginia, Jack Driscoll does have a social life.

The sounds of glasses clinking together, the low hum of conversation, and a few bars of Sinatra are heard as Jack enters the bar in a tailored pinstriped blue suit. In spite of what sounds like a party from Jack's when, he's actually come from 1999. Besides, there was no Frank Sinatra in 1933.

Jack looks midly surprised that what the bar has replaced the city streets (yet again). He orders a light meal and a glass of soda from the bar, then sits at a table where he can get a good view of the bar in general. The blazer's folded over the top of an empty chair, the tie is loosened, the top few buttons unfastened. Come say hi; he's in a relatively good mood.

Current Mood: calm

agirllost

Kim and Angela are back in the bar.

Angela looks better and she did manage to sleep last night.

Kim is still watching her carefully and her eyes are red-rimmed from being up all night again, but she had to make sure that Angela slept and that nothing happened.

They're still not talking much, Angela being the more friendly of the two at the moment.

[ooc: Multi-pup and multi-mun post, pups aren't feeling very talkative but muns love company.]

dead_hooker_2

Trina is supposed to be on her way to the opening of something (possibly an envelope), and is therefore, dressed to the nines.

She appears, however, to have been stood up by her date.

So she's not in the best of moods when she turns to go back into her apartment. Finding herself in Milliways is, therefore, quite welcome.

Especially if there really is a party around here somewhere.

twiststheblade

OOM: Little bird went out to play. . .

Miho takes Josiane a present, and Josiane shows her appreciation.

(today your warnings are for: sexual content, violence, blood, and asphyxiation.)

guppy_sandhu

"Tess, that thing's over three inches long. How can you possibly lose a Brazilian wandering spider in a sealed glass jar?"

Guppy comes in, shaking his head and shuts the door behind him. He settles at the bar, putting his jacket down next to him on the bar's surface.

"Can I have a pineapple juice please bar?" he asks, thanking her as one appears and sipping it, glancing around the room.

But not in the direction of his jacket on the bar, which he may be interested to know has a bloody great big spider crawling out of one of the pockets.

kayip.livejournal.com

Behrooz is sitting at the piano.

At this moment, though, he's not playing, though. Just running his fingers over the keys.

He should either play something or leave the piano for someone else. He knows it.

Finally, after a few minutes. He runs through a simple scale. Then something else. It's distracting, but he doesn't really want to be distracted at the moment.

His eyes seem to stay on the keys, though they dart up occasionally. The music doesn't pause.

howling_laugh

Scrawny coyote curled up in an armchair close to the fire. Nights are still too cold in the desert. This is much nicer.

shufti

Shufti is sitting by the fire, rocking and singing to Jack as he whimpers and refuses to settle. It's not a loud cry, but maybe irritating to more sensitive ears.
She looks tired but a little less sore; the bruises from her latest trek home starting to heal. Even though they aren't visible through her long sleeves, it is clear by the way she is moving that they are not as uncomfortable as they have been the last few days.

----------------------------------------------------------

By the bar is a large pig, having a pint.
He's discovered how to use a straw. It seems to be working.
He's also on the lookout for the only other pig he's met here so far, but would appreciate company of the two-legged kind too.

mogget_cat

*It seems that Yrael felt like a little music, tonight. Half-sitting on a barstool, with his cup of tea on the bar behind him, he plays. The song is a tripping little dance, Yrael's deft fingers playing upon the strings of the violin as the bow flashes through the air. The tune carries a simple joy with it, happiness and contentment in the sunshine. Breathing free with the first hint of summer carried on the breeze.*

*It is a good song. Come listen and say hello.*

jack_f_twist

Yesterday's trip to Shadow left Jack with plenty to think about, and that hand still wrapped up (this time in a proper bandage, thanks to the insistence of Mrs. Sallie Reynolds) meant that he couldn't do much good in chores today, which is why Jack, sitting by the fire smoking, smells more like tack oil than hay tonight.

All in all, ain't been such a bad day, though. Maybe it's a good thing he doesn't know about the party upstairs.

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

Max is actually at the bar proper tonight, rather than in her usual booth, enjoying a lateish dinner and a cup of coffee. She seems, as has often been the case the past few weeks, rather lost in thought, though she isn't particularly melancholy.

Still, company wouldn't be unwelcome.

(OOC: The mun is definitely still open to tags, threads will just be millitimed to before this thread.

Warning for violence and some disturbing content in the 1st and 3rd threads.)

capt_angie

The door opens and a tired young woman walks into the bar, her shoulders slouched and head bowed. It's been a long two days for Angie, and it's starting to take it's toll on the usually cheerful witch. It's a relief to find herself back in the bar.

She heads to the bar and orders a drink. Firewhiskey. A plate piled high with fish, chips and peas appears as well. Whether Bar knows that Angie hasn't eaten since lunch is anyones guess. Maybe by now Bar just knows Angie well enough to guess that she wouldn't have eaten. But whatever the reason, Angie is greatful for the food and she starts eating.

mouse-shadow.livejournal.com

Feeling well but wary, Paul walks downstairs to the bar. Having unquestionably yet inexplicably recovered from the withdrawal sickness through deep meditation, he is ravenously hungry, so he gets a large breakfast reminiscent of Caladan without noticing that the spice-bought surplus on his tab has been cut by a large percentage. He takes the food to a shadowed booth where he hopes he will not be noticed. His hopes are rarely justified.

badinlatin

There is an RSC in the bar.

Really Shifty Captain, that is.

A quick word to the Bar, and Wash's name next to his bartab now reads Hoban "Old Man" Washburne.

There may also be ( a present left ).

Surprise is key to a good present. This is why Mal leaves the package with the bar, returning to the ship with a smile on his face.

not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com

Nynaeve is seated calmly enough at a table, back straight, braid hanging over her shoulder.

She appears engrossed in the few papers spread in front of her, but after a few minutes she glances up and around the room.

Then she takes a sip of tea and goes back to the papers. Occasionally she makes a note.

Someone has, or so it would seem, been spending a great deal of time in Moiraine's study.

un_fallen

Raguel's back for the second night in a row - he's been out for so long that he feels a little extra relaxation time is justified. And perhaps also because it's taking longer, lately, to weed out the thoughts in his head that aren't strictly his own. Better safe than sorry.

And so there's a semi-recumbent angel slouching in a chair by the fire, a half-forgotten cigarette hovering between fingers just next to his face as he stares at the flames. The nasty bruise on his shoulder is still half-visible next to his collar.

spark-girl.livejournal.com

Agatha has been working extensively on her plans as of late, and has started on some advance construction. After all, it's much easier to get started once you have clanks to assist with the construction.

And weapons, of course.

Perhaps someone should point out that it isn't always wise to tinker with extremely large weapons at a table in the middle of the bar.

vampire-brat.livejournal.com

There's a Lestat in the bar. Casual. Nonchalant. Trying to look as if he drinks here every night. Trying, when he picks up a leaflet concerning Lilly's launch-party, to look as if he's not surprised by the staff's new attitude to paid-for sex.

The bar itself seems rather empty, so he saunters over to Lilly's suite.