milliways_bar | Sep. 19th, 2007

Sep. 19th, 2007

mr-ryan-wolfe.livejournal.com

Ryan comes down stairs ready to get his dinner when he sees the door.

He grins to him self sitting at a table getting to ready to get a meal He was gonna get to go home finally.

But he was going to enjoy a meal before going in to the unknown that is his world back home.

wolflord_andain

[OOM: Somewhere way out of Milliways, Galadan and River pay a Senator a visit, and then pay a visit to the kitchens. Unfortunately no snacks are ingested.]

missginnytonic.livejournal.com

She comes in sitting at the bar trying to decide what to order. There are times making that choice seems like more then she can handle. Mostly because there are so many choices. Being unsure she asks for help

"Ello, Miss Bar could you please help me with picking a drink tonight?"

She blinks as a glass with Mountain Dew appears, She's suppose to drink that it looks like hippogriff piss.

[ooc: Ginny is Deathly Hallow's canon. Spoilers may happen]

pirate_jack

In the end, everything works out, more or less. He doesn't have his sanity, no, but a man can get by without that. What's important is that he's got his ship again-- and a beauty she is, all black with black sails that stand out boldly against the blue Caribbean sky.

(And if most men would be worried about the deal he'd made to get the Black Pearl back, well, he's not one of them. There's thirteen years yet before the bill he owes Davy Jones comes due, and Captain Jack Sparrow's certain he'll have figured something out by then.)

He's got a fine compass, bartered from the Lady herself, what he's certain will lead to all sorts of interesting places. He's got a crew, or most of one; he's even got a heading-- the mythical Isla de Muerta, where it's said that the treasure of Cortez himself lies hidden.

Now all he needs is rum. Jack weaves his way down the muddy Tortuga street, ducks through the door of the nearest tavern, and instantly brightens.

"Ah." A beat, and a fascinated look around the room. "Now that's more than a mite unusual. Don't believe I've been here before."

[OOC: Please see this back room post for details!]

[Also OOC: ~~And slowtime, please. The player is off to work, where there is no LJ access-- but will return afterwards and will pick up any and all threads, existing or new, at that point. Thanks!~~ And back!]

bugsandslime

[OOM: When it comes to proposing marriage there are apparently right ways and wrong ways. Hodgins's first attempt falls squarely into the latter category. But he's still not entirely unhopeful that he'll get a 'yes' out of Angela one day.]

turned_captain

The door opens, and beyond can be caught a glimpse of the rain drenched main deck of a tall merchant ship. Standing in the doorway is a boy of about ten or eleven; thin, wet and shivering.

He stares at the bar for a second, turns his head and looks over his shoulder, hesitant. Then, he steps forward into the warm and lets the door swing to behind him, staring around wide eyed.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: There are probably worse places for Harry Wells to be than a small village somewhere in ancient Greece, but he'll be buggered if he can think what they are.]

pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com

The door opens, and a man stumbles through. By the standards of later eras, he'd be declared legally drunk. By his own standards, he's teetering far too close to sober for this hour of the night. And there's always one more pub, tavern, watering hole or bar to visit before he finds his way to the whatever convenient lodgings are available.

This bar, however, is new to him. And well lit, and devoid of the usual smells and noise. Surely the wealthy planters of Port Royal haven't begun to invade his fair Tortuga, have they? No matter. A bar's a bar, and Joshamee Gibbs will take his rum where he can.

He heads to the bar, leaving in his wake a rather distinct aroma that stands out even in his own day.

[OOC: Please see this back room post for details! Also, must call slowtime i will tag as I can.]

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

OOM: War.

gone_byebye

[OOM: The Stone Angels struck when Ray slipped up during a lightsaber demonstration. Fortunately, Ray landed in a relatively congenial place. It’s even in a world he knows.

Too bad it’s two hundred years before his best friend in that world is due to be born.]

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Annie is unaware of International Talk Like A Pirate Day. If you asked her, she'd say she probably wouldn't make a very good pirate and politely decline to participate.

Bar didn't ask her. Bar knows that she could probably do with some cheering up. Bar also knows, as both Annie and Wells have said it where Bar could hear, that a few years ago the Wellses visited Hong Kong. And Bar knows that there is more than one kind of pirate.

Annie wasn't expecting costuming, much less the costume more normally associated with Cheng I Sao.

Oh well, there's worse fates than a new outfit and the sudden urge to order things in Cantonese, right?

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

"AVAST!" shouts Belar as he materializes in the Bar in a flash of blue light. "Prepare for boarding by the Cherek fleet's finest, Tolnedran dogs!"

.... what? He can get away with 'avast', right? He's Belar. When he says it, it sounds like it means something.

Oh, he's going to enjoy himself today. Belar likes pirates. His people invented piracy, back home. Today? Totally an excellent autumnal holiday, dude.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Hektor finds a door and then the hunter Kou'te-bpe steps back into a place he hasn't been in years. He has his weapons, his trophies, but nothing else. Everything that belongs to him that is not for war is Rhene's, now.

The smells are nearly overwhelming, and he stands still while he lets himself reacquaint with them. His skin is bronzed, where it is not scarred, and he is dressed in a way far more familiar to Hektor, son of Priam, than to Ace McShane.

try_corsets

She's meant to be watching over the boy, Will Turner. Her father had placed him in her charge, and she really did mean to do as he asked. After she'd seen the pirate ship (black ship, black sails) disappear into the mist, a sight she alone seemed to witness, Elizabeth had placed the medallion's chain around her neck and scurried below deck to learn what she could from the young pirate.

But he’s still asleep. All these terribly exciting things are happening without her -- the crew and Lieutenant Norrington are all too busy to answer her questions, and the person she really wishes to speak with is unconscious. She gives him a nudge, then another, but still nothing.

Surely he'll be asleep for a while. Surely it wouldn't hurt to give her legs a brief stretch, and if she happens to overhear something of interest, where's the harm? Decision made, Elizabeth nods and slips away, following the passageways with a familiarity born of many boring days at sea, and turns a corner...

Only this isn't the ship’s galley, one of her favorite -- and usually very reliable -- shortcuts.

Elizabeth steps away from the door, clad in a richly made blue dress, brown hair curled just so. There's a smattering of freckles across her nose, and her large brown eyes widen in surprise.

She's not sure what this place is, or how it fits in a ship, but she's certain she should have found it before.

[OOC: Please see this backroom post for details! :) ]

gorgonfondness

There's a physically and emotionally exhausted Guildmaster making her way down the stairs. She needs something, but she's not exactly sure what.

Except maybe her boyfriend back with a little less competition. But that's not happening, not until the war is over, and who knows how long it's going to be before she's on speaking terms with her own Premier again.

And now she looks like she just came off a ship in Meribia.

Only without the dragon and the smile.

But right now, she's too worn and bothered to care.

Watch out, as she's prone to flop at any moment.

[Special OOC note to say thank you for the sketch, Ven! =D]

clumsy_auror

Tonks is tired. She's tired and in need of a drink, and most of all she needs to reassure herself that last night wasn't a dream. She doesn't think it was a dream, though, and that's the reason for the persistent smile on her face.

Tripping over a chair and two waitrats, the Auror makes her way to the Bar, shedding her scarf and robes as she goes. She settles herself on a barstool and prepares to order as usual.

"Ba-aaaaaaargh!"

Tonks blinks, and clears her throat. "Frog in my throat," she mutters, and tries again. "Bar, c'n I get a Strongbow, please?"

A roughly-hewn jug appears, in lieu of her cider. Frowning, she takes a careful sip.

"Um. Rum?"

[ooc: Due to extenuating current in-bar circumstances, we're doing the Time Warp differently in this instance; Tonks is coming in the day after this. Also, please only tags from characters 'Dora knows well (from any point, not just from where she's coming in now) so as to gain maximum brain implosion. :D!)

explorertruman.livejournal.com

Truman was in a jovial mood. He liked the pirate theme, and anything relating to the sea. So Bar gave him a pirate hat, and a bottle of rum.

He was sitting by the Bar, whistling an old Irish sea chantey.

cant_kim

Sometimes, jobs don't go like you hope they will.

And sometimes, the only way out of them is to run like bloody hell, and duck into the first hiding place you come to.

And so: the door to the bar is flung open by a small, skinny shape, and slammed shut.

The child -- a boy, judging by the dress, and about thirteen -- stops dead as the sound of the slam fades, and stares, eyes big in a sharp face. This is a posh place, not the disreputable boarding house expected. And the nabbing culls are outside, probably, and--

If she wasn't in trouble before, Kim thinks to herself, she is now.

[ooc: A few salient details.

ETA: So much with the bedtime, unfortunately. I love you ALL.]

hectorxdelgado.livejournal.com

Is that... Shipwreck? In the bar? REALLY?

It can! It is!

He's been gone for two freakin' years, and here he comes through the door like nothing doing. He's got a pretty well-stuffed rucksack with him, too.

"Avast, landlubbers!"

ana-pascal.livejournal.com

To the whirring of an electric kitchen mixer in the background, the door opens.

As she blinks into the opened doorway, Ana is giddy. "Fabulous timing!" It doesn't last nearly as long as the first time this happened to her. Only this time it was the Big Chill (the 1956 restored vintage ColdSpot that was in the bakery) that lead the way here. She uses the bottle of milk in her hands to keep the door open when she goes back for a couple of things.

She steps back inside, balancing the bottle with two white cartons that she leaves at the bar. The minute she sets the bottle on the bar--it vanishes--to be replaced with a pewter tankard filled with, "Grog? Is this grog?"

No, she hasn't noticed her costume change yet.

[ooc: Slowtime, please? Thank you. Will pick up threads tomorrow. :) ]

Current Music: Afrika Bambaataa and the Soulsonic Force: "Renegades of Funk"

dr_temperance

Dr. Temperance Brennan is having a staring contest with a pair of dolphins.

She’s bound to lose, given that they’re inanimate dolphins; one made of silver and roughly the size of her thumbnail, the other as long as her hand and made of clear glass. But she’s giving it her best effort anyway.

They are set out with careful precision, along with a sheet of lined yellow paper, on top of a thick case file. A part of Brennan feels that if she stares at them long enough they will provide answers to certain puzzles, both past and present.

Someone save her from the irrationality.

byhisbootstraps

[Out of Milliways: In Tortuga, a young Bootstrap Bill Turner runs into an old friend.]

This calls for a celebratory bottle of rum, they've agreed; so it's down the ladder to the cargo hold, Bootstrap in the lead.

Except he's quite sure the cargo hold was never this big. Or this crowded. Or ...

He takes an involuntary step back, eyes widening, and bumps into Jack (who's only a few inches behind him).

Welcome to Milliways, Bill Turner.

badinlatin

Things are finally lookin' up. After scrounging and jobs and scrounging and stealing -- er, more jobs -- Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds, 57th Overlanders, is now a Captain.

With a crew. A pilot -- Wash, Mal remembers, Gotta make sure I don't laugh at his moustache -- and a mechanic Bester, gotta make sure I remind him to keep his ruttin' shirt on -- and of course, his first mate Zoe. Like I'd be able to get rid of her even if I wanted to.

"Hey, uh...Zo'?" Mal calls behind him without really turning around to see the door having closed.

"When did the cargo bay turn into a bar?"

[OOC: This is the POTCplot version of Talk Like A Pirate Day; therefore? Pre-tv canon. You are advised.]

scourgeofpiracy.livejournal.com

The door opens and a small boy - well, okay, not that small, he'd insist on pointing out. He's twelve, after all. A boy in naval uniform slips through, intent on whatever his goal is.

It takes him a moment, but then he stops and gapes.

This isn't the hold.

smart-house.livejournal.com

SARAH's heavy steel door cracks open slightly. Same dingy cement staircase, same blue light beyond the door at the bottom of that staircase, same sign by Dr. Stantz declaring SARAH safe for visiting.

"Arrgh," a mechanical woman's voice offers to the bar. "I be here. Mateys."

Maybe not all that safe -- It's Talk Like A Pirate Day in Eureka too.

an_evening_star

[OOM: After the happy endings - rather immediately after the happy endings - there are obligations, in-laws, and unexpected career opportunities.]

snapcrackleburn.livejournal.com

There is an Amestrian in the bar this evening, sprawled in a chair by the fireplace. He's being kept company by a glass of brandy and what looks like a thick, and deadly dull, governmental report that he's reading through at a remarkably steady clip. He pauses occasionally to scribble a note in one of the margins with a pencil.

His Excellency Roy Mustang has little time to relax these days, truth be told. Even most of his downtime is spent attending to the affairs of State. Not that he would be adverse to conversation, of course. He's matured over the past three years, but Roy still has the natural and impressive ability to procrastinate like no other.

[OOC: Mun is headed to bed around 10:30-11:00 MST, on account of class waaaay too early in the morning. Tags after that point are still welcomed, but will be replied to around midday tomorrow.]

song_tra_bong

When Mary Anne hits the bottom of the stairs, her jeans and t-shirt are quickly replaced with a flowing skirt and full pirate regalia. Said regalia does not include the smart feathered hat from last year. Woe.

She takes the outfit in stride (it beats April Fool's Day) and heads to Bar for a drink. The tequila she orders comes up distinctly rum-tasting. Woe and alas.

Still, it's a shame to waste good booze.

notboundnow.livejournal.com

Notice: No tofu was harmed in the making of tonight's entry post.

A man steps through the door. He's almost recognizable -- you'll probably have to look twice, if you think you know him. He's wearing a suit Calvin Klein would kill to have designed, and that normally unruly hair isn't just combed, it's sheeny.

It's... rather clean for Prometheus, wouldn't you say?

Is it a trick? Is there foul play? Is it a disguise? Or is he just feeling fancy? And where did those rags come from, anyway?

He's at the bar nursing a martini. Is he looking for someone? It might be you.

This has absolutely no bearing upon a recent revelation, or a threat to enact yuppiedom upon unassuming pups.

guppy_sandhu

The chairs are laid out. There are small cakes and biscuits, and healthy snacks on the table.

And tea. Can't forget the tea.

Or coffee.

LIFE SUPPORT
Open to all

[ooc: Miniver's mun isn't here yet, Guppy's mun is but is going at midnight GMT because she has to go to work early tomorrow. Slowtime, as always, will be love.

ETA: Guppy's mun has to go to bed now, Miniver's mun is on a different time zone and may be around later. Post is still open to new tags until the end of Thursday, all new threads will be tagged and seen through.]

hopeitsworthit

Sam is a pissy little bitch when he can't find answers, and Dean's a pissy little bitch when people he likes get fucked up by bastards.

And since punching the wall only netted him bloody knuckles, and Dean doesn't really wanna smother Sammy with a pillow, he's decided it's time for a drink.

Or maybe two.

Which is why he's ensconced in a booth, a half-empty beer sitting in front of him, with two more just ready to be opened.

It's gonna be one of those nights.

no-sin-but.livejournal.com

No one has told Marlowe about International (or should that be Interuniversal?) Talk Like a Pirate Day, and so when the eyepatched former poet comes down the stairs, the scene that greets him is, well.

Exceedingly strange.

Give him a moment, and he might even move out of the way.

Might.

He's rather busy staring.

[ooc: even though technically a lot of posts haven't been made with people in costume, this is millitimed to when there will be. I'm here for about two hours so, and will pick up any and all slowtimes tomorrow, I just couldn't resist!]

gonna_live

[OOM: The ashtray says you were up all night.]

[Warnings for portrayal of grief. And momentary, non-graphic nudity.]

seeks-sixfinger.livejournal.com

Inigo knows nothing of this 'Talk Like a Pirate Day'.

This is, in fact, what he wears to work every day (unless, of course, he's on some sort of mission requiring Stealth).

It's good to be the Dread Pirate Roberts.

[OOC: Mun is distractible and may be slow, but had to mark the occasion.]

cat_wth_panache

Pray for mercy Milliways, and prepare to die! It is Puss! In Boots! And piratey attire!

Walking in the front door he's a little surprised by the eye patch and new goatee that suddenly appear on his face but seeing the rest of the crowd he quickly recovers and beams.

"I really like this place." He purrs as he heads towards the bar, putting his eyepatch back in place and giving an added swashbuckling swagger to his walk and the sway of his tail.

will_scarlett

Will is quite glad he has a bottle of rum and a large plate of chips since today has been very odd to put it mildly.

He's still watching people, wondering who else is going to come through the Door for the first but not truly the first time, at least there's rum.