milliways_bar | Dec. 18th, 2007

Dec. 18th, 2007

dats-dildoes.livejournal.com

OOM Week Two of Yule. Gifts all over.

Warnings for tattoos, dragons, more dragons, paper cup abuse and guitarists being cute.

binaried.livejournal.com

After laying the foundations for his biggest project to date, Merlin returned to Milliways very late the previous evening, retreating to his room without talking to anyone.

But a healthy dose of sleep has set his mood to rights. He's seated at a table near the Bar, armed with paints and brush, currently working on a card that looks remarkably similar to Tarot.

Botherable.

[ooc: ~~claiming slowtime for errand running~~ Back!]

prob-japanese.livejournal.com

There's been a lot going on around the base lately, and a good deal of it seems to have to do with things going on off base. Specifically, in Milliways, a place Bumblebee's only been once so far. It really hasn't been high on his list of priorities to date, for several reasons; one is that he's got duties on Earth, another is that Sam doesn't seem to be able to go, and the last (which is not getting admitted to ANYONE) is that it was embarrassing to get hit by the subspace compression field that seems to apply there. It's one thing to be the smallest Autobot at home, but to be shorter than the humans? So very, very not cool.

But sooner or later the urge to find out more about what's going on can overcome even that profound level of not-coolness, which is why when no one's looking and Sam is busy, Bumblebee silently slips through the door marked Milliways. Hey, he's got to see if it's the way he-

Shwormf.

-remembers it.

"Aw, slag..."

[OOC: Bumblebee is under new mun-agement. If you have an interest in adopting him and can play him regularly, please, by all means contact me about it! We should talk! Or use the radio, that's good too!]

dean-o-dell.livejournal.com

Cyrus sits at the bar, reading. The gift from Madolyn is not something he'd have bought himself, but three chapters in, he's liking it so far. He's also trying to decide what book to get her in return, and also how much he should spend from his non-existent funds, and what he might want to get some other friends. Thus far today, his mood is better than it was two days ago, and he would gladly welcome company.

notanarc.livejournal.com

Since his mun is in a celebratory, just-finished-the semester mood, Byers is in the bar with a book. (Mention her billion slowtimes and you'll get fwapped!)

He's seated near the fire, sans tie, reading.

Just reading. There's no laptop involved, no note-taking...

Bother?

feminine-menace.livejournal.com

Max was right about the effects of his healing trick. YT slept like a rock for twelve-plus hours and now she feels like she could eat a whole cow.

Fortunately for the sensibilities of other Milliways patrons, she is not eating half a cow. Lots of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and fruit do, however, factor into the breakfast she's eating.

It'll be a while before Max gets back, and probably longer before he helps her avoid death in a hail of bullets back home. In the meantime, she's fine waiting here.

Botherable.

~*~*~*~

Abe no Seimei is sitting by the fireplace strumming a biwa. He's just improvising simple tunes, providing an almost subliminal thread of music to the background noise of the bar.

~*~*~*~

Zhaan has been around. Really. Right now she's sitting outside the infirmary reading Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol in an attempt to understand more about what seems to be a very significant religious festival for many humans. Judging by her puzzled expression, the book isn't helping all that much.

narrated-life.livejournal.com

Harold's goings do not really need mentioning simply because they are boring. It is his comings that tend to be unusual.

They aren't being narrated, which gives Harold a little more time before dying. He has just left from here.

He grins slightly, carrying the case of the fender Stratocaster in his left hand, before going to the bar.

" Could I get a soda and a beginning guitar book?"

When the requested items appear, Harold settles in on a couch near the fireplace with the chord book open and propped up on the coffee table in front of him.

There are many hesitant strokes and fumbling chords which doesn't make for pretty music just yet.

basic_powers

After spending the morning studying catalogues and various non-nagical occult texts in his room upstairs, Tyler's back down for some well deserved recess and christmas shopping. But before that he heads towards his door to get something done, carrying a few of the comic he doesn't mind trading away from his collection. It's a good few minutes before he comes back with a shopping bag half his size and hops up to the counter.

"Bar? Can I have some wrapping paper and a cinnamon red hot cocoa?" Tyler says. "Oh! and some white copy paper and scissors?" A tray appears with his order, along with a batch of peppermintstick cookies. "Thank you!"

Having gotten his supplies, and singing Jingle Bells under his breath all the way to his table, Tyler gets to work wrapping up gifts for his friends here.

Who cares if it's still Halloween where he lives? It's christmas here, and his friends here deserve some gifts.

seeswithherfeet.livejournal.com

[OOM: Toph is annoyed with everyone. (Spoilers for The Western Air Temple.)]

The door to Milliways flies open and Toph comes sailing through, landing on her face in the middle of the floor. She pushes herself up with her arms, grumbling things that would make a sailor blush. She scurries across the floor on her hands and knees until she reaches a table. Letting out a groan, she pulls herself into a chair, careful not to touch the pink and tender soles of her feet against the floor.

It's been a while since she's been in the bar, so she keeps an ear out for familiar voices. She plays with a fork that she grabbed from the table as she listens, molding it absentmindedly into various strange shapes.

uquars_gadget

A twelve year old girl dressed all in black is sitting in a booth, reading a book and taking notes in a note pad by her.

The book appears to be about world-bubbles, though it is in the same swirling script as her notes, and someone particularly observant might be able to tell that she's occasionally transcribing sections and pages whole.

Helen is not rude enough to take the book with her, but there are many things she wants to search for clarification on in the libraries of the House of Uquar. This is far beyond her knowledge of the worlds.

(I'll be here for quite a few hours, and if I'm not feel free to tag for slowtime. I really want to get Helen threading with people, but until she's more used to Milliways she will be really bad at tagging out, sadly. Thanks guys.)

trustydriver.livejournal.com

It's been a full twenty-four hours since the Flying Squirrel tumbled into Milliways and found herself unable to leave. Stuck in some kind of dimensional warp full of people from different time periods, in a bar of all places, while who-knows-what is happening to the Red Panda back home... that's the sort of thing that can make a superhero sidekick really, really cranky.

The fact that she has to stay in costume isn't helping much, either. Wearing the same catsuit two days in a row is not enjoyable.

One grumpy Flying Squirrel in a corner booth, nursing a cup of black coffee. Do you dare approach her?

will_scarlett

Christmas seems to have many new traditions in this modern world and as Will watches them and hears of family, his mind goes back to the graves of his siblings.

The morning and afternoon have been spent at practice and now he sits by the fire nursing a mulled wine and thinking of how things might have changed if they had lived.

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

Lissar is back in her tunic because the other clothing needed to be dried more firmly than possible while being worn. She's finished sneezing, although her nose is still a hint on the red side, and she's settled near the fire with dogs curled up around her.

wheneveriwant.livejournal.com

Harry dusts off his knees after an uncomfortable nap under the table near the piano. Not his intention considering he has a nice little room, but the bar is warm and the bourbon did its job. Looking himself over Harry's expensive white suit is not looking too expensive or white these days. He'll get that cleaned when he heads back up to his room later.

He pulls out his last slightly crumpled smoke and pads his pockets for a light. Taking inventory he empties everything out on the table. In his inner coat pocket has only a nostalgic picture of him and Brandon against the wall, a singed and bloodied handkerchief Sherry embroidered 'HMD' on, and a silver and gold chased stainless steel business card holder Bob got him for his birthday. He laughs at himself a bit slugging the last bit of remaining bourbon at the bottom of the bottle. The idea of putting everything out for everyone to see amuses him a bit. Surrounded by strangers facing their own problems he figures it is pretty damned safe to assume nobody is connected to him back home. Like a squirrel doing Spring cleaning he continues pulling things out remembering the whens hows and whys. His Right pants pocket a money clip with about 50000 Ryo still in it and an empty box of matches. Left pants pocket holds a cork from the bottle of brandy he and Brandon shared, and a little pen-knife replica of John Rambo's survival knife. His back pants pockets are empty and his lighter is MIA.

"I know I had it when I..." fell down drunk at the piano.

Ah well. A broad smile crosses his face looking at the motley assortment before him. Since coming here he feels restless. He doesn't want to do the things that kept him going. Given the opportunity to wallow in self pity he has taken it. No networking, no duties to fulfill, no enemies to kill, no friends to protect, no plots to discover and eliminate. He can hear Bob chewing in the background of his mind. Harry opens his eyes to see another patron idly munching on what looks like fried chicken.

Alone. Just me, just alone, just a wad of cash, an order for another bottle of bourbon, and a need for a light.

His smile fades to the deep lined frown he wears when the corners of his mouth quit being strong for the day. His eyes darken a bit and he idly stabs the cork with the little pen-knife.

There is something cold and comforting about the oblivion of this place. He can disintegrate if he wants, cry if he wants, mouth off and get his comeuppance if he wants. In its own way this place has fulfilled Harry's every dream, and in many many others it has allowed him to steep in the juices of his own ambition. The way out is lost to him, the way up seems like a fading dream, he searches now for a way in.

"Anybody got a light?" Cosmic or mundane, a spark to ignite an answer or question, a song or a tirade. Just a light.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Honestly, TARDISes are so much work. If they aren't breaking down inside, the snow piles up on the outside, creating impossible drifts. Ace is outside her TARDIS, digging a clean path to the TARDIS, and muttering curses on the bloke who decided that it should be Scotland around here.

oh-wowee.livejournal.com

[OOM: Toki and Skwisgaar celebrate Christmas. Toki, for one, approves of dragon training. Millitimed to Christmas, Warning for bandcest. ]

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

The Rivan King is leaning against the bar, looking around for a certain group of people. That said, he's not opposed to anyone else wandering over. He's just looking for a certain Aleran and a couple of Alorns (especially Belar, as he hasn't seen him for a while and he'd like to talk) in particular today.

formalde-hyde.livejournal.com

Having settled in reasonably well, Doctor Jekyll is currently down in the bar area.

He's taken one of the booths, jacket forgotten, sleeves rolled up. The table has been covered with several layers of paper, and there are several burnt patches on the surface. A wooden box has been set off to the side, and, as the lid is open, one can see that the inside contains rows of vials.

He's got one in his hands, contemplating it with a rather sad expression. The clear liquid inside is relatively still.

There are pouches and vials of powder scattered on the table, but he hasn't yet set up a burner.

roger-ratcliff.livejournal.com

Roger's at the piano, yet again, Pongo lying by the back of the bench.

He's working on preparing Rhapsody in Blue for the recital, and this is evident, as he's stopping every now and then to scribble something in the score before resuming playing, as well as occasionally backtracking.

Quite botherable.

[ ooc; Annnnd I'm off. Thank you for tagging - slowtimes please. ]

gorgonfondness

[OOM: Christmas isn't about what you buy but what you give, much to Ramus's disappointment.]

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Make up]

Guppy looks... content.

He's sitting near the infirmary, with an ultrasound picture and a ruler. And a mildly puzzled expression, despite the contentedness.

The doctor is in

killitwithfire

Axel's fingers tap absently on the observation window, as he looks out. His proximity is fogging the window up around him, but he doesn't mind.

He wonders what it'll look like to him when he has a heart.

ostro_goth

Today, Teja is wearing his black armour and royal purple cloak again. On the long run, those clothes from the future are not for him.

And at the moment, his cloak and hair are swirling around him, and his breath is steaming in the cold snowy air by the lake shore as Teja practices with his battle axe - step, turn, hit, whirl, swing it over-arm, turn again, swirl, and hit.

Eventually, it would be good to fight again, in some other world.-

necessary_child

The small, barefooted boy who trots in today is solemn-faced for once; he might even pass for a respectable, serious child if not for the bright, laughing look in his eyes that not even meeting a Prince of Heaven himself can quite get rid of.

When he sees where he is, the solemn face vanishes in an instant as he laughs, showing small, neat white teeth, and starts looking about for people he knows.

"Milliways!"

It's been a while.

[OOC: Mun doesn't have AIM; comment here if you want me!]

first-sixth.livejournal.com

There's a Ranger in the bar, and if he looks a little haggard, that's because he is. He's also feeling terribly apologetic to every teacher and professor that he's ever had from high school onward, because he's just discovered that as bad as taking final exams can be, dealing with them from a teacher's standpoint is one hundred times worse. He's just glad that as allergic as he is to eggplant, the beta/eggplant/saxophone monster that Mesogog cooked up just in time for the both the holidays and the usual end-of-semester flood of students into the downtown area didn't make him break out in hives -- icing on the cake of the day is not, after all, always necessary or desired.

Right now, relaxation seems to be the best medicine, and Tommy's taking full advantage of being in one of the best places to fill that prescription. He's got his booted feet propped on the arm of his sofa, a pamango energy shake in one hand, and his well-marked copy of The Demon Within: Studies In The Effects of Possession, Symbiosis and Baseline+ Abilities In Metahumans in the other.

Go figure that he'd finish dealing with his kids' schoolwork only to go and bury his nose in a book.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm is at the bar, paging idly through a book from 1999 about antique furniture. Because the holidays are coming.

The bar really does feel like home now, but it's taken him over two years to feel that way, and he can't help thinking just a little about Anna. She had this very book in her antique shop. It's the one he used to look at when he was waiting for her to finish with a customer. Before he would help her close the place up, and they would head home for the night.

Because the holidays are a time for happy memories too.