milliways_bar | Jan. 19th, 2008

Jan. 19th, 2008

The door swings open and a gaggle of young women clad in corsets, lacy bras, frilly panties, garters and torn fishnet stockings run past. Thick smoke, rollicking jazz music, drunken chatter and laughter follow them. And through the nightclub din, a slender figure made of shadow and light steps over the threshold.

He wears a short leather coat, rife with cracking creases. He's shirtless beneath it, his ghostly pale skin a startling contrast to the black leather, a latticework of suspender straps meeting in the middle of his chest with a frayed bowtie. His thin trousers are cut off at the knees, exposing a pair of worn workboots and sock-garters strapped to his calves.

Lifting a hand to his red lips, he takes a deep drag off an unfiltered cigarette. Kohl-stained eyelids flicker as he glances this way and that. His expression betrays no confusion, no distress, no shock.

If he had known that his dressing room was going to be replaced with a bar, of all things, he would rather have made a grand entrance. After all, he is the Master of Ceremonies.

tiny tags: Emcee, Villiers, Hedwig

organicmeatbag.livejournal.com

Life without Kira and the girls has been...dreary. Granted, Revan has managed to finish compiling all his notes on the True Sith, and has managed to catch up on all those articles and feeds that he's been meaning to read, and also took the chance to talk to his father, it was nothing that he couldn't have done from home.

And home, being with his family wherever that may be, is all that has been on his mind for most of the week since leaving. So he figures Kira should be able to forgive him if he called a day ahead of schedule. He's even prepared to apologize profusely and beg to be allowed home.

Only the door to communications on the Hawk leads to Milliways instead.

"...kriff."

jedi-exile.livejournal.com

[OOM: About a week ago, there was a talk and some tears and Revan packed his bags. Rated A for Angst and W for Woe.

Also ICB for Intense Character Bleed]

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive had heard the music and hadn't thought much of it, that was just Milliways, always something going on.

It wasn't until now, two days later, that that bone-deep itch had finally gotten the best of him. Clive wasn't a singer by any means, that was Gypsy's gig, he was the cameraman and now costume designer.

But that wasn't going to stop him from dancing.

So there you have it, gothboy in a featherboa and a top hat, dancing like a madman, clearly Doing the Unstuck Well, clearly, that is, if anyone were close enough to hear the music piping from his headphones, other than that it probably just looks like a lot of flailing.

(tinytag: Broadway Goes Brutal plot)

didntseeit.livejournal.com

It has been several years for the woman who walks through the door. Smart business suit, low heels, glasses, and her wealth of glossy brown hair has been tamed in a respectable bun.

The woman who normally went by Ajedrez in this Bar is also speaking into a mobile.

Mostly along the lines of "Hello, hello, can you hear-"

She looks up, and her eyes widen

[ooc: yes, her OOMs aren't all posted yet. But the mun couldn't resist. Also, this EP is open all weekend - tag whenever, and I shall tag back when I can!]

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

It really ought to come as no surprise to see Sarah Jane by the fireplace. The couches there do tend to be her favorite place to relax. It also ought to come as no surprise to see a baby carrier on a coffee table. As it is now Monday again, James is once again at work, leaving Sarah at home with the baby.

Not that she minds too much, today. James got Valerie all to himself yesterday, what with their outing to the London Zoo. It's a result of that outing that Valerie is wearing paw print booties and is currently transfixed by a plush penguin rattle. Teddy lies in the carrier next to Valerie, but all the baby can do is stare up at her mother and rattle. Sarah, meanwhile, giggles whenever Valerie flails about or makes little gurgling noises.

It is a very fun game the two have going.

gorgonfondness

There are two witches sitting in a booth who seem to be giggling about something.

No pointed hats or bubbling cauldrons are in sight, so it's probably safe to assume that their fun is harmless.

What is in sight is the remains of the menagerie of snack foods that they've finished off: the dregs of some bags of chips, about half a pizza, and some chocolates left.

The remains of the culprit behind this state are also in sight: a couple of plates which appear to have brownie crumbs.

Ever seen a witch stoned before?

[Two muns, two pups, and a pan of brownies. You do the math.]

[Tiny Tags: Broadway Goes Brutal]

prob-japanese.livejournal.com

There's a small (five foot zero) yellow 'bot in the Bar today, in an extremely good mood. Prime's news from the other day isn't the kind of thing that fades away quickly, even when you still have to clean up the garage. Bumblebee's taking a break from that at the moment while he ponders how best to deal with the really wrecked stuff.

He could totally be bothered, though. He's good that way.

[Tinytag: Cheetor]

lovesoldthings.livejournal.com

Crisp, winter air, Sally was once told as a child, is perfect for clearing your head and sorting through stress. She's taken that advice and wandered outside into the snow, camera secure inside her coat. Snow crunches quietly underneath her boots, and it's rather cheering to make her own trail down towards the lake.

Even if she isn't the first person to walk across the white powder, it's nice to pretend sometimes. Sally picks her way down the slope, as she'd really prefer not to fall and injure herself -- that would be embarassing to try and explain to a client -- and finally picks a spot near a small outcropping of rock.

This wouldn't be a bad place to take Elizabeth's photos, especially after taking Doc's advice and asking Bar for a laptop and printer. Her tab is much larger now, but she's got a chance to make a living.

oneman_onevote

From a plain, dim corridor lit with flickering candles, the light and noise of Milliways is startling, to say the least. A tall, thin man dressed all in faded black glances around quickly and warily, before tilting his head with a small, inscrutable smile. Well, well.

He makes his way in, upright, but supporting himself on a thin cane, and sits in an out-of-the-way booth, to look around with an air of mild interest. A rat scurries up to provide him with coffee. (Black.)

And there he sits, soaking up the familiar, half-forgotten atmosphere.

Do come and exchange pleasantries.

[OOC: Going out for a few hours in just a minute, but I'll pick up all slowtimes as soon as I'm back.

Back!

And gone again, for sleeps. Slowtimes, yes? :D]

dats-dildoes.livejournal.com

Skwisgaar was back again, mostly because he'd gotten bored at home and things were far more interesting in the bar right now.

Why no, he had no idea that he was a part of the cause, furthermore, if he had known he probably wouldn't have cared, this was actually pretty cool.

Just at that moment he was sprawled across a chair near the fire, as he so often was, picking away at what may or may not have been his portion of the previous jam session. In any case, it was hardly enough to do any sort of damage, it was just catchy.

cheevy.livejournal.com

Miniver is in the bar today, taking a break from packing back home. His puppy is with him, flopped over his lap.

Last chance for the Miniver of this time for a little while! Come say hi.

[ooc: advance warning that mun has to disappear for a few hours... in a few hours.]

paragonsoldier.livejournal.com

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn."

There's a woman in a black-and-cobalt military uniform banging on the Front Door, or the wall from which it is conspicuously absent, depending on your perspective. Her ineffective blows punctuate each repetition of damn.

She stops, fist against the wall, eyes on the floor, taking deep breaths.

[Tinytag: Commander Shepard]

eirenikos

Singing is one of the things furthest from Eirene's mind when she steps through the front door today, clad in the white peplos used when visibly walking amongst mortals. And yet, halfway across the room, an ~~invisible~~ orchestra starts up, prompting a rendition of this:

( I'll be there to hold you )

When the song is concluded, Eirene blinks, absently wondering which of the Muses has been drinking ambrosia.

[tiny tag: Broadway Goes Brutal]
[ooc: Vocals here.]

lostworldhunter.livejournal.com

[OOM: Once Roxton wakes up, he makes himself at home, at least until he's joined by the others.]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace is in need of distraction.

Luckily, she hsan't decided to focus that need into the creation of a small army of paper airplanes, or discovering some new and creative way to nearly crash the TARDIS (if only because the TARDIS is a bit too much of a temptation right now).

No, she's outside.

In the mountains.

On the side of one, really. The very straight side of one, way up above the infamous 'coffin zone', her feet jammed into a narrow crack as she eyes the rock above her.

She is kinda wishing she'd picked a slightly warmer coat, and that her gloves had fingertips on them, but that just means she needs to keep moving, right? But first she needs to decide where to sink the next anchor for her line. It'd be really embarrassing, never mind painful, to fall off the bloody mountain.

A few hours later, Ace is sprawled on the couch, freshly showered idly considering what to do about dinner. She hasn't totally decided the answer isn't 'nap'.

(OOC: Tag inside or outside, whatever you like.)

thechaosbringer

[OOM: The latest edition in Unicron's recruitment drive.]

Current Mood: accomplished

singintheoven.livejournal.com

Talking to those nice boys in the band had cheered Hedwig up considerably, and a room to herself and good food and drinks (some even of the nonalcoholic variety) and plenty of sleep have taken care of most of the rest. She has adapted to far stranger things; it just took a little time. Either way, she is in a very good mood as she comes down the stairs into the bar this evening.

When you've got rock in your soul, now and then it just has to come out, there's no stopping it. She doesn't think anything strange about it at all--when your life is a glam cabaret, impromptu musical numbers are pretty normal. And she's dressed the part today, in hot pants so low they seem to be held up by sheer force of will, thoroughly impractical disco heels, her favorite Farrah hair, and a metallic-patterned halter that goes well with the fact that she's got enough glitter to outfit a Mardi Gras parade.

She lingers a moment longer than necessary on the bottom step, glancing around the room,

( but once she steps off, the singing starts. )

She finds it very funny, as she sings, that she can sell that song with far more conviction and credibility than Tommy could ever have done.

And anybody who gets close will be danced with or against, depending on their willingness. After all, what's an audience for if not the amusement of the entertainer?

[tiny tags: Broadway Goes Brutal, Hedwig]

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

OOM: On the question of pets, and if Lissar is one, the verdict is in.

politestpirate.livejournal.com

The last time Wellard set about trying to learn about meteorology, the subject was way over his head.
Ba dum bum ching!
Now...

Wellard is still eyeing the thick, heavy book bar just provided for him upon his request. Oh well- once more into the breach and so on- he certainly won't learn it just by staring at the cover.

(Though, attempting to learn this subject for the second time definitely calls for a cup of tea.)

uquars_gadget

Helen sits down at a table with a good view of the bar as a whole, with all the dignified posture of—well, of a stubborn twelve year old girl quite convinced of her own dignity.

She has a book in front of her, which she hasn’t opened yet when a rat scurries up to her and squeaks. Her whole expression brightens, and she leans down to order something quietly.

She’s sitting there, now, with her meal and reading from a book in a language most bar patrons wouldn’t recognize. Even exceptionally dignified twelve year olds have schoolwork. But this one, at least, wouldn't mind a distraction. Some schoolwork is far less interesting than others.

landlesslord

Guy is not nervous.

Not at all.

There is no trace of anxiety in this bridegroom. None.

Well. Maybe a little. A tiny tiny tiny worm of worry may have burrowed it's way into his heart.

And who can blame him? He has been dreaming about the rapidly approaching ceremony for weeks, maybe even months. Small dreams that had latched on to his thoughts not long before he had faced the prospect of losing Marian to a convent. Dreams that had taken hold and grown when the Abbess had turned out to be an imposter, inadvertently providing a measure of hope to fuel his dreams.

However, he finds himself once more in Milliways, having finalised preparations for tomorrow's wedding and Bar has kindly provided him with some reading material to go with his ale.

The knight can be found sitting by the window, deeply engrossed in his book. It's not every day you get to read about someone you have met, however briefly. Sadly, unless you understand Norman French, you probably won't enjoy it.

calledironeyes.livejournal.com

Six days is not long enough to grieve for the condemnation and eventual death of a brother and a sister-in-law. It is, however, all the time which Marsh will allow himself. One more glass of clean, clear water and then he will return to his shop, his life, and the ash.

Excuse him while he watches the water.

ostro_goth

This morning, Teja woke and found he could speak normally again. No more alliterations forcing his speech into strange constructs, or uneasy silence! The curse, apparently, has lifted.

Now, Teja is standing by the observation window, sipping from a mug of tea prosaically obtained from the waitrats, and (looking at the end of the world) planning his day.

Talking to the people that he spoke with while under the influence comes high on that list, as does finding some of his dearer friends to take pictures of, with that gadget Toki gave him last night; and lastly, finishing the knife that had been ordered from him, and maybe start on the dog collar.

Indeed, he thinks, why not take pictures of all commissions he finishes before handing them over, so people that would order something from him could look at the work he has already done?

dr-de-silva.livejournal.com

[oom: Canon update.]

Being stood up would bother some people; all dressed up and nowhere to go. But since all dressed up just means out of work clothes, it's not like Toby went to too much effort.

He gets a lemonade from the bar, then sits there with a newspaper, doodling dragonflies on it as he attempts to do the puzzles.

call-me-kick.livejournal.com

There's music coming from downstairs -- lots of it -- and Kick has managed to convince her uncle to stop sulking and get out of bed to see what's going on.

When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Kick immediately starts clapping. "Oh, look! Everyone's singing and dancing!"

Nick just grunts. He doesn't see what they're so happy about.

"You're impossible," she sighs, and then

( begins to sing. )

[Tinytag: Broadway Goes Brutal plot]

shufti

It isn't the first time today Shufti has come over a bit dizzy. She's been trying to ignore it, taking it a little easy but still getting on with things.

This time it comes on more suddenly, just after she stood up, and she falls before she can sit down again.

The next thing she knows, her little blonde toddler is poking her. Blinking, she sits up, still looking a bit dazed. Jack looks at her seriously.

"Mummy? Not sleepy time." He tries to tug her up.

shewasright.livejournal.com

Building computers was one thing.

Building complete AI bodies from scratch was another.

Finally exiting the garage the former Umbrella officer wiped his grease covered hands off on a mechanic's towel, trying his best to get the grease out from under his nails but failing at it. Kap even had smudges about his face not to mention his clothing.

Coming up infront of bar he blinked as a stack full of papers and research documents appeared infront of him along with a bottle of beer. He had a feeling it was going to take more than a beer or two to get through the stack of papers about synthetic skin tech from various worlds including his own. Tugging the computer free from his arm he sat it down beside the stack. It was going to be a long evening.

Anyone is welcome to be a distraction or..by chance..offer help.

basic_powers

There's a costumed man up in the rafters singing very softly as he tries waiting for his Door back home to open up again.

"Da da da da da da da da da da da da da...Batman!" Followed shortly by a hushed cursing. "Damnit!"

It's possible that the future version of a young boy would like to get out of whatever's causing this, or even better, get out of here. He's not too certain if he's going to end up erasing himself or cause a paradox.

{Tiny-tag: Broadway Goes Brutal}

roadhouse-ellen.livejournal.com

Ellen Harvelle doesn't know her bar like the back of her hand. As folks like to point out sometimes, who goes around staring at the back of their hand like they're out to memorize it? What use'll that ever be?

She does, however, know her bar like she knows the gun she keeps on her as often as possible (one of her late husband's, modified to fit rock salt and ordinary rounds both), and like the bottles of holy water she keeps alongside the whiskey, and like the look she'll sometimes catch on her daughter's face as they work their shifts: less like you'd expect a young woman to look when she's in a barful of men, more like she's reading a bunch of walking, talking textbooks on how to jump headfirst into hunting.

And even if Ellen didn't know her bar, she'd know damn well that its back room ought to look a hell of a lot different than this.

The door swings shut behind her with a bang; Ellen keeps a hand on it as she narrows her eyes, sizing up the room. "The hell?" she mutters under her breath.

chime_ra_tilt

Zelgadiss is at the bar tonight, eating his supper with one stony hand while holding up a book he found in the library with the other. It's about the making of chimeras, but it seems only to be taking a theoretical approach to it. He has yet to find any concrete information about the process, and, more specifically, about how to reverse it.

Not exactly good for his mood, but still- the food is good, and people don't stare too much. The unfortunate chimera figures he's had worse nights.