milliways_bar | Jan. 21st, 2008

Jan. 21st, 2008

unknownheiress.livejournal.com

[OOM: Always keep a little for yourself, Roxton and Marguerite leave paradise.]

Current Mood: calm
Current Location: The Plateau..Still
Current Music: The Jungle

feederofpigeons.livejournal.com

Coffee, as always, was sitting next to Control, being sipped occasionally from the white mug. You would be kind enough to forgive his immobility today, as he is also sporting a broken right arm. Or rather, the wrong one.

Flippers might be absent and trousers might be present, but he is just as conversational as the next modified door handle.

visible_sariel

OOM. the tension builds, disaster looms, and nothing explodes.

rated R for references to darkstuff, and S for spoiler warning, as in majorly so for the Next Generation episode chain of Command II.

Current Mood: relieved

organicmeatbag.livejournal.com

[OOM: Back on Alderaan, Revan takes the chance to change his life around in one way or another.]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace, most days, does very well keeping her various quirks on a very firm leash.

But some days are harder. Just because it's nearly impossible to be totally in control all the time.

Thus, Ace is curled up in an armchair by the fire, feeling shifts of air with whiskers she doesn't have, and trying very hard not to drown in the multitude of scents this place is full of. There's also the remains of a very large meal nearby - it really doesn't do to get hungry on days like this.

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

[OOM: Sleep? What sleep?]

whattattoos.livejournal.com

Myri would totally love to be out of Milliways right now. There's that whole thing with her father about to maybe get assassinated that she'd like to clear up and help out on. It'd be pretty astral if she could, y'know, leave.

But apparently you need a door to leave, and Myri's not had one of those for months. Sure, time supposedly stops and all, but that doesn't exactly make her feel any less anxious. So she's at a table with a smoothie, frowning at the lack of door and idly shuffling a sabacc deck, occasionally throwing a trick in for practice.

Her mother says it's one of her weak areas.

gone_byebye

Leonardo da Vinci kept notes in a form of Italian that gives many a scholar headaches to try to read. For one thing, it's the dialect of his time; for another, it was written backwards. Ray heard about that once, a long time ago. It sounded like a good idea to him.

Alas, he's no good at writing backwards himself, so he had to settle for writing all his notes in a freely alternating mixture of Russian, Sumerian, and German. Someday, other scholars will find that notebook, and there will be a run on prescription-strength migraine medication shortly thereafter.

On the other hand, given the number of bizarre diagrams and star charts sprinkled in amongst the notes- because Ray is at a well-lit table, reading over them and occasionally drinking some of his usual Green Stuff- it may be just as well that it takes that long to decipher the damn things.

not-his-son.livejournal.com

It's been years.

The boy who's racing, outside, and finds himself racing through the front door now doesn't hurtle into a table, doesn't land on anyone; he catches himself with preternatural agility only a step beyond the door and scans the room quickly and sharply with hard blue eyes.

He's about fourteen, but he carries himself like someone much older -- for a half-second, until he drops back into a customary slouch and lets a mask of stupidity dull his features. His shirt and trousers are expensive, but frayed at the sleeves and scuffed at the heels, tie deliberately askew.

He smirks a little. Ah, this place.

Bar, Jason Todd. You may have met once or twice.

trustydriver.livejournal.com

[Out of Milliways: The Flying Squirrel has been Bound for more than a month. Back home, however, it's only been half an hour...]

mendanddefend_archive

There are two sprites curled up on the couch together. They're sharing a bowl of chips as they have a quiet discussion about the contents of the VidWindow in front of them.

If you happen to be looking from the right angle, you'll see that it's a list of words, arranged alphabetically, with meanings included. A dictionary? No; the title bar of the window proclaims it to be "1024 Baby Names."

[ooc: Two muns, two pups, double your fun!]

Current Mood: enthralled

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Draco was nervous about the bar, since the strange singing from Mia didn't seem entirely just from her being stoned. But the place helped him to focus and take a break from the paperwork that just kept increasing now. Along with wedding plans for next summer.

And yet he found himself in the bar and felt his clothes shift. Now wearing robes he hadn't worn since...

last year

. Bugger... Althena give me strength.

But instead of saying anything out loud he sang instead.

You remind me of the babe
What babe?
The babe with the power
What power?
The power of voodoo
Who do?
You do!
Do what?
You remind me of the babe!

I saw my baby
Crying hard as babe could cry
What could I do?
My baby's love had gone
And left my baby blue
Nobody knew

What kind of magic spell to use?
Slime and snails? Or puppy dog tails?
Thunder or lightning
Then baby said: "____"

Dance magic dance, magic dance
Magic dance, magic dance
Put that baby's spell on me...

[tiny tag: Broadway Goes Brutal plot]

will_scarlett

[How do you cure singing? If you're Kate and Will with sex and tickling, also more raging hormones.]

(OOC: Seeing as its Kate/Will, here be warnings for sex, nudity and serious silliness.)

shufti

Shufti is in one corner of the bar, with a pen, paper, and a baby moniter on the table. Security badge pinned to the top of her red army jacket, which she just felt like wearing today.

She's in the middle of writing a note, taking extra time to be careful with spelling.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Spoon is flopped on the ground in front of the fire, covered in dogs. He's good with that, really. Spoon likes dogs. For those of the canine (or just cuddly) variety there is plenty of room to join in the pile.

will_scarlett

Will returns from Atton's world, bloody and slightly limping.

Atton healed his leg but he still has many cuts though the hardest things are what's he's remembering.

He's so tired but a couch by the fire is reached and he finds a blanket pulling it around himself as he watches the fire.

notanarc.livejournal.com

Byers is having one of those "I don't feel like doing anything, sue me" days, so instead of working on his latest article, he's got a copy of The Washington Post laid out in front of him and a cup of coffee right next to it.

Hazelnut coffee, to be precise.

He loves Milliways.

basic_powers

[OOM: For Tyler, Halloween is always more interesting with friends...]

unknownheiress.livejournal.com

Here's someone the bar hasn't seen in ages--it's Marguerite who's here for an espresso and a people watch. She's happy to see that the bar is the same as always in the sense that it is completely different every time she has come into the bar, thus the change is normative. Marguerite really needs a coffee, so she orders one and begins her surveillance at a table.

She thought Lord Roxton was coming too...but as she's all alone and doesn't know many people, she's extremely open to bothering.

[OOC: The mun will be gone between 8 pm CST and 9.20 pm CST.]

Current Mood: blank
Current Location: Bar
Current Music: The people in the bar

scurlock

Doc's been around. When he notices Will looking like he's gotten the shit kicked out of him he doesn't stop to talk to him because it hits a little too close to him. So he goes upstairs instead and pours himself a glass of the rum and drinks it while he eyes the damn book with the date in it.

One glass of rum turns into two, then three. By the time he's drinking the fourth he throws the book across the room, hitting the wall as hard as he can. It feels good. The glass in his hand follows and shatters and it feels better to watch it hit the floor in a hundred pieces.

Except now he has no glass.

Dammit.

A short time later Doc makes his way downstairs. It's obvious that he's already on his way to drunk, and the next glass of rum he picks up from the Bar helps that. He'll be hungover in the morning but he's not caring.

The music starts up in his head, or maybe it's the bar first. He's not sure. He again, doesn't care. He just smirks and starts singing:

I'm feelin' like Tonto,
Ridin' a Pinto,
Tryin' to chase the Lone Ranger down.
I'm a little unravelled,
But I'm still in the saddle,
Cryin' your name out to the clouds

Is he singing to you?

OOC: He might be. He's drunk enough.

[not!tags: Leela, Pirate King]
[tiny tag: Broadway Goes Brutal]

lostworldhunter.livejournal.com

Roxton was a little surprised to see Marguerite in the bar, but he was glad to see her. He stops up at the bar to get a drink, only receiving the note from Zhaan then. He's fairly certain he knows what she's found in the fruit, but he writes a return note anyway.

( To Zhaan )

That taken care of, he takes his drink and heads towards the fire. He finds the bar a bit chilly, probably because the jungle is so warm.

ostro_goth

Teja had had some doubts about the commission from that man Le Chiffre; but he has found a way of dealing with it.

He goes to the public notice board and affixes a note:

Beside it, on a large horseshoe nail, he hangs the dog-collar in question; a soft black leather collar, patterned with small silver studs three-bladed and steep like the trilobate arrow-heads of the fierce Alani that, in Teja's time, settled by the shore of the Atlantic ocean after storming the old Roman Empire alongside the Huns. If any wild creature tries to get its jaws round the neck of a dog wearing that, it is in for a surprise; doubly so if it is a wolfman.

That way, he fulfils his commission in plain sight, with both the wolfmen and the watchmen (and women!) able to see what it was that Le Chiffre ordered, yet not breaking his promise to make it.

The knife Doc Scurlock ordered, finished as well now, he simply leaves with the bar, to be handed to the man when he next orders something.

That done, he orders a mug of tea fro the bar and settles by the fireplace with it, wondering what to make next.

magick-willow.livejournal.com

Willow Rosenberg is curled up at a table with her laptop open in front her, trying to draft wedding vows.

"I, Willow Rosenberg take thee..."

Delete delete delete

"My beloved Tara, from today..."

Delete delete delete

not-toothfairy.livejournal.com

Ironhide had a conversation with Lissar the other day that pretty nearly left dent marks in his face from all the facepalming. When he went home, he did some research on the Web- or tried to. Ironhide is not a big scholar.

But that's about to become evident.

"I need," the mech announces as he walks through the door, "someone who can explain a constitutional monarchy to me. I believe that means someone of England. I will take what I can get."

guppy_sandhu

Occasionally, Guppy looks around and scans the room with the tricorder he borrowed from the infirmary. Especially if they're singing.

The rest of the time, he consumes chocolate buttons and behaves normally.

Walk-in clinic
The doctor is in.

collects_ears

Tired bartender. But... bartender. Tending.

Let him make you a drink.

"Tonight's drinks are: Tainted Heart, Tattooed Love Goddess, Temptress and Texas Apple Delight."

C'mon, try something.

"What'll it be?"

young_womble

"When the sun doesn't shine, and it's cloudy and grey,
And it's only the beginning of a Wombling day,
And you've got to do the washing up for Madame Cholet...

Remember, remember, remember, remember, remember, remember, remember...

Remember you're a Womble!
Remember you're a Womble!
Remember you're a Womble!
Remember you're a Womble!
Remembermembermember what at Womblewomblewomble you are!"

Realising he's just made a teensy bit of a spectacle of himself, Wellington looks embarrassed and hides under the piano.

[Tinytag: Broadway goes Brutal plot]

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOMs: Atton, Sam, Will and Medusa go on a trip to Atton's world. It alternates between shades of fun and harrowing.

At some point, Atton leaves the group in order to go follow somebody. fun times ensue.

Warnings for violence and unpleasant flamey torture in the first OOM, gruesomely dead people and violence in the second OOM, and unpleasantly painful violence/torture in the third OOM. There are references to prior traumatic experiences in all the OOMs, though mostly in the first.]

weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com

Over by the fire, on one of those lovely cushy couches, there's a Le Chiffre reading. This wouldn't be remotely unusual if it weren't for a certain Villiers, asleep on his shoulder, a forgotten book beside his hand. He looks quite comfortable. Le Chiffre slightly less so, but at least he's getting accustomed to having the aide use him as a pillow.

Despite all appearances, they are actually quite botherable.

( ooc: Two pups, two muns, you know the drill. )

ostro_goth

Just now, two men walked into the staff corridor, one in black, one in white.

A moment later, two cats are walking out, and the white one goes about his business elsewhere while the black cat goes to investigate the bar from a feline point of view.

He finds he can hop onto a table out of a crouch, and nimbly walk among the condiments; he can climb up into the rafters and walk along them, balancing with his tail; he can curl up right in front of the fireplace, hiding his nose between his knees; and he can jump onto the chest beside it and stare at the strange creatures in the tank, much larger now, and much more fascinating than squid on a tee-vee were to a human.

A black paw bats the glass, but the trilobites aren't worried.

[[OOC: Teja will be doing this only once, so this post stays open for new tags until, say, Wednesday? Charter skins are serious work and take Yrael about four hours' magic to make, and unlike other forms of transformation, Teja won't 'have' cat-shape afterwards, without wasting another charter skin, which he won't do. Also, I won't tag out uninvitedly with a warrior transformed into a not!cat, as (understandably) not all muns enjoy that sort of levity; so just tag here, saying where your charrie finds him along the itinerary I sketched, or ping me at AIM SN sootymun if you'd like to have the black not!cat on your thread. Thank you!]]

(tinytag: eirene; )

burnedbell.livejournal.com

From somewhere in the bar the quiet echos of a sob can be heard. A child's sob- drawn out and so sad anyone who hears it may wonder what could make a small one cry so. However there is noone that can be seen making such noises.

"Somebody help me..." comes between the sobs almost like a whisper like a small breeze brushing the ears of patrons. If they were to look up they may see the dead girl walking on the underside of a rafter not affected by gravity at all.

"Someone..please..Antubis...Where are you?"

anythingbutblue

(If it's a guilty pleasure, well, sign Faye up.)

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Some time after talking to Sam out on his ship, Atton's in the bar, with a highly alcoholic drink in one hand, staring off out the window. He's a little bruised, and a little bloody, but the majority of the blood isn't actually his.

Botherable.

yankeedoodle_dr

Hawkeye Pierce sits at the bar, martini carelessly dangling from one hand and microphone from the other. The microphone, it should probably be mentioned, is attached to a big old-fashioned-looking (brand new) reel-to-reel tape recorder.

"Dear Dad," he says in the general direction of the microphone. "Business has been slow lately." A glance down the bar. "It's getting so I'm considering taking up a side practice in cesspool sailboat racing."

It's a glib remark; he's not that desperate for something to do.

Yet.

fighting_mad

[OOM: On Eiattu, after an absence, the Pernons and Estillos (and hyphenated versions thereof) are reunited.]

singintheoven.livejournal.com

There is a note posted at the bar. It says:

Musicians wanted

Experience and skill optional
Own instruments and knowledge of English a plus
Spirit of rock essential

See Hedwig for more information.

To be helpful, she has added a stylized but surprisingly recognizable crayon sketch of herself at the bottom of the note.