milliways_bar | Jan. 25th, 2008

Jan. 25th, 2008

cheevy.livejournal.com

[OOM: Finding the way to Dublin -- Millitimed to the 22nd -- In Ireland, Miniver and Pickles visit the cliffs over the sea, where they wax poetic and make promises, then spend an evening in a noisy pub getting Miniver accustomed to the music scene. Also there's furtive pub!sex. Warning for that, and for deeply poetical musing from both puppets concerning the gender of the ocean(s).]

prob-japanese.livejournal.com

Ironhide is the one dealing with Rad and any questions of space bridge technology that might or might not be viable in their world. Bumblebee has little, if anything, to do with that. He's still a little edgy, though. Anything involving the Nullspark, even at a couple of removes, tends to have that effect on him after the fight in the garage.

One of the first things Bumblebee did after surviving Megatron's direct assault during the Great War was take steps to make sure he'd never be caught that badly unprepared again for a hand-to-hand situation. He downloaded every self-defense and unarmed combat instruction program- every- that would be usable for someone of his body type. It's stood him well ever since, but now and again that kind of thing needs refreshing, as the garage battle so clearly brought home. The aggressive side of practice he mostly does at home, where he's scaled properly for the prospect. Milliways, on the other hand, is fantastic for simulating situations where he's at a grotesque disadvantage. After all, nearly everyone here is bigger than he is, and heavier. (Even Cheetor.) So he's taking advantage of the Bar's unique internal architecture to practice evasive maneuvers, which is a fancy way of saying: small yellow robot leaping from rafter to rafter like everything else in the building was made entirely of lava.

Oh, and because even at his most irritated or sorrowful he's still Bumblebee, his speakers are playing Earth music. "Take On Me" by A-Ha, specifically. That might be audible from below, too, since the sound system hasn't got any A-Ha of its own on tap.

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

Six fleethounds wander around a table hoping that their person is distracted enough to let them beg treats, the seventh has her head in the puppy basket, taking care of them. Lissar is ensconced at the table, hunched over a laptop. She's got a cup of cocoa gone cold, with a thick skin on it, and a sandwich with one bite taken out of it. The majority of the cover of the laptop is taken up by a sticker that says "Ironhide Guaranteed Sprite Free". Her hair is pulled up into a sloppy bun held by a pencil and a blade free Exacto knife, and she's glaring at the screen. Her frown is dark, her eyes intent, and she is muttering under her breath. Most often "Slag it!" and "Curse you, Shaka Zulu!" although occasionally she adds a particularly annoyed "Mine tailings!" to her repertoire.

the_devi

At some undefined point, there is a goddess sitting at a table, watching the spectacle being played out through the window.

Shiva's working here is as beautiful as it is destructive.

Devi is not adverse to interruption.

[Tiny Tag: Devi ]

gone_byebye

[OOM: Admiral Matochkin makes his move. It's a very bad day to be the president of Russia.]

Ray steps through the door into the Bar in an outfit he's worn into Milliways once before. Onlookers might be excused for thinking him from an earlier time than many; in the era from which this outfit comes, it was perfectly normal to attempt Arctic or Antarctic exploration in clothing made mostly of leather and fur. The only tip-off that he hasn't arrived from the early 1930s this time is the fact that there's a Ghostbusters logo patch sewn on the right arm, near the shoulder, and a patch with the flags of Canada, Finland, the United States, Denmark, and Greenland on the left just below the one from the Dyer Expedition.

He pushes back the fur-lined hood, pulls off the blue hat, starts undoing the silver-grey scarf, and says, "Bar? I just got in from Nunavut. Could I please please please please please have something warm? Please?"

It'll be interesting when he discovers that not only is his Ovaltine hot today, but it's been spiked with hot peper syrup.

the_cupbearer

Ganymede is flopped down in front of the couch, today, warming himself by the fire. He's dressed in a weird mix of classical and modern, today - a tunic and a pair of blue jeans - and he's busy amusing himself in an oh-so-serious manner.

Specifically, he's spinning a makeshift top across the floor, near the hearth of the fireplace. He looks mildly engrossed, but he's actually quite botherable. Even he can only be engrossed by a top for so long.

anchor-branded.livejournal.com

[OOM: Pre-Milliways, as how Joris will eventually tell the story in the future.]

The front door comes crashing open, sending a few shards of dry, rotten wood skittering over the floor. Landing hard in the midst of that is a young teenage boy. He is dressed in a white uniform cut like army fatigues, with a black symbol on the front of his leather vest. Joris stirs and lets out a quiet moan, but other than that is not moving much-

Because unlike the movies, when some large creature grabs a person and tosses them through a rickety wooden wall, most normal people do not jump to their feet immediately afterward. Specially since it looks like said creature dug its claws into Joris' torso before tossing him aside, and with the crack his head made when it hit the floor, he is more than a little dazed.

[Tiny Tag: Joris, Lewis]

OOC:Totally not plot-locked.

talkstohats

Sophie is not happy with the way the war is going.

And when Sophie isn't happy, she tends to take it out on defenseless inanimate items. For example: the embroidery for Lettie's gown that will not come out right no matter how many times she tears out the stitching.

The piece of fabric she'd been planning to use for the bodice has been poked at so much that it's not going to be much use for anything, by this point. But point that out to Sophie, as she sits at a booth seam-ripping all her white-on-white embroidery for the sixth time, and you're likely to get your head snapped off.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Drink Specials
If you ask me, it's half off.

His creativity was shot.

...let us say it has been an interesting week with the wife and leave it at that.

ostro_goth

Teja is at the bar, drinking tea.-

preserver-lewis.livejournal.com

Most young men coming to Milliways from 141 AD Londinium would be confused by the electric lights. The slight blond man in the blue wool tunic, belted at the waist with a cloth cord over his grey trousers, seems unconcerned by the electricity. He is busy wondering why his chronometer has reported a malfunction, and running a self-diagnostic on his mechanical parts. The self-diagnostic fails to explain the chronometer failure but reports no other problems.

Lewis scans his surroundings. How very odd -- a Company bar in which Lewis is the only cyborg. It is a bar, in any case, and it looks like quite a civilized one (except for the rats skittering about everywhere). Lewis might as well find out whether the place serves good martinis.

[tinytag: Lewis]

mycursedface

[OoM: The trouble with being a triplet is that the other two can always, always gang up on you]

Current Mood: embarrassed

burnedbell.livejournal.com

[OOM: Some day, your story will be here, too.]

There is no bright light or sudden noise that signals the return of three heroes and a little girl. In their minds they may not see themselves as such, but the little girl does. They've seen what she has seen now. They know the Old Kingdom- they've touched it.

But the question is did they see the warnings?

Mary looked up at Nathan as she held his hand as the group returned back to Milliways. Bill and Doc were no where to be seen, no doubt waking up from wherever they had left their living bodies at for a dreamless sleep. Or had their trip to the Old Kingdom been a dream? "He can't follow us here," she says softly, releasing Nathan's hand as the burns start to fade away leaving him to return to a more 'solid' state. "None of them can."

will_scarlett

[OOM: A night that starts with silliness and photographs, ends in anger and tears as Kate and Will prepare to visit Civil War era Marvelverse.]

(OOC: Warnings for slight smut in the beginning and teenagers with crazy lives in the end.)

not-a-horse.livejournal.com

She is restless, this evening. Ingress is asleep, and she has no other obligation that demands her time at present.

(For all that the House of Arch is welcoming, it is not Valdemar, and from time to time the longing to go home is stronger in her than it might otherwise be.)

As a result, it isn't long before the Companion noses the portrait portal and leaps through into Milliways, hooves chiming silver-bright against the floor.

guppy_sandhu

[ooc: Logic, lies and alibis. Mild sexual references.]

Guppy is by the infirmary, with a bagel and an occasional mildly amused smirk.

Walk-in clinic
The doctor is in.

young_womble

A strong gust of wind from outside blows in a big white sheet.

As the door closes, the pile of sheet begins to move, as someone tries to find his way out of it.

It's surprisingly easy to get blown away when holding something shaped like a giant parachute.

cant_kim

Even good pickpockets are sometimes not quite as deft as they'd like. Kim went for a swell mort's purse today, and the woman, feeling the tug, yelled that there was a pickpocket in the crowd. Kim had had the presence of mind to fall back and yell that there he goes -- but in the resulting surge of the crowd, a would-be nabbing cull saw fit to elbow his way through the mob and caught Kim right in the face.

When the door to Milliways opens, there's the faint clamor of excited voices down the street, before Kim slips in and shuts the door, scowling. She heads for the fireplace, probing -- and wincing -- at her cheekbone. It's not bruised yet, but it's headed that way.

She might also be muttering imprecations against oversensitive harpies, overenthusiastic young men, and her own clumsiness.

shadowsusannah.livejournal.com

[OOC: Pre-Milliways]

That is one fine wheelchair; all smoky green titanium alloys and gleaming wheels. It's not a racing chair, but it's comfortable and responsive and has a good turn of speed even under no more power than its occupant's good right arm.

Which is what powers it now, through the door and into the bar.

Said occupant is pushing forty, minimum, but still very beautiful. She's decidedly casual--unmade up, fresh enough from the bath to be still damp, and wearing an oversized t-shirt that proclaims I Drink NOZZ-A-LA and a pair of pinned up jeans.

Tonight Susannah Toren is unarmed; and just like every night for twenty years and more, she's in a more basic way unlegged, too. She looks happy enough to be here. There may be opiates back in Casa Toren, against her better judgment, but there's no booze, and she could maybe use a drink.

ash-imperfect.livejournal.com

Another night, another refusal from Jean-Claude. Asher grows tired of being shunned from Jean-Claude's bed, but 'ma petite' is not willing to share her lover, and so he is to sleep and die alone.

He does not expect, however, to wake up stretched out along one of the booth seats in Milliways. But he is there, clothed in thin silk pyjama trousers (he refuses to call them 'pants'), which makes a rather interesting change from his last entrance.

Sitting up, he carefully pulls a ribbon from his hair. He had tied it back to sleep, but he has no wish to scare the clientele. His hair is long enough and thick enough that he can brush it over one shoulder, letting it hide the worst of the scarring, as long as he stays seated in the shadows.

He will wait until the door appears for him once more, and then he will leave.

cutting_edgex23

X slips in through the back door, body tensed warily as she picks her way through the crowd.

She settles a little after obtaining soup and a soda. Food has a way of doing that.

So, too, does findinga decent vantage point and noting her surroundings.

Old habits die very hard.