milliways_bar | Nov. 24th, 2008

Nov. 24th, 2008

It's late when Kate walks into Milliways -- so late it's early, and the bar is nearly deserted.

She's grateful; she's in her pajamas (a black cotton camisole and a pair of pink plaid pajama pants faded from years of wear and washing) and barefoot, her hair in a sleep-mussed knot on top of her head.

Yawning, she checks to make sure the door stays put and heads to the counter for a much-needed glass of water. And, as long as she's here, to leave a note.

( for paul avery )

A small ceramic flowerpot filled with purple morning glory will accompany the note when Paul gets it.

With one more glance around the quiet bar, she pads back to Bill's kitchen in Wheelsy.

[ tiny tags: kate warner, paul avery ]

[ ooc: just a quick bounce in and out, so no tags please ]

scurlock

[OOM: Room 25

In which Doc and Katherine discuss kids, have a nap, ponder the feasibilities of running away together, discuss more kids, and have more cuddles. No content warnings. Millitimed to a few nights ago.]

tinytag: Miss Katherine Barlow

hands-of-blu.livejournal.com

One-third of BLU's main field team is American. (Possibly more, but no one's quite sure where the Pyro comes from.) Under ordinary circumstances this doesn't matter very much, but Herr Soldier got a look at the calendar the other day.

How they're supposed to fit a full-sized turkey and a ham big enough to keep the Heavy happy into the belly of a payload cart already burdened with an oversized explosive device Medic doesn't know. He's just going to leave that up to Herr Engineer, let the Pyro do the cooking, and spend his Thanksgiving preparation time reading up on the truly fascinating effects of food poisoning and tryptophan overdose. He could, of course, be bothered in the meantime.

[tinytag: BLU Medic]

dontlooklisten.livejournal.com

Whistler originally had an entrance post about Thanksgiving and looking after Mother rather than going to Akron, but LJ ate the damn thing. This is the second time it's happened today, so you have been warned.

In the meantime he's got a very compact tape recorder's guts spread out along the table in front of him, and he's trying to learn his way around the various electronic innards ~~before the lj demons get him again~~.

betagainstme

Alice Cullen entered Milliways with a knowing smile. Futures shifted when she chose this door (the door to a closet in their hallway) and she knew she'd be here.

And on her own this time! She'd only ever come with Edward but hey! What's the worst that could happen? After all, she's a Cullen and she's brave. She survived so very long on her own.

Bravery, however, doesn't cover the awkwardness of ordering a glass of blood from Bar. Luckily, it comes in a plastic cup that isn't clear. She'd not want to subject the rest of the bar to that.

[tiny tag: alice cullen. tags may be slow; at work and then stressing out about school, room cleaning and laundry washing D:]

blackholesandrevelations

Oh God, the apocalypse is here if John Crichton is in the bar, right?!

No, you're all safe today, Bar patrons. Woo.

John had wandered into the bar, a bit groggily, in pj bottoms (that he bought from the latest commerce planet) and Winona. Luckily, Bar provided him with a shirt, coffee, and the local newspaper from his hometown.

She also provided him with some very fashionable slippers. :)

[ooc: same rules as alice applies, slow tags may occur 'cause the mun is working, doing school work when she gets home, cleaning and freaking out~~ :D?]

themidnightson

Because it's about time, what with that whole weekend event being passed, here Milliways - have one Edward Cullen, too. He's sitting in a commandeered chair facing The Window reading from a thick blue leather bound tome.

(Yes, Yrael, he's picked up your package and stowed it safely away.)

[Warnings for both devastating and non-existent slows. It's that kind of day.]

mnt_mike

On Bar's top sit a collection of canisters that looks suspiciously like redecorated coffee cans. Each can bears the image of a particular pie filling along with a label in English as to what that image is actually supposed to represent^*. Each can has a plastic topper with a slot carved in for ease of voting.
And oh yes, there will be voting.
At least, according to the sign there will.

HAPPY HOUR
Every drink ordered gets one coin for voting.
The first drink is on the house

Over to the side of the display is a sandy-haired man wearing a tan trenchcoat/fedora ensamble attempting a James Cagney impersonation. And yes, that is a wooden nickel he's flipping in his right hand.

* Apple (image of an apple)
Pumpkin (image of a pumpkin)
Blueberry (image of a small green box of blueberries)
Strawberry Rhubarb (image of a strawberry man riding down a slope of some sort while wearing rhubarb skiis)
Lemon Meringue (image of a lemon wearing a hat of meringue while tapdancing.)
Lie (decorated with the lie of the reader's choice or 2+2 = 5 should there be a problem coming up with another lie)

ubertracker.livejournal.com

Perhaps if you are near the forest, you hear a strange noise.

You might be used to this, here in this strange bar, at the end of the universe with all manner of creatures running about. But this noise is almost...bone chilling. Not quite demonic...but not far from it.

Such a horrifying racket must be raw evil incarnate.

And it's getting louder. Coming closer...

THERE! IN THE WOODS! DARTING AMONGST THE TREES AND SENDING A WAKE OF LEAVES IN ITS PATH OF TERROR!!! THE SOURCE OF THE NOISE! RUNNING WILDLY IN YOUR DIRECTION!!!

A flash of feathers followed by a flash of fur are also evident.

The ubertracker is on the hunt.

navyafterone

James is bulkier than usual as he enters the bar, with body armour under a tracksuit and beige overalls over the top with LUTON SECURITY across his back.

It's not a terribly effective disguise, of course, given that the average airport security guard isn't fifteen years old.

Or carrying a stack of hundred dollar bills.

He blinks and looks from the money to the door behind him. He wavers for a moment. And then he goes, "Fuck it," and walks over to the Bar to deposit a fraction of the money on her surface.

"Ought to cover my tab for a bit. And can I get a coffee? Thanks."

[tags: james adams, BLU medic]

realmrsreynolds

Sallie has work to do if she is going to know how to do everything by the end of the week. Her notes to Sam and Dean Winchester are scribbled out hastily before she returns home.

( Hello: )

licensed-pro.livejournal.com

Earphones, to Charlie, are a lovely invention. Very much so; it means he can listen to what constitutes music in his world at a volume loud enough to likely damage his eardrums without hurting anyone else's. And Queen, turned up so loud he can feel the bass in his chest, definitely fits the category of music that should be played loud.

He's leaned back in the oversized chair he's been occupying for the last few hours, a by now slightly flat soft drink within easy reach. He likes this setup, especially when it lends itself to him closing his eyes and mouthing the lyrics to whatever's being blasted into his ears. And he knows a lot of lyrics.

scurlock

The other day, Doc and Will had an adventure in Liberty that ended with a bit of shopping.

Today, Doc is out behind the bar, off away from the backdoor and the stables, over by the 'shooting range' of sorts. There's just a few hours of daylight left, but since all he wants is a little practice, that'll do just fine. Plus, one of the things he and Will picked up were more bullets.

His weapon of choice is a Winchester '73, and the target is a board that bar said had some sort of backing which would catch the slugs, with a piece of paper taped to it. There are a few dark circles, and he's trying to put most of the shots within the circles.

He's doing pretty well.

Botherable, too. Doc's not wearing ear protection (he doesn't see the point) so he'll notice if people walk up or try to get his attention.

subject-lj-here.livejournal.com

[OOM: And magnets spin the compass in an embryonic flame
Somewhere is the promise of an uncharted trail
With seven hundred branching limbs and seven hundred ways to fail
To the East a reflection of the new moon in the West
Her timeless watch is quiet over tides of her unrest
To the North is the current of a man breathing out
Giving birth to the breeze to be inhaled in the South
...
And for a moment, we're the same as always, same as always... ]

Two people enter the bar, both exhausted and dusty. One is familiar to this place: a woman with a white device in her hands, wearing an orange jumpsuit. The other is a newcomer: a Marine, uniform not as pristine as it once was, but recognizable.

As Chell looks up, confusion, annoyance, and then relief flashes across her face, and she turns to her partner. "Adrian... welcome to Milliways?"

[Tiny Tag: Chell Johnson, Adrian Shephard]

Two pups, two muns! Tag one, tag both.

born-running.livejournal.com

Luke is in the bar, again. He's not entirely certain why, but the place seemed oddly keen on getting him downstairs, and even went so far as to provide a cupcake with his tea.

So: Luke, inna bar, drinking tea and nomming cupcakes and annotating a book on jokes. It's a Thing.

{Milliversary post, open forever~!}

aeons_crackshot

Annabelle is sitting over by the fireplace tossing what appear to be breadcrumbs into the flames. She's trying to feed the fish. This...may or may not be working very well.

(Tinytag! Annabelle Newfield,Diego) (OOC: The post is open until it scrolls off the page!)

averyhasagun.livejournal.com

To tell the truth, Paul Avery was pretty sure he'd never see this place again.

As he steps through the door, his already too-pale face gets a few shades paler, and his mouth opens in surprise. He's in work clothes, excluding the ratty, navy-colored bathrobe draped over the ensemble. As par usual, there's a lit cigarette dangling from his lips, and a bottle of something-or-other held in his right hand.

In his left hand?

An oxygen tank, attached by a tube to a breathing mask. It's this that he quickly shoves into one pocket of his robes in the hopes that no one will comment on it, and, almost as though his life depended on it, he heads towards Lady Bar.

Just as he unceremoniously discards his own bottle behind the bar and opens his mouth to ask for something better, he is met with the sight of a small ceramic flowerpot, purple morning glory spilling over the sides like water out of a basin. He pauses, reading the note, and decides that maybe getting a drink isn't his first priority.

So, he -

- never mind, plan aborted.

Paul Avery has just conked out on the bar-top.

Welcome back, kiddo.

[ tiny tag: paul avery ]

theflyingsquirl

(OOM: Finishing up the last of the Evilcratic campaign plot, it's Thirty Short Films* About a Campaign, Part 1 and Part 2, with bonus media blitz and, for the extremely bored, footnotes. Thanks to everyone who helped out with the media stuff; I had fun and I hope you did too. :D )

(*no actual films involved. Mild warnings for cartoonish violence, glossed-over nudity and one tame love scene)

[tinytags: squirrel]

gonna_live

[Out of Milliways:

You know it's all beginning to feel like it's ending.]

ubertracker.livejournal.com

Sometime that evening, a wild turkey (and it's not a bottle of booze) is brought into the bar and dropped on the counter. The sabretooth who brought it in looks entirely innocent.

"Bar do you think you could..."

There is some whispering, and the turkey disappears, and a bowl of nice, raw, squishy things that look suspiciously like turkey organs appear. Diego takes the bowl and retreats off somewhere to enjoy his midnight snack.

The next time Sallie Reynolds is at the bar, she'll find her fresh (recently deceased), organic, free range, wild caught (and not scratched up) headless bird, already plucked. The innards are missing. Hopefully she can do without giblet gravy, this year.

[ooc: no tags, unless sallie wants to get her turkey. just establishing this XD]

wolflord_andain

It's been some small time since Galadan has had dinner at the Bar. He has, however, grown slightly weary of the moors, and the gardens, and the constant presence of servants and children.

Even spending the nights as a wolf does little to quell this burgeoning restlessness.

Something must be done, clearly. But what?

He'll be working his way through supper as he reorganizes his priorities. The Wolflord has some small skill at multi-tasking.

wheelsy_sheriff

[OOM: I know that we don’t talk
I’m sick of it all
Can you hear me when I sing,
you’re the reason I sing
You’re the reason why the opera is in me…

Where are we now?
I’ve got to let you know
A house still doesn’t make a home
Don’t leave me here alone...]

[tiny tag: Kate Warner]