milliways_bar | Dec. 21st, 2008

Dec. 21st, 2008

aranprime.livejournal.com

The lake door opens and a woman in an interest kind of uniform walks in, heading straight for the bar.

Once there, of course she looks for a bartender, like a newcomer does...

What a girl has to do to get a drink?

cutting_edgex23

[OOM: Mission: Popcorn is a go!]

[tinytag of tiny: Cal Chandler]

kit-mcgraw.livejournal.com

Kit never liked Christmas.

Sure, the nuns put forward an amazing effort at the convent to make it just as nice for the orphans as it would be for regular children, but the toys behind the newspaper wrapping paper were always age inappropriate and somewhat broken and the Christmas dinner was worse than the regular dinner meals.

The midnight chapel service was really the only plus, and it wasn't even because of the actual service; it was just that with Sister Phoebe's bad night vision, Kit and Quentin were able to sneak into the supply closet, steal a bottle of sacramental wine, and get hammered.

So now, just as she would then, though Quentin wasn't by her side, Kit was drinking. It wasn't wine though; very expensive aged whiskey from her own personal bottle instead.

It might not be Christmas yet, but she's always been a firm believer on getting a head start on things.

shadowsusannah.livejournal.com

[OOC: OOM:

Got no sleigh with reindeer; got no pack on my back
Gonna see me coming in a big black Cadillac

Situations and a few sentences are taken from the stories Mute and Rest Stop from Stephen King's new collection, Just Past Sunset.]

young_gun_billy

[oom: I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid,
And tell of the desperate deeds that he did,
Out here in the West, boys, in New Mexico,
When a man's best friend was his colt Forty-four.]

onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com

The door opens and Camille (shorts, t-shirt, bare feet) walks in.

She takes a long look.

She walks out.

--

The door opens and Camille (orange sleeveless dress, sensible-yet-stylish sandals) walks in.

She takes a long look.

She walks out.

--

The door opens and Camille (cargo pants, loose unbuttoned shirt over singlet, runners) walks in.

She takes a long look. This time, she catches sight of the Window.

And freezes.

tiny!tag: cal chandler, camille montes, charlie monroe

Current Mood: shocked

evercleverest

Oh, Hermione really does hate crying.

But when she wakes up the next morning, stumbling out of her makeshift bed within their tent - and into the bar (she wanted to get some fresh air and some solitude away from Harry) - she remembers (quite vividly) everything that transpired the previous night and it brings fresh tears to her eyes all over again.

Sniffling and wiping her eyes, she heads up to Bar and asks for a warm cup of tea to soothe her nerves, then finds herself a seat near one end of the bar.

Despite her current miserable appearance, she wouldn't mind some kind company (and/or a distraction from her thoughts).

[ooc: open all day!]

tiny!tag: cal chandler, cata, demeter, kelsi nielson

onlyneed1shot.livejournal.com

OoM: COLD APPROACH: An often-risky attempt to recruit ~~a foreign national~~ an agent as an ~~agent or~~ informer without any prior indication that the person might be receptive to such an offer. Usually made after evidence that the target is ~~in desperate need of money, or is simply greedy or~~ perhaps unhappy in her work or lifestyle.

tiny!tag: camille montes, dominic greene

a-day-of-sky.livejournal.com

It's almost Christmas.

As such, Ella is currently sitting in one of the booths, poking at a moderate selection of wrapping paper. Although she knows that wrapping paper is usually ripped off and discarded (she's seen the carnage first-hand), she's still determined to match it with the gifts she's going to be giving out.

Botherable nonetheless.

[ tiny tag; ella harkins ]

sawedoffsndheim.livejournal.com

The step up is higher than it should have bee. Kels knows this intimately; she knows ever step in her house like the back of her hand (proverbially; she knows the back of her hand pretty well, too, but it's not like she spends hours on end memorizing it).

The step is higher. As a result, her foot does not quite clear it, and she and a large stack of piano books and loose sheets of music go flying.

She's too busy gathering things up at the moment to work out where she is or why the step has mysteriously grown in height. Help?

The most adorable wee tag you could ever hope to meet: Kelsi Nielson

alt-hulk.livejournal.com

( To Andrew Wells )

not-toothfairy.livejournal.com

This time last year Ironhide was storming into the Bar to demand that someone explain Christmas to him. He got his explanation from several sources. It didn't really make sense, but he tried to go along with it anyway. It's been a year. He's been trying to get caught up ever since. It hasn't helped.

On the other hand, the first soldier he demanded an explanation from prior to coming to Milliways has managed to fill him in on some concepts that he does grasp fairly well. True, they're not as important to Corporal Wasserman as Christmas is to most of the other humans at Autobase, but it's still a winter holiday that Ironhide can grasp better than the others. (Redemption religions and original sin aren't part of the Cybertronian culture he knows, but 'the oppressor is gone, we're still here, and our supplies held out when everyone thought they wouldn't'? That, he understands.) Combine this with the fact that ten thousand muffins arrived at Lissar's house earlier this week, and it's small wonder that Ironhide arrives from visiting Corporal Wasserman's family for the evening tonight.

He's in a good mood. Not that it's easy to tell with a face like his, but still.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

Knox is, as usual, reviewing the papers. He skims coverage of the New Hampshire primary results, and see that Governor W. J. Blythe has dropped out of the race, and that Senator Warren Eden of Kansas is planning to come to Gotham before the primary in March. He looks for the latest Lex Luthor sightings (now as frequent as Elvis sightings, and as likely). He checks out the first dispatches from Spring Training, though he's sure this won't be the Mets' year. And he tries to find some super-hero news, but it's been quiet for the Flash and Superman and Batman of late. He hopes that passes.

As he reads, he sips his coffee and nibbles on a donut. Come say hi.

mendanddefend_archive

There's a shiny blue-and-chrome two-slot toaster sitting on the Bar.

Where did that come from?

Current Mood: mischievous

isaysimplewords

Cal has a new book.

This one is different from the others. He didn't choose it to learn something about someone else, or someone else's world. He didn't choose it at all. Bar gave it to him, about two hours ago, and he's reading it with a deeper level of absorption than he's ever had with any book.

It's an autobiography. The author is one Calvin Chandler, Junior.

He's been reading for so long that his head and vision are swimming. He may not want a distraction, but he needs one before he gives himself a headache.

tinytag: hey arnold

[OOC: Open for as long as it's on the front page.]

mnt_raph

With his morning obligations fulfilled, and a few hours before the evening revels commence, Raph kills some time sitting at Bar prepared to nurse what ever watered down swill she'll let him have.

Imagine his surprise when he finds himself presented with a Jack on the rocks and a personal carrot cake.

"You remembered?
The candle on the cake lights.

"Well ain't that a hell of a thing."

mechanicalswans

[ooc note: a bit of canon-tweaking has gone on thanks to new research; notes on that here, with a faint warning for the sort of unpleasantness that gods get up to frequently. Norse types are free to follow or disregard his new canon.]

[OOM: Sometimes, Weyland is generous, though there is still the matter of consent. Warnings for flashbacks to rape and torture, but it mostly turns out okay.]

He is in a contemplative mood when he follows Tanya back through the door. This isn't how he used to be--to help a stranger, one who had been so completely in his power, one whom he could have used, made into a weapon for his own purposes. It would have been so easy, just a small nudge in a different direction when she was at her weakest. He had been inside her head, and she had been defenseless.

He hadn't taken anything in return. He mustn't make a habit of this.

He orders a beer and carries it over by the fire, to think.

[tinytags: weyland]

ostro_goth

Teja comes in from the forge this morning, with several small leather pouches that he gives to the bar, one by one, with instructions; among them is the jewellery that Ryu Hayabusa ordered.

For now, the slate is cleared; there might be great last-minute haste in the next few days, for those that celebrate Christmas, not solstice.

Solstice is today.

Teja takes a drink -- hot mulled cider -- over to the fireplace, and sits on the couch, sipping his drink and playing his little harp. After a while, the cat Ferdinand comes by, as if by accident, and sits on his feet.-

[[OOC: If there were any commissions open that I have forgotten to post as finished, feel free to handwave having got it with this post! Thanks!]]

theunsmiling

The message from Fionnghuala was clear--or as clear as anything concerning the Prince of Lies might be. Soaked to the skin or not, Michael well remembers the stories of old, and has the added benefit of her own old experiences to draw on. Forgiveness--no motivation of the Morningstar's would ever be so simple. Michael refuses to believe it.

She cannot similarly refuse to believe the evidence of her senses, sodden and half-frozen as she is (though the lack of goosebumps may give the lie to the latter), as she opens the door to her apartment and finds--

--a bar.

She flickers to a standstill, seeming more a statue than a soaking-wet skinny girl, senses catching up to reality. She can still feel the Presence, flickering and distant, but real. That is one worry gone; this is not Hell.

Which means that she has other work to be doing.

Michael crosses her arms over the front of her sopping wet tank top, obscuring the IT'S ALL MUSCLE slogan, and, strides swinging like those of a large and angry man (at least until she collects herself and switches to a quick, coltish grace more in keeping with her current stature) enters the bar proper.

Obtaining more information rarely goes amiss. In the long run.

[tinytag: Michael]

sleazeoverstyle

It ain't every day he brings a lady home... from a different world. But a long time ago Lara kind of expressed some interest in that and he maybe kind of asked her did she want to come for a visit, and they maybe sort of made this arrangement where he'd bring her home and in return, she'd... be herself, keep him company on a little whirlwind tour of Gaia.

Today's the day. Or to put it better, tonight's the night, and if she stands him up then what the fuck. He'll still have his couple days of vacation and a company helicopter at his disposal, and he's always got a Plan B at the ready. He's a friggin' Turk: of course he does.

Plan A's better, though. While he waits -- something he doesn't do real well -- he helps himself to a drink. Corel wine, nice and spiced, and he's surprised Bar's got it but he probably shouldn't be surprised. After all, she stocks his favorite Wutai Pale Ale not to mention Icicle Run. Lara, Lara: where the fuck are you?

It'd be nice if for once a lady didn't make a friggin' fool out of him. He'll see.

cheerychaplain

Father Mulcahy asks the bar for the day's (as in early December 1951) New York Times. He receives the newspaper, and a note comes with it.

His eyebrows furrow as he reads. "December 21^st? Really?" His next request is for a large sheet of paper and a marker, and he busily sets to work.

The final result is a new notice on the board, beside an old one.

CHRISTMAS SERVICES

For any patrons who are Bound and unavailable to attend services (or for any patrons who would like to attend), I will be holding Mass on Christmas Day, upstairs in room 215. My specialty is Roman Catholic but all are welcome, and I take requests!

Yours truly,
Father Francis Mulcahy

P.S. - I cannot promise the quality of my Hebrew, but if anyone is interested in a Shabbat Chanukah service, please leave a message for me with the Bar and I'm quite certain that we could work something out.

Adjusting first the old sign, then this new one, Father Mulcahy gives the two pieces of cardboard a satisfied pat and then heads for the bar again. NEW PLAN. (After all, it's only a few weeks from Christmas in Korea, as well, and it seems seasonally appropriate.)

Thus, there is a slight man in glasses and a Panama hat sitting at a table and very carefully stringing popcorn chains; he's wearing boots, fatigue pants, a black collared shirt, and a cross. Scattered across the table: several spools of thread, a pack of needles, and two big bowls of popcorn.

Mulcahy may be humming to himself.

[tags: bill guarnere, cal chandler, klara prast, michael]

[OOC: Explanatory back room post ahoy!]

twiceahero.livejournal.com

Barbara's managed to sprawl her gear out across an entire table. Four actual monitors, a pair of keyboards, and a series of holographic projections take up all the space.

At the moment most of the screen space is taken up by text scrolling by at a rate that's too fast for most people to follow. But Bab's has been doing this for a long time now. The text cycles across numerous screens and her eyes flick between them rapidly.

As text files scroll off and her attention shifts to new ones, the screens settle into a placeholder image of a stylized green mask. She's not really advertising, but she figures someone might want to find her...

guppy_sandhu

[oom]

Guppy is out back, by the lake, contemplating doing some skating.

He prods at the ice, debating if it's solid enough yet.

mogget_cat

(OOM: In New Orleans, Yrael proves to be good at party-planning on short notice.)

young_gun_billy

[oom: Aimless.]

The door opens and horse and rider clop in. The horse is as dead on its feet as the rider is in the saddle and it's a moment before the sudden change in scenery registers.

Lifting its head the horse looks around surprised but too tired to startle. It backs up and its rump hits a wall that was an open door a moment ago and the jar wakes the rider.

Billy lifts his head, pushing back his hat brim and blearily looking around. One hand tightens on the reins while the other moves to his hip and the gun there.

"Ain't this a damn sight." The trail worn Kid rasps.

mogget_cat

Yrael actually enters the bar through the front door, tonight, New Orleans disappearing as it closes behind him. When he asks, Bar is helpful enough to provide a number of blank posterboards for his use, plus a box of markers.

Soon, identical (apart from little variations due to being hand-written) posters adorn the Milliways notice board, the door to the lake area, the wall next to the stairs, the wall next to the Observation Window, and the back of the front door to the bar. They say:

Axel's Heartday Party
Who Are Invited: Any and all friends of Axel
Where Is It Held: Club Ampersand in New Orleans, USA, on an Earth
When: All night tonight and into tomorrow
How Do We Get There: Talk to the guy in white by the front door.

And indeed, there's an Yrael by the door, waiting to take people through the door to the party.

(ooc: Party post is through that link! Feel free to handwave getting through the door, if you want, though Yrael will be around for threads here, as well. The party post is open indefinitely. Have fun! ^__^)

Current Mood: jubilant

licensed-pro.livejournal.com

Charlie is idly turning a small, shiny thing over and over in his hands. If you looked closely, you'd see it was two small, shiny things, one longer and thinner than the other.

He was still a little amused, and a little awed at them both, drawing his fingertips over the eagle pendant, and the knife. The knife he was more than a little at a loss to use; normally he didn't use them all that much. And he didn't want to mess this one up...it was much too precious.

There might be a little bit of a faraway look about him, as he manipulates the two things.

southphillysob.livejournal.com

Bill Guarnere? Yeah, that guy can put up with a lot of shit. Even with most of the guys who come in goin' out, he's still at Camp fuckin' Toccoa with fuckin' Captain Sobel, and he ain't gonna let that sonofabitch keep him from his jump wings.

But there comes a time when a man just has to get away, and when he makes it to the weekend without his goddamn XO revoking his pass for somethin' he didn't do wrong, by God Bill's gonna take that pass and get out. Not like Toccoa's close to anything and not like he's got the time, but hey, there's a joint in town, and it's no South Philly, but it'll do.

So get this, you got Bill, nineteen and handsome in his dress greens, stuck in the U.S. until they let him go fight the war he signed up for, and it's him and Skip Muck and Joe Toye who make it off the base. Bill's the last one through the door -- he's gettin' one last drag off that Lucky Strike of his -- and when it swings open, he knows right away that this ain't their usual club. Joe and Skip ain't nowhere to be seen neither. Not like that's new, and hey, not like Bill can't take care of himself, so what are you gonna do?

One future United States paratrooper swaggers in. "Jesus Christ," he mumbles, pulling out a new smoke, "would you get a load of this."

tinytag: bill guarnere

[[ooc: Hi! Being a rough kid from 1942, Bill comes with a colorful language disclaimer. Please read before tagging, and let me know if you have any preferences. Thanks!]]

1:03 AM EST Oh good gravy, and there I go crashing. Slow is love, and you people are awesome! <333

nothawkingbird.livejournal.com

(OOM: Will and Kate enjoy a dinner date as part of celebrating their anniversary. Warnings of intimacy and also talk of wedding plans in the future)

reese-s-piece.livejournal.com

It was definitely a CVS door when she stepped through it.

This is definitely not the inside of a CVS.

Dani Reese looks around the room with an expression that suggests the universe has just personally betrayed her by not making sense.

[Tiny tag: Cavilo, Charlie Crews, Dani Reese]

noattachments

The door to the lake opens, and Kate comes in through it, rubbing her hands together for a moment before she starts peeling those gloves off.

It's cold. If it's not the coldest she's ever been, it's still colder than she's been in a long time.

She could just stay inside and be warm, but being able to go outside takes a little of the edge off when she's feeling closed in.

Stopping at the bar to pick up a cup of generously spiked coffee, she heads for the couch nearest the fireplace, and it's only there that she finally sheds some layers. The coat goes first, and she drapes it over the back of the couch. Her sweater goes next, and once she has it tied around her hips, she perches on the couch, feet propped up on the low table in front of her, and starts in on that coffee.

(ooc: Sleeping to avoid zombie behavior at work tomorrow. Post open until it scrolls off the page!)

quicksilverfast.livejournal.com

[OOM: No more cages.]

This wasn't the burger joint he was looking for. No, this place is definitely lacking in the cheap plastic and fake tiling that lends McDonald's that unique atmosphere -- and for another thing, it's way different, a little sci-fi, maybe even...

"Alien? Nah," Tommy says to himself as he speeds over to a table and flops his head down on the wood. Trying to save the world is totally hard work.

Want to get the poor speedster some food? Maybe even an AED?

[Tiny Tired Tag(s): Tommy Shepherd, Billy Kaplan, Teddy Altman]

gotaheadstart.livejournal.com

It's clear from the start that this isn't her bathroom.

Cuddy hopes she's dreaming, especially since she's wearing what most people consider a fairly skimpy nightie and doesn't have anything with which to cover herself.

She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep from her eyes, and fumbles behind herself for a handle that has, to her misfortune, disappeared. Rather than panic, the first thing she does is to order a steaming hot cup of tea (and a blanket, which she drapes over her shoulders) before curling up into one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace.

If she's going to be stuck here, she might as well find a way to relax.

[tiny tag: colene shepard]

[ooc: open for all tags.]

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOM: Atton and Will talk by the lake.]

walking_napalm

[OOC: Upstairs, things do not go exactly as planned. Thread contains adult content!]

One would be excused for not recognizing Liz Sherman in her seat at the bar tonight, given that she's draped in an enormous gray blanket and her elbow is on the bar, her hand over her face. It's a gesture of frustration as much as it is one of embarrassment; she's taking a momentary break from arguing with the bar. There are wet spots beginning to show through the blanket; her hair is dripping. Her bare toes are curled around a rung of the stool.

An unhappy Hellboy is standing beside her, too agitated to sit. His trench coat and pants are soaked and his bare chest shows through the open lapels. He lets Liz do the talking as he watches the crowd, hypersensitive at the moment to any staring or stray odd looks.

[tag: john myers]

[OOC: Relevant backroom post here!]