milliways_bar | Aug. 21st, 2009

Aug. 21st, 2009

ikissdhimbck

[OOM (Part One):
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on

Millitimed to August 4th, following this. Warnings for language, drunkenness, and one snarky Russian.]

tiny!tag: The Russian Astronaut

Current Music: Bill Withers - "Lean on Me"

puckishly.livejournal.com

At around three o'clock in the morning, by magical Scotland-at-the-end-of-the-universe time, someone slips very quietly downstairs and into the main bar.

His hair is mussed, his expression sleepy (fairies do not usually sleep anywhere near as much as mortals do, but raising twin toddlers will take care of that one), and he desperately craves something with dairy in it.

After a moment's murmured conversation with the Bar, Puck takes a mug of cream and retires to a couch by the fire, where he yawns cheerfully and stretches out.

Midnight snackage FTW.

noteful

There is a small box with a neat slit cut in the top, sitting on a table next to a sign.

The box is surrounded by small stacks of slips of paper, and several pens.

The sign reads:
Help Name a Baseball Team
Suggestions are welcome for names for the teams
to play in Milliways' upcoming baseball game.
(Further information will be forthcoming.)

loyaltyinmotion.livejournal.com

Jason is just in from his run, looking much more like his old self. He's fleshing out nicely and is finding that his sets are coming much more naturally to him again. He'll probably head home to work a bit soon and get some money coming in. But for now he's at a table, drinking a large glass of water and waiting for his sandwich.

[OOC: Mun will be leaving soon, so slowtime will be called. Just wanted to throw him in there since it's been so long!]

not-toothfairy.livejournal.com

OOM: A few days ago, several new mechs arrived at Autobase, and Sam Witwicky broke the bad news to Bumblebee about college.

It was far too good to last.

not-toothfairy.livejournal.com

The elevator doors are barely all the way open when Ironhide strides out. We'd like to say that any spectators probably haven't seen him like this before, all bristling with business and guns a mere thought away from going online, but this is Ironhide; probably a lot of people who've seen him before have seen him like this.

He is, however, moving with the sort of grim satisfaction that one normally sees in a cynic who's been proved right.

"Bar. I need a bottle of Singha, if you don't mind," he says. "We've finally got company back home."

gorgonfondness

Your baby-to-be now weighs about 20 grams and is nearly 3 inches long, or about the size of a Nutter Butter, covered in chocolate. OK, it doesn't have to be covered in chocolate, but isn't everything better that way?

Mama Mia here has never had Nutter Butter cookies before, especially not covered in chocolate. So, once she's finished with her late lunch (Italian today!), she gets a few Nutter Butter cookies. Some are normal, some are covered in chocolate, as per the pamphlet's suggestion.

It seems that it satisfies her craving for peanut butter and chocolate very well, which will likely add to her wardrobe issues

Or rather, Draco's wardrobe issues since she's taken one of his shirts to cover her cute little baby bump and a pair of his boxers.

janebecomes

Jane is almost finished Tom Jones and so is in the midst of reading as her tea grows cold beside her.

Though most of her thoughts about this book are what she wishes to say to Tom about it and she keeps smiling with pleasure in anticipation.

After all one of the greatest joys is to discuss a book with someone who recommended it to you. There is tea enough to share and she will remember to be social after these last few pages.

Tiny tag: Cyborg

thanksrainman

Gus stumbled from his room and makes his way on auto-pilot to the bar. When the napkin appears, it takes Gus fifteen minutes and a cup of coffee before he notices it.

"What?...Oh, come on."

He makes his way to the other side of the bar, fishing about for something to write on the board with.

TODAY'S SPECIAL:
HALF OFF ANYTHING I DON'T HAVE TO MIX

That taken care of, he returns to his coffee and waits.

[[OOC: taking over for tonight, since

mamaplays2win is getting lightning'ed on.]]

~~Gotta call slowtime early, because of sudden feeling of nastiness.~~

Okay, I'm back.

latino_menace

Ramon's mood has not noticeably improved since the last time he was down in the bar but then, how often is he obviously cheerful, really? He's not drinking anything stronger than coffee at the moment so at least alcohol isn't making his mood worse - this could change, of course, depending on who he might run into tonight.

isaysimplewords

Cal's neighborhood has quite a few dog owners. Seeing them out and about has reminded him of his plans to get a dog once he'd moved. He's been meaning to take care of some other things first, but - it's all been bewildering, a little (or a lot), and he feels like he's going in circles just trying to find a place to start.

So. Refocus. Finding a dog has got to be easier than, say, learning the history of his new world, right? To that end, Cal has taken a cue from X's search for fish and set out to educate himself on dogs first.

Aaaand right about now he's really, really glad he asked Bar for something simple and straightforward instead of trying a bookstore or the Internet or something instead. Dogs, it turns out, are complicated. And that's before getting into the different breeds.

Guess who would be totally okay with being distracted from his reading? It won't be hard. Cal distracts easily when it comes to reading.

[OOC: Open till it scrolls! Also, we're having some Weather here, so if I disappear without warning, that would be why.]

thursdays_angel

Today is the big day. Team Sign-Up Day.

Castiel has arranged his table very carefully. The sign-up sheet is front and center, with three ballpoints lined up to the side. His own pen (the tiny Mounties floating lazily along the Rockies) and red notebook are within easy reach; he wants to be able to jot down questions to pass on to Meg.

And he has a sign. Bold black marker on neon blue poster board. Castiel has never heard the adage, Brevity is the soul of signage. And he had quietly delighted in writing something of his own composition.

Baseball Team Sign-Ups

Sixteen to twenty people or beings are needed to play a game of baseball.

Players who sign up will be divided into two teams by the casting of lots. Lists will be posted.

The game is for fun. You do not need to know how to play. Rules will be provided.

He'd enjoyed the sign making so much that he had made three extras. Sanskrit on hot pink. Russian on bright yellow. And Mandarin on fluorescent green. All four are taped to the edge of the table.

Castiel waits. Expectantly.

[OOC: Please see this Back Room post before tagging. Plot-locked to baseball muns.]

hapan-heiress.livejournal.com

[OOM: and i don't know
is this the part where you let go
and sinking under a shadow
is this the part where you find out
i'm there for you now

some vague spoilers for lotf & fotj]

freezeitwithice.livejournal.com

Days in Castle Oblivion have a tendency toward the featureless. Vexen's view rarely changes; if he emerges from the stark and sterile world of his laboratory, it is to wander the stark and sterile halls of the upper levels, or at other times the darker but similarly repetitive - if convoluted - hallways of the basements. The neophytes rarely visit the realm that the Chilly Academic calls his domain, and he does his best to avoid theirs when at all possible.

Mixing the neophytes with the founding members of Organization XIII has been, in Vexen's experience, not dissimilar to dropping a chunk of pure caesium into a bowl of water with the lights off.

But aside from the occasional explosion, run-ins with the neophytes, and visits from his Superior, Vexen's non-existence is relatively quite and undisturbed. He's left to his own devices and spends his days in blessed quiet and solitude.

It's no wonder that when he steps into the bar, he looks... surprised, to say the least. It's crowded, it's far darker than he's used to, it's loud, and it's warm. All things that are immediate strikes against the place in the Academic's book. But in the past decade, he's seen stranger things and been to far more unusual worlds.

Which means that he's pulled his mantle of unflappability back around him within short order as he presses further into this strange new 'world', or whatever it is.

A scientist must never turn away from an opportunity for the acquisition of new knowledge.

[OOC: Mun has to leave at 12:30AM MST, but feel free to tag and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. X3)

sunbaked_baker

When your work schedule dictates that you get out of bed at four, a sleepless night hits you hard.

It hits you harder when it's worry keeping you up. Worry about your inexplicable alliance with a vampire in a battle against an even worse vampire and his entire gang. Worry about your vampire ally's well-being since he apparently disappeared off the face of the earth right after saying that you were in this together, and worry about the fact that you're a human (she hopes) who's worried about a vampire.

And worry about just how much of a sicko that makes her.

Sunshine stumbles into the bar at midnight in her world, on her way back to her bedroom from the bathroom. (She vaguely entertains the thought of asking for a refund on the whole seeing-in-the-dark thing, imagining the not'look on Con's face if she did, since she was still tripping over doorframes due to her now-drastically-wonky depth perception.) The bright lights of the bar causing her to mutter an irritated and surprised curse and to squeeze her eyes shut for a long moment as she sought to adjust.

"Damn place apparently can't kidnap me at a sane hour, anymore."

Current Mood: worried

guppy_sandhu

Free walk-in clinic
The doctor is in

Guppy is in the bar, near the door to the infirmary, running his clinic.

Actually, in the meantime, he seems to be alternating between sewing a baby-size Pingu costume and reading a rather official looking letter he's had today.

He'd like company, and he's ready for patients, whichever comes first.

mr_gaeta

It's been a long day.

A long week, actually.

(Gaeta won't even talk about what the past month's been like.)

Not having something to occupy his hands and mind -- a report, a stack of notes, even just a pen and paper -- feels awkward enough that Gaeta's taken to folding a small fleet of paper airplanes at his table. Being made out of napkins, all of them are too wobbly to fly, but that's not exactly the point; the point is to stay alert, stay awake, and do anything but sit around doing nothing.

...Even if it's much more likely that any alertness Gaeta currently possesses comes more from the three empty mugs rimmed with coffee stains, not the slowly massing collection of floppy aircraft.