(no subject)

[bringspeopletogether]

[Not quite out of Milliways:

My old friend
I feel your ghost again
When I thought you'd gone for real
I'd never say for good

]

(no subject)

[mnt_mike]

The doorway to the Staff Hallway swings open with a well oiled swish which is then quickly followed by a pop not unlike the sound one hears when opening a well sealed Tupperware container. Which is, in turn, quickly followed by the sound of a Barman saying, "...oh boy," right before redirects his tripping momentum into a perfectly executed tuck-and-roll. 

Behind Bar a banner appears:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE

There are also party hats, a cake for Mike, several as-yet-uncarved pumpkins, as well as some pretty interesting looking knives. You know, for when he finally gets to Bar and starts the Happy Hour he's supposed to be hosting today.

(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim has ventured down only rarely since his birthday, and only then because there's a party on. He is liking Bar's decision to paint his face for the duration! It's fun!

And then he comes to the bar for lunch. His gentle internal wondering of why Sherlock wasn't in bed when he woke up this morning is answered when he's presented with a note.

Jim goes very still. He remains very still for a long time, the paper crumpling evvvvvvvver so slowly in his fingers, creases cracking like ice dropped into water. He's glad of the face paint for a whole different reason, because oh, he's proud of Sherlock, he's proud of him for this, but he's going to fucking kill him as well, and do it properly this time. The game plays on. Yes. Yes, it does, and thank God, because at least this proves they really will never be ordinary.

So he laughs. Loudly, and with a manic edge he doesn't even try to hide. Well done, Sherlock. You even left the note in the bar, rather than somewhere private. Well, then it deserves a public reaction. Jim shuts up and shakes his head, almost fond. He straightens his pristine jacket, and smooths his hair back. 

Then he turns and picks up the nearest chair, swings it over his head and smashes it to pieces on the floor. He smashes it until he's left with nothing but a leg, which spins out from his hand across the room, whipping through the air.

Sorry if it bounces off you? 


[OOC: Birthday link is lots of NSFW, natch. And it's probably obvious, but Jim's a tad erratic in this EP and may be prone to outbursts.)

(no subject)

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair has become a big fan of this newfangled instant text-only communication stuff. It makes things so much easier.

Like, say, when you go home after an incredibly vivid dream, with all intents to call it a night, then find yourself having a very manly twenty-minute sobbing fit into your dog's fur for no reason.

(Well, no. For good reason. But it's still a little embarrassing, even if Fuzzy's the only witness to his indignities.)

It's the kind of thing that, if you're Alistair, makes you want to go talk to someone after it's over -- except you're too wrung out to muster the energy, you look a mess, and there still isn't anyone around the palace you'd feel comfortable leaning on for a while. (Except the dog, of course.) But behold! Here's the newfangled instant text-only communication stuff to redeem a not-so-great night.

And so:

quondamGryphon has signed on.

...All right, maybe Alistair's wrung out enough that, back in Denerim, he'll stare blankly at the list of usernames for a bit. But he'll get around to writing something. Just give him a minute.



[ooc: alistair isn't in the bar proper, but he's taggable on t-minus. open until it scrolls.]

(no subject)

[vorpatril]

Ivan's grateful for Milliways now that Miles has a twenty-four hour leave, the change of uniform is odd.

His boots are about the same but the jacket has too much gold on it. He sits at the Bar and orders some wine and considers dinner as he looks around.

(no subject)

[likeroaringlions]

Everyone likes a nice pair of knees, right? Well, there's an extra set on display today, thanks to Bar's costuming choices for William Douglas. If he usually looks like he came in from a non-specifically medievalish era, he now has a rugged and more or less Jacobite air about him.

Only with disappointingly less weaponry. Come on Bar, couldn't you give a laddie a horse pistol and a sword while you're at it?


((Aaah I'm going to be patchy because of Halloween duties, but I couldn't resist throwing in an EP for this doofus.))

(no subject)

[says_the_booyah]

For Halloween, Cyborg has adjusted the faint blue glow that emanates from many of his parts, and today it has a creepy green aspect.  It's not much of a change, but it was a hit with the kids at the Boys and Girls Club today.

He's using the universal remote in his right arm - yes, he really does everything built into his robotics - to flip around the ten thousand channels on the Bar's TV.  At least six thousand are showing horror films and shows of course.  He's trying to choose between rarely seen episodes from the 80s reboot of "The Scary Door"; the third film in the Buzzcut series, about a maniacal barber on the loose in Dallas; and Les Craisen's classic 1985 thriller, "Bad Dreams on Sunset Boulevard."  What to choose, what to choose?

(no subject)

[stilljustandrew]

Out of Milliways: a conversation with, and/or about, dead or once-dead people.

"So you said you found out how he died."



[Warning: spoilers for The Raven Boys.]

(no subject)

[nepetaleijon]

Out back of Milliways:

There's a point to all this dreaming.