milliways_bar | Entries tagged with mickey mouse

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

[After this... Spoilers for the introduction movie to Disney Epic Mickey]

There is a loud crash and the sound of chainsaws as the door to the bar opens. Someone jumps through, to those who know him and where he comes from, they will instantly recognize Mickey Mouse. He looks different than normal however. He's not wearing his black cloak for one and the look on his face is one of fear. He closes the door quickly and with a loud BANG and the door shakes with the little mouse shuddering a bit under the weight of the door. Some splinters crack and then the door disappears.

The mouse takes a few ginger steps forward and then, when he sees the window, he realizes where he is. He looks for one of the chairs in the corner and just curls up in the chair. The adrenaline was flowing within him and this is going to be a hell of a crash from this one. He keeps looking at where the door once was as if afraid to leave the bar.

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

The mouse hops behind Bar and starts tossing the shaker in a show of flair. The sign adjusts itself to show the following:

Specials
American Beauty
Fairy Tale
Little Princess

Let the happy hour crack begin! The mouse king salutes.

gavemea_45

He'd rather face another vengeful ghost than do this. More than one, even.

Still, it's got to be done sometime.

Sam slinks sheepishly into Milliways, snags a cup of coffee, and slides into the most out-of-the-way booth he can find, trying not to meet anyone's eyes quite yet.

Just how drunk had he been the last time he was here, anyway?

allstarchuck.livejournal.com

{OOM: Rule of Milliways # Five: ask to see credentials of prospective sexual partner BEFORE sleeping with them.}

There are a few subtle signs from which you may deduct what Chuck was doing last night.

1) the slightly wrinkled work uniform,
2) the Raktajino
3) the head down in his arms trying v. hard not to hyperventilate.

It's working. Ish.

Tiny FREAKED OUT tags: Chuck Bartowski, Demeter, ~~Pocket!Chuck~~ Charlotte "Chuck" Charles, Jake Foley

mnt_raph

Now here's something you don't see every day:

Raph on actual duty.
He's sitting at an actual table.
Reading actual paper work.
Wearing actual clothing circa his actual time and place of origin.

It's bizzare, is what it is.

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

Something is strange. There's a walking, talking, mouse behind the bar. He's wearing a black cloak as well. He wipes off the bar top while standing on a few boxes.

The board behind him says:

Tonight's Specials

Mickey Mouse
Cherry Cheesecake
Cheesecake

Have at!

alt-hulk.livejournal.com

[Millitimed to a few days ago, shortly after Roxas entered the bar.]

Teddy's sitting on a couch, staring into the fireplace and wondering where Billy is. He hasn't seen him for a while--nobody has--and that's cause for more than a little alarm.

He just hopes he's okay--of course he's okay, because he's got Eowyn and the other girls.

(It doesn't change the fact that he's worried.)

Completely botherable; the mun is going to a party later today, though, so beware of slows due to that.
[Tiny Tag: Teddy Altman]

dancewaterdance

Demyx is on the couch by the fire.

Demyx is not the only person on the couch by the fire.

He's draped himself half-across Axel's lap at this point while he strums on the sitar and makes notes here and there on music paper.

Someone, rescue poor Axel from this terrible fate?

[Musical Tags: Demyx+Axel]

lockitwithkeys.livejournal.com

It's 11.30 at night, do you know where your XIII is?

Yeah, neither does he.

mnt_mike

Mike is seated behind Bar scribbling away on one of those oversized news print sketch pads they sell for cheap at pretty much every art supply store ever. He's not looking up. He's not paying much attention to anything around him. He's concentrating so hard that his tongue is even sticking out a little. Yeah, the narration knows, just when you thought he couldn't look any more doofy...

To his immediate left Bar has erected a tabletop easel on which a needle point ring has been propped. In cross-stitch the following message can be read:

New Idea Day
Help the Barman write
A Security Handbook.
Please.
For the love of all
That is great and small.

dancewaterdance

Demyx is stumbling and carrying his sitar over his shoulder when he makes his way up to bar today. Too many people have waylayed him with important conversations, it's time to down enough antidotes to kill off a plague. That should take care of the Atlantean and the hangover.

After he's presented with the five glasses that he chugs in rapid succession, a note on a napkin shows up and he blinks blearily at it, head swimming as it clears.

"What? Oh, yeah. Sure. Least I could do, I guess. ... Ohhh yeah, I got a great song I've been wanting to play, this'll be perfect." He pats the bar and his sitar before rolling up his sleeves and hopping over and grabbing the chalk.

SPECIALS

Drinks that sound like they should explode are half off
(because you are going to ask me for them anyway)
(You know who you are)

Also,
Genocidal Mouse
NEW AND IMPROVED

Stepping back to observe his work, Demyx nodded a self-satisfied nod to himself. Oh yes, he was good at this.

Grabbing a chair to drag behind the bar, Demyx jumped upon it, sitar and hand.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND - OTHER. YOU KNOW. YRAEL. HI MAN. I WOULD LIKE TO DEDICATE THIS FIRST NUMBER TO A VERY SPECIAL PERSON TO ME, HE KNOWS WHO HE IS. HAPPY HOUR AFTER THIS VERY MEANINGFUL DEDICATION."

And with that, he launches into a song to jumpstart things out.

[The Tag That Totally Went There: Demyx, Gordan Freeman, Scaramouche, Cal Chandler, Annabelle Newfield]

[THREAD HOPPING ENCOURAGED AS USUAL FOR BARTENDING. BOTHER EACHOTHER. ♥

HOLY SHIT IT'S A MOUSE GET UNDER THE BAR.

ETA: OKAY, YOU HAVE BEEN A LOVELY CROWD BUT I MUST CALL SLOWTIMES FOR THE NIGHT. I'm still here, but fading enough that I'm really lagging as far as keeping up. LOVE YOU ALL.]

tall-dark-and.livejournal.com

Riku is in Milliways once more. He can be found outside, near to the lake, wielding a practice wooden sword. For every day that he'd lost his sight, he'd gotten rustier with his fighting skills, and he's finding as many chances as he can to practice now.

Sense would say that they would improve quicker if he was on the hunt, but he's merely practicing the same basic movements, over and over. It's not as if you can hunt anything with a blunt object, anyway - not unless you feel like bludgeoning it to death. And he doesn't feel like pulling out the keyblade.

After all, there's no Heartless here, are there?

[Of OOC note: I am around now until 9:30 est and then will be back at 11.]

tall-dark-and.livejournal.com

Riku approachs the bar, looking frustrated and annoyed. He drops a few torn pieces of paper on her, and leans heavily on the wood for a moment.

"Direct these notes to where they've gotta go, please?" he asks. "It's really important."

The notes disappear, and after a moment, a big chocolate cookie appears on the bar's surface. Riku blinks, and then laughs.

"Thanks," he says, and pats her surface before walking off with the offered treat. It won't make him any less harried, but there's something to be said about chocolate.

( Notes for Sora, Kairi, Namine, Mickey Mouse, and Axel )

---

All are signed with his name at the bottom.

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

Mickey is near the fire. Mickey has cheese. Mickey also is quite botherable.

hatchingviper.livejournal.com

Wesker has found a booth that, without being off in a corner or something equally obviously worth checking out, provides lines of sight to noteworthy doors and still lets him sit in a fairly unobtrusive, not-worth-examining way.

He's got a notepad and a book, and appears absorbed in his work--although he does look up suddenly sometimes just to see if anyone's paying attention. He could be bothered, easily, but there's no actual reason to notice him. He's a boring booth chameleon.

Wesker is, sadly, unaware of the off-duty waitrat leaning against the booth wall outside and practicing its juggling, pausing only to bow to observers and passerby.

Come warn him before a crowd gathers.

not-that-anakin.livejournal.com

Anakin Solo is up at the bar watching how things fold out on a day to day basis. He's not too wrapped up in things to not talk to anyone who wishes to speak with him however as he leans back with hands behind his head.

Mickey Mouse is sitting in a booth. His hood is down and he's munching on some cheese and drinking some tea. He's developed quite a taste for tea in his time here and is finding that it helps him to relax.

Daniel Jackson is sitting by the fire with his usual cup of coffee. He's sans books at the moment and smiling. Quite an interesting development here.

orgmemberxiii.livejournal.com

[oom: One dark night, the Keyblade Master and the Key of Destiny meet, and things go downhill from there.]

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

Mickey was out by the lake looking over the water. With the colder weather, his cloak was brought up around his face. He sat down and thought for a while. His keyblade appeared in his hand as he leapt upward, and leapt toward invisible targets. He used his agility well.

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

Barman inna bar.

At Bar.

Watching Game 2 of the World Series.

Kicking his feet nervously.

Glancing at the Staff Wing every so often to see if his girl's coming out today, since she gave him the cold shoulder all day yesterday.

Sipping a chocolate milkshake.

Beware.

pirate_jack

It's been raining off and on all morning, and remains stubbornly cloudy-- not to mention the damp, clammy chill of the air and wind. Despite all this, Jack Sparrow's looking surprisingly content when he comes strolling into the bar, a canvas bag slung over his shoulder and a tarpaulin-wrapped bundle tucked under his arm.

Seems there's been an addition to the lakeshore, in the form of a floating dock that runs from the Pearl's sea-ladder to the land, busily crafted by a few clever orange fellows-- and that's cheered him enough for Jack to ignore the weather.

He stops by Bar for a bottle of rum and then promptly settles down by the fire, where it's warm. Soon afterwards, he's busily splicing pieces of rope from the bag together, using the tools he'd rolled in the bundle, and seems relaxed enough.

For now.

hearthethoughts.livejournal.com

[In a Universe somewhere across the wide expanse of space, people are discovering that they posess extraordinary abilities. A cheerleader in Odessa Texas discovers she can't be killed by conventional means, an office drone in Japan discovers that he can bend space and time to his will, and in Los Angeles, an LAPD officer discovers he can hear the thoughts of others. This ability, Gets him into trouble. Confused? Why the hell is this puppet inna bar? Read This <-- In fact, I'm gonna have to insist upon you reading this.

"So just exactly who is this Sylar-"

The door opens and closes, revealing a tall heavyset male in a police uniform. The full deal. Shiny badge, a radio, utility belt, a modern Superhero.

Who is, as of now, very confused.

"...Agent Hanson?"

People with psychic radars or general otherworldly senses might just be going off five alarm right now, or at least staring.

Matt for his part is standing directly in front of the doorway blinking stupidly.

"Alright. This isn't cool. How come the federal government gets a bar in their office while the rest of us just get....actual offices?"

Matt removes his hands from his pockets, peering around, "...Agent Hanson? Hello?"

Welcome to Milliways Matt Parkman.

Current Mood: confused

gone_byebye

[From here.]

Amidst the pile of rubble and sproingy broken bits where the Clock used to be, Ray comes unsteadily to his feet. With a great deal of wincing and the utmost care in motion, he picks his way to the Bar.

"Six hundred milligrams of lumiracoxib and a pitcher of Third Rail, please."

Bar does not comply.

"I'll settle for the Prexige and as much water as I can carry."

That can be done.

"Thank you very much, Bar. I appreciate it."

With even greater care of motion, Ray makes his way towards the booths. One of them's got to be dark enough to sit in without wanting to pillbug.

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

A small figure wanders outside from the bar and looks out over the lake. A black hood around his face, the only thing visible are two round ears. He leaps up into the air, hand held high as a blade that looks like a key appeared in his hand. He twirled the keyblade around him and then held it in ready position. He began fighting as if holding a sword, each move made with precision and the 4'10" mouse moved with a distinct grace that one would not expect from a creature such as this.

His hood fell down from around his face. It revealed a mouse, and those from Earth would recognize him as Mickey Mouse. He is a precise fighter with his weapon and then after a few moments he froze, concentrating as the sun shone down on him.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

It may be some time before Quinn gets up the nerve to walk outside again, no matter how appealing the green landscape is. At least he's starting to think he knows why. He's not going to be staying here much longer. Not if his world keeps grabbing him back and pulling other people with him. It's nearly time to go home.

Still, he could do with a proper dinner or two before he has everything together, so he makes his way down to the Bar and finds a convenient booth. It'll do as well as anywhere else, really.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Normally it takes alcohol, or at the very least some form of recreational chemistry, to produce the sort of expression Quinn had when he woke up this morning. It's almost a pity there were no cameras or witnesses on hand. Going from the relatively tranquil face of sleep, to the vaguely confused look of anyone who's come to wakefulness in a strange place, to full-blown 'I did what? I said what?' rarely works out as flawlessly as it did this morning.

He's composed himself pretty well, though- working hard in the dawn hours, then getting to clean up in an actual working shower, will do that. Now he's just got breakfast to get through, although the words An agreement- two years after the dragons are gone periodically surface in his head and cause the odd expression to flicker over his face.

Mind, if you're not a telepath, an empath, or an extremely perceptive gambler, it could just look like he's got a dodgy bowl of oatmeal.