14 October 2017 @ 09:35 pm
Jim only came down to get more food for the suite upstairs, but it quickly became clear that something odd was going on with the translation field. And this is potentially interesting! He's all for picking up new languages, or just hearing what people sound like without intervention from anything else. 

And so, he's deliberately found the spot in the bar where everything seems most garbled, and is lounging on a sofa with a stack of men's fashion magazines and a pile of fabric swatches. He appears to be looking at morning suits in particular, but his attention is definitely focused on those speaking nearby.

[OOC: Open for days! Possibly the duration of the plot, as I'm unlikely to have time to put him in again. Jim speaks a host of languages, but is always up for learning more.]

29 September 2017 @ 04:36 pm
Jim stands on the threshold with one hand on the doorknob. His gaze slides across the bar then over his shoulder, where there's a busy street behind him. Everyone passing is speaking Czech, and he seems to spend a long moment deciding whether to head back out, or come in.

The lure of Western food is what does it eventually. He closes the door and heads to the bar, where he stands looking at it for a while. He's dressed a bit differently than usual; still in jeans, but neat ones instead of the baggy 90s style, and a proper shirt instead a T-shirt. His overcoat and scarf look expensive. 

When he doesn't say anything, Bar produces a Coke. He shakes his head, and says, 'coffee, please.' And then, 'I'll have a salad, thank you.'

Lunch appears, along with a cake. It's fudge chocolate, with candles, and a big iced '17' on it. He exhales and slides onto a bar stool, letting his computer bag thunk down onto the floor.

'I didn't ask for that.'

Apparently he's getting it anyway.

20 September 2017 @ 09:21 am
The comfiest of the couches near the fireplace is taken up by a human-shaped Yrael, lounging in dark green pajama-pants and soft grey t-shirt, reading the New Orleans autumn festival calendar of events.

There is no glitter - there has never been any glitter. Yrael doesn't know what you're talking about.

Were you wanting the couch? Too bad.

(ooc: Now with a fixed link! *kicks the photobucket*)
13 September 2017 @ 02:26 pm
There is an glittery, glimmering, positively iridescent white cloud perched on the edge of the bar, its tail lashing restlessly this way and that. Having given up trying to keep the splashes of metallic-hued glitter from his fur, Yrael has turned his efforts towards working up a massive sulk.

The effect may be ruined by the occasional kitty sneeze - embarrassingly cute at the best of times - of silver and copper-hued glitter.

Yrael hates everyone in this bar.
25 August 2017 @ 09:04 pm
For someone who doesn't like having their stuff messed with, Wilford sure is oblivious to what could happen when he messes with someone else's. His latest prank, needless to say, is not sitting well with Jim, which is why he looks less than pleased today. Also why he takes his phone out of his pocket, and shows a picture on it to Bar.

'I'd like this cake, please. Minus the 'happy birthday'. And you can make the bomb real, if you like....but as you won't, just deliver it to Wilford as is. Thanks.'

There are times for subtlety, and this is not it. That done though, he asks for the time machine specs and starts flicking through things needed to build it. 

'Do you have this stuff to hand?'

Bar's silence says no. But then the Lost and Found box appears on the counter. Jim raises his eyebrows at it, and sticks his hand inside.

An iPhone case with Nicolas Cage as the Mona Lisa.
An eight foot cardboard cut out of Will Ferrell.
A package of 1000 communion wafers.
Ticket stubs for a Hanson concert circa. 2009.

'...is there anything actually useful in here?'

The note says, keep going. So against his better judgement, he does.

[Tiny!tag: Vyvyan, Bernard Black]
02 July 2017 @ 09:32 pm
Outside on the grass, from the Scout Hut towards the beach, there is bunting and fairy lights and a large banner.


The fair is here for the whole week, and there's something for everyone, so come along and join us!

[ooc: OPEN TO ALL!
Threadhopping encouraged!

For further details, this post, and this post.

Horticultural show entries are now CLOSED.
Sports threads are now CLOSED.
Stalls/other are OPEN]
02 June 2017 @ 03:10 pm
Emcee dusts off the karaoke machine. Poor little machine, so neglected. Well. That's going to change.

As the video screens flicker on, Emcee steps up to the microphone stand. He's wearing a leather kilt, chunky motorcycle-style boots adorned with buckles and straps, and a black, pinstriped vest with no shirt. Also, a rainbow-colored feather boa. As usual, his makeup is flawless.

An acoustic guitar intro strums through the speakers.

"I met her in a club down in old Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola
C-O-L-A Cola..."

Emcee adopts an Iggy Pop-esque stance, gripping the microphone in both hands and singing intimately into it. He knows the words already and doesn't have to watch the screens.

"She walked up to me and she asked me to dance
I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola
L-O-L-A Lola
La-la-la-la Lola..."

This is Emcee's first attempt at rocking out. And he will do so, fabulously, as if he were always meant to.

Read more... )

Anyone who wants to can dance or sing along. In fact, Emcee encourages it!

And when the song ends, he takes a bow with a rainbow-colored flourish. He still is what he is.

[tiny tag: Cassian Andor]
Current Music: Lola - The Kinks
25 May 2017 @ 03:54 pm
Yrael doesn't quite understand the change that has come over Milliways. The decor is different, and the music includes the kind of jaunty earworms he tries to avoid. But the changes don't bother him much. There are strange new ships and unfamiliar technology to investigate but not get too close to in case they decide to suddenly stop working.

That sometimes happens, after all.

Right now, the figure of a pale, white-haired man dressed in white can be seen outside, barefoot upon the grass, wielding a lightsaber as green as his eyes which has so far resisted any deteriorating effects of close proximity to Free Magic.

Yrael has never fought with a sword of any kind, and perhaps it shows, but he has seen it done and is generally a quick study. It doesn't hurt that the bright toy makes satisfying vrrrm wrrrrrm noises as he swings it this way and that.
The bar room of Milliways is always full of sound - the clatter of dishes and clink of glasses, chairs being scooted back or further in, footsteps upon the floor, rats squeaking, the background murmur of conversations overlapping one another.

But tonight the main door to the bar opens to the mouth of an city alleyway, to a caucophony of noise and music, full of seething crowds and colorful parade floats, the smells of food and sweat and smoke and beer and those colorful fruity drinks sold in yard-long plastic glasses with umbrellas in them. Mardi Gras is in full swing and New Orleans has outdone itself this time.

Yrael enters, trailing laughter from a section of the crowd on the other side. His white hair is decorated with purple, gold and green feathers, his pale face partially hidden by a sharp, glittery cat mask of gold, behind which his green eyes are bright. Over his white shirt this evening he wears a shiny waistcoat of purple, gold, green, and black. It's clearly party time, big time, show time -

"And then some!" he grins, seeing Milliways. "Fat Tuesday is upon us, Milliways! Welcome to Mardi Gras! Come, dance, explore! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Yrael will make sure the door stays open for any party-goer who would like to partake in the joie de vivre, and the Bar can certainly provide a change of costume...

(ooc: The post will be open all weekend and into next week as needed! Usual party-thread guidelines apply! Tag in! Threadhop! Meet new people and get into trouble! :D Yrael will be around, but his mun will not be able to tag much until Monday evening. <333333)
08 February 2017 @ 12:24 pm
The front door of Milliways opens to a damp residential neighborhood busy with people and emergency vehicles. Most of the power lines lean at extreme angles or have been snapped off fifteen feet from the ground, and a good many of the buildings have been reduced to splintered husks and so much strewn lumber.

"Watch that power line, Antoine. They haven't cleared this street yet. I will be right back." His white hair dulled and mussed by rain and dirt, Yrael comes through the door, pulling off thick workman gloves and the stained, reflective yellow vest he wears over a dark green t-shirt. He is filthy, but then, so is most of what he has just come from.

"Dearest Bar, a glass of Atlantean wine, if you would be so kind," he requests, taking a seat.

Another long day in the city of music and life and death.
14 January 2017 @ 02:00 pm
At some point overnight, two pictures appears on the noticeboard. The intrepid infirmary scanner has decided to go mountaineering! It has a mini backpack, and a sports drink and everything. But oh noes! It seems a mishap occurred on its way up the mountain, and the second picture is a scene of carnage and despair. The sports drink is spilled, the backpack rolled away, and the bottom of the scanner's casing has come apart into three pieces. 

Oops? The smiley face on the note is turned upside down, and looks very sad.

In totally unrelated news, Jim is sprawled on a sofa by the window, flicking through a men's fashion magazine. He looks very chilled, even slightly tanned, and generally quite at ease with the world. New Orleans was fun, it seems! 

13 January 2017 @ 09:52 pm
The parcel Fry gives to Bar includes a tape recording of his conversation with Wilford (although it says 'ABBA GOLD' on it) and a written report.

'For Gene Hunt
Report )

He will be back later to check for replies.
09 January 2017 @ 09:21 pm
There is a new notice on the notice board.


Good afternoon,

Are you a cat, or a human who has close company with a cat?

If you know the wherabouts of either of the stolen infirmary scanners please return it or snitch on the culprit with some evidence and we will give you a whole salmon. No questions asked if you come with the scanner.

For further details please speak to me or Dad but probably me if any more detectiving is required.

Fry Sandhu'
03 January 2017 @ 10:09 pm
When Guppy enters the infirmary this afternoon, the first thing he discovers is the infirmary waitrats in a state of panic.

It soon becomes apparent why. While said waitrats were busy this afternoon (playing inside the pinball machine in the day room), the infirmary has been robbed*.

So it is a very irate Guppy that comes into the bar, writes out a note and puts it on the notice board.

If anyone else is aware of its whereabouts, please let me know.
Dr Guppy Sandhu'

Underneath the note is a picture of the scanner, a handheld device which can be connected to the bigger computers.

With that, he nips home for a moment, before coming back with a small white sausage dog, which his daughter has informed him has been trained to sniff out criminals, though he is not entirely convinced.

[ooc: *Thread still in progress]
03 January 2017 @ 09:24 am
Anyone who has seen the debris from enthusiastic present-opening on Christmas morning may find similar themes in the scene to be discovered tucked away in the corner of the couch this afternoon.

It is something shaped like an upside-down cat among tattered pieces of wrapping paper, half-tangled in the cord of a pair of earbuds connected to a music-player, sound asleep and using a soft toy shaped like a stick of dynamite as a pillow.

A torn bit of wrapping paper and tape is still clinging to his ear.

Yrael believes in playing hard, and napping harder.
26 December 2016 @ 11:07 pm
At some point over local Christmas, the door went briefly swish-y. Twice. There were then a handful of gifts left with Bar.

The gift giver of an ensign will be back, say true. At least, she will if her door ever decides to stay stable for more than ten minutes at a time...!
The hero (or was it anti-hero) held his hands on the wheel as it made marks through the forest on a very Expensive dune buggy. Kliever would probably kick his ass on the spot if he noticed the man taking it from the Wastelands on a off road adventure to ... Where the hell was he anyway?

The car stopped at the bar as Jak pulled himself out and dusted himself off. A bar would be a great relaxation for the time being.

"Daxter?! HEY DAX! Where are you? Did you go in here?

The anti-hero had guns a plenty on his back, along with various other goodies as he walked inside expecting the crowd to attack him on sight.

"I'm looking for someone, 2'0 feet tall, orange... Have you seen him?"

On instinct, the man was reaching for his gun.

(Meet Jak/ Mar everyone!)
Current Mood: angry
18 November 2016 @ 08:04 pm
A normal looking human with a long trench coat with a red band on it was about on his way back from a brief talk with John Connor, he looked around and blinked "What the ... HELL!"

I was just talking to John Connor, now i'm in a bar.. area?! He walked inside the door.

He looks rather annoyed or not pleased, he came with a mission from "Good" Ol' Skynet but ended up sitting on a freaking bar stool.

The terminator lifted a finger and frowned "Look whoever the hell is here, one drink please."

Of course, he ordered this drink just to "seem" normal but he isn't a human after all.

18 November 2016 @ 08:40 pm
If Jim were a nicer man, he might be more appreciative of the things people have done here to keep him entertained. Take the latest thing; it was completely weird squeezing the Charter skin on, even weirder to find he could fly at the end of it and the most weird that he'd find himself desperate enough to resort to this at all.

Long story short, there's a magpie flying around the bar tonight. It seems mostly friendly as long as you don't object to it dive-bombing your head, stealing your food, or trying to drag shiny objects out of your pocket. It sings well, though! And...constantly. Loudly. Sometimes right into the ear of whomever it's taken a liking to.

He likes flying, though. There's definitely an hour well-spent getting a good view of the grounds, testing how high he can go (not high enough, damnit), and enjoying himself for once.

A decidedly earthbound Jim can be found in the kitchen later. There was a certain conversation with X, a fair amount of silent exasperation, a lot of stubborn refusal, and finally a compromise reached wherein he finds himself in here, washing dishes for the evening. Eh. It gives him something to do with his hands while his mind designs a moonbase. He can deal, and it helps distract from the nagging feeling that he's forgotten something. Jim never forgets things. It's weird, and he doesn't like it.

[OOC: Open all weekend! Feel free to be harassed by a magpie anywhere around the place, or find him in the kitchen.]
31 October 2016 @ 02:07 pm
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.)