milliways_bar | Jul. 23rd, 2006

Jul. 23rd, 2006

The couches are remarkably comfortable, really.

And Raven is a very very lazy creature, sometimes.

Which is why he is currently sprawled on said couch, cookies resting on a plate at his side.

Perhaps he is even too lazy to eat them.

Right.

stbethadettes

(OOM: to thee I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful)

Spoilers for Y: The Last Man #40

beautiful_ann

[OOM: Christmas in July! Only it's December, in New York, 1933.

Rated P for Parents, Presents, and Puckering Up.]

flybywash

[OOM: On Serenity, there's a late-night conversation between Wash and Zoe about the captain's latest choice of destinations.

Subtitled, "Curse You, Conflicting Mun Schedules," as it's Millitimed way the hell back to just after all of this.]

the_lioness

It's late; or is it early? Alanna has no idea. She managed a few hours of sleep curled up at the foot of Thom's bed, but it wasn't nearly enough. Looking almost ill, she wanders out to the main bar in search of food. Waffles, to be exact. Before long, she's chewing slowly, head supported by her hand, wondering what she's going to do about War.

smallestopener

Millitimed to last night, some time not long after this

"It's important, Tom. Eddie said so." Ingress pulls Tom by the hand down the hallway to the staff quarters.

"Ingress, we can't simply barge in. That wouldn't be polite." Tom did not see Eddie. His back was to the front door, as it always is, and the bar was its usual noisy jumble of conversation. "I'll speak with Mike about it, and then he can-"

Ingress's hand slides over the lock of Eddie and Susannah's door. There is a snick as the lock gives way and the door opens a crack. Ingress looks up at Tom, the opalescent colors of her eyes darker than usual. "It's important."

There's something about his little girl's manner that's different tonight. It's not simply how she rushed back to him after talking to Eddie and flung herself into his arms for comfort. There is a seriousness and determination about her that he's only seen a few times before. Once was last summer, when a much older version of the child before him entered the bar. He pushes the door all the way open and lets them in.

"Alright then, little one," he says, lowering his voice. "Let's go get your present."

They step inside, and Tom flicks on the light switch. The air has a stale quality, as if both Eddie and Susannah have been gone for quite some time. Tom wishes very much that he'd seen Eddie. He regrets that the events of the past couple of months prevented him from inquiring as to the man's whereabouts.

"It's on a bookshelf," Ingress says, concentrating on the task at hand. She finds the shelf quickly, and sure enough, there is the yo-yo, wooden and plain, waiting for her. She picks it up, cradling it in both hands as she stares at it.

Tom kneels down before her, wondering what on earth could be so special about such a simple toy. "Are you going to try it out?"

"No," she replies gravely. "It's not a toy." She slips it into her jeans pocket and takes Tom's hand. "It's for something later."

For what, she's not sure. She only knows she's to keep it safe, and one day, she'll use it when she needs it. "Let's go home now. They're- I don't think they're ever coming back." Her face crumples, and she begins to cry.

Tom picks her up, kissing her forehead. He makes certain the lights are off and the door locked once again. Then he carries Ingress back to the House of Arch. He looks to the front door before stepping through the painting, and while there are people standing round it, to his eyes the door is closed. "Perhaps they will, Ingress. You never know. Milliways always keeps you guessing."

Ingress nestles her face into Tom's neck. "Maybe," she whispers, the weight of the yo-yo a comfort in her pocket.

burned-them-all.livejournal.com

There are feet, connected to legs - bent at the knees, swinging from the end of a booth. The rest of the body is lying on the bench, head supported by a wadded up jacket, reading a rather yellowed book of poetry.

Sure, a sofa would be more comfortable, but then she might fall asleep.
Still, feel free to suggest she move, kick her back, or just distract her from the book.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

The front door opens slowly, and Mark backs into the bar, two plastic sacks of groceries on one arm, a cup of Starbucks iced coffee in his hand, a Big Brown Bag on his other arm, with a book in that hand. On his head are headphones, with a cord snaking to his shoulder bag. Turning around, he looks up from the book, blinking. "Oh, hell. I didn't exactly want to come here -yet-, Bar. Can't I at least put away my groceries first?" Grumping good-naturedly at nothing in particular, he claims a table, putting down the groceries and the shopping bag, and leaning back, returning to the book with a huge grin on his face. For fear of sounding like a t-shirt, life is good.

duke-roger.livejournal.com

Roger's in the bar, looking a little more rested.

Say hi to Roger, hmm?

iamnotstorm.livejournal.com

There was a Sarah in the bar, over by the observation window, sorting through a box of scraps and making repairs and re-fittings of what would become a midsummer's fairy costume.
Any excuse to wear chiffon and wings really.

There was a basket of paradoxes cooling on the table, alongside a cherry-lime rickey. She was humming to herself as she worked, and looking over the other patrons once and again.

lvpd_sidle

[OOM: New York City: Mid-July 1999. Mark takes Sara out for dinner and then back to the Loft to show her his movie. Rated A for annoying fans and roommates, and C for cute. Millitimed to July 20th.]

valdemars-mage.livejournal.com

:Why don't you go for a walk dear.:

"Do you think I should?" The speaker is a woman in merc's clothes with dark brown hair. She rubs the last of the road dirt from Gwena's white hair and turns to put the brushes away.

:Yes. I saw a place on the way in that looked very nice. The Crossed Sword.:

Elspeth raises an eyebrow at her companion. "Okay. Just so long as Skif doesn't follow."

:He won't.

So that evening Elspeth slips out. She opens the door to the tavern and enters, whereupon she discovers herself to be in a strangely familar place. She stands in the doorway for a moment puzzeled, then goes in and orders a drink. Maybe the memory will come to her. Maybe some company too.

Hearld in the bar.

last_adam

[OOM: Some things aren't supposed to happen. And so they're set to rights.

Or as right as such things can be set, anyway.

Millitimed to the Monday before last.]

called_lioness

[oom: Sometimes, the fall kills you. After Adam, and over the past two weeks, Lucy tries to spend time alone, and sleeps, and dreams.]

gone_byebye

[OOM: After the events of last night, Ray heads back to his room.

Perspective isn't always a nightmare.]

cheerychaplain

There's a priest in the bar with a sandwich, glasses, a battered hat resting on the Bar beside him, and a rather cheerful expression as he eats. Minimalist entrance posts aside, have at!

precocioustilda.livejournal.com

Oh look, a Tilda.

She's at the bar with a book of origami, pulling squares of paper out of her bag and folding them into various objects. Come bother! She needs someone to give all these lovelies to, after all.

shufti

Shufti is sitting on the floor near the trilobite tank, poring over a small black book. Next to her is a notepad and quill, which she occasionally marks painstakingly with symbols or words.

Baby Jack is next to her, propped up with cushions and quietly amusing himself for the moment with some wooden blocks. Now and again she marks the place in the book with her finger, and reaches over to tickle or pull faces at the baby.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is sitting at the bar, having lunch. He nipped home briefly this morning to check what time and date it was back in Holby, and to his relief found that being borrowed for two weeks hadn't affected anything.

One finger on his right hand is in a splint. He ignores it, using his other hand to lift the teacup as he watches the bar.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

Knox is in the Bar, enjoying a beer and a late supper. It's been another long day chasing interviews in the Mayor Borg Scandal. By now, TV is ahead of him, and fresh angles are rare. If only he could get an interview with someone bigger. But he can't, just yet, and is settling for a face-to-face with a pastrami on club.

Come say hello.

ineedavicodin.livejournal.com

Here's a face hasn't ben seen in the bar proper for a while. He's been keeping to himself. Recovering from the mental trauma of being shot. And grappling with the reality that he just might be dead on the other side of the bar door, which for the record, he can't see anymore.

Be careful what you eish for, you just might get it, he thought. He'd been quite vocal abou prefering life in the bar to life on the outside. His real life. He hated who he was out there, hated a lot of things. Things that were irrelevant in the bar. Maybe this was the final justice. Maybe he had no life outside the bar anymore.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Easier to bash it, when he knew it was there waiting for him. Now? He wasn't so sure.

gone_byebye

Ray's been to the Bar already today, but it was for a small cold gelpack to strap to his upper arm. Right now he's got a sandwich, a seat by the Observation Window- he likes the view- and a miniature Tinkertoy set. It's been a busy few days. The way he sees it, he's entitled to futz around with colorful children's toys for once.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

A man can only practise the sixteen hundred meter run for so long before it starts to get to him, even if he's got a genuinely inhuman metabolism. Thus, Wells is back in the Bar for the evening, in search of dinner (something vegetarian, thanks) and a place to sit. The Bar provides the first, but there's always the questino of the second.

princessjosiane.livejournal.com

Josiane likes the gardens. Especially when it is warm, as it is now. Not as warm as home, of course. Never really warm. Never really warm enough. Still, warm enough for less of those floating layers, and for utterly scandalous bare feet. Her skirts are long enough to conceal this fact, but an occasional flash of bare toes shows. She's painted her toenails - bronze, slightly sparkly in the sunlight. Cosmetics are fun.

She doesn't have any purpose, being out here. She's just wandering. Humming quietly to herself, nothing in particular, a minor refrain that changes subtly every now and then, but mostly repeats endlessly.

shelley_winters

Out of Milliways:

As a precaution for the party they are to attend later on, Ishamael gives Shelley a gift and some advice. Neither go down particularly well, but that's a given.

badderthanyou

[OOM: Dawn's Diary]

I'm supposed to be going on this big hunt - and since I'm the only one of the group that ended up in the weird end-of-the-universe bar, I don't think this is where we were going. Hope this fun pointy weapon doesn't get me into too much trouble.

petraarkanian.livejournal.com

( Petra )

Current Location: Outside

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

[OOC: OOM:

Eddie chooses his road.

...and in the other direction...

call-me-shane.livejournal.com

There might be some comfort for Shane in knowing he can still gage his own limits, but it's a small, cold comfort at the moment.

He does dearly hope Wilson is having a hot time of it in whatever part of hell he now inhabited.

Doing his best to hide his discomfort, Shane is having a leisurely dinner at one of the tables against the far wall, his chair back flush against the dark paneling. There's a slim book in his left hand, and he divides his attention between that, his meal, and the people in the bar.

jaded-jedi.livejournal.com

Mara Jade Skywalker's in the bar, a glass of water in her hands, looking tired and severely overheated.

And over in that table over there, is Samantha Largeman, reading What to Expect When You're Expecting and drinking some juice!

[two pups. tag and specify or i shall guess!]

not_that_spike

It's actually the third time today he's tried the front door and it still won't open, and that bathroom door only looks good inside if someone's got to take a piss, and it's been over a month and he's not ready to give up yet, damn it, because there's no other woman in the whole fucking universe like Beth and he won't let go of her that easily. Even though every refusal of the front door to even budge is a slap in the face, he still goes back and tries.

He has to do it. He can't live any other way, at least not right now. It might be optimistic where he shouldn't be, and it might be stupid where he should be acting smart, but it's the only way he knows how to do things.

So after this third time today when the door refuses to yield for the first, second, third time, he slumps in a resigned kind of way and ambles over to the bar, where he takes a seat in a strategic location: when he turns around on this bar stool, he can see both doors. But before he'll keep watch, he knows he has to take care of himself a little bit, because it isn't like there's anyone else to do it for him.

Alone, lonely. Alone, lonely. Hell, he's been alone a lot of his life without being lonely.

Tonight, though, he's lonely as hell. Resting his hand on the bar, palm down, he asks for a cup of black coffee. It doesn't help him sleep any better at night, but that doesn't seem as important as holding onto a little bit of faith. And if that faith wavers, well... he'll kick its ass.

Beth deserves that much.

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

[OOM...ish: In which there is Bankai, Hollows, BIG Hollows, lies revealed, the beating up of friends, and getting kicked in the face.

Warnings for violence, swearing, and um...really crappy friends?]

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

[ooc: Right after this].

Ok, so, a Death God, a Prince, and a Robin walk into a bar...

...yeah, this joke is going nowhere.

Ichigo pushes through the door first, followed closely by Zuko, who carries Steph in his arms. She's passed out, or maybe just asleep, and looks quite...well, beaten up. Most noticeably would probably have to be the way her left leg seems a bit off, what with it having been broken just now and all. Ichigo simply looks tired and worn out, where as Zuko is an odd mix of concern and rage. Guess which is directed at who, huh?

"Can I get a member of Security over here!?" Ichigo cries out, then turns to Zuko to say dryly, "Go, take her to the infirmary. I'm a big boy, I'll wait for a Security member on my own."

mogget_cat

(Out-Of-Milliways: In a world to which neither of them belong, Rachel and Yrael encounter their doubles, and a great change is wrought in the world.)

(From Here.)

With no warning the bar door is flung open, slamming against the wall behind it with a sound like a gunshot. A towering figure of incandescent bright light hurtles through the door to come up hard against the nearest table, which begins to turn black and smoke under its touch. With the creature comes the smell: the acrid, nauseating smell of the Free Magic, catching in the backs of throats and burning in one's eyes.

Regaining its balance and straightening, the eight-foot tall creature of whirling sun-bright flame takes in its surroundings. The Bright Shiner, brighter than is safe to look directly at, is vaguely humanoid. Its flame-licked arms, hands and fingers are too long, too thin to even be called emaciated; its face has only the basest of features- a jagged space of darkness for a mouth and two dark pits for eyes, burning in the sun-bright face. Seeing where it is, its surprise quickly turns to anger, darkening even its black pits of eyes.

"NO!" Its voice crackles like thunder overhead as it leaps at the door, trying to catch it before its backswing closes it again. But it is too late. With a quiet, almost apologetic click, the door closes just before Yrael reaches it. Wrenching the door open with a hand in which the metal of the doorknob begins to go soft, Yrael stares out into the starlit half-light of Death.

"No, I promised her I would bring her back safely!" The creature slams the door, rattling it on its hinges, and slams a brightly burning fist against it. "Open to where she is, let me bring her home- You understand the need, do you not?" Yrael pulls the door open again by the now-soft and melting doorknob, sees once again the serene peace of the Ninth Precinct of Death, and slams the door harshly once again. There is the faint crack of the wood where Yrael's fist impacts again, splintering part of the door frame and leaving a second large black mark where the wood had been singed. Little red embers eat into the splinters, turning them to ash. "You must understand, I promised!"

Unchecked, the door may very well be kindling within the hour.