(no subject)

[burning-evil.livejournal.com]

OOM: Fire and Satan don't really talk. They just exchange a few words and then get to what they really want. Millitimed to almost a week ago.


[OOC: No warnings necessary]

(no subject)

[just-a-soldier.livejournal.com]

[OOM: All the King's horses and all the King's men.]

[OOC: Warning adult theme/actions and angst.]

(no subject)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

The scenery outside the door (were you looking over his shoulder as it swings quickly open) might jar a very little. Grey, certainly, but not quite the right shade, and the streets don't look nearly narrow enough for London. It can only be a glancing impression in any case, and it's unlikely anyone would notice, since he takes a couple of hurried steps forward and turns his head to watch the door click closed behind him, as though in need of some sort of reassurance.

A battered leather satchel is slung over one shoulder, a large and intriguingly lumped paper bag dangling from one hand. Under his other arm - no great surprise - a newspaper is tucked, although it appears to be a recent purchase since only one or two of the crossword clues have been filled in. It's no Daily Telegraph, really, but he wasn't paying any great deal of attention to it.

He stands by the door for a moment, taking in the various patrons scattered around the bar; possibly his gaze rests a little longer on one dark head, visible over the back of a couch by the fire, but although he swallows visibly he makes no move in that direction just yet. Instead he makes his way over to the staff corridor and disappears for a moment or two, returning without the heavy paper bag - and therefore a free hand for tea.

This, he feels, is important.

The Bar provides a steaming cup of Earl Grey before he's even opened his mouth, and the faintly startled expression is quickly replaced by a small smile.

"I missed you too, my dear," he murmurs under his breath; it's been a very long three months.

Aziraphael picks up his tea, takes a deep breath, and makes his way over to one of the armchairs by the fire.

(no subject)

[rigthegames.livejournal.com]

Sands has found himself a suitably comfortable corner. He’s flicking through a book without bothering to look at the pages- there’s a good view of the bar from where he's sitting, and he’s using it to his advantage.

The glass of water in front of him is being thoroughly ignored, and his fingers are drumming irritably on the tabletop. Nicotine withdrawal, thy name is Sands.

-

Elsewhere in the bar, Luna’s meandering through the tables and chairs with seemingly no direction in mind. Somewhere along the way, she’s found herself a magnifying glass, and however big her eyes normally appear, it’s nothing compared to now.

Every so often, she’ll bend down low over the nearest table and squint at it through her magnifying glass, before continuing on her vague way. Whatever it is she’s looking for, she hasn’t found it yet.


[ooc: As ever, one or t'other or- hell- both; just specify which.]

(no subject)

[missginnytonic.livejournal.com]

Ginny's back in the bar again but she seems much more cheery maybe its because of the war is better.. orr its possibly the nip of firewhiskey she was able to sneak before she left home. you know she's not one to try to over analyze it too much right now. but hey any one is welcome to a chat. she's feeling friendly tonight

(no subject)

[wyrd-fox.livejournal.com]

Foxtrot tolerates the rules at Milliways.

No violence and no business, he has no problem with.

No sex in public? Well, he ain't shy, but it kinda ruins the experience to have a large audience.

No nudity...that one he dislikes.

But he'll follow it. Barely.

Which is why you'll now see him sliding across the floor in a button-down shirt, socks, Ray Bans and boxers while lip-syncing to "Old Time Rock And Roll".

Any objections?

((ooc: Only on for an hour before going to a late-night, storytelling concert. But slowtime can be love. ;) ))
((Back after the concert. Slowtime, ahoy!))

(no subject)

[tristranthorn]

[OOM: Finally, things get underway. An unlikely hero meets his star, but she's not very pleased to see him. At all.]

(no subject)

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Be warned, there is an Ace in the bar.

...

There is an Ace in the bar who's found a nice clear area and is attempting to teach herself how to use a hacky-sack. So far, she's having limited success. Mostly because she keeps accidentally sending it flying half-way across the room.

Oops?

At least she's having fun while looking rather like an idiot in the middle of a grand mal seizure.

(no subject)

[slightlymonkish.livejournal.com]

There's a detective seated by the fireplace with a steaming mug of black tea in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

The paper is covered in black and white pictures (dated 1997) and various notes that Monk scribbled down hours ago. Since then, he's been analyzing it over and over, eyes scanning every single detail in the ink, and occasionally he'll bring the paper close to his face as though that will help him see something he missed, but no.

It just makes things blurry.

Blurry, just like they always are.

Eventually he finds himself lost in thought. The warmth of the mug in his hand turns into the warmth of something else, something entirely different, and for a brief moment, he smiles.

(no subject)

[sime-channel.livejournal.com]

Day nine.

Honestly, right about now, Suzi is strongly considering racking up more charges on her tab just so that she can get more clothing. The whole "wash it every night" thing is getting old. Very old. Laundry has never been her favorite chore.

So she's hovering, really, near Bar while she attempts to decide.

(no subject)

[fighting_mad]

[OOM: Plourr goes home and begins planning, and maybe things aren't nearly as bad as they first seemed.]

(no subject)

[witchy-rebel.livejournal.com]

The door opens, and then it shuts. In the space between, a young woman slips in. Bare feet, but a red silk dress. Roman, of course, with a long ribbon criss-crossing from underneath her breasts to her hips.

The dress doesn't match the feet, doesn't match the cloud of silky hair.

Morgne, Queen of Gore, is back. Not for long, she just felt like visiting and found the door again. Stepping carefully, she makes her way through the bar.

(no subject)

[eiattu_pride]

A door opens.

And a man wanders on through, hair messy, face tired, datapad in hand and eyes shut. Without opening his eyes, he calls back over his shoulder, "Just give me a second, I'm going to get some caf."

And then his foot hits the side of booth.

A booth that is most certainly not in his kitchen.

And then Count Rial Pernon of Eiattu opens his eyes to blink in confusion at the busy scene around him.

"...what the kriff is going on?"

(no subject)

[scion-of-amber.livejournal.com]

Last time Fiona was in the bar (a week ago, according to her time), she bumped into a certain friend-turned-tarot card and had some rather startling news.

So, when she opens the door and finds herself in Milliways, please forgive the slightly wary expression that crosses her face.

(no subject)

[jediwarriorgirl.livejournal.com]

A woman walks into the bar with an odd gait. The reason for this becomes apparent a moment later; she's leading a small girl through the doors. Both of them wear short veils of thin gold cloth, just long enough to hide their faces.

"Do as I tell you, and do not speak to anyone unless you must," the woman says. The little girl nods and follows very closely behind.

Soon they are sitting in a small booth, one with a glass of tea and one with a mug of hot chocolate.

(no subject)

[blackholesandrevelations]

It was not a good day for John Crichton, who was sitting at the bar, a glass of orange juice in front of him, an untouched plate of bacon and eggs to the side.

Last night gave him a headache and he woke up, curled in a ball, alone, no note, no goodbye, not even a second glance.

He had to leave the room, stumbling away, grabbing Winona and strapping her on, he headed for the bar.

Is it too early to drink?

(no subject)

[dragonofgrey.livejournal.com]

Draco had been busy in the House of Arch, but he stopped by the bar today via the painting. Ordered some lunch from one of the waitrats, and found a booth to lounge in. Amused himself with writing in a book. It might be a diary. Not that he would admit to it, or likely would hex anybody that tried to read it. Well, the rules held him in check slightly.

Slightly. Depending on who you are, he might not mind a distraction. Feel like talking to a git?

And as for snakes... what snakes? We know nothing about no stinkin' snakes.

(no subject)

[anewillusion.livejournal.com]

[Before Milliways: Father Flanagan's Home for Unwanted Goth Kids]

The door into the Bar slams open and Nico rushes through, face tight with anger.

It takes running headlong into the back of a booth before she collects herself enough to realize that this is not the women's bathroom at Our Lady of Perpetual Grace.

She turns, slowly, surveying her surroundings.

"You have got to be shitting me," she says at last.

(no subject)

[jedipilot.livejournal.com]

It's another one of those days where Jaina's woken up and decided that an outdoor training session would be quite preferable to one in doors in the shrimp farm. The only thing Jaina doesn't count on is the fact that it's getting to be fall in Milliways, and there, it's kriffing cold by her standards.

Training ended pretty fast and now there's a Jedi sitting at a bar, enjoying a mug of hot chocolate. She'll be heading back soon enough. Just not right now.

(no subject)

[just_the_doctor]

The Doctor comes in from the back door with a circuit board and a scrap of paper, heading over to the bar.

"Bar, love?" he asks, setting the paper on her surface. "Any chance you can get me these things?"

The paper disappears, and a moment later, a small tray containing the requested chips, diodes, and transistors appears in its place.

He grins. "Fantastic! You're a marvel, as always."

Taking the tray, he retires to a booth where he can work.

(no subject)

[bohemian-mark.livejournal.com]

The door flies open, and Mark stalks through, a newspaper in his hand. "Adam, where the fuck are you?" He looks around, then facepalms. "Decidedly not in Milliways. Why the hell're people never where I need them to be?" Not that Adam's ever been in Milliways in the first place." He grabs a tea from Bar, and collapses in a barstool. He can deal with tabloids later.

(no subject)

[fighting_mad]

Plourr has a well-lit table in the middle of the bar, and every inch of its surface is covered by datapads and pieces of flimsi. She's scowling at it all occasionally, chin resting in her hand, and making the occasional mark. There's an abandoned meal somewhere in there, too; it's been subjugated by reports.

(no subject)

[dontlooklisten.livejournal.com]

Foxtrot X-Ray sounded about trustworthy enough that today Whistler's willing to wear the clothes the kitsune got for him from the Bar. And, y'know, it's not a bad getup. Khaki vest and cargo pants, each with enough pockets and pouches to make Rob Liefeld envious, and a black T-shirt.

Well, okay, a black T-shirt that reads AUDIO TECHS DO IT IN BOOTHS, but he knew that part already.

"Uh, Bar," he says when he gets over to the object in question, "I've got a couple of notes for people. You can translate, right?" He rests the fingertips of his left hand against the varnished bartop and waits. "Okay. Good. This one's for Donatello."

( For Donatello- )

"And this one's for the Oompa-Loompas," he says, but that note is simply a request to meet so that they can go over the project requirements. Both pieces of Brailled paper get absorbed into the Bartop.

"Thanks. I could use some lunch and something to read, now... okay, great. Thank you."

He pats the Bar, smiles a little, and carefully fumbles his way over to the nearest available barstool.

(no subject)

[dragonmelody.livejournal.com]

It has been a long time since a red headed musician has come in bar. Things have just been too busy. Things have settled down quite a bit, so when the bar suddenly appeared in place of Master Dominic's study Menolly isn't too displeased. Quite on another note she stops in the doorway, three of her fire lizards swooping in behind her and Beauty on her shoulder she claps her hands together.

"Milliways!" She slings her guitar onto a better position and makes for the chairs by the fire, flagging down a waitrat on her way to order some fruit juice.

She begins to finger some unique cords and sits back, while Diver, Uncle and Brownie play a game of chase in the rafters.

(no subject)

[goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com]

Clive was talking to someone as he backed through the door with an armful of fabric scraps and costume pieces, "No, really, I can take care of it even though I'm a big shot fashion designer now, I signed on for this as well."

He laughed, turning around and bumping the door closed behind him as he did so, then blinked, realizing that this was not the back room of Mother, but was somewhere else entirely.

He smiled, shaking his head and making his way to Bar, "Bar, darling, could I borrow the sewing machine again?"

Suffice to say, happy gothboy in day-off clothes, whirring away with a treadle sewing machine in a booth, have at!

(no subject)

[fallen-april.livejournal.com]

Depressed 23-year-old writer/artist inna bar on a couch with an old journal/sketchbook. She's not really looking at it anymore, and she is, once again, curled up in a blanket. This time, she's staring out the window, watching the universe explode.

Feel free to cheer up, distract, stare at, mock, or depress more.

(no subject)

[iambetadraconis]

[OOM: Despite Rabastan's protestations, Strahan successfully interjects himself into the wizard's full moon itinerary. Warnings for creative swearing.]

(no subject)

[harvard_bounty]

The door clatters open as Brisco enters from lakeside, brushing dust off his clothes.

It opens again as he's followed inside by a certain overly possessive equine. He sighs.

"We have talked about this and you know better. Now go on, get."


Some days it just doesn't pay to own a horse.

(no subject)

[gil-whimple.livejournal.com]

Gil snarls and pokes the broom down the side of the spice cupboard.

"Come out of there, you slithery bastard," he snarls and the rats, adorning the tops of all the cupboards and shelves and even the cookers look on apprehensively.

"I'm giving you a count of three," Gil says. "One - two ..."

(no subject)

[jedi-exile.livejournal.com]

You know what's good?

Bottles of alcohol. Especially the good kinds, like different ales and Whyren's Reserve and one of those silly Earth drinks Hawkeye gave her...a whatchacallit...oh yeah! Cosmopolitans.

What's not so good?

Not quite remembering why she's drunk.

Botherable, just no loud noises. She is armed.

(no subject)

[looksunjapanese.livejournal.com]

With the bar's usual poor timing-
When yuki walks in today, he's carrying leftovers, in the typical fold-y take-out container, this one- white with red characters. He's also holding chopsticks.

Scowling, he walks to a table and sits down to eat. He's learned that turning around and walking back out his door just means you end up walking back in a different one next time you change rooms.

One of these days he might also learn to carry certain items around everywhere.
Cigarettes, for example.

(no subject)

[call-me-shane.livejournal.com]

Inside the bar is really the best place to do it, now that it is getting wet outside.

Inside the stables, where it is more private, there's too much dust, and the whole thing becomes futile.

Up in his rooms, it will be a long walk to get supplies if he runs out.

Out-of-doors is out of the question - too wet, even this early in the year.

Thus, Shane is in an out-of-the-way booth, doing a chore that has undoubtedly saved his life more than once - cleaning and oiling his gun.

(no subject)

[piecesofmodesty.livejournal.com]

Modesty at a table, well away from everyone, stripping down a Beretta M1951. She's a little bored, and it's something to occupy her hands. It doesn't need cleaning - but it doen't not need the attention.

She wouldn't mind being interrupted - she's a woman. She can do two things at once.

(no subject)

[thankyousomuch.livejournal.com]

Brenda walks through the door, digging in her purse as she goes. It's only when she hears a myriad of noises that she looks up.

She pauses, looking around her, taking in her surroundings and her options. Her mind moves quickly, then she yanks out a nearby chair and stands on top of it, brandishing her police badge. She lifts it high above her head, clears her throat, and speaks in a loud, authoritative tone that is heavily laced with her Georgia accent.

"Excuse me. Excuse me! Could I please have y'all's attention?" She turns left and right, her badge very visible. "I am Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson of the LA police department's priority homicide division, and I'd really like to know if one of you lovely people could tell me why there is suddenly a bar... in my office?" Brenda smiles as she steps down from the chair, clipping her badge on her belt, waiting expectantly, calmly, for some answer.

(no subject)

[gil-whimple.livejournal.com]

Gil trots from the kitchen chuckling and gets the old chalkboard propped up behind the bar again. Time was he used to do this almost every night but then he got bogged down in administration and left the cooking to other people. He only does it when inspired now.

He takes his chalk and writes:

Dear Customers of Milliways,

Tonight, in addition to our usual fare we offer you an additional menu ~

Shredded Snake Soup.

Deep Fried Snake

And as a beverage Indian Beer

Enjoy ~

Gil and the Rats.

He grins at the menu, licks his lips and returns to the kitchen to continue skinning.

(no subject)

[night-hibiscus.livejournal.com]

Yuna enters the bar without realizing, rubbing her temples. When she realizes where she is, she drops her hands and quickly puts on a smile.

It's pretty easy to do; she's a lot less likely to be mobbed here than on the S. S. Liki. She takes a seat at the bar with a cup of tea and settles in for a few peaceful hours before going back. Her ornate-headed staff leans against the bar next to her.

(no subject)

[curlys-boy.livejournal.com]

Kyle's sitting at a table, waiting for Warren to come downstairs. He's playing The Sims 2 on his cellphone. Nothing else to do with it, reception from his world is a distant memory for now. There's something strange about him, well stranger than normal. It's the faint scent of wolf and metal surrounding him, as can be attested to the four black hairs on his t-shirt. Nor the tell-tale bulge against the small of his back, which reeks of metal and magic.

Oh he's human, but that doesn't change the way he smells at the moment. He'd be up for some conversation while he waits on the werewolf he lives with.

(no subject)

[a_poor_guardian]

Archibald Craven sees no need to leave Milliways. He never does have a destination in mind when he travels, other than away from Yorkshire, and as he told Raguel last night, he can hardly go any further than the end of the universe.

Archibald has spent the day walking in the grounds and woods out back. At some point, when he was far enough in the woods that he could not see the lake or the bar building at all, a strange fancy overtook him. He thought he heard Lilias singing, not in his mind, not in a memory, but real, alive, in that very forest. If he walked a little further, Archibald thought, just to the next tree or the tree after that, he might hear the words of her song-- but he walked and walked and walked, and Lily's voice came no closer.

At length Archibald realised that he was growing tired, and hungrier than he had been in a long time. With difficulty, he found his way out of the woods. Now he is seated at a table in the main room, eating a hearty dinner of roast beef and potatoes and drinking a glass of good red wine.

(no subject)

[his-fathers-sin.livejournal.com]

He has a blitzball.

He has a blitzball, and, okay, there are summoners and guardians and things he doesn't get, and Lulu still looks like she'd like to throw him overboard at moments, but still.

Tidus has a blitzball, and he's bouncing it from elbow to elbow as he walks in.

He doesn't even realize where he is for a moment, before looking up and blinking. "This place again?"

...Well, no one called him a heathen here, anyway.

(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

[OOC: Last night, there was a most welcome visitor to the Tonks-Wrangle flat.]

...tick tock old clock, dragons fly and so does time

[not-broomboy.livejournal.com]

Broth is not especially entertaining. That said, Liir watches his as if it were a window to another world, as if some great truth were to be found between the bubbles and swirls of oil along the surface. And for all that, his eyes are unfocused. Watching something and yet... not the broth.

One hand lightly drums a tattoo along the smooth wood of the counter. The other plays idly with the end of a cigarette, the smoke drifting up from the tray in fits and spurts, along with tiny embers and ash.

[ooc: Liir is in something of a trance at the moment. To come close to him right now is to give him a brief look at a scene from the past (your choice of course). If you'd like immediate conversation, feel free to knock/bumble/poke him out of it; otherwise, you can use this to set up for a post later on)

Multipup post

[guppy_sandhu]

Guppy is sitting near the infirmary, going through a couple of books he found in the infirmary. He looks tired, but not exhausted, and has his sign up again.

The doctor is in

--------------------------------------------

Johnny Private is sitting at the bar, smoking a cigarette and writing out a note. It seems to be taking him a little while, since he is concentrating on the spelling. And because he accidentally burned a hole through the first one.

---------------------------------------------

Shufti is outside at the target range, with Jack strapped to her front. She has been there most of the day, practicing shooting her paper cutout person in the ankles with a crossbow. Although it's something she does fairly often, today the task has a new meaning and purpose to it, hense why she is still going even though she is getting rather tired.

All three are botherable.

(no subject)

[sir-apropos.livejournal.com]

...remember all that effort I usually go to in an attempt to mock and intrigue people?

Insert it here.

As for me, I'm at the bar itself with a bowl of stew and some wine.

(no subject)

[wellthrownstone.livejournal.com]

There is a wolf hiding under a booth in the corner. That's a little difficult, what with all the white fur and the size of the beast himself, but he's trying.

He looks, in a word... depressed. Tired. Worn out.

(no subject)

[righthandwoman.livejournal.com]

Zoe's still sleeping in Milliways, but she still spends most of her days on Serenity, and when she has been here, she hasn't been in the most social of moods.

Tonight, though, Naomi's a bit fussy, so when Zoe would be upstairs putting her down for the night, she's instead pacing in front of the fire with the baby in her arms, humming a bit distractedly.

(no subject)

[cat_wth_panache]

Puss in Boots is back. Currently he is sitting in a booth with his boots propped up on the seat, drinking a glass of milk and watching the bar.

Approach, if you dare.

(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

Yrael wanders in, tonight, carrying his violin. He orders a glass of milk and perches on a barstool, his pale, bare feet resting on the lowest rung. Taking a sip of his drink then setting the glass down, he begins tuning, thinking over what he might play, tonight.

Any requests?

(no subject)

[tibetanmethod]

Life tends to speed up when you're back to your normal activities. Assuming anything in Twin Peaks could ever be considered 'normal'.

Cooper's boss is on administrative leave pending an investigation into the murder of Leo Johnson. Cooper isn't having any luck getting Genevieve Renault, Jerry Horne, or Hank Jennings to talk -- mostly because Heba the Interpol agent is monopolizing the investigation.

And the dead are living again, and walking, and Dale Cooper doesn't like that at all.

(One of the tales of the Black Lodge is that something the dugpas can do -- the dark sorcerors who wanted to access the Lodge's power -- is bring the dead to life again for their own selfish purposes.)

He doesn't want to talk about this with Major Briggs. Not yet. Even if Project Blue Book could be a resource.

Cooper is looking thoughtful when he comes in -- darkly thoughtful. A cup of coffee is in order, as is a club sandwich with fries -- steak-cut, not shoestring, and with Old Bay seasoning sprinkled on top.

(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

Ray doesn't so much walk into the bar as migrate towards Bar herself the instant New York is visible on the other side. "Bar, I know it's not good for me and I know it's not a good idea to pursue this course of action when it comes to distressing situations, and it's not even the right time of day, but I really need a bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs the size of my head right now. Okay? Please?"

Somewhat reluctantly, the Bar provides.

"Thank you," says Ray, patting the Bar and heading for one of the booths.

Good God, he hates October.

(no subject)

[creator_raven]

One of the armchairs is currently occupied by a bird, though he is rather more man-shaped at the moment. That, however, might just be a trick of the light.

The empty plate by his side, however, is most definitely not a trick.

More's the pity.