milliways_bar | Nov. 12th, 2006

Nov. 12th, 2006

it_has_teeth

[OOM: Out by the lake, Ed at last meets someone of an almost like mind.]

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

[ooc: Suddenly! In the ~~night~~ mid-morning!

Creeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaak.

A Barman and his Barman and his Barbaby discover... the red box.]

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe is in the bar, Matt's letter securely in his pocket, working a Security shift and hoping to see a few people he needs to talk to.

You're welcome to come and chat whether you're one of them or not, though.

night-hibiscus.livejournal.com

[OOM: Immediately previous.]

When Yuna enters the bar, she looks a little dazed. Maybe it's the card she's still carrying in her right hand.

She seems to clear a little when she realizes where she is, but after she takes a seat at the bar with tea, she's still prone to fits of looking a little awestruck. Starstruck. Something like that.

taishar_malkier

Lan steps through the painting from the House of Arch, his color-shifting cloak swirling about him with dizzying camoflage.

Whatever he might have been intending to do is immediately changed by the sight of three people at a nearby table: Nynaeve, and Rand with one hand missing at the wrist, and Moiraine. Eyes narrowing fractionally for an instant, he stalks over.

unwraith.livejournal.com

Wraith. With alcohol, a gun he's taken apart to diagram and check over, and a Fiend on the seat next to him.
Yup, that's all you get.

Botherable.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

No sign of Creedy about, damn the luck. Ah, well.

Quinn checks his notice about story collection on the message board, gets a cup of coffee and an apple, and heads for one of the chairs near the fireplace to start going over the story collection he's amassed so far.

talented-biter.livejournal.com

[OOM: You make me happy when skies are grey. Sunny dreams at naptime. And goes on a vacation to visit someone who probably needed the cheering up.

Sometimes, you need a child to remind you how to laugh.

And to dye your hair purple.]

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

No matter how long you would like to brood, eventually you must face people again. At least this is what any number of dreams have been informing the Lord of the Dreaming. Eventually you must face people again.

This does not mean he's smiling about it, this is Dream. However, he is manifest, and he's no less able to be approached than he ever is.

first_of_dana

[Out of Milliways, and back to Fionavar: On a winter’s night, a visit to an art museum is interrupted by an old enemy. A mother and son welcome unexpected visitors. The care of a child is given to his brother. The Arrow of the God and the Priestess of the Goddess negotiate their way to something like common ground. And in all this, the Weaver weaves.]

All threads contain some dialogue and narrative by Guy Gavriel Kay and spoilers for The Fionavar Tapestry Trilogy.

corsec-jedi.livejournal.com

He knows better than this.

He's in Milliways. People do bad things to other people who sleep on couches.

So why is Corran sleeping on a couch?

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

He strolls back in from upstairs, his one red eye scanning the Bar proper. Stang, but I had missed this place. Maybe dying wasn't my worst idea.

There's a cynical Dr. Pilot at the bar. Who's kind of the latest permanent resident of Milliways.

And Ton Phanan is looking for someone to be sarcastic to. Maybe even you.

[Note: There could be slowtiming in favor of food and studying. Could be. Soon.]

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

'Everything ever should just go away and die,' is a good approximation of how Jack's feeling this morning.

Fortunately for him, he's at the End of the Universe, so there's a nice view to stare at while, while he sips his water.

jedi-exile.livejournal.com

The Exile is slumped in an armchair, fiddling with her hair. There's a glass of orange juice (not that she knows what it is) beside her on the end table. Last night was all a sort of a blur, and she woke up with a horrible taste in her mouth and Revan next to her. She'd slipped out quietly before he'd woken up, grabbed the vodka bottle she left in there and dumped it in the bathroom sink before going out to the bar.

And now here she is. Slumping.

eiattu_pride

The bar, Rial has found, is an excellent place to relax (at least, when he's not being put into strange costumes with shiny epaulets). And so it is that there is a count stretched out on a sofa, boots off and feet up, ignoring the pile of datacards next to him.

He wriggles his toes happily, ignoring the fact that he's taking up a whole couch. He's earned it, dammit.

Bother?

blackholesandrevelations

John was in the bar, sitting at a booth, legs propped up on the table. He? Was in a very good mood. He had a cup of coffee, and a stack of blueberry pancakes and a woman he loved in his bed upstairs and life was just nice.

He was very botherable.

whychoosefear.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Severely Backdated Edition. Two days after Angel's funeral, Paul tracks down his parents.]

Current Mood: angry

torch-reporter.livejournal.com

After spending a couple of weeks in Milliways, Chloe Sullivan has finally become bored with the place. Nothing interesting is happening; she can get more newsworthy material back home in Smallville.

One bored twenty year old reporter on a caffeine high is never a good thing. Because, see, at times like this, the brain makes random leaps of logic. Like this: Chloe got locked out once. Obviously, pictures of every patron need to be obtained just in case she's ever locked out again.

mnt_mike

There is a turtle behind Bar.
...
No wait, scratch that.
Somewhere hidden behind Bar, obscured by the gigantic mound of cookies, stands a turtle.

"Well...then just like, give everyone cookies with their order then."

"Trust me, they'll take them. Everyone loves cookies."

"Yes I'm sure."

"Only evil people don't like cookies, and we shouldn't be serving them anyways."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I know. We have to serve everyone. But trust me, people who don't like cookies can't be trusted. You know it's true."

unique-moments.livejournal.com

[OOM: A baby is born and a friend is shown the terrors of childbirth. But after a troublesome nine months, Samantha Largeman gives birth to Elliot Largeman, a wee baby boy. Guest starring Jaina Solo. Rated B for BABIES and C for cuuute.]

jedipilot.livejournal.com

As soon as Jaina walks back into Milliways from her trip to New Jersey, she walks over to Bar and asks for a sheet of paper and a pen. It appears and then in careful English, she writes a note to pin on the notice board:

Attention Milliways!

Samantha and Andrew Largeman have given birth to a baby boy, Elliot, as of today.

Both mother and child are in good health and will visit sometime in the near future.

With that done, Jaina leaves for Csilla. That whole thing really did make her miss Jag. A lot.

http://users.livejournal.com/_estsanatlehi_/

She'd brought a full blanket loom this time instead of the little lap loom.

As such she'd taken up a rather large bit of real estate near the fire, but that was to be expected of something so ungainly as a blanket loom.

In any case, she was there, with her basket, and Duck sitting atop the yarn that filled it.

There was also a suspiciously lumpy magic blanket on the hearth, likely covering corncakes.

yuppie-trash.livejournal.com

He is laying out in a booth, smiling to himself.
Methylenedioxymethamphetamine.
With cookies. A lot of cookies that were shoved into the pockets of his overcoat. Even more crumbs flecking his suit.
Known as Ecstasy, E or X.
And three empty glasses of milk.
Stimulates levels of serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine in the brain. Providing a general sense of openness, empathy, energy, euphoria, and well-being.
What? He's thirsty.

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

The Front Door opened, and a tired Ghostbuster wandered in.

"Wow, been a while around this joint." Peter glanced around for familiar faces as he walked further in. He then went to see about getting some coffee and a nosh before heading to his usual table.

frankmartin

[OOM: Frank arrives home.]

attic-girl.livejournal.com

Once again, Fuchsia has taken to spending most of her time outside. There is, naturally, a good reason for this, but it's not as though she'd ever admit to it.

Today is no different, as she's simply sitting out by the lake, staring out over the water, cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. As always, a striking figure in red.

petraarkanian.livejournal.com

Petra Arkanian is midly unhappy about this back-in-the-bar business. Well... unhappy enough that she's drinking fairly hard in a nice dark corner and refusing to look at anyone.

But as an upside to this her pet cat Kit is /very/ happy to be back. He and another black cat (who seems to still be a kitten dispite how long she's been in the bar) are playing. Watch out for your feet, Kit and Scrap are on a roll.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOM: Back on his ship, Atton has trouble with technology. Six or seven years earlier, he still has trouble with technology, but also knows a drinking song composed entirely of grunts.]

The door swings open, and somebody who looks more or less exactly like Atton (save that he has ten fingers instead of nine) and peers around. He's wearing a lot more black than Atton usually does, and there's a rather long vibrosword sheathed at his waist, and the insignia of the Sith of his time is marked into his collar in red and gold.

To his credit, he only looks slightly confused.

Jaq, who in just a few years time will be Atton, is in the bar. And very botherable.

[If your pup is very clearly a Jedi, ping me at Stuck Mynock beforehand? Thanks muchly.]

livewithrats.livejournal.com

Krycek is sitting in an armchair near the fireplace with what appears to be a very beaten up laminated card of some sort. He's turning it over and over in his hand, sliding it between his fingers and flicking at the edges.

It's his old FBI badge.

On his face is a look of abhorrence, and every so often he makes a fist so that the plastic crunches under the force of his hand.

Eventually, the badge finds its way into the flames.

The previously untouched glass of vodka that lay next to his arm is now empty.

... he's going a little stir crazy.

blood-hungary.livejournal.com

It is another quiet evening as the Countess finds herself once again in this strange and interesting place. She rests her hands lightly on the bar's surface and orders a large glass of Tokaji wine and is surprised to find herself presented with her completed hair combs as well as the drink. Pleasantly so.

Erzsébet smiles slightly and leaves several gold forints in return as payment, with instruction that they be given to Ms. Darley directly. Satisfied, she takes her glass and treasures to a quiet table where she can better inspect the handiwork.

gone_byebye

Yesterday was good. Ray dealt with New York and came back in time to greet his fiancee. That sort of thing is always good.

Today was nearly as good, because today was November twelfth, and as usual spirit activity in the five boroughs dropped to baseline at dawn. (Although Egon seems to think baseline is creeping higher each year- that's going to need some study.)

Ray is rewarding himself for surviving another October by reading the most thoroughgoing, intensely detailed book on the use of the Chinese broadsword that he could get Bar to give him in English. There are a lot of pictures. (There's also a glass of the green stuff, but that has nothing to do with the book.)

realmrsreynolds

There are two Reynoldses in the bar, and one is wearing an apron.

The mother Reynolds.

But we all know what you were hoping, don't we?

At any rate, Mal is sent to retrieve a teapot and two small cups. When he returns, Sallie's peeled off the apron and set it off to one side as Mal places the tray between them both. The conversation between the two starts off immediately, but neither would mind terribly to be bothered.

[ooc: One mun, two pups. Address one or either.]

yukon-2019.livejournal.com

Lucy enters the bar through the backdoor, coat's steaming, hair's full of tiny drops of mist. Last hours have been spent in the cold, so the teen strolls up to the fire. Somewhere near it, the coat is thrown over a chair. Slouching lazily on another one, Lucy watches people. Especially those eating or drinking.

After a while the girl ransacks her pockets, and, with a shrug and a found chocolate-bar (what was not exactly, what she was looking for), resumes people-watching.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Kirk sits at the Bar, reading more Twain. He's in a quiet mood today. Company is welcomed.

[ooc:mun online for about an hour, then into slowtime]

didntseeit.livejournal.com

There is, sadly, only so much time you can spend in the gym, kicking a football at a mark on the wall, before you need a break.

No, really.

And so it is that Ajedrez is sitting at a table, taking notes on a book on the Mafia. Because she finds cross-cultural studies interesting and, well.

The Mafia had it down.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells stayed in England yesterday. It seemed appropriate.

Today's been a day of packing things, and moving things, and shipping other stuff away. Even with Harry's advantages that's thirsty work, so he's coming straight to Milliways from getting the lot of it into the house in Yorkshire. Bugger washing the dust and yuk off, anyway. That can wait.

the_lioness

[OOM: Thom dreams. And sometimes, in dreams, it's possible to get exactly what you've always said you wanted.]

blue_eyed_lord

The autumn mist gathers like dew on the Rider's black coat as he walks across the open ground near the lakeshore. It is a chilly night, bound to get colder. The black expanse of the sky above him seems to go on forever. One can easily imagine the same stars above the lake eventually being seen by some patron through the Observation Window.

He smiles into the cold as he walks, a darker patch of night against the shadows of the nearby forest.

kitchen_maid

There comes a time in the preparations for any Royal Event when all you can do is just get away from it for a while. And Amy (who has spent the last two hours discussing exactly how many sugar bells and crystalized roses there should be on the christening cake) thinks that that time has, in the case of this particular Royal Event, arrived. And so, Amy and her daughter are in the bar tonight.

So long as you don't ask her about cakes, Amy would probably love to talk to you. And Susan will probably find you simply fascinating.

doc_evil

Dr. Evil had an odd night last night.

Unable to sleep, he had an unexpected crisis of faith around three in the morning. He stared at his ceiling, clutching his Glo-Worm, and began to wonder what it means to be truly evil. Using crayons and Mini Me's coloring books, Dr. Evil hammered out twenty-six pages of a mission statement -- not a memo -- regarding the nature of evil. Were they really just in it for the money? Had their evil empire lost its human touch?

Try though he might, Dr. Evil just couldn't get the face of Evil Henchmen #3's son out of his mind. Perhaps he should have taken the time to explain that sometimes evil henchmen are called upon to be steamrolled in the line of duty. It's expected, really. Pity about the gold tooth.

Once finished, he took his mission statement downstairs for Bar to replicate and distribute to his minions. He felt light, free -- satisfied with his work in a way that had eluded him for years.

Then he burped and realized it was all just gas.

After tossing his mission statement in the fire, Dr. Evil had returned to bed and slept like a baby. Consequently, he is now feeling like a new evil genius, and skips into the main bar. Well, it could technically be termed a skip, but it's really more of a shuffle.

Something on the notice board seems to capture his attention.

"Delicate flowers. Open house. Riiight. I've always said we should have more greenery about the la-ir. If only plants didn't die in magma. Or when Mini-Me digs them up and puts them in Scott's bed. His lack of sibling affection is problematic."

shortofcrazy

[OOM: Chloe and Riley decide to take it upstairs, and they do, and it has been a long time coming, but neither one of them is disappointed.

Warnings for George Bush in a tutu, terminal cute, and strategic fading.]

giftedthom.livejournal.com

*Looking shaken, Thom comes in, hair tousled, eyes wide. He goes straight to the bar and orders a drink; sits down with it, bare feet hanging above the floor.*

shelley_winters

[OOM: Safely back in Tackleford, where no time has passed since her last disappearance, Shelley tries to carry on as normal.

And sometimes, 'normal' means going to the pub with a few friends.]

latino_menace

Ramon is in the bar. From the look on his face, it's safe to say that he is Not Pleased. Alcohol seems to be bearing the brunt of his displeasure if the slamming of glasses is anything to go by, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have annoyance to spare.