milliways_bar | Jan. 1st, 2007

Jan. 1st, 2007

callitavesper.livejournal.com

[ Pre-Milliways: At a beautiful waterside house, two suspects are held captive. But the agent doing the investigation gets an unpleasant surprise. ]

What he sees is not what he expects.

There's that feeling of having walked into the wrong room, though he tells himself he couldn't have walked through the wrong door. He also couldn't have walked into a bar. He was certain Mr. White didn't have one in his house, and if he did it certainly wasn't on the second floor. Bond turns, expecting to find a door behind him. What he sees is a solid wall.

The look he gives to the bar as he turns around is one not often seen on his face: pure confusion.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

The Room at the Top of the Stairs: Happy New Year

hello-cally.livejournal.com

It's not even winter in Westerly's world, much less the new year. Besides, West has very little to celebrate. The one good thing that has happened to him came at a very high cost, and he still isn't certain if it was worth it.

Tonight, the dark young man is once again hunched over the pad of thick drawing paper, sketching. Trying to think. Trying not to think. Sketching.

On the page is a river, split in two by a wooded green island. The nearer edge of the island is a sheer rock face, from which a grey stone tower rises to stand as sentinel over the waterway. One cannot see if, on the far side of the island, the split river converges again.

no-war-here.livejournal.com

When new arrivals come to Milliways, some get distracted by the variety of patrons. Some can't tear their eyes from the observation window. Others are just blown away by finding a bar in their closet/bathroom/office/whatever.

This young man is looking at none of these.

He's staring at his ex-girlfriend.

Milliways? Meet Mark Fossie.

igottawrite.livejournal.com

OOM: The official unofficial NBS New Year's Bash.

Two guys peer through the open door, one decidedly more surprised at the view of the bar than the other. It's not a bathroom, as previously anticipated. It's not a garage or a broom closet or even a bedroom (with or without a number of people inside cheating on their spouses). The dark-haired one, eyes already a little glazed, steps through. He seems to have lost the ability to close his mouth.

After a long pause, he begins to shake his head. "Oh, I did not just walk into this joke."

Got news for you, Matthew Albie. You just did.

inquisitivehero

And in one corner of the rafters, a young man grins at assorted revelers below, and taps away at a laptop. And when the clock chimes midnight, he raises a glass.

"Happy New Year."

Then he goes back to work. It isn't a new year or a happy one back home, and if he gets back home... When he gets back home, he will be ready.

makes-it-rain.livejournal.com

It is New Years'. Maes doesn't know that. It is a day for new beginnings. He doesn't know that, either.

What he does know is that some time has passed since he'd last been down, though he's not certain how much. And that he has a cup of coffee, and a seat at the bar with a good view of the door and as much of the room as one really can have a good view of at any given time. They coffee sits at his elbow, given only cursory attention - most of his focus is on people watching, and on the deck of cards in his hands. He is, you see, practicing card tricks. It is something to do, the rote motions soothing and familiar.

He does not appear as though he would be at all averse to company. Rather the opposite, in fact.

madetomend.livejournal.com

[oom: Sometimes, The Moon Lies.]

fighting_mad

[OOM: After seeing his wife alive, Rial goes back to Eiattu and demands a search party. Meanwhile, in the Eiatti jungle, Plourr is determined that it all ends here (warnings for violence and some potentially disturbing imagery).

And you know? She's right.]

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Cain insists that Molly go to New York to see the doctors he has arranged for her. Molly is less than thrilled.]]

f33dm3.livejournal.com

It's a clear, cold, lovely winter's day out by the lake. The Master Shark is swimming, the demon bunnies are prowling, all's right with the world.

Then suddenly, and without warning, there's a

TOTAL

ECLIPSE

OF

THE

SUN.
For thirty seconds, the lake and the mountains beyond are cast into twilight. There's an eerie, unearthly humming sound from an unknown source.

Then, as suddenly as it left, the light returns. Everything's back to normal--

Wait.

Was that plant there a minute ago?

works-in-space.livejournal.com

He was outside last night, watching the fireworks and noting that somehow, a new year was beginning in a place so surely outside of time. He enjoyed the display of pyrotechnics, an artform still practiced in his time but by few on Earth. He also noticed the couples enjoying a kiss under the bursts and sparkles and flares. He found himself missing Antonia. (And also Carol. Why should he miss her?) He didn't watch for long.

The morning arrived, and Jim was out of bed and downstairs as usual. There are no holidays in Starfleet (not for him, anyway). He's finished his morning jog in the cold, and is taking his coffee with a health bar.

Company is welcome.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

At some point in the early afternoon, Suzi wanders down from upstairs with her usual basket full of things. Baskets, its her turn on puppy watching and Joy is still small enough that putting her in a basket is doable.

She settles into her favorite chair, pulls out her book on canning (not Braille: she needs the pictures) and commences reading. The basket full of puppy? Well, that occasionally snores.

captainryan.livejournal.com

(OOM: Damned werewolf instincts.)

It's too close to the moon for Ryan to be inside comfortably, so he's wandering around outside bundled up in his black BDU jacket and the gloves Suzi gave him, khaki trousers over combat boots. He's considering a hike up one of the mountains, but he hasn't made up his mind yet.
You can tell because he keeps looking at them.

He's open to suggestions.

misterparker.livejournal.com

Parker has a pen and a bar napkin. He's not much on resolutions, but he's decided to try.

1. Don't run out of ammo.

He hasn't gotten any further yet.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

"Turn out the damned light, whoever the hell's in the living room." Mark shuffles into the bar, clothes dishevelled, and shielding his eyes. "Damned hangover's eating me alive." He blinks, a bit hazily. "Well, fuck. This isn't the living room." Dragging himself over to a table, he collapses, and prods the nearest rat. "Coffee. Now. Strong. Strongest in the multiverse." And then he puts his head down on the table. Ow? Guess someone made too merry last night.

blue_raz

Raziel was fighting his way through the spectral realm, again. He hated the spectral realm, he hated the sloths and the other retarded creatures that lurked here, he just couldn't find any intelligent conversation. The Elder God was just some squid thing that annoyed him and was impossible to talk to, and no one else seemed to have a brain in their head, only figuratively speaking. Raziel ran through the door in the wall, yes it was only there when he was in the spectral realm, and found himself in another place, no sloths about or anything for that matter. Finding the essence that he needed , Raziel shifted into the material realm unaware of the mortals about. To those at hand who may have seen this sight he looked as though he were pushing himself up from the floor though the it remained intact. Raziel shook off bits of matter that he didn't need and looked around.

He was in a bar, there were strange creatures about and he wondered how he would fit in, looking at his body, blue, no skin, cleft feet and 3 fingered hands, not to mention the eerie glow of the Soul Reaver twisting around his arm, he wondered if was going to frighten people. He didn't like killing things unless, it was the Elder God, Kain , or someone attacking him. 'At least they won’t notice I don't have a lower jaw,' he thought, pulling his covering around his neck a little tighter.

scrmifthishurts

For once Abby is back inside the bar and not outside in the cold like she has been for the past few weeks. Or however long its been. She's lost count already and that's really starting to bother her but at the same time... well, she'll just deal with it. Right now though she's curled up in a chair in front of the fireplace, a glass of hot cider sitting on the table next to her. Her mind is off somewhere else so the slightest sound might actually catch her attention.

Bother her if you wish.

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Exhausted, Molly and Cain return home from their first pre-natal visit to find an unexpected guest waiting for them.]]

skidrowseymour.livejournal.com

Hours after this, Seymour is sitting at a table. A dozen ratty books, all of which have the word 'plant' in their titles, are spread out over the table. At the center of the table, surrounded by the books, is a strange and interesting plant.

Seymour finishes searching through Tropical Plants of South America, frowning thoughtfully. He rubs at his eyes and takes a sip from the glass of water.

He looks like he could use a break.

happy-footed.livejournal.com

[pre-milliways: a bad day at class]

A chill breeze floats out from the open front door and something small and fuzzy and very confused tittertaps it's way in.

Mumble, for that is the name of the small and fuzzy thing (which is, in fact, an Emperor Penguin), had been looking for someplace quiet and isolated where he might, for lack of a better phrase, 'get his groove on'. The little penguin, however, unlike many patrons who while surprised by the location are nonetheless somewhat comforted by their familiarity with bars or pubs, is completely and utterly confused in all ways possible. Not only is there an unfamiliar cave made of strange brown stuff that's not cold but there are Things.

Big Things.

Big, featherless Things.

So while someone might not feel the breeze or even see him standing gobsmacked in front of the rapidly-closing front door, perhaps they can hear the strangled honking sort of squeak that is Mumble Happyfeet being more terrified than he's ever been in his life, including when he was almost eaten by a pack of skua.

Current Music: I Wish - Fantasia, Patti and Yolanda

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

Having fought, and fought dreadfully, they find the bar together. The scent of fire, charred and dead, floods through the door as Serafine the Fire and Jack of the Frost cross through. Jack's leaning heavily on her.

The first chair they find, he falls into, arm slipping from around her shoulders. She, in just as much of a sorry state, leaves quickly. Leaves him, coughing for breath, covered in dirt and ash and with blood in his mouth. Jack forgets to thank her for the help.

[ooc: violence in the oom]

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

It is, perhaps, one of the most useful gifts Sarah Jane had ever received in her life. And so, Sarah Jane sits by the fire, playing with the bracelet turned pen turned bracelet that Ace had given her for the holiday.

Well, to be more exact, she's actually busy writing in a small, bound repoter's notebook she had asked Bar for moments before. Although every now and then, Sarah stops working on her notes (on Milliways and its patrons, of course) and changes the pen back into a bracelet, just for kicks.

The pen is just as fun as it is useful, after all.

hcliffhuxtable.livejournal.com

Cliff leaves the message with Bar, asking her to pass it along to any family/friends or colleagues Guppy Sandhu might have in Milliways.
( to friends of Dr.Guppy Sandhu )
The note vanishes.
Cliff gets a hot cup of espresso and some dinner that he can take with him to a table, or back to the Infirmary office.

bright-burning.livejournal.com

'Ouch' pretty much describes Fire's entire state of being right now. Clothing covered in ash and dirt, blood dripping from wounds in her throat that look disturbingly like they've been inflicted by teeth. Her neck is burnt, burnt from cold and stained with handprint-bruises. She breathes painfully.

But she didn't technically lose, so that's alright, then.

She was only on Earth for a few moments, long enough to realize that she didn't have a place to sleep, long enough to realize that the bar was warm and friendly and had rooms she could sleep in, sleep and heal and wait for Frost's marks to fade from her body. And so it is that she returns, wincing as she half-walks, half-stumbles to the fireplace, curling up in an armchair in front of it.

Family, she thinks vaguely to herself, rubbing her neck, suck.

Ouch.

nottwinkletoes.livejournal.com

If Aang were the type to keep a journal, a sampling of entries would have sounded like this:

Day One (Post-iceburg)

Have been freed from iceburg where I was apparently trapped for a hundred years by a pretty girl. Hundred years = bad. Pretty girl = good. Pretty girl's brother = funny-looking when covered in bison snot.

Now: penguin-sledding with pretty girl! Yey!

Day Five

Sokka in a dress. Ahaha.

Day Fifteen

Sliding around Omashu still fun!

Day Sixteen

Bumi also still crazy. But it's okay because he's a genius!

Day Twenty-six

Getting stuck in caves = not always a bad thing

Which leads up to what today's imaginary entry in Aang's imaginary journal would read...

Day Thirty-Something...I think.

Need real food. Onion and banana juice is not real food, no matter how "spiritually sustaining" Guru Pahtick claims it is. Suspect that he, like most old people I've ever met, is slightly crazy. Still not fully realized Avatar yet.

Now he'd have something else to add to that imaginary entry: Went to bar, because he stumbled in barefoot and half-asleep, rubbing at his eyes, after a night of strange dreams involving connected pools of water filled with onions and bananas.

His stomach spoke first, growling loudly, and then he spoke next, deliriously happy: "Real food!"

And ran over to the bar.

Welcome back to Milliways, you bald little monkey.

shufti

Jack Manackle is sitting near the back door, playing with a fascinating object he found on a walk with Shufti earlier. Or in other words, a stick.

His mother is sitting nearby, carefully trying to sketch him. It's not something she's tried before - Nuggan would not have approved. But since Bar gave her the materials with her dinner, thought she may as well try.

Company gladly accepted.

stbethadettes

(New Year's Eve, new baby, new place)

grace-mckee.livejournal.com

Two twelve-year old girls, one blonde, one brunette, in Catholic school uniforms, have just come into the bar.

The blonde is pretty clearly dragging the brunette into the center of the room.

"This is just cool."

"I really don't think we're supposed to be here."

"It's in the middle of the school. Of course we're allowed to be here."

"It's a bar."

"Don't be such a worrywart. We're just looking around. What could happen?"

"My mom will kill me if she finds out I've been in a bar."

"So we won't tell her."

"She's Jewish. She'll know."

Anyone want to explain to these two where they are?

[OOC: Two new pups, two muns. You'll get them both]

gone_byebye

[OOM: The morning after New Year's Eve.]

Ray wanders into Milliways in a Green Lantern T-shirt, cargo pants, and Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man slippers. It takes him a minute to realize that the pounding in his head changed pitch with the change of environment; he looks up. "Okay," he mutters. "Wasn't expecting that. But okay."

He's just gonna mosey on over to the Bar about now and get a lot of Gatorade and some vitamins. Painkillers aren't going to help much at this point.

momofabohemian

An older woman elbows her way backwards through the door, a tray of cooling muffins in her hands.

When she turns around, her hands fly up in surprise, sending muffins flying in all directions. She doesn't scream- that would be unladylike- but she does give a muffled sort of squeak.

Someone's not in Scarsdale any more. Say hello to Mark's mom, folks.

talkstohats

It may have been a while since Sophie entered the bar, Milliways-time, but for her it hasn't been long at all - although more than enough time in which to fret about her upcoming visit to the King, for a start.

Which may be one reason she's taken to the relative calm of Milliways (comparative to the castle and Howl's nonstop advice about 'delicate hints', at least) to do some more work on the blue-and-silver skirt she's crafting.

It's also possible that she'd rather Howl didn't see her working on it, considering it used to be one of his robes.

prototype-karr.livejournal.com

New year. Same grumpy KARR.

The said AI can be found sitting not in his favorite spot near the back door, but instead by the Bar proper. It's a better spot for people-watching, after all. And judging by the occasional rapid scanner flick, that's what he's doing-eyeballing the crowd for anyone who he knows, or anyone who looks 1. provokable and 2. unlikely to be able to vent their frustration on him. Just because his attention is elsewhere, doesn't mean that he wouldn't mind being approached. If anything, he'd appreciate having someone to talk to.

coming-west.livejournal.com

Cally's face lights up when the door from her room opens into Milliways. It falters as she steps inside and closes the door, remembering the last time she found herself here--with someone else.

At first, she seats herself at a table with a good view of the stairs; she is looking for that someone. Soon, she finds herself filled with nervous energy and begins to wander around the bar, looking for (West) someone or at the very least a distraction, whichever happens first.

mop-jockey.livejournal.com

Yesterday, it was a storybook entitled "Chicken Little" for bedtime reading to the chicks. Today, Lenny's got something a little more adult. With pictures even!

The (complete) Lord of the Rings! Lenny hasn't ever read these books- heard of them, certainly, but never read.

He was clearly deprived as a child.

Buggable!

night-hibiscus.livejournal.com

...so it wasn't Belgemine who brought her here last time, because today she was walking away after a particularly dull history lecture from Maechen, focusing on an ancient arch embedded in the ridge beside the Highroad. Maybe it's the ruins that keep bringing her here, although that's really a little bit spookier than an unsent.

At any rate, Yuna's not going to pass up the chance to sit down for a minute; Auron is determined to cover another five miles today.

She slumps on a fireside couch with a cup of tea and picks moodily at her skirt. There's an arc of holes in it--as if, perhaps, something with a big mouth and sharp teeth chomped down on her calf--but the skin peeking through is smooth and unwounded. Lulu gave her enough time to take care of that, at least, but breaking out the sewing kit, it was decided, could wait until they made camp tonight.

It would probably be a mistake to come back from the arch with it sewn up. Right?

Current Mood: rebellious

puckishly.livejournal.com

... Now here's a question.

What could be causing that noise that is surprisingly reminiscent of cannon fire?

I'll tell you one thing, it's definitely not Puck.

The curious synchronicity between the time that he opens his mouth and the rather loud (sound of an) explosion should not be viewed as anything other than a strange coincidence of Milliways.

:D?

[OOC: Um, yes. Puck is, in fact, taking advantage of his skills in the art of mimicry to make noises like a cannon. DUCK AND COVER.]

kitchen_maid

Amy is over by the fire, with tea, rocking a small, low cradle with her foot. Susan is just about asleep, with one tiny hand tight on the ear of white stuffed elephant.

Assuming you don't wake the baby, Amy would probably be simply delighted to talk to you.

princeinexile

Sometimes you just had to move. Zuiko was one of those people who, when met with a problem he couldn't order, bully, beat up, or otherwise surmount-- did not handle the stress of failure well. He was left with hands empty and shaking and a body sick with impotent rage and frustration and he could not stay still.

It was why he was out in the wet, not far from the lake, twisting and turning, his body trembling as he puts himself through a brutal routine; first the average firebender sets, and then through something quicker, more agile, light-- before it smoothed into a more steady flow.... and ended in the hard, powerful movements of another style.

Fire, Air, Water, Earth -- the Cycle of his World, the Avatar. Balance, his uncle said, could help him too, make him stronger. He did not feel any stronger; not even after losing his dinner in the snow, not even after putting himself through his paces....

Weakness was intolerable. Cowardice more so.

Yet here he was.

gonna_live

The weekly letters to her parents have turned into biweekly, which have turned into monthly. Kaylee feels guilty about that, but --

-- I meant to write a lot sooner, it is just that Simon was ill, and he's okay now, but for a while he wasn't. We have been pretty busy since, but we're all --

It's lame, Kaylee knows, as she seals the envelope. But it's better than nothing. And anyhow there was that wave on Christmas, so.

It's just that handwritten notes add a kind of personal touch. Because...well, because you can touch them, that's all. Or something.

...there should be alcohol.

doctor-weir.livejournal.com

Elizabeth's hair has finally gotten long enough again to go up in a semblance of a ponytail, and currently that ponytail is home to at least three pens: one black, one blue and one red.

Someone is correcting grammar.

If you don't mind the scattered dossiers on Ancient linguistics strewn across her table, you're more than welcome to come over and say hello.

sosectu-rior.livejournal.com

The front door opened.
A snowy landscape dotted with woods, mountain country, could be glimpsed beyond the form of a young woman. She swiped a hand across her face, eyes red with fatigue and grief. Her auburn hair was bound into a braid that hung to her shoulders.
She was clad in white and gray, winter clothing, the only color derived from a wool cape the color of flame.

"Shuven, what--" Where was this? The surprise left her green eyes as quickly as it had shown. One might have the sense that tight control of her emotions was ingrained.
She shut the door firmly behind her. Stamping her booted feet to remove the snow, she leaned against the doorframe.

" There isn't supposed to be anyone else for miles..."

Welcome to Milliways, Ilyana.

last-kuruta.livejournal.com

When Kurapika entered the bar, he was not so pleased. It was surprising to see the bar, but it was somehow relaxing as well.

He remembered a rule about no business in the bar. That way, if anyone followed him, nothing could be done.

He sat down at a table and exhaled, made himself relax.

A place out of time. Thank heavens.

((Thanks to whomever paid for Kurapika's paid time!))

realmrsreynolds

Sallie has been busy most of the afternoon and evening.

She also has flour on her cheek.

Someone has a baking contest next week, and has been practicing a new recipe.

tibetanmethod

[Out of Milliways, and into Twin Peaks:

Dread Dale lies not asleep, but dreaming.]

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Disaster strikes, right on cue, once more in Holby, after which Guppy receives treatment in the infirmary. Warnings for violence and large quantities of yesterday's Casualty in the first link, mild medical detail in the second. And disclaimer - this was canon, not just his mun being cruel. Today.]

sime-channel.livejournal.com

OOM: After Ilyana unexpectedly appears, Suzi and Whistler have a short talk.

wolflord_andain

The front door opens, and a man, lacking in stature but frighteningly elegant for all that, steps in, heavy cloak covered over in thick flakes of snow.

He shakes the melting drops from his hair, then unfastens his cloak and lays it over the back of a chair.

Then, of course, he takes his own seat, waving over a waitrat and requesting a meal.

Steak. Rare, of course. Raw would be better, but people do tend to stare--and this is hardly the right shape for it.

And the hunt, after all, is so much better than the feasting afterward.

capt_angie

Unlike some of the patrons of the bar *cough*Mark*cough* Angelina doesn't have a hang over. It's been an odd Christmas and New Year for her- the first without her parents. Mixed in with the visits to extended family and friends, Angelina visited graves and memorials, and she spent New Years Eve with her grandmother. She's now sitting at the bar, sipping foaming Butterbeer from a mug and eating a pumpkin pasty. She also has a quill and some parchment and is doodling on what was meant to be an official report for work. Some people might recognise the blobs and odd shapes as a view of the grounds of Hogwarts, as seen from the sky.