milliways_bar | Jan. 11th, 2007

Jan. 11th, 2007

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

Dear Parker, starts the letter left at the bar.

It's taken Mary Lennox some time to acquire all the Christmas gifts she's been meaning to distribute.

When she finally enters, she's dragging a small wheelbarrow borrowed - without asking - from Ben Weatherstaff. It's loaded with packages, each with a note attached, which she proceeds to set on the Bar one by one. Every note is written in an extremely careful, rounded hand.

( For Ace: )

( For Adam: )

( For Archie: )

( For Aslan: )

( For Ajedrez: )

( For Beverly: )

( For Bran: )

( For Belar: )

( For Danny: )

( For Dexter: )

( For Duo: )

( For FX: )

( For Faith: )

( For Gabriel Tam: )

( For Goldy: )

( For Harth: )

( For Ingress: )

( For Iris: )

( For Jason: )

( For Kaylee: )

( For Lucy: )

( For Merriman: )

( For Moiraine: )

( For Puss in Boots: )

( For Steven Rimbauer: )

( For River: )

( For Wellard: )

( For Sergeant and Annie Wells: )

( For Will Stanton: )

( For Yrael: )

When all the packages have been distributed, Mary marches out, looking triumphant. Finally, she has taken care of things Properly.

gotapenny.livejournal.com

((OOM- June 6th, 1944: Pre-drop))

Dark eyes blinked at having to adjust to the light inside as well as the sight before him. There were people in the what was supposed to be deserted house making the first words from his mouth, "Jesus Christ!" Reaching up the Sergeant moved his helmet forward blocking his gaze for a moment, giving him a chance to mumble to himself. "There had to been a mortar. Or something. Ya that's it! Something hit my head and when I wake up I'll be back in England in time for..for anything." Peeking out from under the rim of his helmet he found himself speechless for the first time..well..ever.

George Luz was seldom speechless.

His uniform, that of an American Paratrooper from 1944 (with the screaming eagle on his shoulder), is dirty from days worth of fighting. Unlike others he carries a field radio on his back along with the standard issue M-1 Garand, field packs, helmet, and famous jump boots. He looks like he's been through heck then back for a second tour of duty. Slowly the butt of his rifle finds its way to the floor with a solid thump.

"I guess I'm not in Kansas any more," Luz manages in a week John Wayne voice, if John Wayne had done Wizard of Oz.

cheevy.livejournal.com

There's a lake outside the bar.

Duh.

It is cold.

Again... duh.

There's a kinda stoned-looking guy standing around kicking pebbles into the water.

That little tidbit you may not have known.

Consider yourself enlightened.

Then go say hello.

[ooc: Not a first entry post, but I, being such a terrible and neglectful mun, have entered this puppet only once. And as I have nothing whatsoever to assume he's been doing since his entrance post 10 months ago, we can all pretend he's just arrived here. >.> ]

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

It doesn't take long for her to realize why the winged woman has been coming to her, speaking to her in riddles, showing her her deserted home near the rocky rings of Saturn, (the deep of space is very beautiful from there. That she doesn't mind at all).

However, she doesn't know, exactly, what the answer to the question the woman has been posing is. "Am I truly good? Do I truly belong to the light? ...Or..." the alternative is too terrible to consider beyond those first fleeting thoughts.

Those memories of being "The Feared One," the "Forbidden One," earned, as she did horrible things... but to cleanse, to renew. She was asked. That was her mission.

"This child, will she be Awakened again?..." her parents had discussed fearfully between themselves earlier this year, thinking she wouldn't listen. She was too young. She was Awake now, and the very first thing she had said to them, seeing the shock and brimming despair on their faces, was "I'm not the same person, anymore." She didn't say it to reassure them. And though she is not that person, that last resort to destroy evil, even if it destroyed... everything else along with her... she can't help but think that perhaps she should consider what the Singing Woman urges her to. That perhaps, this is not her true path.

She sits in a chair, askance from the fireplace.

his-fathers-sin.livejournal.com

[OOM: This is the nature of Sin.

And this is a good work.]

sosectu-rior.livejournal.com

Ilyana had had a peaceful few days, in relative terms. The strangeness here wasn't wearing off by any means. She didn't expect it to. She also hadn't lied when she told someone else that if she'd known a place like this existed, she would've been pounding on the door long since.
She was safe. Healthy, highfield, but not aching for Transfer, and able to relax. To not worry about everyone and anyone.
She'd have to go back sometime, she knew, and likely soon.With any luck the door wouldn't lock her out when she did.
For now, she was taking breakfast and resumed work on a sketch that she'd put aside when sleepiness made her penciling go from 'amateur artwork' to 'couldn't manage a straight line.'
She looked around from time to time, observed silently. She might introduce herself to some of the people she didn't recognize here, but later. Of course, that didn't mean someone else might not beat her to it.

(tags welcome but responses will be slow)

slayer_fray

Mel considered herself tough before she lived on the streets. Usually at this point a newly homeless teenager would learn otherwise. Mel's learning that she had no idea how tough she really is.

But that doesn't mean it's easy. Even if she can come to the bar for food, sometimes the door that leads there is hard to get to, and she still chooses to sleep outside. Earlier morning - early enough to be late night - she was rudely awakened by the jerks who provided her with her gun. And their friends.

So she's limping when she enters the bar this time, snapping a dislocated jaw back into place and nursing a cut on her upper arm.

Still has the gun, though. And slung over her shoulder is a belt with a holster on it. So it's not all bad.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

[oom: Knox makes his decision]

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

Outside is very, very cold.

She, clad in Makita's coat and Xas' scarf, haunts just barely inside the door. It is warm, here, but she can flee the walls if ever she needs to.

Ash makes a contented sigh, and sits beside her.

gone_byebye

It's all in the hands of Congress now. Oh, there's still more testimony to go, but the Ghostbusters' part in the ISS hearings is over. They get to go home and watch the rest on C-Span now. Or on any other news channel, really, since the news media is behaving exactly as they always do in situations like this: plastering the same three or four images, over and over, on the screens and in the magazines every chance they get. Early 1986 had the Y-shaped cloud that used to be the Challenger. Summer of 1989 had the lone man in front of the Chinese tanks. Late 2003 had the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man storming Central Park West. Early 2007? It's shaping up about equally divided between the twin Virgin Galactic shuttles coming to a landing and Dr. Campbell's cylinder propped up in front of a microphone, frontal lobes pressing up against the viewing window.

Ray's world is not an easy place to be a mundane. Heck, it's not even an easy place to be a Ghostbuster. Is it any wonder he's in Milliways instead, back in his company T-shirt and cargo pants, nursing a bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs at a table by the Window?

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Garion is in the bar today, flopped out unceremoniously on one of the couches with a bartender's book in his hands. Beldaran, soft red hair curling wildly around, sleeps on his stomach, quite content with cuddling up to her father. At Garion's feet (or one of his feet, as the other is hooked over one of the couch legs), Geran and Wolf are working on some blocks and a puzzle or two.

Any of them would be happy to see a familiar (or a new) face.

the-h-star-r.livejournal.com

Homestar inna A&W.

Eating a double barbeque bacon cheeseburger, loaded baked potato bites, & a cherry limeade.

Not exactly good at keeping his restaurants straight.

Botherable. You might even get some potato bites.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi understands that eventually she and Whistler are going to need to sit down and do some serious talking. There are all kinds of things that have come up lately that they should talk about, and last night might have been the time but Bob needed them so they didn't have time alone.

And that's alright, but she does need to talk to Whistler. So she's getting her notes in order so that she's got everything around for when they do find some quiet time together.

She's also still got the bottle of wine that didn't get used last night, up in their room. That's for after talking, though.

jianhuo.livejournal.com

She has an apple.

She is eating it at a table in the corner with near-orgasmic-glee written all over her face, leaning back in the chair with her feet propped up on the table.

That may have been a moan.

mendanddefend_archive

Waking up in a strange bed can be unnerving.

Waking up in a strange bed, in a strange body, is more so.

Bob... had a rather interesting morning. Now he's sitting in a booth in the corner of the bar, nursing a glass of Ray's Green Stuff. (It was the one thing he knew for sure that he could still eat. He's not feeling terribly adventurous right now.)

fugitivehamster.livejournal.com

David Hodges is still holding a test tube as he sashays through the door, so intent on studying its contents that he smacks right into Bar before he realizes that he's not in the trace lab anymore.

As fun as he is to mess with, he could use a bit of a helping hand here--especially now that he's noticed the observation window, poor thing.

dexter-morgan.livejournal.com

Dexter's been holed up in his room for the past few days, coming down only to ask the bar for some peculiar things a bit at a time before heading back up. A new shirt, for one. Books you can't find on Earth. A DNA kit, a screwdriver, and a giant carton of red licorice, among other things.

It's really probably best not to ask. The point is, he's back down in the bar now, sitting at his usual table, watching the other patrons as he usually does. Sitting next to his drink are a card and a pair of white gloves, a well-appreciated gift from Mary.

He's keeping an eye out for Mary to say thanks, but he's pefectly botherable.

algiersloveknot.livejournal.com

Little known fact. 85% of BondGirls have brains and hobbies beyond their profession and the man they usually costar with.

In seeking solace and trying to come to terms with her new station in life and place in the world, Vesper Lynd has found the piano.

Everybody takes lessons of some kind, she just happened to be one of the millions of people the world-over who've taken piano lessons?

So she's playing something soft that requires focus. The rest she'd need sheet music for.

It sounds a little something like This -but occasionally her hands over over keys before choosing the right ones. It's been a few years since she's actually put concentrated effort into playing.

abar-starclog.livejournal.com

Carl might have to go back to San Francisco soon, just to get at his own computer for a while. He's not going to just ask Bar for one - it's a bit out of his price range, and he knows it.
But going back means having to deal with Mother freaking out. And probably on a grander scale than when he left. That's not exactly on Carl's list of Fun Things To Do.
So for now, there's lunch. Or dinner, possibly. Either way, it's a burger.

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

Johnny comes down the stairs, a large coat wrapped around himself, and heads straight over to the bar.

"This is not funny" he growls at her, opening the coat slightly to reveal a highly stylish empathy belly strapped onto his front. "Get it off me before someone sees it."

Nothing happens.

"Please? With this place someone might think it's real. Not to mention I look like a whale and my butt sticks out and it makes me want to piss all the time."

When nothing continues to happen he gets his sword out and tries to slice through the material, frowning as it still refuses to come off.

over_europe

A map is spread out across one entire table. If one is being specific, it is a detailed map of the French province of Normandy, and it has been marked in a lazy hand's scrawl here and there, in several different colors of ink. There is an M1 rifle resting atop it — though well away from the edge of the table, where anyone could easily pick it up — along with a helmet covered in camouflage netting; a ruler; a ballpoint pen; and two different types of compass, one for indicating direction, and one for mapping, with a pencil slipped into one pincer.

There is also the head of a certain captain — who is in 1944 field uniform, as ever — on the table, pillowed on his arms, only messy black hair visible. Nix's head is not in danger of falling off the table, though the pen is. It rolls slowly down the map, over the English Channel and clatters noisily onto the floor.

vaapadmaster.livejournal.com

Mace comes in from the House of Arch, and straight to Bar.

"Can you let a security member, preferably the one who arrested Bonzo yesterday, know that I am looking to visit someone in the cells? Thank you."

And he sits with tea to wait.

Of course, he is open to chat while waiting.

callitavesper.livejournal.com

James is smoking by the Observation Window again, a pack of cigarettes on the table next to the ashtray and a cup of coffee. There was a magazine earlier, but he's hidden it in the event that a certain female companion of his joins him and asks what he's doing on the cover of Entertainment Weekly.

clumsy_auror

It's clearly been a bit of a long day for some people.

In one of the armchairs, her feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her, sits Tonks. Anthony's on her lap, his face slightly blotchy and tearstained from a fairly recent temper tantrum. There's a bottle on the table, and a glass of juice.

They're both asleep.

All bets are off on who's going to start drooling first.

dontlooklisten.livejournal.com

Whistler makes his way down the stairs carefully, tapping his way along with the cane just in case. The sound here is a little unusual today; he thinks the walls may have shifted again, and that probably means a table rearrangement, too.

He needs to talk to Suzi when he finds her. He'd like to go home soon.

mistressmaryquitecontrary

Mary Lennox turned eleven yesterday.

There may, therefore, be an extra-proud spring in her step as she marches into the bar today, Angel the kitten trotting along behind her.

She's going to the bar for a milkshake. An eleven-year-old's milkshake.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

This would be Ace.

This would be Ace by the fireplace, with a very big book propped up in front of her.

She could possibly be hiding.

Hiding from her, for example.

Awkward, thy name is Ace.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells has been busy at the Academy most of the day- small surprise. Some of the girls are coming up on being field-ready. That's a critical p hase in their training, and he doesn't want to see it go awry now.

It does mean that he's been forced to keep up with the reflexes and endurance of Slayers for twelve or fourteen hours now, though, so he reckons he's earned dinner and a pint by the fire.

takeusnorth.livejournal.com

He may be new around the place, but there are certain advantages to having friends who've been in the bar before. One of them is knowing that it's safe to hang around for a while. Which is why Riley's curled up in an out of the way booth with a bowl of cold cereal.

Hey, it's a better meal than he gets most nights. And it's hard to find Froot Loops in zombie-infested grocery stores.

Current Mood: calm

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

Time is funny at Milliways.

Some people might see Bernard Wrangle puttering around Bar, before tacking an announcement to the bulletin board:

NEW HIRES
Bartenders
Mal Reynolds
Atton Rand
Harry Dresden
Wes Jansen
Buffy Summers

Bartender in Training
Anakin Solo

Below this, he tacks a new schedule.

Satisfied, he recommences puttering -- tonight, he's rearranging some of the glasses hanging over Bar.

Other people might find him across the room with his wife and son, being disturbingly domestic for such a scary, stern sort of character as he's forced to pretend to be as Barman.

Right. So. Barman. Here. There. Everywhere.

soulburden.livejournal.com

Renfield has more things with him than he did when he entered yesterday:

Namely, a room key and a notebook (with pencil!). Presently, he is in a booth, scribbling something in the margins of loose-leaf notebook paper that that sweet girl gave him yesterday. Some of the pages are scattered about on the table, floor and the seat beside him.

(The tea is cold.)

Either he's making a list of names for the wait-rats, or he's plotting the fastest way from point A (the observation window) to point B (the actual end of the universe).

[ooc: Okay folken, I'm for bed, but I can still take tags, if you don't mind slow-timing it.]

guppy_sandhu

Save me from the bacteria!
[oom: Venting is good]

Guppy is sitting by the fire, dipping slabs of Dairy milk chocolate into his tea, then eating them whilst they're melty.

He's still looking tired, but much less frazzled than he has done the last couple of days. The chocolate is, naturally, entirely shareable.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

[OOMs: Although family members may invite you out for a drink, massive and corrupt corporations hardly ever do.]

Atton enters the bar, apparently deep in thought as he orders something bright green and fizzing from the Bar and heads over to a booth.

A few minutes later, deep thought becomes boring, so he juggles instead.

Botherable.

no-comb-shep.livejournal.com

Sheppard can currently be found sitting at a booth, eyeballing a pad of paper. Well, lounging might be a better term-distracted by the paper, he's begun to slouch somewhat. He frowns to himself every so often, occasionally adding a scribble here, a mark there. He seems rather absorbed in whatever it is that he's working on, but that doesn't he mean he would mind being spoken to.

shufti

Shufti and Jack are sitting by the trilobite tank having dinner. Jack has decided that he likes carrots again today, so it's not being a particularly messy process.

He is however treating himself to gravy face paint on the side his mum isn't on.

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

Wesley is sitting at one of the tables near the bar, frowning as he struggles with a book.

It's not physically attacking him (given the books Wesley tends to read, anything is possible), but he seems to be attacking it.

Actually, on closer examination, he seems to be trying to repair it. He's holding a bone folder in one hand and wrestling one of the book's bindings into position with the other. There seems to be quite a lot of glue--or rather wheat paste--slopped around the table, though.

This could take a while.

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Draco had spent couple of days mourning, and recovering from his father's death. He definitely didn't seem like such a boy now. It was a grave man entering from the House of Arch painting tonight. Dressed in black, but the cut to the robes seemed particularly conservative. Somber even.
There was a pile of books around him. Art of War, the Prince, and various books on war, and strategy.

(OOC: ended up posting later than I was going to, and need sleep for work tomorrow. Slowtime is love, and Draco's still open for other taggage.)

notjustatoaster.livejournal.com

Sitting at the bar Sharon has decided to hell with convention and has ordered a cocktail so she is now sitting with a bright green drink frothing in her hand. Surely it's not supposed to do that?!

locks_it_up

There are three things you need to know.

1) There's something shaped like a woman on a stool at the bar.

2) She loves you.

3) She's drinking a White Russian, and each sip puts a small smile on her face.

And that smile could light up the room.

(That smile could take your breath away, and never give it back. It's what it does, really.)

[OOC: Closed to new threads, please. She'll be back.]

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine had come down for a bit of tea when she sees Bernard tacking up the list of hirees for the Bar. This makes Elaine facepalm and run back to the flat.

She comes out afterwards, going to tack up a sign next to Bernard's on the bulletin board:

NEW WAITSTAFF HIRES
Agnes Nitt
Bart Allen
Lenny Inchpot
Luna Lovegood
Roxas
Valerie

And, since Bernard has the schedule tacked up already, that's done.

Then Elaine goes to sit at a table, wondering where she'd left her brain for the past couple of weeks. Beer, though, sometimes makes things better.

un_fallen

It's overcast in Los Angeles, reaching down to the low-50s here in early January. Cool weather, given the usual temperatures. Raguel's seen people bundled against it all evening, blustering like they're venturing out into the Arctic. But the hint of winter in the air and the demeanor of the people only make him wish for more.

Fortunately, he can find colder climates more easily than most. He comes into Milliways, bypasses the bar and heads straight outside into the snow. Warm drinks can come later, when he really feels they're deserved. Coat open and customary bag on his shoulder, he kicks through drifts down towards the lake.

[OOC: plotlocked for tonight, thanks!]

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

She's writing again, as she has been for a few days now. She keeps scribbling out and writing again. Sometimes writing like this is better than doing it on a computer, but this is not one of those times.

It's been an exceedingly boring couple of weeks, and she's still not able to see the door. But she's keeping busy, trying to entertain herself and trying to figure out why she's still here.

She'll be happy to talk to anyone who comes up. It'll be a nice switch from her writing.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm is back in the bar, glass of Glenmorangie in hand, sitting by the fire. It seems like ages since he used to do this.

It's also been ages since he asked Bar for a book selected at random, and this time he has a collection of ghost stories by Edith Wharton. Halfway through 'Bewitched', he's very glad he never had to be a ghost in New England.

They set the bar pretty high there.

wheelsy_sheriff

The front door opens and in walks one Bill Pardy. Half covered in white paint and looking mighty pissed about it. He walks in backwards, one hand holding a towel and the other pointing out the door. "You better get your ass ready Arliss, cus I'm kickin it when I come back out!"

He slams the door and turns around, wiping paint off the side of his face as best he can. Seeing the bar he stops, "Shit."

maxwellsdemon02

Duo comes into the bar just out of work. Hooray for second shift. He's pasting a butterfly bandage on a cut just over his right eyebrow, but his mood is good nonetheless.

Taking a seat at the bar, he gets a note. It's late Thursday night, now. Damn. He scribbles a quick note to Nita in reply.

( Nita- )

Then, he orders an enormous sandwich, and digs in.

He doesn't even notice the second note and package until he's halfway through.

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

It's cold outside, as Sarah Jane has discovered for the umpteenth time tonight. But she had really wanted to go for a jog. It hadn't worked.

So now Sarah sits by the fire, nursing a warm cup of tea as she watches the flames. Her notebook sits nearby, covering a copy of War of the Worlds.

its-a-robe.livejournal.com

*Poof.*

On top of the bar, there's a tiny puff of white...smoke? mist? When it dissipates, there's a six-inch-high angel standing there, frantically dusting off his robe.

Halo in place, check. Harp, check. Wings and hair smoothed out (quickly, he runs a hand over both), check. The other guy standing a few inches aw --

Wait.

Sam frowns. Turns around, searching.

"...Ralph?"

cat_wth_panache

Puss in Boots recieved a present today which he is currently sporting very proudly.

He's sitting at the bar right now sipping on a martini glass of milk and twirling his whiskers. Come compliment the cat and his fine hat.

giftedthom.livejournal.com

*Thom picks up a note at the bar, reads it, and reads it again. After staring at it for a minute or two, the scrap of paper vanishes; he sits down and pushes his hair out of his eyes, looking thoughtful.

Well, then.*

dead_hooker_2

[OOM: Neptune California, Fall 2006. The Echolls siblings talk, even if they don't quite get to the root of the matter. It's a start. There's just no end in sight.]