milliways_bar | Jan. 25th, 2007

Jan. 25th, 2007

balletrat

[Millitimed to tonight: Ace and Meg decide to go gate-crashing.]

gonna_live

[Last week, River and Kaylee take a break.]

benloserz.livejournal.com

You know, some people would be rather shocked at the sight of a bar that seems to have replaced the basement TV room.

Those people are none of them Ben Winchester. His life is crazy enough for the notion of having the house remodeled into something like this to not be really too disturbing.

Of course, it is annoying: he wonders where the couch, the TV, the DVD player and the video game console went, but is also too tired to raise a fuss about it. But mom and dad will hear about his annoyance later.

Right now, he walks to a booth, and sits down, pulling a comics magazine out of his backpack. Perhaps he is trying for the most nonchalant entrance ever?

prydeful

[OOM: Nightmare's come calling.

Do not fuck with nieces of the Endless, for lo, their uncle is not patient.]

cheevy.livejournal.com

[OOM: Where have we been? - it takes a while for the booze to wear off...]

...but when it does, he's down in the bar, looking the way people look who've spent the night at the bottom of a bottle. He's curled up in a chair near the fire, because it's nice and warm there. He's not really sleeping but not really awake either.

If you speak to him, speak very quietly...

tall-dark-and.livejournal.com

[OOM: Once upon a time, a moment of calm in the library that never was, and an invitation.]

ncdcas-cable.livejournal.com

Somewhere, outside, Nathaniel Summers, sometimes called cyborg, sometimes known by the name of Cable, lit by only occasional flickers of light, moves through movements as old as his memories. Stripped to the waist and sweating, and not feeling the cold, he moves, the patterns collecting in him like a song.

The light comes from a small lantern, it flickers across him, lighting the metal that makes up part of his body. His face is calm, as is his mind, as he lets himself dive into the patterns and lose all else.

futures_of_ash

The wonderful thing about being security? Well, the fact that one had nights off upon occasion. And sometimes those nights coincided with her being tired...

Not that she was doing well in the sleep area. Far from...she'd wandered downstairs, exhausted and tousled to get a mug of cocoa, which went mainly untasted. Bar also gave her a small headset, music to be precise, of a sort that made her catch her breath and weave over to an overlarge chair.

Now? Now there was a red-head curled and tucked small in said chair, face pressed into the back cushion, scarred arms and shoulders painfully, beautifully, detailed as she seemed to doze, her cooling cup of cocoa balanced precariously on the back of her seat.

[Slow now, but open to any and all tags]

notjustatoaster.livejournal.com

Sharon is out by the lake a punch bag hanging from the tree in front of her. She looks every inch the well trained soldier in her forest green combat trousers and tight black vest.

Its obvious by the way she's beating the Frak out of the punch bag that she's iritated about something.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Golden Goddesses, Part 6. Somewhat predictably, Meg's concerns about Indy are not without foundation. Deep in the Amazon jungle, the adventurer's latest quest for the idol goes slightly awry...

And eventually, the identity and motivations of his mysterious female competitor are revealed.]

hungbyathread.livejournal.com

You've probably been wondering where everyone's favorite insane stage director has been.

No?

Well, you should of. Not that it's been an especially interesting couple of days for him, but the poor man could do with a little consideration. Possibly (and this is largely his opinion) some anti-psychotics.

At the moment, however, he's doing well enough with a plate of breakfast (eggs, sausage, and toast) and a cup of coffee; in fact, he looks nominally sane and approachable.

...this might be a problem.

captainryan.livejournal.com

Ooo, looks like somebody drank a little much last night. Ryan forced himself through his first morning workout in nearly two weeks anyway, which, of course, only made the pounding in his head worse. Now he's inside nursing a pot of trin tea. It's working wonders, if more on his windburned skin then the headache. Apparently despite looking nearly healed, his skin is still rather sensitive.

Irritable.

[OOC: ~~Must run to class. Back in two hours!~~ Back!]

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

They, the puppy and Ash and the woman known as Susan, slid out from Mouse's room and out from the walls that one of the three hates in a perfect silence. Now they're out, in the snow, the puppy bumbling along at times and at other times being cradled under her coat until he warms up and asks to get down again.

Ash runs in great leaping bounds, shedding snow as she leaps and displacing it in cloud of white when she hits again. It makes the woman laugh.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: Something fairly important occurred to Wells yesterday.]

When Wells pushes open the front door of the Bar, it's from a day in England so cold that the snow is falling in pinflakes, swirling around furiously in the least little bit of wind. He's flanked by a pair of enormous grey dogs. It's damned near impossible to keep the boys out of sight at the Academy, but last night was cold enough that the effort was worth it, just to have the extra warmth in his quarters.

Milliways is a definite improvement.

"Oi, Bar?" says Wells as he unslings his scarf from around his neck. "Supper for these two and mujadarrah for me, would you?"

There's a space about big enough for the two dogs over towards the fire. Wells sets down their bowls and sinks gratefully into one of the chairs, looking to soak up some of the heat before he tucks into his own order.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi is in the bar, knitting. There are a whole line of penguins on the table in front of her. She likes penguins. She likes them a lot.

command_dot_com

Dot is down in one of the booths, following the time honored tradition of newcomers to the bar scene. She's people watching, Bob is still upstairs sleeping (on the floor for your information). There are several books about Culture, History and even a few lifestyle books laid out on the table.

She's decided to ask for some learning material from the Bar while she enjoys a morning Java. Feel free to prod or bother the new sprite inna bar.

boundxkitty

Elizabeth has apparently abandoned the couch. For the more favorable spot on the floor in from of the fire. It's much warmer up close. Especially when one has been rolling around in the snow. And it is evident from the slightly damp shirt she's wearing, that she has been.

Snow is fun. To a point. Though it makes hunting the not hibernating creatures harder because of the tracks it leaves. And it isn't as...quite to traipse through snow. But Elizabeth does it well, at least so says her.

But, where were we. Oh yes, Elizabeth stretched comfortably in front of the fire on the floor. Care to join her?

janetsdaughter.livejournal.com

[OOM: Cassie paints the house - with a little help from Amber.]

janetsdaughter.livejournal.com

Cassandra's sitting in one of the more isolated booths, writing a letter.
Well. Letters, actually.

If, for some reason, this doesn't work - if her calculations are off, even a little - she's going to have a lot of explaining to do. Explaining that..is not going to be easy..or pleasant.
And if this doesn't work, and by some miracle she manages to get back to her universe, these letters might be the only hope she..they..have.

She desperatly hopes they are not necessary.

mendanddefend_archive

Bob works his ASCII off protecting Mainframe from Games and viruses. He's entitled to sleep late when he gets the chance.

Even if it means starting his morning in what is technically the afternoon.

Whatever. In any case, Bob is now up and about. Specifically, he's at the Bar with a mug of java.

dragon_twin

[OOM: It's a special day in Wales, so Melehan and Melou do what they do best: tease each other and drink.

Timed to today!]

f33dm3.livejournal.com

Hey, look at that. It's that strange and interesting plant Seymour Krelborn brought into the bar earlier this week.

But Seymour's nowhere to be seen. Maybe he left it on the table by accident?

It's looking a little wilted. Maybe someone should water it or something.

[ooc: Please read this backroom post before tagging.]

slayer_fray

[That was yesterday]

Today Mel is in the bar with a lemon milkshake and a large bowl of assorted fruits, each one getting explored thoroughly for taste, texture and feel, with the expression of a girl who's not used to fresh fruit, and really really likes it.

abar-starclog.livejournal.com

The thing about finding a plain cover for a book: Sometimes, doodling on the cover turns out to be more interesting than actually reading the book. This goes double when it's a reread, and... probably something like quadruple when it's a reread in a place like Milliways.
Carl may not be much of an artist, but doodling he can handle. As such, the plain cover he found for I, Robot is no longer all that plain, though it still doesn't betray its contents.
There are a lot of stick figures involved.

dragon_twin

Melou has had what he considers to be a fairly eventful day. He's annoyed and been annoyed by his brother, he's happily let his mother fuss and fret over her babies being all grown up now and he's even let Briallen fawn and gush and cook him dinner, without the baby. And all the while, he's been drinking steadily so now, he is well and truly drunk. Bed is in order.

Opening the door to his room, he's faced with the bar and realizes fate has other things in mind. Melou doesn't mind too much and casually heads to the bar and does what any self respecting hard drinker would do - and orders another drink. Along with the glass of scotch, Melou is presented with two stuffed toy goldfish, two wood-carved buffalo and two larger, wood-carved foxes. And a piece of gooey chocolate cake.

Melou just stares at it all. It seems Bar remembers his last birthday here better than he does.

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

Jack's in the bar, writing love notes in french, for one obscure reason or another. He's using his very best cursive, too, though the paper's plain white. This is nothing fancy.

It's just something he wants to do.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Suddenly, it was there. A door. Jim saw a door that hadn't been there till now. Not hesitating, he walked up to it and turned the old fashioned knob. It opened, and on the other side, moving very slowly, was Scotty, apparently going about his business on the Klingon vessel.

Immediately, he understood that his world was still waiting as he'd hoped. But he couldn't wait for it. He wished there were time for goodbyes to Suzi and to Drs. Stantz and Brennan and to anyone else who had befriended him. But he couldn't take the chance on the door not being there even in a few minutes.

He quickly got a piece of paper and a stylus with ink, and wrote a note which he proceeded to place it on the bulletin board:

To my friends in the Bar,

I seem to have been granted my parole. I'd best leave before it's revoked. I wish you the best of luck, and if we don't meet again, I hope that all your travels are calm and that your lives are fulfilling.

James Kirk

With that, he opened the door again and strode through. As he did, he heard the distinct sound of glass breaking as what the Bar did to his antique specatcles was undone. He shook his head, still not sure what to make of the place...

{ooc: James Kirk will return]

pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com

Slowly, steadily, Gibbs is finding that the Bar is not so daunting. It's warmer than that infernal lakefront - after a few weeks in the cold, he's remembering why he was glad to be sent south in the first place. And the rum is always fine. And the lighting...well, you can get used to anything after a while.

Come and greet the pirate.

[ooc: mun online for an hour and needs some RP relaxation therapy.]

talkstohats

Howl is sneezing all over the place, and visiting Miss Angorian in a charmed suit instead of doing anything helpful; Michael is terrified both of the Witch and of the idea that they might move away from Martha-Lettie; Calcifer is hissing angrily at everyone due to the wet; and Sophie is in urgent need of a place to sit and sew triangles of suit back together in peace.

Sometimes Milliways really is a blessing.

"People who run away from everything," Sophie mutters to the triangles as she sews them, "deserve everything they get."

She's feeling rather tempted to charm the suit into being particularly susceptible to colds, or moths, or something; only the fact that the suit by necessity needs to last Howl rathera long time keeps her from doing so.

first-sixth.livejournal.com

Two days ago, Rachel mentioned to Tommy that on occasion, Bar might decide that he be deposited out back. This is one of those days, and it's a good thing too.

He's not sure what the Raptors would have done, precisely, if he'd actually had to haul them through the main doorway. He's just glad he was already Morphed when he arrived.

So, one Black Ranger, in full uniform and helmet, out back with small herd of brightly coloured and overly energetic dinos. They seem to be enjoying chasing each other at the moment, and so for now Tommy's just watching and letting them play.

hearthethoughts.livejournal.com

Something is off today.

Matt can't think why. He woke up after having a very bad dream about his college days, his abilities are being loud and obnoxious.

But he can't think as to why that is..

Perhaps, Bar is taking initiative and preventing him from noticing This Man off in the corner.

As it is, Matt is giving off techy vibes and prowling around the bar like a police dog-looking for a scent he can't quite place.

Current Mood: confused

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm Crowe doesn't have as many contemplative moments as he used to, back before he came to the bar. But from time-to-time, old habits pop up again, and tonight is the night for one. And what better place to sit, when you're thinking of time and all the things that slip away, then in a chair by the Observation Window?

So cue one deceased shrink, with glass of scotch, gazing out at all the pretty stars, fading away.

gifted_profiler

Most of the cops crowding the area have never seen anything like this. The pigs are grunting and squealing as they move around their pen, despite the officers' efforts to keep them off the crime scene.

What's left of it, anyway.

He doesn't want to look at it any more. Frank's on his way to his car when Bob Bletcher catches up to him. "Frank-- the rest of them, the ones we never found-- are they in there?"

"It's over, Bletch. I'm going home now."

Bletch leaves it at that and lets him go, but as Frank steps into the Jeep, he staggers when he finds that the floor's not where it should be, not to mention the driver's seat or the steering wheel.

He catches himself against the wall of Milliways. This time, Frank just looks weary, and heads for the bar.

watchmakers_son

[Pre-Milliways: And in October of 2006, there is a breaking news flash.]

If you took somebody who'd been born and raised in rural Montana and, with little ceremony, dropped them into the middle of Times Square at rush hour, it'd look a bit like what's happening by the front door right now.
tick, tick, tick,
(Metaphorically speaking, anyway. This particular man's lived in New York for almost his whole life.)
tick, tick -- TICK ticktick. tick.
One of his hands grips the doorknob so tightly that the knuckles have paled. The other's holding onto the frame with equal pressure. His eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares into the bar; he doesn't blink. It's not too different an expression from the hundreds of other people who've had their hotel room unexpectedly turn into Milliways when they weren't looking, but that's not the reason he's paralyzed with shock. Sensory overload, maybe. Cognitive dissonance, more accurately.
tickticktickticktickticktickti-i-i-ckticktttttick
There are people in Milliways who are dead, but still walk; others who've been effectively suspended in time for as long as they're inside. It clashes. It doesn't fit. Even in individual people, it doesn't fit, like different-toothed cogs somehow slotting together and turning with ease when they shouldn't.
tIcK --
All Sylar can process is the cacophony of it.

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

It's been a good day out there, wherever it is Belar's been. He's got snow in his hair and he smells like wood smoke, and he's grinning from ear to ear as he sits down with his sign:

ANSWERING PRAYERS
BACK IN FIFTEEN MINUTES

ASK ME ABOUT SKI, SNOWBOARD, AND OTHER WINTER SPORTS LESSONS
JUST NOT FIGURE SKATING

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Golden Goddesses, Part 7. At the mercy of the Hovitos on their Amazon home turf, things take a painfully fishy turn for Indiana Jones. Fortunately, help is at hand, whether he needs it or not.]

river_meimei

There are points in the rafters where two beams cross. Some of those points intersect with vertical supports; others don't, providing a broader flat surface at the junction.

A laptop is balanced on one. Early 21st century model, sleek and advanced for its time; a knowledgeable eye, given a close look at the specs, might notice that a few components look suspiciously... well, alien. And that a simple laptop probably shouldn't be capable of quite so many things.

River is reading something on it.

She's a huddle inside her long brown coat; her face is pale and tear-splotched, with dark circles under her narrowed eyes, and hot slow tears spill down her cheeks. But she doesn't move, except to scroll down, and she doesn't look away.

saint-aequitas.livejournal.com

[OOM: January 19, 2004. Death and discussion.]

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

Peter walked through the door, yawning, and wiping inefficiently at some baby spitup on his shoulder. Maria had a cold, Oscar had a cold, and Dana was starting to get a cold. He was actually relieved to see the bar for once.

"THANK GOD!" He yelled, and jogged over to the bar. "My usual, Bar, if you please....Hey, that's not part of my usual!"

Along with his food, there was another book by Wilhelm Reich. And one on taking care of horses.
They stayed there despite his protests of the latter one.

He facepalmed, "...She just had to ask for a horsey."