milliways_bar | Mar. 13th, 2007

Mar. 13th, 2007

The back door opens and Hellboy walks in carrying the unconcious man he found out back. He glances around the bar and hefts the man a little higher to his chest. "There a doctor in the house?"

taishar_malkier

Nynaeve is in the House of Arch, studying more diagrams of the body, with the vile gift of a book shoved firmly in a drawer. (If you want to go on, I don't mind, she told him. And then, a moment later, snapped, If you get into trouble, Light, I'll... kill you myself. TWICE.

He inclined his head dryly, and then kissed her, and promised to do his best not to be a fool.)

He's seated at a corner table, now, nursing a cup of tea and watching the room.

Watching, and listening. It's a good habit to be in, and a very old one.

callmedavid.livejournal.com

[OOM: "These past few days, I've had a chance to travel across this country. Almost everywhere I go, doesn't matter if it's red state, blue state, city or suburb, I see flags up in the windows. And sometimes, like today when I passed by a small movie theater, I'll see the words "United We Stand" in the marquee. We know that as a country, our strength comes not in our military might or our spending power, but in our commitment to one another. No matter how pundits and politicians may try to divide us - we are one people."]

misterbunny.livejournal.com

Out in the woods, there is a Bunny. and he's got a Bike.

"RUN RABBIT, RUN!"

And he's using it to hunt down Demon Bunnies. Cause they make really fun noises when you squish them.

VROOM, VROOM!

HRUUGSQUANK!

"Got another one!"

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

People have very likely noticed that Makita has been wearing the same clothes since she came into the Bar months ago. She's decided that this, perhaps, should change.

So she asked Bar for some help, and now has a variety of magazines and catalogs spread out on the table in front of her. They've been sitting there for a while, and Makita's been staring at them for a while. She's not really sure where to start.

An offer of assistance would probably not be turned away.

feminine-menace.livejournal.com

[OOC: Plotlocked for Draco Malfoy and possibly Miniver Cheevy.]

It's getting warmer outside, the gardeners are starting to work, and it's generally a lot more pleasant Out Back than it has been for a while. YT's been tooling around on her plank for about an hour, and is now lying on a hillside, arms behind her head, watching the clouds. This isn't something she can do at home - L.A.'s not exactly a good place for quiet contemplation out on the grass. And they don't have clouds like this back home, it's mostly just smog.

YT's trying to decide whether a particular cloud looks more like a bunny or a hand making the peace sign when something zooms above her. She sits bolt upright, at first thinking that the object was a large, low-flying bird. YT spots the object again and takes a closer look. It's not a bird: it's a person flying on a broomstick. She almost can't believe it.

But she's seen a lot of things she didn't believe existed before, during the past month or so. Why not a person on a magic flying broomstick?

Curious, YT gets to her feet, hops on her plank and starts rolling after the broomstick rider.

Current Mood: curious
Current Location: Out Back

hcliffhuxtable.livejournal.com

And the doctor is in!
With an oversized yellow shirt that looks as if it was sewn by someone who had her eyes shut. The sleeves aren't the same length, and they're longer than the shirt itself.
He folds it up carefully and puts it on the Bar, then sits and puts his head down on his arms.
"Teenagers... Hey, darlin'," to the Bar. "Gatorade and aspirin? Please?"

cursedrider.livejournal.com

Johnny does not dream.
How can he when he's dead to the world? When his memories are not his own and when his hands and body have been so carelessly abused by the creature living within him?

There's only a moment of BLACK and then the feeling of jerking awake.

Last night!

He remembers a ghost of Roxanne and a man who's wounds had been in the service of something Johnny did not understand.

Scrambling to his feet-Johnny wobbled before dropping to the ground again, a terrified look crossing his features. Good God...

The building wouldn't let him enter. Staring up at the structure, he gives thanks to whatever diety built the realm and kept him from hurting others before staggering again to his feet and making his way to the bar.

It's easier this time. His legs are stronger

Somehow he finds his way to a table near the door and waves down a waitrat who brings (not the strangest order he's had to fill, but really) nine glasses of water.

Johnny Blaze, downing one glass and then another, keeping an eye out for another rat. He's starving.

md_donighal

It cuts across his recent activities like... well, like a minor reality quake. One moment, he's there; the next, he isn't.

And then, after a time timeless to him, he's there again, gasping slightly as he falls through the Front Door. He doesn't really remember the things that the Landlord took from him; more that he remembers remembering them. It's like a dream, a dream he knows will soon be gone, but a dream that will drive him mad if he tries to write it down.

"If that's the price I must pay for continuing to come here," he whispers to the Landlord, just loud enough to be audible by actual ears, "then I accept it."

And, of a sudden, Kenobi is there to help him up. They talk briefly, about this and that, before going their several ways.

They're both botherable, before and after.

Current Mood: blank
Current Music: Kings of Convenience, "Failure"

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: Let us say that you are a man who has spent his life in the service of his nation.

And let us say that another such man wants to talk to you.]

Harry Wells closes the door behind him and heads for the Bar, rubbing his face with both hands. It's been a long, long day, and even if the end is in sight he needs something a little stronger than beer just now.

forgoodorforawesome

They're not actually sittin' at the Compy while Strong Bad checks his email. For one thing, the Compy is de-funked. For another, this is the bar, not Strong Bad's computer room. For a third, he's not checkin' his email.

It's just that this was the best picture the mun could find of Strong Bad and The Cheat hangin' out together, and he decided it's about time the two pups got such a pic. So here it is, and here they are, both botherable.

Current Mood: chillin'
Current Music: The system -- is down, yo.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

A very large puppy enters Milliways. His job is guarding everyone else from the man he's with and guarding the man he's with from everyone else. In that order. The man, himself, would facepalm if he had a hand free. Both of them, however, are engaged in the act of digging out and lighting a fag.

As long as he's here, he'll smoke. "Guess I really should start trying to figure out how to get one of you lads in the khazi with me."

I don't like the bathtub.

"You're twice it's size, lad." The puppy looks unimpressed with this logic.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

[oom: Stargazing one last time on Vulcan]

Jim brushes off the white sands of Vulcan as he enters. It occurs to him that this might be his last visit here. He knows that the friends he's made will be missed, even if the place might not be. He goes to the Bar and orders an Altarian soda water with a twist of lime, and finds a seat by the window. The maelstrom is oddly calming.

[ooc: slowtime for work is likely, as usual.]

old-lizard.livejournal.com

[OOM: Chinthliss goes home and has an unwelcome visitor]

He wiped the anger off his face when he realized where he was, and turned to retreat. The door wasn't so cooperative, however. Chinthliss was confronted with a blank, solid stretch of wall.
:"... the devil..?" he choked the rest of the sentence off. That might well be taken literally here, and he should know better, did know better than to speak a name whose owner he didn't want to disturb.

He sighed. Well, a few minutes' rest and a drink would be pleasant. True!

(open to tags, but slowtimes highly likely)

callitavesper.livejournal.com

[ OOM: James deals with his memories. ]

velocitygirl

Inyri is huddled in a booth, hair covering one side of her face (the side that's you know....purple), a cup of caf in front of her, untouched.

She slipped out of Wes' room before he woke up, quiet, not wanting to disturb him, not wanting to wake up with him and endure the endless questions of is she okay? Does she need something?

So she's here. In a booth. Quiet.

phineas-poe.livejournal.com

[Prior to Milliways, six months before. Warnings for disturbing imagery.]

callitavesper.livejournal.com

Writing a report. Meeting with M. Paperwork. Psychological evaluation. All in a day's work at Universal Exports, and James Bond is quite grateful when it's time for lunch. While it's not sitting around in a bar waiting for things to happen, it is sitting around in his office reading the daily dose of Random Bits of Information, MI6 style; hammering out a blow-by-blow account on his summer vacation in Venice and his visit to Mr. White; and listening to M and the shrink analyze his personality with the occasional kind word--all while waiting for things to happen. A sandwich sounds more fun than that, all things considered.

He does, of course, have a more elaborate meal in mind than a sandwich, and it's with this meal in mind and the day's newspaper in hand that he enters Milliways, brows furrowed as he peruses the headlines. Now if Bond were a less observant man he would have tripped spectacularly over a chair while reading, but he instantly becomes aware of the changes in light, feel, sound and smell and looks up from the paper, blue eyes expressionless but searching. He turns around to face the door behind him, eyes trailing the frame. He reaches out, twists the knob and pulls the door back slowly, peering behind it, and closes the door just as slowly, staring at it for a good moment. Satisfied, he sits at the bar and orders a cup of coffee. He does not take the time to see if anyone he knows is there. He wants to, but he can't be sure how much time has passed in here since he left. It might've been long enough for everyone he knew to have left. Time's funny like that at Milliways.

[ ooc: here until about 3:30 edt.]

accipiterpuella.livejournal.com

A door opens to Milliways from the still warm hours of a very late St. Roch, Louisiana night; there is the smell of Arabian jasmine - a Maid of Orleans, to be precise - and stagnant river water, overlayed with a patina reflecting the accumulated detritus of 21st century urban life. Through the doorway, one can see a warmly lit long hallway with a high ceiling, conveying a distinctly Rococo ambience, filled with display cases to either side; an acute eye will note the decor, and conclude rightfully that it is a museum.

A young woman steps through the door purposefully, carrying a dangerous looking flail with a disproportionately large spiked head in her right hand, and two DVDs in plastic cases in her left. The upper half of her face is covered by a striking gold and black mask, forged in the shape of a hawk head. She has an athletic build, and wears a green and yellow top and leggings; her tall boots are red, covered with a gold bas relief of sharp hawk claws on the tips. Her forearms are covered from wrist to elbow with studded gauntlets, lending an archaic flavor to her motley attire.

But perhaps what is most notable are the two large grey wings that seem to grow from her back, almost dwarfing her.

Upon looking up and noticing her surroundings, she stops, of course, and becomes very still.

There is a very soft clink, the sound of the chain of her flail as it moves slightly, and then the sound of two DVDs landing on the floor. Upon closer inspection, they will be duly noted as films, namely Battleship Potemkin and The Third Man.

Milliways, please say hello to Kendra Saunders, better known as Hawkgirl.

Don't mind the flail. Or the mace.

truequest.livejournal.com

Pretty princess asleep by the lake.

She would wake up for you though...

Current Music: That's How Strong My Love Is-Otis Redding

asar-suti.livejournal.com

Asar-Suti was ready, and waiting for his new gardeners.

He had brought out one of the lawn tables and fairly covered it with lists and plans and boxes full of well-labelled seed packages; there was tea and coffee and mugs for everybody; there were new green aprons and wellie boots for those that needed them. He'd brought a book or two about magical herbs as well, and a notebook to take down names and jobs and schedules.

He was outside early, ready to begin.

[[OOC: Party post rules - tag in your charrie, then thread-hop and meet each other. Of course, Asar-Suti will get to all of them eventually! For what is known about the garden from the last two years, please refer to this post. Thanks, and have fun!]]

longlonghair

Rapunzel comes down the stairs with a piece of paper in her hand, and goes to the notice board near the bar. She tacks it up and surveys her handy work with a smile. Then she goes to sit a table with a steamy historical romance novel.

ARE YOU FROM EARTH?
Does your Earth have an organization called Locks of Love?
Locks of Love is a charitable organization that makes wigs for those who have lost theirs due to illness or disease. They take donations of human hair to do this, and I have a LOT of hair that can be donated. (My hair grows four inches per hour.)

For various reasons, I cannot donate all of mine on my version of Earth, so I am looking for those who might be able to take it to their own worlds for donate to this, or similar organizations.

Please see Rapunzel, or leave a note here if you would like to take some back to your world to donate – you can even do it anonymously. (Or if you just need some hair, for whatever reason). I have more than enough for anyone who would like to take some with them. Thanks!

wizard_howell

His head is simply swimming with magical calculations; moving the castle would be so much easier if Sophie hadn't whitewashed the bracket marks on all the walls. Nonetheless, if he figured it out once he can do it again. It's just more work.

And when one is in the midst of that type of intense concentration and focus, it's a good idea to take a break and head down to the local for a pint. In particular, it's a good idea to head to the pub at the end of the universe, because the only person likely to nag him there is Sophie, and it's an off chance she'll be there. She might well be too busy hanging her head over having cleaned the place so thoroughly that she's hidden all his magic. If she does follow him, though, that's all right. She's worked almost as hard as he has at covering up for some grievous mistakes and he's not cruel enough to recognize she deserves to step away from it all as well.

Either way, it's no matter. Moving into the bar, he takes a seat at a table and shakes back his hair and sets one foot crossed over his knee. If there's one place in the world where he always feels at home, it's in a pub.

lvpd_sidle

[OOM: A Question of Intent.]

princess-midna.livejournal.com

Midna is hanging around in the rafters of Milliways.

Above the heads of others.

Playing with this wonderful toy called Silly String...

Again...
.
.
.
This is the only warning for those in her line of fire!

~~((ooc: Slowtime for Munchie run!))~~

Current Mood: mischievous

forherlooks.livejournal.com

Today, Cameron is not all that happy.

See, it's not every day that you work incredibly hard to save someone, trying to find out just what might have been able to help him, just to learn not only was he not sick at all, but he was angry at you for trying because the entire thing had been a scam.

So it's a still mildly irritated Allison Cameron who has found her way to Milliways again, and this time, she isn't even half as nervous or surprised as she was before, just grateful to have someplace to sit down and get some decent coffee.

"Thank you," she tells Bar after picking up a mug and dropping the requisite currency down (keeping a tab doesn't strike her as entirely safe) and finding someplace to sit.

gorgonfondness

[OOM: Mia gets her own swimming pool, only sans the pool.]

Guildmaster inna bar.

Only barefoot and in her white dress.

How odd.

stuck-mynock.livejournal.com

Atton's sat in a booth, looking a lot more cheerful than he usually does, and drinking rum from a mug with some neon Aurebesh lettering, mostly obscured by where his arm happens to be.

There's a notebook in front of him, filled with pictures of stick figures running around and being pursued by a variety of objects. There's at least one pair of headphones, one adrenal stimulator and one wine glass after the group.

Botherable.

bringonthewonder

Angela has beer and pizza and plans to stick around for a while.

Sometimes a girl just needs a corpse-free night.

wizard_dresden

~~While the mun finishes reading the latest in the pups' canon...~~

I am here, behind the bar, serving up drinks.

Specials
Mac's Ale - any variety

"In honor of Mac. And no, you can't have it cold. Mac would kill me, or, grumble really menacingly at me, anyway."

Bob snorts from his perch on the shelf behind me.

withamagicword

Out back, in the sky, a sight that had been common once is restored. In the sky, Captain Marvel soars.

It has been an odd few months, with Cassie being caught up in her world, and then everything else... now he was connected to her even more. He loved being in this bond with her, and loved finding out the little things.

But for right now, here, in the sky, nothing really touched him. He was flying, free, and just letting the winds slice around him. There was a feeling, when flying, that was like nothing else.

Captain Marvel, inna sky, enjoying an evening flight.

Current Location: out back

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Archie's in the bar tonight. On duty again, he's not out here much in his free time of late, new arrivals take up a lot of time that way. Honestly, he just spends a lot of time looking at her. Just watching her and Svava with something like awe.

But he's here now, and on duty never stopped him from having a little chat. Come bother him at will.

bring_a_sponge

[OOM: After the briefing, and after gearing up with every weapon they can can carry, Teams Alpha and Delta head out, while Team Omega stands guard at the Front Door, making sure not a drop of Black Oil reaches Milliways and, from there, the rest of the universe.

So how does it go?

Well, Team Alpha find out why you should never ignore an MiB trash can; discover what happened to an old friend; learn just how well named the MiB 'shooting gallery' is; and come face-to-face with the would-be architects of the Men in Black's utter destruction.

While all that's happening, Team Delta go flying on purpose and by accident; wreak havoc with the market value of the MiB HQ; and have a truly "ew"-worthy romp with giant, slimy bugs. They also discover what you'll hear in MiB elevators, and Goldy makes some interesting new friends.

Meanwhile, Team Omega hold the line against something that has way too many arms; 'borrow' some items from the MiB armory that will surely mean trouble for somebody somewhere; and are the first to see just how very, very BIG everyone's troubles are going to get before the Black Oil finally goes down.

And then there's an epilogue where thanks are thanked, snarks are snarked, and the volunteers are escorted back to the bar, so Zed can start figuring out just how many patents he'll have to sell just to clean up the place.]

[OOC: Many, many thanks to all the muns who took part in the plot. You guys made it so much more awesome than I could ever have hoped!]

doctor-bj.livejournal.com

A college-age woman, papers in hand, walks through the front door.

Immediately, she really wishes she hadn't, but as always, the door disappears behind her. If the pattern holds it will be back in a few hours, but...

She doesn't want to be here. She wants something familiar. An anchor, now that the rest of her life seems to be set on 'spin'.

It's been a while since anything has been about what she wants.

Looking vaguely shellshocked, BJ wanders over to the bar. After a long moment of consideration, she shrugs.
"Coffee mocha ice cream in a sugar cone." It's not Mitch's ice cream parlor, but coffee mocha ice cream is always comfort food.

cursedrider.livejournal.com

There's no tower of fire this time. He just ignites and the air fills with the roar of a beast imprisoned. He's still stuck, his mission still awaits, there's nothing that he can do-

But at least the human is with him this time. Brooding on injustice. On the unfairness of lives across worlds. Less of a passenger and more of a backseat driver.

The Rider can deal with that.

So he guns the engine of his bike and the fire lessens, making the creature more otherworldly. He will not scorch the grass here again unless provoked.

And the chill night air is broken by the sound of a flaming motorcycle riding on an endless course by a flaming skeleton.

He is angry.

truequest.livejournal.com

Zelda is asleep on the couch.

She only moved inside after having been woken by Yrael.

She probably needs to stop napping...that's your call...

blue_ajah

She is becoming more familiar with the process of Traveling in this way, such that she need only brush one finger against the edge of Raven's feather to call it to mind, then reach--

(--There.)

The silver light slices in a bright line through the air, the widens into a portal and finally vanishes once she steps through it. Moiraine glances around the room, then glides smoothly to a side booth and settles there.

She is carrying a leather-bound journal and a small sheaf of papers, both of which she spreads before her. The Aes Sedai appears to be comparing them, occasionally pausing to make a note on one or the other.

teh-data-fork.livejournal.com

There once was a federal nerd
Who from drinking would not be deterred.
He sits, looking pained
(Though not eating brains)
With a large glass of something strongly alcoholic that he probably shouldn't be drinking, but to hell with that, since the crisis in his country isn't getting any better and he isn't likely to get called back into work tonight, so he figures he might as well get mildly shitfaced while he takes a break and programs something for fun on his computer.

Come talk to him! He'll challenge you to a Minesweeper tournament.

misterbunny.livejournal.com

"Lemme see... I need about 20 pounds of steel, some metal workin tools, tires that are about six inches high, make them spoke rimmed if ya would,mhmm."

The Bunny eyes his accumulating piles.

"And some extra stuff. Ya know what I'm workin fer."

Oh, Bar. So helpful. So in trouble.

organicmeatbag.livejournal.com

Situated comfortably on the floor by the fireplace is Revan, sitting cross-legged with his back against an armchair and facing the fire.

He's in a good mood, fantastic mood even, grinning a little as he bats around a small ball for an equally small, grey-furred pittin by the name of Ilona to chase around and be amused as he semi-watches a holofilm on his datapad.

All in all, it is a picture of domestic tranquility that Revan will deny if such is pointed out to him.

laceandarsenic.livejournal.com

Out by the lake, a dinosaur is hunting demon bunnies while her purple haired mistress watches from close by.

conglomerelda

It was warmer outside at the University than it had been for the past several days, so Elda felt no need to lounge near the fire today.

She's carefully situated herself on top of one of the tables in a booth, with her wings folded tightly to her sides. There are several oranges in a bowl next to her, and the remains of two more piled neatly nearby. She's reading a reproduced copy of one of Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks, with obvious fascination.

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine, with a tray, in the bar.

No, this is not the game of Clue that she left David and Ryan in the middle of to come to work.

But they could be very interesting clues as to what Elaine might be doing.

How may she help you?

captainryan.livejournal.com

((From here.))

The Door opens and Ryan steps through looking tired but accomplished, and still in black BDUs, though now they're much more...gooey. That's what happens when a giant worm-like alien eats you. In his arms is a rather ill-looking Suzi, bearing less slime since her shield had been on for that particular incident.

It should be noted that the pair of them smell like a trash heap.

"We're back, Suzi," he tells her softly.

princeinexile

[OOM: A pawn moves itself.]

His things are in a bag; his clothing suits twentieth century London.

Zuko does not quite look himself, but he does not look like 'Li', either. The boy puts his things down as he wiggles the Ring that brought him safely to Etna and then back to Milliways off his finger one-handed, and then replaced it, black and red, on the chain he wears around his neck. He stays by the bar, by people, watching and noting where security is; this is a boy in pain, yes, but he is a boy who has suffered and will suffer and accepts that--

--but he will no longer be caged.

He is entirely too aware of the room around him, the people, the smells and the noises.

But that only means he will be harder to catch off guard.

maxwellsdemon02

( A note for Laini- )

dats-dildoes.livejournal.com

Tonight, because his mun has threatened to do mean things to him if he doesn't at least try to meet more people: There is a Swedish rock-god, without his usual ~~security blanket~~ Norwegian counterpart.

Just at the moment he was sprawled in a seat near the window, with an amp at an almost reasonable volume under his chair, feet propped up on the table as he picked idly at the guitar, not really playing anything, at least, not all the way through.

Totally botherable.

stilljustandrew

*Andrew Wells is in the bar, trying to solve a crossword puzzle.*

*Right now he's frowning at 17-down: "Fake." Eleven letters.*

gotapenny.livejournal.com

It had only been a few days after George's experiences in Halloween Town. Going from one nightmare to another wasn't exactly the usual thing for the laid back paratrooper, thus we find a moody radioman outside by the lake.

All of Luz's gear sits close by in a haphazard pile with his helmet on top. Whatever light cool breeze there is russles his already helmet-like hair but he doesn't care. Bent over with his legs pulled to his chest George rests his chin on his knees watching the lake with the slightest of frowns.

Feel free to pester if you wish. He could use the company.