(no subject)

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

OOM: Veni, Vedi, Connubium. Wherein Ace conquers her fears, Spoon is informed that while loved he is a bastard, and Ace is reassured that Spoon is not submissive in all areas. Warning for smut.

Bartending.

[badinlatin]

Mal's been watching old Earth-that-Was movies to keep him distracted every once in awhile.

Cars are nifty, thus the theme.

Specials
Speedball
Irish Car Bomb

"Bring it on, folks."

[ooc: I'm sans AIM and distracted by Drive. Tag ahoy.]

(no subject)

[poisonwine]

(OOM: Rated 'P' for Paranoid, and brought to you by the fine people at 'Let's Intergrate Canon into Milliways Without Making it too Painful' inc (crk on the NYSE).)

OOM

[visible_sariel]

Back on the Enterprise, Sariel has some researching to do.
Rated D for mild darkstuff, and P for waxing poetic.

(no subject)

[twiceahero.livejournal.com]

Barbara is getting her morning cup of coffee, and gets a note as well. She reads it three times, frowning more each time, and then asks for a piece of paper of her own to write a reply with.

( It doesn't take long to write... )

The note is slipped into a blank white envelope and sealed, "Give this to Kara, please." The note fades into the bar and a book appears in its place: Multi-threading Reality: How to kill your father before you were born without falling into paradox. Barbara chuckles as she picks the book up. "You're a doll, Bar."

She takes her book and her coffee and rolls over to her usual table. Before she starts reading she checks to make sure there's a chair available in case anyone wants to join her.

(no subject)

[poisonwine]

There's a very, very scared assassin in bar. You can tell, because her right hand is twitching, and she keeps smoothing her hand over her hip, as though she's got something in her pocket.

The room is quickly, but thoroughly, scanned. Not flash of recognition, no sign that she has any idea where she is at all. Just one big twitch.

Perhaps she catches a couple people's eyes, but the contact is quickly broken. Instead, she scurries over to a corner booth, and puts her back to the wall, her right arm and leg dangling off the side of the seat.

Perfectly botherable. She won't shoot without reason.

(no subject)

[will_scarlett]

After another long night's sleep in the infirmary, Will heads to the Bar again, he's limping less, but still sore, but he's not spending any more days laying in bed, he'd go nuts.

So he's found a seat on the couch by the fire, there's a mug of hot chocolate beside him and he's fiddling with the cube puzzle that Abe gave him, anyone listening might learn some interesting medieval curses because its rather annoying. Though its also a good way to not think about being sore, or his door dissapearing or the mess with Kara, so a good distraction for now.

(no subject)

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon heads from the lake door to the front door at a fairly rapid pace. He's got chores at home to do, and they're important to his continued sanity. It would be naff to screw this thing up just because he let routine get lost in the newness of it all.

He's back not long after that, though, and feeling much better for having left a note letting mum know that he's alright, where he is, and that things aren't bad. Spoon's grip on the written word isn't good enough for that to come out as smugly as he'd otherwise attempt.

Now is the time to order breakfast, and there is deep discussion with Bar while he pours over a list of Ace's usuals and attempts to come up with something healthy enough that he'd eat it and sweet enough that she would. He may be here a while.

(no subject)

[torch-reporter.livejournal.com]

When Chloe ordered her regular cup of coffee this morning, a note came with it.

It's a note that reminds her of certain things that have happened over the past few days (certain secrets told) and while she reminds herself she'll have to find Kara and talk about this note, Chloe Sullivan is distracted by other things.

Like how to tell your best friend you broke the one promise you said you'd never break.

And so, she sits at the bar, more so staring into her cup of coffee than actually drinking it while she tries to think everything over to formulate the bestt argument she can think of.



[ooc: mun off and on all day due to class from 12-1 and 3:30-5]

(no subject)

[futures_of_ash]

Her breakfast, spiced peaches, had come with a note. A reminder that it was Monday, and Monday now meant more than guitars...so. Rachel was out by the lake edge, staring out over her beloved waters.

She was also tossing rocks out, playing a game called Sink?. She tried to toss pebbles fast enough that the player below the surface, in this case, a Squid, wasn't able to bat them back to shore. Her attention wasn't really on the game though, so each pebbles she tossed was met with a small splash and then quick rock dodging...

(no subject)

[ltmuldoon.livejournal.com]

It is a strange thing to have tasted hope for the first time in many years.

Of different forms and flavor. He thought he'd been boxed in for the longest time, which is a strange feeling for anyone. And suddenly he's not. Suddenly he has options of epic proportions. Hand on his mask, staring at the observation window, he continues to breath.

Thinking. Thinking deep thoughts.

After a moment, he pulls off his mask and waves a hand at the nearest waitrat-who stares-sniffs- and runs.

Right. He's still ill. Very very Ill.

Sighing to himself, he leaves his table and heads for the bar, "....This is going to sound weird."
I'm talking to a piece of wood. What's weird about that?

"...There's a chain in my world. Called Oscars? And they make these breadsticks...and well...I haven't had those breadsticks in...four years and-"

Anticipating his request, the bar provides him with a basket full of delicious smelling garlicy breadsticks and...a plate of spare ribs.

This is hard. really hard. "....Take those back." Muldoon swallows down the lump in his throat, "...Can I have the Greek Salad instead? Please? "

Either way it's probably better for him. His wife did say that human beings were naturally herbivores.

Soldier and Mercenary in the bar enjoying a large greek salad and a basket of garlicy Oscar Breadsticks. If you haven't had Oscars breadsticks, come over. He might fight you for them, but he'll share.

Eventually.

(no subject)

[the-h-star-r.livejournal.com]

Homestar's got a stack of drinks next to him today.

He's givin' out free samples of SB2O and Malinko Drinko while the givin's good.

If you can be into Strong Bad flavored water or a bland, watery domestic brew, get some before he gets sued.

And by sued, of course, I mean pummeled with water bombs.

(no subject)

[hippodamio]

Hektor's father can be an exacting man, sometimes; he caught sight of the boy's letters yesterday, and they were not at all to his liking. Phoitios received quite a lecture for that, and since no man much cares for that sort of thing once he is grown, he turned around and passed it on to his young charge. Hector's ears are still ringing with the din of his tutor's wrath and he has been set to further practice writing, even when he is not in the presence of his tutor or uncles or anyone else. He hardly thinks it fair- his writing is not that bad- but one does not argue with he who carries the word of the King. . .

At least the goddess has taken him out of the Palace for a time. A small, dark-haired boy, dressed in a belted linen tunic and sandals, trudges through the door of Milliways and bows to the Bar with fist on brow before taking his stylus and slate of wax to a spot on the floor by the fire.

(no subject)

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

It's been a very bad morning, but he's here anyways. Curled up in a booth, sitting with a book and a glass of water. His bad temper is very well hidden, to give him credit. Only manifested in the vicious way he turns the pages of his poetry book.

It's been a very bad morning.

(no subject)

[slayer_fray]

Mel's yawning when she enters this time: it's been a long night, or a long couple of nights, and it's been a couple of days since she slept. This doesn't mean she's exhausted, however just, yanno, yawn-y.

Nothing that can't be fixed with a large Tequila over ice and enchiladas, all of which and her scythe are dumped on the table alongside her boots as she sits back to chill out.

She has three jobs. Security at Milliways is the boring, relaxing one.

(no subject)

[dr_temperance]

[OOM: After bringing Hannah home from Milliways, Brennan and Angela have a long talk.]

(no subject)

[ahogarse.livejournal.com]

So, yesterday was traumatizing enough that he's sort of hiding again, half-invisible and behind a tree.  Hoping very sincerely that the police aren't out to get him, which he's still half-convinced they are.

The most visible part of him is the vivid red blood, strikingly coloured where the rest of him tends to wash out.

(no subject)

[princeinexile]

There is a prince at the bar, penning a note. It's short and simple, and Bar gives the instructions of, "Give this to my... give this to people who would care." If he says it's for his 'friends', people like Katara and Toph may not get it. On the other hand, if he doesn't...

He is looking worlds better-- but the curse has taken it's toll. Color is better, his eyes aren't marked by deep smudges of shadow from lack of sleep, and his posture is relaxed. He has a small, simple meal on the bar (broth, rice, a few shreds of meat with a mild sauce).

He writes ( a note for those who care. )

He almost doesn't sign it. He's not sure what name he should put down. But he goes ahead and puts what is safe...

Even if he realizes he may never be that person, or the person he was -- he's not sure who he is, really.

His body is mended, but his heart is still heavy. He sits, and begins to eat quietly, picking at his food with little enthusiasm. But at least he can eat, and he needs to. So he does what he has to, like he always has.

(no subject)

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Wells is not the only werewolf advocating endurance drills today.

For the record.

Of course, Ace is not saying anything of the sort, as she enjoys the spring sunshine out by the lake, throwing sticks for her Doberman.

For the record, Magic, up until now, has been having a very boring day. It's about time mum came out to play.

(no subject)

[cursedrider.livejournal.com]

Johnny Blaze is in the bar.

Reading a worn copy of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Repair." Occasionally he glances outside. Tonight he'll be going out and letting the rider have fun.

For now, as the sun sets, he's here.

(no subject)

[truequest.livejournal.com]

Zelda is looking a little casual this afternoon. A plain white cotton dress without shoes on.

She pads downstairs and hops onto a chair at the bar.

Her bow and quiver promptly appear along with a note. "Outside?" she murmurs, turning to the door to the lake.

She slides off of her chair and gathers her things to head outside.

There's a target set up in the field for her. Zelda smiles and begins to practice.

(no subject)

[dragonofgrey.livejournal.com]

Cool grey eyes canvassing the bar from the wizard sitting in a comfortable chair. Occasionally seeming to wince, and a hand went to his neck. There was something wrapped about it like a brace.

Draco seems to be a subdued mood, and yet secretly? There is plotting. Oh, you better believe there be plotting.

Entry Post

[darkluthor.livejournal.com]

Lex had a full day, making it to court to see his father sent to jail without bail. Lex had heard his father was dying of liver cancer, and it tore at him to decide in not helping him. But he wasn't the one to have murdered family, without reasonable cause. Lex made sure Chloe was fine, settling into witness protection and Lana had made her flight to France before returning home.

As Lex pulled up to the mansion, he wondered about stopping by the Kent Farm to check if Clark was okay. Their friendship was already fragile, so it was probably in his best interest not to go chasing him. Lex had opened the front door of his mansion in Smallville.

It was something he didn't expect to come home to... he saw people inside his own home, no one he knew. Loud talking sounds filled inside. He closed the door behind him and saw a bar, people behind and infront of it, and even some animals. His eyes bulged wondering what was going on.

Help the poor confused Lex Luthor?

(no subject)

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

You know? It is actually very, very, very nice not to have to be on guard and watching in case an escaped serial killer manages to make his way to Milliways. Thus, Wellard has indulged in a few quiet days of working and reading.

Today would have been another one- he is even sitting at a table with a book, and pen and paper to take notes. However, he is still trying to recall the dream he had last night, and trying to figure out what about it was so important.

So, the book is being ignored, and the pen is being fiddled with as he stares at the Observation Windows.

(no subject)

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

((OOM: What's harder on the nature of reality than reviewing a genetics textbook from fifty years in the future? Not making up your damn mind already and thereby wobbling your reality like a spider bouncing up and down on a cobweb. If Wesker only knew, he'd have read five.))

Wesker's home dimension is uncertain. People are shifting back and forth, although they don't understand that they are; the timeline is jumping from one track to another, trying to figure out which one isn't supposed to exist.

There's a Tyrant, just turned forty-six, who's been getting shadow memories of a bar, strange memories of people, confusing memories of things that are completely against anything he's ever heard; sensible sharks, talking dogs, timeline jumps, other worlds. And while going off to find some painkillers and nap until what he assumes is a hallucinatory spell dies down, he opens a door and finds himself very lost indeed. Then he totally blanks on the connections he was just making. Then he remembers the bar again.

Welcome back--no, wait, back, no, back to the Bar, Deitmar Albert--oh, go have a drink already. Whether it's your first visit or not, and whether you're about to totally cease to exist or not, your younger version is still going to be stuck with the tab.

Badly confused Tyrant at the bar. Possibly slightly familiar. More likely? Not.

(no subject)

[lissla-lissar.livejournal.com]

The woman and her dogs enter. The woman and her dog, and Ossin's puppies enter. A woman, in white, and seven dogs enter. The woman known here as Susan and elsewhere as Deerskin enters. With her are Ash, Ob, Pur, Harefoot, Ferntongue, Meadowsweet, and Fen.

Woman and grown dog are silent. The puppies make noises as puppies do.

Happy Hour!

[collects_ears]

It's Monday, so George can be found in the usual place.

Behind the bar!

He's here to serve you drinks!

Won't you indulge him?

"Tonight's drinks are Acid Rain, Affinity, Afterglow and Alexandra."

Have at.

"What'll it be?"

(no subject)

[callitavesper.livejournal.com]

[ London, 2006: Sarah Jane Smith doesn't know what to do with herself. James Bond offers suggestions. Unsurprisingly, implied sex at the end. ]

(no subject)

[the_lioness]

Alanna has become quite good at multitasking, which normally would not be worthy of note, but the introduction of triplets into her daily life has made it so.

She is currently stretched out on the couch, cradling Thom -- the younger, naturally -- in one arm and reading Jon's intelligence reports on Carthak's new emperor, Ozorne. A bottle, a bag, an unbuckled sword and a discarded cup of tea litter the area. Whatever she's learning from the scroll in her hand, it's making her frown. Or maybe it's that her arm has gone to sleep.

Either way, someone might want to suggest that she get her filthy boots off the furniture.

(no subject)

[evryinchbut1.livejournal.com]

Need a waitress?

Your server is: Valerie

Feel free to flag down the one making her rounds.

Out by the Lake Somewhere...

[lichvell-r.livejournal.com]

Ravin really need to learn to not start a fight, or at least to know when to run the hell away.

But that is a lesson for later; battered, bleeding, maybe slightly broken, the demi-lich is out cold in the woods. In the dark. Alone.

Who knows what might find her totally defenseless? Who knows what they might do?

********
[Edit]
********

Ah, saved. Now we have a demi-lich on the couch, only partially looking like she was ran over by a semi. Someone should wake her up.




(All new tags millitimed to after Lyrae rescued Ravin, please.)

(no subject)

[nita_callahan]

The number of wizards in the bar has gone up by one.

Nita's got her nose stuck in a copy of Pride & Prejudice -- not an unusual posture -- and is attempting to navigate her way from the Bar to a booth without spilling her tea or losing her place in the book.

(no subject)

[angela-edmunds.livejournal.com]

It hasn't been that long. Just long enough to play with her brother a good amount, be with her Mom and Dad, get back into surfing and modeling, and get back into a routine.

It's a relief of sorts when she goes to her closet and the removable panel is there. And when she enters the bar this time, the door doesn't disappear on her.

Relaxed now, she heads over to the bar and gets herself a milkshake, surveying the patrons of the bar. It's nice to be back when you know you can leave.

(no subject)

[fallen-april.livejournal.com]

April inna bar.

She's been around, really. A bit homesick as of late, but there's nothing that she can do about that.

Currently she's sketching illustrations to go with the Queen Mab speech from Romeo and Juliet".

Feel free to bother.

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

The doctor is in

Guppy is in a booth near the infirmary. He's had no luck so far in tracking down Fran's world's virus, although he's not likely to stop trying whilst he's stuck in here unless there's no prospect of finding it.

Occasionally, he munches a ready salted crisp from a bowl next to him.

***

Snowball is out back, breaking a large rotton tree branch into smaller chunks and depositing them in the forest out of the way.

***

Shufti and Jack are near the trilobite tank, playing with play-dough. She is making a turtle. He is making a mess.

(no subject)

[skidrowseymour.livejournal.com]

King Lear - Act 1, Scene 1
Kent: I thought the kind had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.
Glo: It did always seem so to us: but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety.

Huh? 'Curiosity in neither'? What in hell is a moiety? Is this a word Seymour should know?

A young man, seated at a table with a bottle of Coke and a small pile of books on it, squints fretfully at his copy of King Lear. He turns the page with a bandaged finger, looking to see if it gets any better. Blah blah blah vines of Burgundy strive to be entressed blah blah blah....

Seymour sighs and sets the book onto his pile of books. Who knew improving your mind could be so boring?

(no subject)

[talkstohats]

[Pre-Milliways: In which Sophie leads a mandrake root into immorality, and Howl's latest flame attempts guitar theft.]

The only reason Sophie's bringing her bucket of ferns into the bar at all is that she cannot take either Calcifer's snickering, the dog-man's gloomy snuffling, or Michael's merry lucky-in-love cheerfulness any longer.

Right now, Sophie cordially hates everyone. (But most especially people who are young, Welsh, and speak in romantic throbbing voices.)

So she's just going to sit right here at a table with her bucket of ferns and mutter at them, and pretend the entire castle - in fact, the entire WORLD - does not exist. "Be daffodils!" she snarls at her bucket. "Be daffodils in June, you beastly things!"

(The ferns don't seem inclined to obey. In fact, they're noticeably wilting the more she talks to them. Sometimes, emotions speak louder than words.)

(no subject)

[do-not-falter.livejournal.com]

Link hasn't been to the bar in a few days, but after recent events, he decides a visit is perhaps called for. Both as celebration and an escape.

He slips in from the castle, heading straight for the bar and ordering an ale.

Go ahead and talk to him. He could use some conversation.

(no subject)

[dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com]

There's a slightly drunken rock star sitting upside down in a chair, reading through translations of a grimoire silently to himself.

Everyone he'd met at the bar and actually liked talking to for any amount of time was all up in arms, and that threw off his groove. So he decided that he'd rather just throw himself headlong into study, and keep himself out of the entire situation.
Maybe.
For as long as his curiousity stayed at bay.

Botherable? Yes.

(no subject)

[most-holy.livejournal.com]

Cerebus has been asleep about five days now. There must have been something in that last bucket of whisky.
Cerebus' head doesn't hurt any more. In fact Cerebus has started feeling well enough that he can start work again on his book of stuff that happened to him, which he hasn't worked on for years.

"My Struggle, by Pope Cerebus I
Chapter 23
Many people will come up to you with ideas for things you should do. People came up to Cerebus all the time with ideas, like 'try to negotiate a lower interest rate from Lord Julius' or 'don't throw any more babies off the roof'. When they did this, Cerebus would ignore them - doing stuff just means you have to do more stuff.
If you have to do some stuff, do whatever your least important advisor says. Then, if everything goes wrong like usual, you can have them executed. If everything goes right and they claim credit, have them executed. If it goes right and they don't claim credit, promote them, and execute someone else to keep them all on their toes. "

Just as Cerebus has attained a white-hot blaze of inspiration, somebody bumps into his table and knocks his ale onto the manuscript. Clearly this someone needs to die. Cerebus turns round, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and sees...

(no subject)

[spooky-shrink.livejournal.com]

Malcolm heads down to the bar, the Night Side of Nature clutched in his hands and his eyes blurry from lack of restful sleep.

It's possible these two things are not unrelated.

He orders a Glenmorangie from Bar, walks to a chair by the fireplace, and begins to read.