(no subject)

[amanofletters.livejournal.com]

[OOM: After Milliways, Holmes inquires after Watson's odd behaviour and things don't go over quite well.]

The Door opened and a very cold looking Watson walked through, unravelling his scarf from his neck as he walked and stomping his boots in a vain attempt to remove the snow slush from the sole. It didn't work, and he simply got a mess.

After deeming it a loss cause and getting a good amount of unneeded dirtiness across the clean white floor of what was certainly not the black welcome mats of Baker Street, he grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shook the snow he could from his shoulders before moving to hang his hat and scarf on the coat rack, only to realise its absence and his location. It would have taken him sooner to realise this, perhaps, if his mood had been one of a sunnier disposition.

He blinked around at the white surroundings. Milliways. Again. His shoulders slumped. Wonderful, he thought, with a slight frown.

A waitrat scurried over suddenly and gestured indignantly at the floor, squeaking loudly in annoyance at the wreck he had made of the once pristine floor. He nodded and apologised, which only seemed to make it madder, until it's furry head was nearly bursting into flames.

It was a while before he could actually sit down, when the waitrat had finally given up its unintelligible admonishment and disappeared to ostensibly get a mop.

Placing his hat on the counter and stuffing his scarf haphazardly into his pocket so that an end still trailed the floor, he rubbed his neck tiredly and ordered a brandy, as this could not be dealt with without something strong.

(no subject)

[antishinra]

(The night after talking to Cloud, Tifa can't sleep.)

(no subject)

[benloserz.livejournal.com]

[[ From Here ]]

The door opens, and a voice is heard, with a surprised tone. "Wow. I guess we are lucky."

A moment later, Ben Winchester, the friendly Plain Common (Teenager) Guy guides a very pretty pink-haired teen girl in a nice school uniform into Milliways.

Some people might even recognize Washuu.

"Cool, so cheesecake for dessert?"


[All tags welcome, but Millitimed to after the fight]

(no subject)

[immortalthief]

 Ooh look, She is in the bar this time with more projects by her side. 

Sitting on the floor by the fire, her favorite spot it seems, Amanda is Knitting. 

Bother at will.

(no subject)

[and-far-away.livejournal.com]

Sharpe's delaying going back to the ship - it's not as if anyone will miss him or as if he'll reach Harper any later for a few days in the bar, and he really hates sailing - and doing a security shift while he's here.

He's sitting on a bar stool, wearing his badge and surveying the room. Anyone he knows - people looking after his children especially - or indeed anyone he doesn't know is welcome to come and chat.

[ooc: Recycled EP? What recycled EP?]

(no subject)

[evil_koala_626]

Stitch's ego is still hurting something fierce over the whole Bar debacle. He needs a pick me up and is thus sitting at a table near the center of the room with a large card stating the following in a clumsy, childish scrawl.

Arm Wrestle the Puppy!

And below in much neater albeit much smaller handwriting.

Warning: Engage at your own risk. And if you can read this, yes, I am who you think I am. Boo!

He's doing his very best to look innocent. 





(OOC: For the curious, the font of Stitch's alien alphabet can be found here)

(no subject)

[dm-bakura.livejournal.com]

Somewhere, on a floor in Milliways, sits a young man, with a deck of cards.
They're not your average cards, either - not standardised playing cards, or even tarot. They have pictures of monsters, instead, with words underneath, in Japanese, with a red-and-black design on the back. He's making a card-house out of them, though he's not even finished the bottom level yet.
He's also probably (quite accidentally!) positioned himself exactly where you need to walk. He's talented like that.

(no subject)

[priestoftravel.livejournal.com]

Nicholas D. Wolfwood had gotten his Christmas shopping done, and was a bit worried that AJ hadn't come back since her 'thing to do' on the other side of the door. It was getting into the 'longer than expected' timeframe and Nick, being who he was, was willing to go to Mexico, armed to the teeth, and kill anyone who dared to get in his way.

You know, except that little thing called Being Dead. That and he wouldn't even know where to begin looking for her.

He also hadn't seen Vash around lately, and he never knew when that blond bumbling crybaby would tumble into the bar. He lit a cigarette and pinched the bridge of his nose.

This holiday was already shaping up to be a disappointment. None of his friends would be here for Christmas.

Bipolar, much? Well, for what it was worth, there's a grumpy ex-priest sitting fireside, still sifting through the catalogs, since he needed a new wardrobe. Teeshirts, jeans and threadbare suits were great and all, but he needed something more.

Life Support!

[cheevy.livejournal.com]

Miniver's mun is +1 beating Guppy's mun at posting this week, and IS ACTUALLY AROUND.

Whee!

So. Circle of chairs, table with various snacks, coffee, tea, other assorted things.

And, because it's Miniver, there's a basket of crayons and a pile of cardboard paper.

Let this be an experiment this week. Art bonding? In order to encourage others, Miniver takes a seat and starts doodling. This should be encouraging because his artistic ability consists entirely of drawing blue Celtic designs. Anything else looks like it was produced by a 3-year-old. So it'd be hard to do WORSE.

Sign-up sheets are also present.

And of course, the sign.

LIFE SUPPORT
Open to all

(no subject)

[mendanddefend_archive]

As has been noted previously, not too many people realize that Milliways has an underground parking garage. Bob himself has just discovered the place, and is currently there peering around at various vehicles, Earth-based and otherwise. He's most interested in the human civilian vehicles; wheeled cars are still something of a novelty for him.

Maybe he could get away with popping the hood on that Caddy hardtop when no one's looking?

(no subject)

[ostro_goth]

Teja is outside, practising with his axe.

It's not that he needs to, in any sense of the word -- it is merely something akin to pleasure that he feels when he steps, turns, swings, turns again, and hits.

He is expecting the company of one certain white not!cat, but while he does, will welcome other watchers, talkers, sparring partners.



[[OOC: Sorry!!! Meant to do this yesterday as planned, but the mead on the medieval Christmas market, it killed me ded!]]

(no subject)

[undignified]

Wes has a chocolate milkshake, cookies and a booth (but not a Booth).

He's pleased because a) he has cookies and a milkshake, b) Atton's not dead, and c) he has cookies and a milkshake.

Anyone who wishes to join him will have to sit on the other side of the booth, because his legs are taking up his side.


[ooc: D: crashing, probably for the night, sry! if anyone else wants to tag for slowtime, 's cool.]

(no subject)

[not_a_hologram]

The door slides open, blue light visible through it for a moment as Al steps in. The door slides closed.

He's very much in uniform, and even more in a good mood. Like being surprised with your favorite breakfast in bed by a pretty girl, good mood. Or catching your favorite movie that you haven't seen in years on TV just as it's starting, good mood. Or cocktails on the beach--

Okay, maybe not.

He goes up to the bar to order himself a malted milkshake, and a round of drinks for anybody who's nearby. Both generous and botherable, is Al.

(ooc: feel free to tag anytime.)

(no subject)

[narrated-life.livejournal.com]

What's this?

There's a Harold in the bar, though he was not expecting it.

For him, it was supposed to be the little bakery he was auditing with the frustratingly attractive Ana Pascal.

If he had been a praying man, he would be thanking any god at the moment that brought him here.

He sets his briefcase beside the bar and sits down, ordering a soda before taking out a notebook and beginning to write.

(no subject)

[roger-ratcliff.livejournal.com]

For once, Roger isn't at the piano, or out walking Pongo.

Today he's practicing dancing. He's being careful not to run into anyone.

There's no real practical application of this skill in terms of his work, but it's always been fun. He moves with a light grace, long limbs somehow in coordination - largely to do with his body structure. He's enjoying it immensely, arms out around an invisible partner.

He's brought down a small record player along, and it's currently playing a sort of swing music. His jacket's slung over the back of a nearby armchair.

Pongo's given up on introducing Roger to anybody sane, and is lying over by the fire.

(no subject)

[l33t-mouse.livejournal.com]

Not too long ago, Bob gave Mouse an assignment. She's working on it. Been working on it for a while.

She's sitting at the Bar with a portable workstation. There are two VidWindows above it: the one on the left displays lines of blue and yellow code, while the one on the right shows code in a glowing, nasty-looking green. Mouse frowns and presses a key. The two VidWindows blink out and are replaced by a larger one, this showing blue and yellow code with green spliced in. Whatever Mouse is seeing, she doesn't like it.

Or maybe it's what she's not seeing that she doesn't like.

"Aw, fraggit," she mutters before shutting off the workstation, shutting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Bar, gimmie a Snow Crash. If ya please." A glass of something that looks like liquid static appears beside her. She picks it up with a mumbled thanks and takes the distinctive swig of a sprite who's had a long, difficult day.

(no subject)

[todlichestrafe.livejournal.com]

There's a nine-year-old redhead crashed in one of the (possibly uncomfortable) chairs at one of the Bar tables, her head piled on a makeshift pillow of arms and uneasily asleep.

She can't get home, Bound like this, but she's not sure who to ask for a room and too unfamiliar with her surroundings to just ask a random stranger, so she just pulled up a chair and forced herself asleep.

She starts awake with a sharp gasp, then sighs and puts her head back into her arms, shifting around till she becomes comfortable again.

But sleep, it seems, is not forthcoming. She sits up, bleary-eyed, straightening her spine out carefully. She hops from the stool and stretches herself out, her fingers coming to rest at her side, twitching to hold something that should be with her but isn't.

She grumbles softly in post-sleep irritation, then hops back up onto her chair and sits there, waiting for her brain to start working again.

(no subject)

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

This is Spoon. He's a non-handsome, non-ugly, non-tall, non-short werewolf of English ancestry. Well, the werewolf bit is Scottish, but the human part of him from before he was a werewolf is English.

The point being that Spoon is pretty damn average looking in everything except the scars, the beaded braids, and the stacks of books on childhood development. He doesn't know how to raise a six year old girl, is perfectly willing to ask mum for help, but wants to have some idea of what they're shooting to have Cora at on his own.

((Tags still welcome, will be picked up in the morning.))

(no subject)

[slasherofprices.livejournal.com]

The piano previously occupied by Rodger Radcliff last night is presently occupied by one Mr. Skinner, whose fingers were just itching to play something. For the curious, it's "Sophisticated Lady" now. As songs are finite, it will be something else soon.

[ ooc: man, i seem to be as slow as the traffic today. slowtime soon. ]

(no subject)

[dr-de-silva.livejournal.com]

Toby is sitting by the fire, still with his big backpack of stuff.

He hasn't decided what to do yet, though he's looking through a Holby Gazette for possible accommodation.

(no subject)

[calderon-crow.livejournal.com]

Dirty and shuffling and practically falling over, Tavi is not just the Captain of the First Aleran Overworked Legion, he's also a member. He can't say he was hoping the doorway would do it's magic trick, because he's never quite hoping (because it meant being apart from Kitai) but he can't say that he's upset when he stumbles into one of the chairs near the door.

Now he just had to get some warm food into his belly and pass out (preferably up in his room though a booth or a couch would work) and he'd be doing all right.

"Food," he requests of the bar as he flops into a seat, glad he didn't have his armor on.

Nothing popped up for a moment.

"Seriously. Just something edible and not too chewy."

(no subject)

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

Winter is here again, and in accordance, Jack Frost is back. He's sitting on one of the sofas, reclining with a newspaper and a smile.

He has a glass of water on the table in front of him, only the water is slowly growing into a small tree made out of ice, pushing its way out of the glass and spreading crystal branches and leaves.

(no subject)

[will_scarlett]

The past few days have been good and so Will is down at the Bar later in the night with the American history book, its interesting reading.

He now understands better why John Adams was cursing Congress, nobles can be horrible men but at least they know how to make up their mind.

Also rich people don't seem to change ever, The Gilded Age was a rather too familiar time in America, and he has chips.

OOM: IMTOD

[hunter-legend.livejournal.com]

[In a Hospital Bed]

(no subject)

[crow-t.livejournal.com]

It's finally happened. Roughly two hours ago, the Mads sent up Castle of Fu Manchu. Now, two hours later, Crow T Robot stumbles into Milliways a broken 'bot.

"Oh! The pain, the pain..." The Dr. Smith impression will fade after a few minutes.

(no subject)

[thechaosbringer]

Thanks to Pokémon, several of this mun's pups have been unusually neglected in favour of little Pikachus and Piplups and other pixelated critters.

But. She managed to put the DS down long enough to remember that sometimes, head voices need love and attention and a sprinkle from a Psyduck-shaped watering can too.

In all seriousness, we bring the Chaos Bringer into the bar proper, who was, before his entrance, snacking on a galaxy or two while mun-thing played her game.

The bold can visit, as well as the naïve.

Or those who really don't like him at all and figure that one of the best strategies for dealing with enemies is to keep an eye on them.