milliways_bar | Jan. 7th, 2008

Jan. 7th, 2008

cheevy.livejournal.com

Miniver is feeling a lot better. He's not in perfect health yet, but he's no longer falling over his own sense of balance or having trouble breathing and he can actually eat real food. It's kind of awesome.

He is still kind of low-energy, but since he doesn't want to just sleep all the time now, after he has a shower back home, he slips into the bar in a poofy sweater and some oversized pyjama pants, a guitar in his hand. He takes it over to the fire, plops himself down as close to the flames as he feels the guitar can handle, and sits there playing softly, tweaking an apparently mostly-written song. He eventually obtains a mug of tea as well.

He'd LOVE company. And though he isn't SINGING with the song, he is humming softly, and it's... rather lovely, if surrealist folky-type music is your thing. Or even if it isn't, exactly.

scurlock

[OOM: In this massively slowtimed thread, which is millitimed to before the Sherwood plot but just now finished since RL likes to get in the way sometimes, Doc and Will ask Bar for a movie to watch to help Doc get more in tune with the time period. So upstairs they do trek with beer, pizza, and technology they have no idea how to use, for movie watching and talking, and apparently Doc makes a good pillow. Again massively slowtimed.]

pwnuall.livejournal.com

Ikki's outside again, but this time he's staying away from the forest. He knows better than to go there after the encounter with the bunnies, at least not until he learns more about them. Right now, anyway, he's not in the mood for a fight - he's in the mood to think, something that he's generally accused of it coming along all too rarely.

Well, whether or not he thinks enough for his own good, the best way for him to do it is to take to the sky and fly. So he's exploring the possible roads outside, and using the wall of the bar to wallcrawl, making his way higher and higher. His pants are dirty from so many impacts to the ground and he's not getting nearly as much air as he would like, but this isn't really a real ride, is it? It's more like a practice run, and he's distracted anyway, so it's not doing all that much good.

Stupid Agito. Stupid Akito. Stupid sharks and their stupid ways of making things complicated.

hippodamio

The wound left by the boar, true to both Rabastan's and Kou'te-bpe's words, has not festered. In fact it has been healing well, from what Hektor can tell without removing his bandages. Today, however, it bears the mark of many a healing injury: it itches like mad. Even in the Troy of Hektor's time, they teach their children better than to scratch at such a wound. The only thing for it is to pursue distraction, and so Hektor has opted to take up a place by the fire again where he may sharpen the dagger he brought with him, and consider the other people both old and new who gather today.

[OOC: My apologies if Hektor is slow to respond. His notifications are delivered to a gmail address, and my office blocks access to gmail.]

reddragonloved.livejournal.com

Time isn't precisely synced up here and in Chicago so Reba hasn't been gone as long as she's been gone. At least she hasn't on her end. Christmas is over but 1982 hasn't started yet. She gets a package from Lucian from a rat with a grin and writes a note in Braille back before handing over a much bulkier one. Apparently her answer to what you get a dead werewolf for Christmas is an ATARI game system and a collection of games available in your time.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

The weather outside is, not to put too fine a point on it, pretty vile. It's basically Scottish weather, after all, and unlike any number of worlds with Scotlands, it isn't afflicted by global warming. Thus, cold and wet, or cold and frozen, or cold and grey with promises of impending wet and/or frozen- but regardless, it's unpleasant weather out there.

So of course Harry Wells is out there trying to run around the lake. Look, if he's got to stay here until the planning phases are done for what to do about the Scythe, he's going to be damned sure to be in proper physical condition when the time comes. The worse the weather is, the more of a challenge he gets. He'll be having a go at the heavy bag slung from one of the stouter trees when he finishes, too.

callitavesper.livejournal.com

Breakfast is Bond's favorite meal of the day. At times, it is the only reason why he gets out of bed. Work may be tedious and an end to the waiting may not be in sight, but at least Bond can start his day with a cup of coffee and a plate full of scrambled eggs. And other food, of course, but mainly the scrambled eggs.

It's a rather tired looking Bond that claims a booth with his coffee and plate of scrambled eggs (with a side of other food). He didn't drink too excessively last night, but it was still enough to make him feel like crap this morning. He's not complaining. The tiny binge did its job in helping him to recover from yesterday's attack.

And now it's given him a reason to indulge in coffee.

Not that he needed a reason.

todlichestrafe.livejournal.com

WHMP. Air whistles and snapss across Vita's arm as she drives it solidly into the tree. Little bits of bark splinter off the point of impact, and when she draws her hand back for another blow, the little lines of her skin hold dust and grime from the surface of the tree. All the snow that could've been left on the tree today has long since shaken off, and there's still a few flakes clinging to unmelted life in her hair and on her shirt back.

A heavy bag isn't good enough for Vita. She needs to feel her knuckles cracking with the weight of the blows, to know she's fighting something with enough strength in it to send shocks back through her arm and keep her firmly in contact with her own physical shape. There's no barrier jacket right now - it's all just her own toughness and raw physicality versus the sturdiness and bendiness of the tree.

WHMP. "Ha!"

After centuries of being reminded, painfully, over and over, that you're nothing more than a magical program, easily recycled, easily ignored, with no rights to a reality outside of your master's choosing, it's nice to be able to wake up and know that the world at your fingertips is connected to you in unignorable and indeniable ways. So it is that when she trains alone - unlike when she trains with others - it's never against the robots and holograms that the practice-ground supervisors would supply for the combat mages; it's always against unconstructed stuff.

WHMP.

She can get away with it, too; the tree's a lot more likely to crack before her knuckles do.

She has a bit of a routine to her practice, of which this is but a part, but she's hardly the most unbotherable person in the world; a distraction wouldn't be frowned upon, not in the least.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

"Testing..." Knox thinks he has the hang of his new digital recorder. He's not sure how he' going to use it, seeing as it's from over 15 years in the future and would seen really odd (if not suspicious) for him to use it openly. "Mary had a little lamb..." But a recording device that stores 68 hours is hard to resist. No more tapes! (Though he hasn't quite figured out how to get the recorder to talk to his laptop so that he can save everything elsewhere, just in case.

Conversation is always welcome.

astral-brat.livejournal.com

[ OOM: Ben's a snitch. ]

Ben's relieved to see the bar when he walks through the door. It sure beats hanging around GAG HQ all day.

He tugs slightly on his black uniform -- he's less comfortable in it today than usual -- and heads straight for Bar.

"A chocolate milkshake, please."

He pays with a few credcoins from his pocket, barely glancing at his tab.

skidrowseymour.livejournal.com

Seymour enters the bar from upstairs, wearing an orange jacket, blue baseball cap, brown slacks, glasses with one cracked lens. He's holding a sheet of paper, which he then tacks onto the bulletin board.

( It reads... )

After Seymour tacks the sign up (it looks so small), he goes to Bar, pulling a handful of letters out of his pocket. They are addressed, simply, to friends of Seymour.

( They read... )

Seymour stares at the notes as they disappear from Bar's surface. Then he looks out over Milliways, thinking about what was and what could have been. As he does so, music plays from invisible instruments, an intense guitar and sharp drums. Seymour blinks and, compelled to by some innate sense, gets to his feet.

The music is back. Before he goes, he gets a number. It's more than he ever thought possible.

Heedless of anyone nearby, he starts to sing, in a strong tenor: "They may offer you fortune and fame,
Love and money and instant acclaim.
But whatever they offer you, don't feed the plants!" He taps the poster he just put up.

He gestures to anyone nearby, even rats and total strangers: "They may offer you lots of cheap thrills.
Fancy condos in Beverly Hills.
But whatever they offer you, don't feed the plants!

"Look out - it's called Audrey II!
Look out - it might come for you!

"Hold your hat and hang onto your soul!" Seymour, illustratively, does hold onto his baseball cap as he strides towards the front door.
"Something's comin' to eat the world whole.
If we fight 'em, we still have a chance.
But whatever they offer you.
Though they're sloppin' the trough for you.
Please, whatever they offer you - don't feed the plants!"

Invisible backup sings: "We'll have tomorrow!"

Seymour throws open the front Door. What the dead man sees makes him go pale and take a step back. Anyone else looking would see a red velvet curtain.

What's beyond that Door is exactly what he deserves. Seymour takes a deep breath and joins in with the backup for the final line: "Don't feed the plants!"

The music crescendos. As the final notes play, Seymour steps out the front door. The red curtain wavers slightly as he disappears. Then the Door shuts behind him.

Exit Seymour Krelborn.

a-day-of-sky.livejournal.com

Contrary to popular opinion, a wedding dress (covered in snow, no less) is not the most convenient thing to be wearing when navigating around a pandimensional bar. So, at present, Ella's drifting around in a light blue sundress, a maroon scarf, and a bowler hat. For the record, she did not choose these clothes herself.

Her hands are clamped on either side of her head, holding on to headphones that are, as opposed to resting on top of her head, around the back of her neck. A wire's going over to a CD player under her right arm, and, all in all, seems a bit zoned out.

She might bump into your table (or you) if she's not careful.

mendanddefend_archive

Death and loss have been on Bob's mind a lot in the past few cycles.

The note that Bar just delivered with his energy shake only serves to reinforce that thought process.

He's seated at the Bar, staring at the goodbye note from Seymour, his shake untouched.

Current Mood: depressed

haven-in-books.livejournal.com

Rose is by the fireplace, bent over a notepad. The floor by her has several crumpled sheets of paper. She's trying to
write a letter, and not having much success so far.
One of the waitrats comes over, with a mug of tea. Rose takes it. She doesn't at all mind the interruption.
Company would also be appreciated.

waylostandfound.livejournal.com

The weather might be lousy, but here's a trick on rainy days. If you can get *above* the clouds, it's not so bad. As long as they weren't those massive thunderstorm clouds. The cold isn't even that noticable when moving fast enough.

That is to say, once again outside, is Flying Man.

Usually known as Nathan Petrelli.

explorertruman.livejournal.com

Truman was down in the bar when he saw Seymour leave. He knew it was the way of the place, that sometimes, people go and their door no longer works. You just knew they weren't around anymore. But figure they'd be ok, and maybe they'd come back. He watched his friend exit, and he knew, this was different. It wasn't like when the studio made him think his 'father' had drowned. This was real. There was no sneaking back on set this time. He was really gone.

He then headed out to the back, bundled up against the cold. Being inside at all felt too confining right now. (He had to go back to his world soon, save Evie from what he still didn't know involved the Dark.) But right now, the former tv star headed out back to watch the partially frozen lake glumly.

will_scarlett

[OOMs: Kate came back and Will cared and worried for her. Later after they both hit things and healed a bit they talked and then held on tight.]

(OOC: Warnings for sex and spoilers for Marvel Civil War.)

http://users.livejournal.com/_our_king_/

Once upon a time, there was a Boy-Who-Lived. He survived something terrible because of the love of his parents, and lived a horrible life, with a wicked aunt and uncle and dreamed of better things, never letting his ill treatment change the inherent good inside him.

One day he found those better things, found out he was part of a whole new world, dangerous and utterly fantastic all at once.

Once upon a time, there was a Boy-Who-Got-By. He grew up in that other world and had nothing special to dream of. He grew up as part of a large family, both loved and ignored, in the shadow of many brothers. He was the last son in a line of sons, but was followed by a beloved daughter. He wasn't special. He wasn't unique. He wasn't particularly clever (and often was rather idiotic). But he was brave, and in his own way, he was kind, like when he befriended a confused boy, and as time proved, he was certainly loyal.

They met on the train to school. They met a clever bushy-haired girl on the train, too. That was the beginning of the story.

The rest, as they say, was history.

( But history left out that little detail... )

fatboyrun.livejournal.com

Dennis steps through the door, halfway through lighting a cigarette.

This is unfortunate for Dennis's hand, which promptly touches the lighter instead of the cigarette as he sees what exactly it is that he's looking at.

A yelp and a hiss through clenched teeth as he yanks his hand back, and then he looks up again, lighter safely extinguished. For a moment, there is a very ordinary man, with ginger hair and something of a gut (wearing jeans and a blue windbreaker over a Siouxie and the Banshees T-shirt), standing in the doorway, looking around with an expression that just about screams, 'Bzuh?'

After that moment, he moves, woodenly stepping farther into Milliways and toward the Bar, eyes swinging from side to side.

It's funny; he almost has a sense of -- what's it called. That thing where you feel like you've been somewhere before. But that's -- not possible.

Right?

(Wrong.)

hero_farmboy

When Clark enters the bar this afternoon, he's not exactly looking where he's going. This is because he's scowling at his cell phone. It's been one of those days in which he'd like to throw it halfway to Alaska so he doesn't have to deal with Lois bothering him every ten minutes.

He finally does realize where he is, which garners a small smile. Milliways is, after all, one of very few places his cell doesn't work. He grabs a coffee from the bar and them settles in a chair near the fireplace.

wheneveriwant.livejournal.com

( Thoughts while walking down the steps to the bar... )

Harry takes stock of his rambling thoughts, face pensive as he crosses the bar to his favorite table by the piano. He explains his simple needs to a waitrat and lights a smoke. A moment later the rat brings a shiny Fuji apple and a gin and tonic with a twist of lime. Harry's smile is broad and his eyes light despite his roiling mind. He peruses the patrons trying to put faces to names and form to function. He takes a big crunchy bite of his apple and wonders just who might wander over.

haveasituation.livejournal.com

David's sort of been around.

Sort of.

Been doing as well as an undead man could be.

Currently? At a table, plus tea.

[ ooc; Hi world. I claim slowtimes. ]

shinymetal-ass.livejournal.com

Oh, no.

Where did he get THAT? And does it really matter?

Somehow, The Door has opened for a Bender on the run. A Bender on the run, carrying a slot machine. And then slammed in the officers' faces.

"Haha! Take that, suckers! You couldn't catch the Great Bender if I was made of lead!" It's just now that Bender looks around. "Oh, hey! Here this thing'll be safe!" The robot quickly takes it over to an empty wallspace near the door to the lake and plops it down. "Theeeeere we go!"

Some peop--er, robots never change...

---------------------------------------------

Speaking of robots...Look look look!

Wait, sorry, that's not a robot--UNTIL HE TURNS SO ONLY HIS LEFT SIDE IS SHOWING.

*Cue mun breaking into song-- "The phaaaaaaaaaantom of Wraith Squadron is theeeeeeeere... to breeeak your miiiiiiiind..."*

Yes, it's Ton. Yes, he's in a sarcastic mood. Even when he's sleeping. Like now.

C'mon. The mun dares you.

Alright, so he just wants to see what the cranky cyborg will do. C'MON!!!

chaotic-awesome.livejournal.com

At some point today, a certain small man with a long nose slipped unnoticed into the bar.

How does the narration know this? Because currently, he is sitting at a table with a good view of most of the room, and enjoying an after-dinner ale, with a faint smile on his face.

Come on, you know you want to ask.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace leads an interesting life.

This is really not news to anyone who knows her.

She might not be inclined to explain the shackles on her feet though.

Or around her wrists.

Or the broken chains dangling from them.

Or her general condition of grime.

Or maybe she will be. She's at the bar, getting a drink before dealing with the remnants of today's adventure.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

To say that Domino had had a craptastic day would be an understatement, and also slight misinformation.

Most of the day had gone just fine, but things had gone downhill, and fast, once people had started shooting, because that was exactly the kind of thing you did when you were out shopping with the kids.

Luckily no one had been seriously hurt, and not too much property damage had been done, but she still had an almost visible dark cloud over her head when she banged through the door, surprised to find the bar instead of her apartment, but not about to argue, dropping into a booth and ordering a beer for each hand from a waitrat.

Botherable, if you don't mind the surly.

collects_ears

Written in chalk is the following.

DRINKS YOU'VE (POSSIBLY) NEVER HEARD OF 101.

Step one. Bartender selects drinks he's never heard of.

Step two. Bartender makes said drinks.

Step three. You (the patron) consume the drinks.

"Tonight's drinks are: Daring Dylan, Quiksters Delight, Upper Cut and Wadliegh."

Come try something new.

"What'll it be?"

shadowsusannah.livejournal.com

[BONUS MATERIAL: Riding the Bullet]

argyle_princess

As far as Hannah knows, she's alone in her father's house and the door she's just opened leads to her room. Which is why she has just come into Milliways, not quite dancing, but close enough that one could make a reasonable case for calling it dancing.

The music on her iPod up very loud and her eyes are mostly closed, so it takes her a moment to realize she's at the end of the universe.

And then she stops, removes the earbuds, clears her throat, and tries to smooth her hair back into place, laughing at herself and just slightly red in the face.

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

So, yesterday, thanks to the machinations of a certain, evil not'cat, Momiji spent the night in Milliways - specifically, on the couch by the fire.

Apparently, curling up to sleep by the fire is very, very relaxing, because, instead of a tired rabbit-boy, tonight, the Bar has an over-energized one. He's scampering about in a ruffled looking uniform, unable to keep to one place. In the last ten minutes, he's been by the fire, at the Bar, at a table, and at a booth, and, each time, someone or something neat has caught his attention and sent him bolting somewhere else.

Chances are, there's only a limited amount of time before he collides with someone in his path, as fast as he's hopping about.

roger-ratcliff.livejournal.com

The Bar is up by two intensely happy patrons: Roger and Pongo.

It's been a few weeks for them, but just a few days in Bar.

Anyone even remotely close to them will be able to feel the lovestruck vibes, and it sort of helps that Roger is singing a love song in an awfully dream-like state, and neither are walking in straight lines at all. They move with the sort of floaty grace that comes with cartoon characters being in love.

Both are also completely, soaking wet, and, in Roger's case, quite disheveled.

Neither even seem to notice that they're no longer in London, and neither particularly cares.

They really want to gush. Bother them, please.

[ ooc; My power cable's 'sploded. Be back tomorrow, hopefully! Tags open for as long as need be, because these pups really need some squee time. ]

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Irritation. Very mild violence, uncharacteristic swearing.]

Guppy is curled up in a corner of the bar, drinking a glass of water and looking generally pissed off.

Until a minute ago he was writing on his arm; now he's using the same pen to draw slightly immature cartoons on the back of some paperwork he no longer needs.

shufti

Living in two worlds and coming from a third that has a different calender makes it difficult to ascertain one's exact age.

However, at this exact point, according to Bar (who can count these things well), this little person's exact age today is two.

Jack has a badge to prove it. He and Shufti are sitting at a table near the trilobite tank with a birthday cake, which is big enough to share.

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

A year ago, bar time, there was the promise of more pleasant conversations in the future. Today, Sarah Jane can't imagine time being any more pleasant than her past week. Although she had been stuck in a hospital room, although her belly hurt horribly whenever the pain medication wore off, and although she couldn't see her husband and her daughter as often as she'd like, the past week had been wonderful.

Every day after work, James had stopped by to spend time with her and Valerie. Each time, he had brought small gifts with him, including a teddy bear with large blue eyes that has since become inseparable from their daughter. It had been a good week, with bonding and re-acquaintance and relaxation. Everything only became better two days earlier when James arrived, not for a visit, but to take Sarah and Valerie home.

And so starts the Bond family's life together.

But first: a trip to Milliways for the newest Bond.

[ooc: likelihood of mun dropping dead in the next hour and a half due to lack of sleep. but slowtime (and tags through out the week) are welcomed!]

foxy-l33t.livejournal.com

From here.

[OOM: Puck, River and Duo in Underhill. What could go wrong?

Don't answer that.]

theravenboy

Bran will have to leave Clwyd for the spring term soon, but at the moment he's still at the farm, reviewing his classnotes, preparing the next semester's work, helping out his father and the other farmworkers, and remaining infuriated at the local news.

January of 1980, you see, is no better of a month for Wales than December of 1979.

--

OOC note: Bran Davies has visited Milliways Bar for more than three years now, and he has learned everything he was meant to learn outside of his own world. This is his final entrance post. All tags are welcome, and threads begun tonight will continue in slowtime until completed. If you have questions, ping me at AIM: manuscriptgeek.

river_meimei

River has: a physics magazine (on a single sheet of digital paper), a mildly grumpy expression (directed at the magazine in question), and a glass of very pink bubble tea.

Raspberry flavored, for the curious.

Every so often, she scribbles something with a stylus in the margin of her paper.

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

[OOM: Part IV: Better and Better

[Parts One, Two, and Three.]

Wesley and Angel continue their way through the Death Realms. Astonishingly, things don’t go so well.

And that’s before a very unwelcome third shows up.]

notevengod.livejournal.com

"Ah! At last I find myself here again."

Captain Aizen Sosuke seems pleased when he chances into the bar this day, stepping through and closing the door softly behind him. He folds his arms into his sleeves, allows a small smile onto his face, and makes for the bar to grab a cup of tea before he carries it, still too hot to drink, over to the observation window.

He seems rather engrossed with the sights before him, but that's only to be expected; something this exciting almost never happens in Soul Society!*

*He is, however, glad for this. Excitement usually leads to danger, and danger puts lives at risk. Never good that.

foxy-l33t.livejournal.com

Getting there is half the fun.

Clearly this group entering the Front Door had Nothing to do Whatsoever with that flash in the bar a while back. Innocent, are they.

River is still damp, in a man's suit from the 30's, and carrying a Happy Meal box from McDaitengu's. Puck is in his bedraggled and bedazzled dress, and somehow looking no worse for wear. (He has, however, somehow liberated the toy from River's meal.) Duo, however, made use of the clothing shop next to the restarant, and is wearing neon purple jeans and a shirt stating "I went to the State of Denial, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt". Laini looks rather normal-

Well, if anything, looking very relieved she is not returning these three to Milliways in buckets.

"Told ya. Safe and sound."

((Four pups, four muns. Tag whoever you'd like, just say who. Slowtimes may apply.))

will_scarlett

Will's in front of the fire with cookies and hot chocolate with a book though he's not reading that much, more just watching the fire and thinking.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Malcolm is at the bar with a French press of coffee and a stack of newspapers in front of him. After talking with Kate Bishop about superheroes and registration acts, he's trying to figure out what exactly is going on in her world. When he asked Bar for help, she gave him that stack of papers with the doubtful name of Daily Bugle.

Not exactly Malcolm's style. But he's managing.

theravenboy

[OOM: Wales, 2035: Now that Cordelia has come, others arrive to join the Davies family for the Christmas holidays.

On Christmas Eve, the Davies family and Cordelia Vorkosigan trade stories, some of which have been garbled over the years. Bran steps in to tell the true version, surprising everyone and upsetting his wife Margaret, who is comforted by Jane. Cordelia joins in with her own Christmas story, and the evening finishes with the family going out to see the stars.

A few hours later, Bran and Will go out for plygain, a predawn Christmas service, while Cordelia and Margaret talk over the baking.

On Christmas afternoon, Cordelia hears some eerily familiar songs and makes some surprising discoveries.

Cordelia's story is based on Ray Bradbury's short story "The Gift" and part of Robert Heinlein's long story "A Tenderfoot In Space" -- or rather, on the mun's conflated memories of the two. After tracking down the sources, the mun decided to keep the combined version. The Barrayaran Winterfair carol "Count Vorvlaceslav", to the tune of "Good King Wenceslas", is by Eric Oppen and Mark A. Mandel, (c) 2001.]