(no subject)

[shadowsusannah.livejournal.com]

[OOC: OOM:

He has shown us the way

Contains some slightly AU Wilco lyrics and exceptionally vague spoilers for Duma Key.]

(no subject)

[cutting_edgex23]

Cessily has been looking at X funny lately.

X does not like it.

Which may explain why she's in Milliways tonight, settled comfortably at a table and working her way through a bowl of soup.

It is easier than thinking about people.

Many things are, for her.

(no subject)

[hathsinsurvivor.livejournal.com]

From the front door, Kelsier enters. He's wearing something much less ragged and more tailored, though it's still dusted with ash. Looking more closely, one might spot a few splotches of...blood? A coin pouch jingles mutedly at his hip, tied to his belt with a simple string.

Brushing back a stray lock of hair out of his face, he closes the door, and with a slight limp, makes his way to the bar.

"Something strong, please," he says, taking a coin out of that pouch and setting it on the bar.


[Canon update: Kelsier starts shit, Camon gets a job offer]

And let's not even discuss garden gnomes...

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

From the wilderness of Outside Milliways, there comes a shriek, loud and piercing enough to be heard by anyone inside Milliways standing close to the door.

After a minute of that, an apple tree in the form of a girl runs in, arms wrapped around her sides to provide herself with a small amount of warmth. She regards the bar and its patrons with suspicion- she would like very much to leave, but it is very cold outside, too cold for her.

Would someone like to help the wood nymph out?


{Warning: mun is sick, and may have to call slowtime without warning.}

(no subject)

[slasherofprices.livejournal.com]

Simon Skinner has been coming in from Chicago a lot* as of late. Today is no different. He has a delectable looking pastry shoved in his mouth and a large sketch pad held under his arm. This (the sketch-pad) he places on a table, which ought to announce to any chair seekers that this spot is his, dangit. After a few attempts to communicate to bar his desire for a cup of coffee (English is hard when there's a pastry in), Simon returns to his table, pulls a newspaper from within the sketchpad and begins to read.

Ah, news from the paaast.

* By "a lot," the narrative means always.

[ooc: also, where are all of you? *pokes* post moar. ]

[ un petit tag: jay gatsby ]

Emile's first entrance.

[willeatanything.livejournal.com]

All's quiet down at La Ratatouille.

Everyone's gone. The bistro is closed for the evening.

That means Emile can scurry about without anyone seeing him and scolding him for what he intends to do.

Midnight and that's one of the best times of the day to get a snack.

Emile is always hungry.

But he's not ready for what's on the other side of the refridgerator door that he's opening just as he's seen Remy do before.

Oh dear.

Humans don't sit in chairs at tables in pantries. Or live in pantries for that matter.




[Mini Tag: Emile.]

(no subject)

[mallory-grace.livejournal.com]

Mallory Grace comes into the bar with a couple of large bags full of fencing equipment, some paper and markers, and a heavy winter coat.

She dumps her equipment on the seat to a booth and sheds her coat to reveal a well-loved t-shirt that says Fun Sucker on it (a private joke with her brothers that she'll explain if asked). She is also wearing a pleased smile as she sits down and orders a large coffee and a piece of pie from a waitrat.

Taking one of the papers, she starts to write on it with a marker, taking care to make the letters nice and bold. If she's going to advertise fencing lessons, the sign should be visible, right?

Feel free to bother her!

(no subject)

[dineinhell.livejournal.com]

The other day the King had quietly slipped out the door back to Sparta. Today he returns almost a year later and more weight upon his shoulders than Hercules himself. His face was set into a solid frown deep in thought over some troubling matter or another. Anyone who knows the history should know what will be coming next.

Earth and Water. That was what the Persian emmasary had demanded that he hand over to Xerxes in order to keep his people alive- his women and his children from becoming slaves and the rest of the men slaughtered. Earth and Water.

Well...needless to say the Persian found plenty of Earth and Water at the bottom of the pit. Now was a time to play and prepair to see the Ephors. They were a cursed lot- a corrupted lot as well. Leonidas knew the meeting would be..interesting.

Totally botherable.

[tiny!tag: Leonidas, Demeter]

(no subject)

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

Spoon is out back, wishing that he had a fag. Wishing really, really strongly that he could have a fag. Sometimes gum just doesn't cut it. He's going to work out instead. He's going to work out a lot.

Which, basically, means that Spoon has been breaking wooding swords for the last three hours, and is showing no signs whatsoever of slowing down or stopping until he's out of wooden swords. And this is why he's got only really cheap wooden swords, most of which he's made himself. It's really the only way that he's managed to find some of his more exotic forms of swords in a practise form.

It's an interesting pile of wooden splinters surrounding him. Addictions aren't just physical.

(no subject)

[art-and-brian.livejournal.com]

Justin's been very busy and he's not finished working yet. But he remembered just now that he'd forgotten to leave Jack's picture with Bar, so he's bringing it down now - just an envelope with the man's name on the front. He says to Bar,

'I don't know his surname but he was a Captain in the Air Force and he's dead now - you know the one, right?'

It disappears and Justin's sure Jack will get it. Inside is the picture he drew and a short

( note )

He smiles as he heads back up the stairs to finish off some work. It's nearly all done, thank God.

(no subject)

[basic_powers]

This fine evening, with a lack of Cecil to play with back home and a weekend to himself finally, Tyler is in a booth in the bar with a plate of fried paradoxes and... what is looking like a playing card house made out of sugarpackets.

Every so often, usually around the second 'floor' of the building, the entire structure collapses and starts again.

Come help him build?

{Tiny Tag:Pomona}

(no subject)

[m-antonivs.livejournal.com]

It is the Ides of March, and so there comes the obligatory appearance of Mark Antony.

But this isn't the Antony of that stabby fateful day, nor thankfully the depressing Antony who belongs to Cleopatra; no, this Antony is a hard-eyed nineteen-year-old roué who has not yet had any sort of military discipline, and to whom Caesar is simply a distant relation (and uncle to the far more interesting, and unfortunately married, Atia).

He is, for a bit of novelty, completely sober. And also a veritable fashion plate, in his embroidered red tunic and several heavy gold rings. (Odds are good that the traces of perfume on him and the somewhat crushed flower tucked behind his ear were not his at the start of the evening.)

It is with a knowing look rather than a confused one that he heads toward the bar. He has been here before (and he knows which way the wind is blowing).

Quite botherable.

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

[oom: I know we've just met, but I need a favour]

Guppy sneaks in, shutting the door behind him.

He goes to the nearest booth and picks a tiny kitten out of his pocket.

"What am I going to do with you then?"

[Tinytag: Rem, Pomona]

(no subject)

[ostro_goth]

Before coming out to the forge today, Teja made certain that his notice was still there. There were some other papers hanging in front of it, but after some reshuffling, everything is still well readable, and so is Teja's notice. He does still take commissions -- even if rather for the challenge than for the tab, as he no longer needs to worry about that.

Outside, in the forge, Teja starts heating up some already folded steel to make throwing stars, like the one Miho had given him. They are nothing like a main weapon for anybody, but would be helpful in some situations; also, Teja would quite like to learn how to use and handle them, simply for the novelty of it. Should he go to Will's world with him, having something like that might be handy, in addition to the Sarmatian bow.

The forge door, though, is open to all visitors, customers, friends, and the merely curious.

Casualty of the Holiday

[feminine-menace.livejournal.com]

YT stalks through the Front Door, brushing green glitter and tiny paper four-leaf clovers out of her hair and off her clothes. The latter, consisting of an embroidered sleeveless top and jeans, are wet on one side. Anyone who comes close to her will smell cheap beer.

"Fucking stupid drunken frat boys," she growls, heading straight to the Bar. "'Scuse me. Can I have a change of clothes?" Bar obliges with one of the outfits that YT left with her for instances such as these.

After thanking Bar, YT heads upstairs, returning about a quarter of an hour later wearing a pink dress instead of her beered-up clothes and with the glitter and clovers (mostly) gone.

Now she's in the mood for a civilized conversation. Well, as close as she can get to one, anyway.

(no subject)

[mandercommander.livejournal.com]

Buyer's Remorse...

Twelve gruelling hours later, with very little rest, Bonzo is in the Bar, about to collapse. His muscles ache like they haven't since he was back at Battle School. He looks like he needs either a strong drink or a long, long rest...but that's about it.

(no subject)

[not_that_spike]

( OOM: One night in Paris )

(no subject)

[shecalledmefred.livejournal.com]

Salvation has come at last: I am on a train headed back to New York. Don't misinterpret this as enthusiasm to part with my friends in California. I love them all. I really do. What I hate is the phony, vain world they live in, a place where all intelligent and creative thought goes to die. So I had tried my hand at screenwriting. A miserable failure. I'm the better for it. Believe me: never let a businessman try to tell a story. He can't, even though he thinks he can--the biggest delusion, if ever there was. But I'm escaping all that nonsense. Thank heaven.

I'm walking to the dining car. Why? One can only guess. Perhaps it's hunger. Or maybe I have a sudden, urgent desire to speak to my fellow travelers.

(It's hunger.)




I was fairly certain that I saw the dining car behind the door. Evidently, I was wrong.

It's the bar again.

I realize where I am after a brief moment of shock. It's not where I want to be, no; but I remember having a great whisky here and have heard rumors that the food is excellent. Why not give it a try? I pull out a chair by a table, sit, and--awkwardly--order my dinner from a waitrat. How many surprise visits do I have to make before I get used to service via rat?

[ les petits tags: paul varjack, bela talbot ]

(no subject)

[hero_farmboy]

[OOM: Every now and then, something goes right.]

The Clark who enters the bar tonight is, once again, a little different than usual. Despite the mildly dazed expression, he appears to be happy.

Stop the presses.

A smile plastered on his face, he makes his way to the bar and settles on a stool, ordering his usual cup of coffee. It's possible that smile might be hard to get rid of.


[[All threads, save Demeter's, Millitimed to before Eirene's.]]


[tiny!tags: Eirene, Demeter, x5-494 (alec)]

Upstairs

[hungbyathread.livejournal.com]

["Sounds crazy, no? Certifiably insane."]

(no subject)

[gun-x-sword-otp.livejournal.com]

One Squall Leonheart, now known by the name of Leon, in the bar. He hasn't been in the bar in a long time, and he's surprised by the reappearance of it, not that you could tell by the look on his face.

He could go right back out that door, but he's honestly tired of being around people at the moment. Right now, he's finding everyone back at Hollow Bastion to be acting quite excessive, and this is not something that he can tolerate for long periods. While the bar at the end of the universe is not ideal for a break, it's the best offer he can get. Clearly.

But the bar does not have a break in store for him. When he heads over to her and places an order, instead of giving it to him, she delivers him a note instead, informing him that today, he has a job to do, and an old tab to cover.

The mask slips just slightly and his eye twitches, almost imperceptibility. "This," he informs the bar, his voice dark and low, "must be a joke."

A moment of no response, before she provides another note: when opened, it presents a picture of a large smiley face. And knowing him well, it also has a list of specials. He wouldn't have bothered otherwise, and she seems to understand this.

If Leon were the type to roll his eyes, he would - but instead, he just crumples up the paper very carefully and very thoroughly, and throws it to the side. He moves into position and writes up the specials board:

Specials
Kamikaze
Lion Tamer
Sir Knight

"Happy hour," he say, to the bar in general. "I suppose."

You could sound happier about it, Leon. A job worth doing is a job worth doing well, eh?

(no subject)

[gil-whimple.livejournal.com]

There are no words to be said. Ratty is no longer with them but they place her husk carefully in the box they obtained, cover her in her faun fur blanket and Gil carries it to the place they have prepared.

Away from the edge of the lake - Ratty didn't like getting wet - and not too close to the trees - she disapproved of Demon bunnies - they place the box in the squarecut hole and cover it closely mounding the earth. Turves make the sad little heap green, even though the grass has yet to start growing properly.

Cicely places the first primrose, then Everard, then one by one the other rats. Gil finally stoops and places his then stands back with his arms folded, looking out over the lake towards the Bar.


[ooc: If any one who knew her wants to pay respects to Ratty they are very welcome, but I'm afraid it'll be a slowtime. Gil-mun is pooped]

(no subject)

[stuck-mynock.livejournal.com]

Atton's sat at a booth, several mechanical parts strewn over the table, datapad in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other hand. He's evidently only just got up - He's barefoot, in his sleepwear of a loose, woolly trousers, with a battered t-shirt that was probably only thrown on as he came downstairs. Save for one razor-edged disk kept close to hand, he's unarmed.

Botherable, if sleepy.

(no subject)

[watchmakers_son]

[Pre-Milliways: Did they stick you in here 'cause you weren't working right? (Spoilers for "Kindred")]

Objectively, he's aware that he's been walking in a stifling midday heat for several hours; even under the shade, this is a dangerous environment. Subjectively, he's felt little of it. It's almost been comfortable, in fact, even with sweat soaking down his hair and seeping through the back of his open shirt.

The slow change into a darker, much colder forest doesn't come as a relief.

What does, though, is an abrupt swell into a clearing and the sight of lights in the distance. Sylar leans heavily against a tree near the forest's edge, legs shaking with exhaustion as he tries to catch his breath. It's the first thing he's seen in his entire walk that even remotely resembles civilization.

He just hasn't realized which civilization yet.



[OOC: Like the attached OOM, expect all of Sylar's threads -- both now and from here on out -- to contain "Kindred" spoilers, too. This is pretty unavoidable, unfortunately, but still, please don't hesitate to ping me if you're concerned about it.]

[Tinytag: Charlie Crews, Demeter, Rem]

(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

[OOM: On the second day of 1905, Ray and Egon test out some critical equipment. A little while later, it's off to find where all the trouble started...]

... and the door opens on a New York City far too bright in color and far too flat in perspective to be the one most familiar to those who know Ray. The man who pokes his head in the door looks like Ray, but he's very definitely a redhead, and-

"Oh! This place again. Wow, I haven't been here in ages!"

-yeah, all things considered, that's probably not the usual Ray.

[Tinytag: Bella Moriarty, Lestibournes]

(no subject)

[taishar_malkier]

[OOM: Lamma Sor is the day of remembrance.]