(no subject)

[benloserz.livejournal.com]

It is night, and Ben is being lazy. watching the door for any of his friends, having fries and a milkshake.

Complete idleness or close to it: really, just a young man wondering what is going on in other worlds.

(no subject)

[jv-034.livejournal.com]

John knows as a former practicing psychologist that psychoanalyzing yourself is pointless, if not downright useless. That's why being up in his room, doing anything but being with people, was good for John. It was a chance to give him some insight into what the hell is wrong with his head, and to deal with it.

(And there are ever so many things.)

After some soul-searching and even a little meditation, he's ready to deal with the world--or at the very least, the bar--and comes down, a book in hand, and it's actually fiction this time. The Odyssey.

He's almost ready to take on the world. Almost.


[Tiny Tag: Dr. John Vattic]

(no subject)

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

There's a flash of blue light and Belar settles back at one of the tables, sign propped up:

ANSWERING PRAYERS
BACK IN 15 MINUTES
SECURITY MEMBER ON DUTY AFTER THAT

It's getting mighty nippy in Mongolia about now, so he's reverted to his favored heavy blue and turquoise outerwear with lots of fur and fleece (real fleece, not Polartec Performance Whatever) in. He'll probably take it off eventually, but getting overly warm indoors is not really something Belar concerns himself with.

(no subject)

[action_rad]

[OOM: An OOM in two parts. First, Rad finally tells Grapple that he's been "volunteered" to make Daniel's Halloween costume, and second, the Witwickys get into the spirit of Ocktoberfest. Tee-hee.]

(no subject)

[hands-of-blu.livejournal.com]

There is something to be said for fully exploiting the capabilities of your weapon, whatever that weapon might be. However, the Medic is of the opinion that when you are Herr Soldier, and when that weapon is the rocket launcher, at least one of said capabilities ought to be exploited on a limited, need-only basis. Gratuitous rocket jumping results in missing feet. Honestly, you'd think he'd learn.

On the other hand, the Medic's own new equipment arrived this morning, and there is nothing quite like one's first time handling a blutsauger or ubersaw, so it all evens out. Now if he can just get a halfway decent breakfast, he might even go looking for that girl with the guitar...


[tinytag: BLU Medic]

First Entrance

[adeadlyriddle.livejournal.com]

The opening door reveals a host of greens -- soothing greens, weepy greens, parasitic greens, spongy greens -- and through these greens, out of these greens, wearing these greens, walks the Sphinx.

She is not as large as one might expect, her lioness body longer, leaner, yet smaller than the true likeness, and with something distinctly canine about it. Her size allows her torso and head the proper human proportions; though she looks nothing like the statues, woman melded crudely with beast. There is an alien-yet-appropriate cohesion to her frame, so that she always seems her own creature, not something tacked-together from many parts.

Her eagle wings are coated in a sheen of moisture, droplets gleaming on each russet feather. The Sphinx unfolds them slightly as she enters, displacing a clammy puff of air; the bristling jungle at her back is not a warm one.

She sits down and stares at the Bar, unblinking, as her door closes. Smeared over her face and breasts are the juice, ooze, slime and mush of myriad forms of plant life. She cranes her neck to lick one shoulder, the motion as cat-quick as her papillae-studded tongue, stained with leaf blood.

"At the top it is a wild cow, at the bottom it is a fish," the Sphinx murmurs to herself. "At the top it is shattered potsherds, at the bottom it is half a cubit." Her fingers flex out of their knuckle-curl, the calloused pads whispering faintly against the floor as they trace undefinable patterns.

"My husband heaps up for me, my child measures out for me; let my lover pick the bones from the fish for me."

These seeming riddles are not riddles at all, but Sumerian proverbs, chosen at random from her vast collection of maxims; the Sphinx seizes upon them in times of uncertainty, comforted not by the meaning, but by the utterance of words.

[OOC: Open all weekend, with slowtimes welcome!  If you have any questions about the Sphinx, please see my Back Room post, and feel free to comment there.  Thank you!]

Tiny tags: The Sphinx, Wilbur Whateley, Pan

(no subject)

[mnt_mike]

On a stool in front of Bar sits a retired ninja ex-turtle. It's been sometime since he and the Lady Bar have spent some quality time and played a game together. One might say too much time.

"Seriously? Seriously! How the hell do you do that? I made this game up! How are you still beating me?!"

Then again, one might also say not quite enough.

Leaf-Jumping Party!

[shoeless-ed.livejournal.com]

Ed has made some concessions to the autumn chill in the form of ankle-length pants and a light jacket, but she still isn't wearing shoes.

Surprisingly enough, Ed is doing something that seems marginally productive; she's raking leaves that have fallen on the open areas of ground. Although the rake is almost as tall as she is, she seems to be handling it well, and has a pretty big pile together by now.

She adds another rakeful of leaves to the pile, critically surveys her work, and nods. Ed then puts the rake aside at a safe remove from the leaf pile. After that, she starts backing up across the open ground.

When she judges her distance to be satisfactory, she stops. With a big grin and a shout of "Wheeeeeeeeee!" she sprints for the leaf pile, jumps in the air, and lands squarely in the product of her work, laughing and sending up a puff of multicolored leaves.

You can join too, if you're willing to help rake the pile back together once in a while.

[OOC: Join Ed for leaf-jumping! Threadhopping is welcome and even encouraged.]

(no subject)

[likesthecoat]

Ianto has a realization when he comes through the door into Milliways.

He needs--needs--a fruity drink and a warm ocean.

Which is why one pale Welshman is splashing about in the Caribbean inlet, his suit neatly folded and tucked into his briefcase, and a fruity drink (with a little umbrella, of course) waiting for when he's ready to come out of the water.

(no subject)

[sliceitwithwind.livejournal.com]

Xaldin is running six to ten days ahead of his usual monthly cycle. He's had several encounters that are holding him over. So he's closer to six than to ten. It's still. Milliways' atmosphere is not where he really should be, and yet he needs to check on things. He's got a couple of games to leave for Larxene.

[For what is it to die, but to stand in the sun and melt into the tag? Xaldin, Billy Kaplan, Teddy Altman]

(no subject)

[hermajestysfury]

The People We Live With.

Fury is in the bar. He is not damaged. (This makes Scaramouche pleased, we're certain.)

(no subject)

[andalsoacts.livejournal.com]

Harriet inna bar!

Flipping through the colored pages of a sketch, she settles in a chair and says, "Wine?" to the nearest waitrat.

There's nothing so good as fresh pages and alcohol.

She is easily botherable.

(no subject)

[notagagagirl.livejournal.com]

Listen. Listen harder. What's that you hear?

Right, that's the sound of an electric guitar not being played.

Scaramouche has gotten her hands on a book, and is busy reading it.

Well.

Looking at it.

It has cool pictures.

(no subject)

[a1enzo]

[[OOM: One good prank deserves another.]]


Two young sprites—one green, one stark white, both in snazzy uniforms—slip into the bar, shut the Door quietly, and only then allow themselves to burst out laughing. They make their way to the Bar with a certain amount of playful shoving, push two stools together, and open a movie file to watch it for the fourth time in a millisecond.


[[OOC: Two muns, two pups! Have at!]]

[tinytag: Dr. John Vattic]

(no subject)

[dr_temperance]

[OOM: If the truth can't be proven, is it still the truth?]

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

Guppy is at the bar, grinning at a twenty week ultrasound picture.

His tea has gone cold, but he doesn't care. He could look at this all day.

(no subject)

[anotherlifebro.livejournal.com]

This bar places Desmond in a strange situation. In one way, this is only the second time he's been here; in another, it feels like a second home, and it's not the slightest bit weird that, when he walks up to Bar, a bit of paper appears asking him to bartend.

Well ... okay. Milliways clientèle can't be any worse than Glaswegians. Just occasionally with a few extra tentacles.

SPECIALS
(half price)
Beer on tap
Whisky (Scotch)

Scottish soldier behind the bar, the sleeves of his khaki shirt rolled up to his elbows.


[ooc: here 'til about 2am gmt, but feel free to threadhop after that!]

(no subject)

[furiousmaximus.livejournal.com]

While he works pretty hard to keep it from being a big deal, Max actually is a soldier. That means that he has gear. Gear that the legions apparently expect him to keep in working order. And while time may not pass for the world outside the door, his armor and weapons still need regular maintenance.

Oh well. At least he can get enjoy a glass of brandy. Or two. Or three.

You know, whatever.

Time's not passing, so he can take as long as he wants to polish and oil his breastplate and his studded leather skirt (it's a very manly skirt, you can see how it must show off his calves).