AU Floki

[gods_that_haunt_me]

There's a really tall dude out on the back porch with a beer and a cigarette, seemingly made up entirely of long lines and angles as he leans against a pillar at the top of the steps.

His leather jacket is folded up near his booted feet, crossed at the ankle. His vintage helmet and aviator goggles rest on top of it. His head is shaved clean, and his wiry arms are bare, wearing only an olive drab vest and black tank top. His jeans are faded, holey, grease-stained. The tin dog tags clink softly at the center of his chest; the utility belt (never be on the road without a socket wrench or a screwdriver or, y'know, a knife) sags low on his narrow hips.

Parked outside the forge not too far away is his custom-built Harley chopper. All chrome and glossy black, with hand-painted red-and-yellow flame details. That's his baby. He could never let her out of his sight for long, not even at Milliways.

Floki takes a drag off his blunt. Did we say it was a cigarette? Let's correct that now.

Completely botherable, unless you harsh his mellow.


[OOC: Brief write-up here.]

Amuskitty, Dimension of Disaster AU

[death_gone_mad]

The catflap at the bottom of the front door admits everyone's favorite eldritch abomination goddess of the undead. A dark grey ball of fluff with bright red eyes trots into Milliways and makes a beeline for the bar.

Amascut deftly leaps onto a barstool and onto Bar's countertop, where a dish of warm heavy cream appears for the mostly cat shaped goddess to lap up.

[ooc: For a limited time only, come give a friendlier, fluffier Amascut skritches and cuddles. AU details here.]

Regular Swamp Thing

[alec_swamp]

The door opens, and a flaming mass of leaves and wood bursts through. Clearly, something isn't quite right on the other side. As the door slams, the flames seem to consume the mass, which falls to the ground. And then, Alec enters from outside and pokes at what was his body. "I do not want to do that again."

AU Week: more daemons

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Enjolras has slept, upstairs, the heavy sleep of a man whose restless agitation carried him well past exhaustion before he gave into it, Jeanne still ruffled with anger and betrayal and shifting from foot to foot on the bedpost until at last she tucked her head under her wing. (You have to sleep, Combeferre told him back in Paris, sleepless and exhausted himself, with dark circles beneath his eyes. We all do. If you run yourself into the ground you're no help to anyone. Ordinarily Enjolras would have turned that back on him, and pointed out that the same applied to him. This time he only said I will, later, and went out again. But Milliways is a very useful compromise. One can sleep -- one can take time to rest and think, one can use the history books of a hundred futures and a hundred worlds -- and still not lose any time in Paris.)

So. He's slept; he's eaten; he's spent some hours in the library upstairs, sifting through books and papers and his own thoughts, until he had a stack of useful materials and the quiet was making him and Jeanne both edgy. Then they came downstairs to work there in the Milliways bustle.

Enjolras has a table in a quiet corner. He's bent over his work, though every so often he does glance around the room, in case of friends from home or from Milliways, or anything else of use. Mostly he's reading or lost in intense thought, occasionally punctuated with brief notes to himself.

He's radiating a tight, furious intensity that's probably visible at some distance, though it's all coiled in on itself now. So is the brown and white eagle perched on the back of the next chair. She's scanning the room as much as the books, with occasional pauses to smooth her ruffled feathers back into place. (They ruffle up again shortly afterward.)

[OOC: An AU EP to celebrate my return from dance vacation to the land of internet! This Enjolras is, like other Amis, alive and from two years earlier than his usual bar self, and has a daemon. He's not Bound, but he's been coming here off and on for a while.]

AU Melinda May

[not_the_cavalry]

The door opens. Outside: there's rain.

May steps in, stubbing her cigarette out on her wet overcoat. It's tucked in with the rest of the pack, mostly half-smoked, for another day. The overcoat is hung on a peg by the door.

She sets her hat on the Bar surface, and is rewarded with a whiskey (double). Finally, she smirks.

"I've never met a better," she says, because while it's only true in some circumstances, it never hurts to compliment a lady. Or a bartender.

[ooc: Sam Wilson and Melinda May's AU can be found here.

Also if I disappear due to graduate exams I will return at some point! Ping or message me if you'd like to figure if our characters know each other.]

First Entrance - Open To All

[maverick_mitchell]

Tonight, Bar admits a very special guest. The narration believes that it’s safe to say that there are two kinds of people here: those who know of him, and those who will know of him.

He is wearing an olive-drab flightsuit and aviator shades, with his flight helmet cradled under his arm. It’s painted in stripes of red, white, and blue, and MAVERICK is spelled out just above the visor.

Welcome to Milliways, Lieutenant Mitchell. We believe you’ll find it to your liking.

(no subject)

[nohillforastepper]

[Out of Milliways: It's the Great Nazi-Killing Jamboree of '46, Charlie Brown! Some threads still in progress. CW for excessive gore, violence, and the exquisitely detailed mutilation of entire battalions of goosestepping goons. Also a couple of dick jokes because the GM is 12 when it comes to this stuff.]

It's been a while since B.J took a contingent of volunteers from Milliways to Castle Wolfenstein's keep. Their objective was twofold: one - rescue Richard Wesley, an OSA agent captured alongside him infiltrating the keep. Two - kill Nazis, kill Nazis, kill more Nazis.

And what a mission it was.

We say was because this was supposed to be the door to the operating theater, where Wesley was being held. Instead - well. It's here.

Each member of the mission enters in their own way. Captain Blazkowicz himself is absent, but should anyone desire interaction with any of the other members of the party, they're here.

The Thunder God Enters

[thunderbasedgod]

Raiden isn't the type to enter through the front door. Or to loudly announce his presence before he enters a room. His arrival comes suddenly, without signs or portents - save, perhaps, for a whiff of ozone in the air.

With a loud but brief crack of thunder and lightning, an imposing man-shaped thing with glowing blue eyes and a straw hat materializes in the center of the bar.

His eyes narrow as he surveys his surroundings.

"So this is Milliways."


[[OOC: This Raiden is not AU. Anyone who wants to bring in either their original versions or AU Week versions is welcome.]]

Daemon AU EP

[vive_lavenir]

Jehan Prouvaire and his daemon Melpomene walk into the bar.

For the past day or so Jehan's been reading endless tomes on political history and military developments and the progression of scientific discovery in the 19th century. Anything that might help them, anything that could make them get it right next time--

But he's read so much, and no immediate next steps suggest themselves, and he's in Milliways, and losing no time in Paris.

Now, he thinks, is the time for mourning. For elegy. For grieving what they'd lost, before acting to reclaim it.

He finds himself and Melpomene two cushions on the floor beside the fire, and sits with a notebook. He stares into the fire, and every so often he'll write down a word or a phrase.

Melpomene sits on the cushion next to him, also looking at the fire, neck arched, feathers and wings raised. Every few minutes she flies in slow circles over Jehan's head, sometimes soaring up to a ceiling beam, but always floating back down to join him before long.

OOC: Prouvaire's alive, an un-Bound Milliways regular, and in this daemon AU. New threads welcome, but slowtimes now !

Outlaw AU

[not_his_pa]

"Shit, shit," William is muttering as he walks in, his rifle in his hands. Once he sees he's in Milliways, he collapses in a chair, setting the rifle on the table and resting his head in his hands.

This was meant to be an easy job, he'd be on the roof helping that's all, but now the law's there and Pinkertons. He needs to get his thoughts together and figure out what he can and can't do and what will keep him alive. When a rat goes by, he orders a shot of whiskey.

(OOC: In this AU, William is at the beginning of becoming a member of Ben Wade's gang. Write up is here.)