The Bar at the End of the Universe

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 22:49:00 GMT

Posted by: bring_a_sponge

Look! It's Agent Zed, walking backwards....

"That's it, move it right back this--. For fuck's sake, R. How about we try and get the headquarters rebuilt before you bring the goddamn place down again?"

...right through the Doorway....

"Straight back here, that's it--just a minute, K--over this way, boys, just--."

"Dammit, K, you can wave your arms at me all you want, I can't hear a word--."

SLAM.

"What the f--? Wait, I know that Door--," he turns. "Aw, shit, here we go again."

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Fri, 20 Apr 2007 14:02:00 GMT

Posted by: pirate_jack

It's been a while. Longer than he'd expected it to be, actually-- not that Jack's particularly worried about it. There's no point in worrying over what he can't change, after all.

Besides, there's been no harm done to the Pearl in his absence. He knows every inch of canvas, every line and plank of her, and he'd have noticed anything wrong, he's sure of it.

Thus, it's a satisfied-looking Jack Sparrow who strolls through the fine spring weather and into the bar this afternoon-- and who promptly jerks to a swaying halt, black eyes widening in horrified realization.

"Oh, bugger."

Jack winces, and heads directly for Bar, already gesticulating expansively as he tells her,

"Now lass, I can explain everything--"

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Wed, 18 Apr 2007 19:27:00 GMT

Posted by: ahogarse.livejournal.com

Things in the bar are suddenly absolutely terrifying so the presence in the woods in nothing more than invisible breathing on the wind, gasps for air like someone's been kicked or is crying or is still very frightened.

Because he is. So if you're walking by the lake bank, and feel as though there's something watching you or think you can hear someone moving about then it's probably just Santi.

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Mon, 16 Apr 2007 14:52:00 GMT

Posted by: ahogarse.livejournal.com

So, yesterday was traumatizing enough that he's sort of hiding again, half-invisible and behind a tree. Hoping very sincerely that the police aren't out to get him, which he's still half-convinced they are.

The most visible part of him is the vivid red blood, strikingly coloured where the rest of him tends to wash out.

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Sun, 15 Apr 2007 18:31:00 GMT

Posted by: ahogarse.livejournal.com

Santi is at the edge of the forest, near enough the door that when he opens it he can see into the space inside. It looks strange in there, and warm and a little bit beautiful. But very crowded so he's going to have to stay very well away. That's where all the nice people must be coming from.

And all the people who run screaming, because with the ghastly little murdered figure bleeding profusely from the forehead, well, who wouldn't? They must be coming from in there too. The restaurant thing they'd talked about. How very strange.

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Sun, 15 Apr 2007 11:02:00 GMT

Posted by: bodiesfordad.livejournal.com

There is only so long that a man like Bill Block can brood on his insecurities.

Because there are other doctors here and they're better then him goddamnit and he could have done tons more with his life if he hadn't been fucking Hill Billy trash and if his dad hadn't been a bastard and if his wife wasn't a whore and-

Yes.

Doctor. Goddamnit. Bill Block is in the bar flipping through another issue of Guns and Ammo. The picture might be a little odd, but he's doing the best he can to remain calm.

Because the door? Still isn't fucking there.

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Sat, 14 Apr 2007 15:41:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_mother_dearest/

A rather pretty young woman in a dark silk dress is sitting in a chair by the fire with a glass of wine and a thick, old book. The dress is cut in a severe, modest style and her hair is pulled back in an equally severe braid. A curved blade sits sheathed beside her.

Come talk with her. She will be irate with you for disturbing her, but you don't know that.

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Entrance Post

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 21:09:00 GMT

Posted by: shepherd-sgh.livejournal.com

'If you’re willing to take the chance, the view from the other side is spectacular.'

It's eight in the morning. Dr. Derek Shepherd enters the elevator at Seattle Grace. He inputs data into his cell phone, sends out a few text messages, wonders why he hasn't ever made use of his BlackBerry and never fails to look up whenever the elevator doors open, feeling a slight tinge of disappointment when it's not Meredith Grey that he sees.

At the last stop, he steps forward and exits out into - Milliways.

Welcome, McDreamy!

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First entrance

Fri, 13 Apr 2007 05:39:00 GMT

Posted by: timedeniedme.livejournal.com

There is a cry of surprise and a crash from the kitchen. Shortly thereafter a bewildered looking redhead with blood running down her face walks out. She wipes absently at her forehead and then stares at her blood-covered hand in confusion.

Which serves as an excuse for her failure to notice that this? Is not the diner she was looking for. But Charlie is pretty quick on the uptake. She'll probably notice... eventually.

[ooc: Charlie comes immediately from the end of Heroes 1x08. The mun will be around most of the day, so don't hesitate to tag.]

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Thu, 12 Apr 2007 23:11:00 GMT

Posted by: rigthegames.livejournal.com

There’s something strange going on at Milliways.

No, there are no penguins, or puppets, or universe-destroying clocks. For a change. Rather, there’s Sands sat in a corner, and he isn’t sulking, or brooding, or even complaining. Rather, he’s got paperwork spread out over the table, and he's busily pouring over what looks like the blueprints of a house.

There is, however, a cigarette balanced precariously between his lips. Some things never change.

[ooc: wee hours of the morn = time for bed!]

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Thu, 12 Apr 2007 22:06:00 GMT

Posted by: spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Dr. Malcolm Crowe comes down the stairs, strolls over to the bar, and orders a scotch.

That sentence hasn’t appeared in quite a while, but that’s not to say Malcolm hasn’t been around. He has. But after a year and a half, his life in Milliways has settled into a comfortable routine, and he’s been keeping an especially low profile. He's still been coming down to the bar, but early in the morning, usually after a jog around the lake.

So he’s not expecting anything unusual when he asks for a Glenmorangie and gets back not only his drink but also a book.

That’s not so odd, though. Bar (or the Landlord or whoever) has often sent books his way unannounced. So Malcolm just picks up the old leatherbound volume, and looks it over.

The title turns out to be The Night Side of Nature, or Ghosts and Ghost Seers, and Malcolm is about to tell Bar, “Very funny,” when he sees the name of the author and, beside it, a wood-engraved illustration of her.

“Catherine Crowe?” Malcolm whispers. The family resemblance is unmistakable.

“What the hell?”

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Thu, 12 Apr 2007 16:48:00 GMT

Posted by: bodiesfordad.livejournal.com

It's probably hard to discern the motivation the man sitting at a table is feeling. Feet crossed and propped up on a table wearing a change of clothes, Bill Block has discovered that he's taking an impromptu vacation.

Which is okay, in the short run. He only hopes that what that one guy-Stanz-what he said was true. Time doesn't move 'round back home when you're stuck here.

So he's got a bottle of Curevos and staring at the wall like it holds the meaning of life itself.

Occasionally, some of the stranger patrons hold his gaze. It's okay, tell him you don't want to be stared at! He ~~The mun~~ doesn't mind!

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Wed, 11 Apr 2007 11:43:00 GMT

Posted by: gone_byebye

[OOM: No problems now, the coast is clear, it's just the calm before the storm...]

When the door opens this time, it's on an alley in New York, and Ray is beaming. "FINALLY," he says. "Man, I was starting to think I'd never see the end of accidental access to this place."

He strolls over to the Bar, comes away with a glass of quantum blue stuff and a Lonely Planet guide to South Dakota, and heads for a seat among the multifarious tables.

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Entrance Post

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 23:42:00 GMT

Posted by: sizzuhs.livejournal.com

Things were really picking up at the airfield with the possability of a jump in the next few days. Preparations of packing gear, checking parachutes, and reviewing plans filled up most of the hours giving way to tension and sometimes boredom.

Gene, however, wasn't going to let that affect him.

Flipping through a hastily scribbled list of medical supplies he needs to restock on the Easy Company medic doesn't even notice the supply tent flap that would have lead into a large wall tent was now actually a bar. The sounds of people talking didn't even phase him- people always talked in the supply tents.

"Spina," Roe says in his slow Cajun drawl, "got th' list Cap'n Winters gave ya? Gots t' make sure we get all th' su'plies we needs." When Spina doesn't answer Eugene looks up causeing him to blink dark eyes once or twice with a mild look of shock upon his slender face. "Uh...th's ain't th' su'ply tent no more."

Keen observation for a medic, no?

Welcome to Milliways, Eugene Roe.

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First Enterance

Tue, 10 Apr 2007 21:02:00 GMT

Posted by: bodiesfordad.livejournal.com

"Two rapes, three assaults, four brawl related injuries." The door opens to reveal a man, apparently talking to someone else, "No Felix, I'm not going to cover the end of your shift. I'm going to check on the last of my fucking patients and go the fuck home. That's not including the two dicks who shot each other over their car."

The man who enters is apparently deep in thought. He wears a hospital badge, sports a labcoat, a geeky pair of glasses and (amazingly enough) a thermometer sticking out of his mouth.

For a moment he doesn't notice the change in scenery, "Felix?"

He frowns. This is not his office. And this is not a door, but a smooth and solid wall. The thermometer shifts in his mouth between his clenched teeth, "......What the Fuck?"

He runs a hand through his hair, rubbing his eyes.

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Tue, 10 Apr 2007 18:20:00 GMT

Posted by: sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi's original three kitties are on a table, and she's knitting her way through a second set. It's something to do while she's waiting. She's more than dimly grateful that Whistler is around, because she's dead certain she wouldn't have eaten in the last couple of days if he hadn't been here reminding her.

So! She's just sitting, knitting, and adding to her pile of knitty kitties.

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