The Bar at the End of the Universe

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 00:06:00 GMT

Posted by: ladyfirestarter

Out of Milliways:

no visible means of support, and you have not seen nothing yet
everything's stuck together
i don't know what you expect, staring into your tv set
fighting fire with fire

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Tue, 27 Jan 2009 23:21:00 GMT

Posted by: ladyfirestarter

Out of Milliways:

You will walk unscathed through musket fire

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Tue, 27 Jan 2009 22:58:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

Very out of Milliways: I am bigger on the inside than out.

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Mon, 26 Jan 2009 19:38:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

Boeotia, Beotia, or Bœotia (Greek: Βοιωτία - English IPA: /biːˈoʊʃiə/), formerly Cadmeis, was a region of ancient Greece, north of the eastern part of the Gulf of Corinth.

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Mon, 26 Jan 2009 00:41:00 GMT

Posted by: ladyfirestarter

Out of Milliways:

You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?

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Mon, 15 Dec 2008 22:52:00 GMT

Posted by: 2020sight

There is a pair of very large boots up on a table, connected to a pair of very long legs, connected to a very tall man . . .

Who is snoring very loudly, with a newspaper covering his face.

Very classy.

That glass of very fine whiskey on the table is probably feeling very abandoned.

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Fri, 11 Apr 2008 21:33:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

Ever seen a god chain-smoke? Like, Vesuvius-level chain-smoke?

You can now. Prometheus is in a fine temper.

Imagine. Coyote. His brother. Their whiskey.

That just ain't right.

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Fri, 11 Apr 2008 20:56:00 GMT

Posted by: lethe-forgets.livejournal.com

There is something to be said for the ability to lounge freely without worrying about the souls trying to escape back out of the Gates.

Cerberus is seated on the floor in front of one of the couches. Periodically a hand comes up to scratch furiously at the space behind one ear. An increase in sun light and prolonged exposure to steadily rising temperatures has an interesting effect of some mammals: it triggers the spontaneous shedding of the creatures undercoat, leaving only the coarse guard hairs behind. Apparently hellhounds are one of those species. Who knew? Cerberus certainly didn't. He's currently inspecting the growing carpet of black hair with mild bemusement.

The nymph on the couch would probably be concerned with the current state of the floor if her eyes were open, but lounging occasionally requires laziness that extends to eyelids as well. Other than the slight swing of one of her legs over the arm of the couch there isn't much in the way of motion going on - the quiet humming and the snippets of conversation are just enough to keep her this side of awake. What can she say? The Bar has comfortable furniture.

Company certainly wouldn't be opposed to.

(tiny!tag: Cerberus, Demeter, Vanth)

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Wed, 09 Apr 2008 23:55:00 GMT

Posted by: 2020sight

[OOM: April 2nd. Epimetheus gives his brother the good news. Prometheus receives it and is overjoyed for his brother's happiness.

. . . Really.]

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Sun, 16 Mar 2008 22:05:00 GMT

Posted by: ladyfirestarter

They've been sitting in a corner booth for the past half-hour or so, talking, well out of the way.

Until a certain suggestion -- possibly long overdue -- is made, discussed, and decided upon.

Charlie and Prometheus head for the front door, side by side. She opens it and steps through, then reaches back to grasp his hand and draw him through after her.

The door closes behind them.

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Sat, 01 Mar 2008 19:48:00 GMT

Posted by: iwenttomissouri.livejournal.com

It's been a while since Missouri's had a chance to stop in the bar. After John passed- well. She just hasn't been in the mood to mingle, so she hadn't gone looking for a door to open here.

But there's one thing Missouri knows: life is short. You should really enjoy it while you can. Time's gone by, Missour's had time to grieve, and the nachos at Milliways are damn good.

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Mon, 11 Feb 2008 23:25:00 GMT

Posted by: howling_laugh

[OOM: Man! I Feel Like a Woman!]

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Mon, 11 Feb 2008 22:31:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

A man and a woman walk into a bar.

No, scratch that, a Coyote and a Titan wander into a Bar.

No no, hang on, I got it.

Two questionably-attired individuals with all the signs of having just emerged from a thoroughly invigorating evening on the town tumble into the bar, still trading high-fives and catcalls.

Yes, they're both in drag.

Maybe it's better if you didn't ask.

Look, everybody's honor is intact, all right? In a manner of speaking.

[[ooc: Two pups, two muns at your pleasure!]]

12:14 AM CST Aaaaand we're calling it an evening. Slowtimes for all who wants 'em, we'll be around to pick up threads tomorrow! <33333

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Sun, 10 Feb 2008 19:55:00 GMT

Posted by: cant_kim

[OOM: Says little Robin Redbreast, Catch me if you can.]

The door's barely open before Kim, kneeling outside, ducks through and slams it shut behind her. She's breathing hard, and a sharp-eyed observer might see her pocket a bit of wire.

Then she moves away from the door, almost at a trot, paying little heed to who or what she bumps out of her way as she heads for a booth as far from the door as she can get. It's not until she's well out of sight of the door, hidden behind the booth's back, that she relaxes.

And it can't really be called relaxing. It's just trading the tension of escape for the realization of what's just happened -- and where it leaves her.

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Sun, 10 Feb 2008 19:40:00 GMT

Posted by: realmrsreynolds

It's been a long day, and Sallie is in the bar with a full tea set: pot, cup, milk, with a little saucer of cookies to one side.

It's hard maneuvering around the throngs of people in Milliways Bar, but Sallie manages it fairly quickly, finding an unoccupied table near the Observation Window.

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...because it can always get worse

Thu, 31 Jan 2008 10:56:00 GMT

Posted by: hunter-legend.livejournal.com

[pre-milliways: If you get knocked down get up again / we ain't a-gonna grieve no more.]

It's a shock, having a body again. Between one step and another, even.

There's all these things you don't realize you feel, like the earth under your feet and the air against your skin and the clothing you're wearing and knots of muscle in your back and the grit in your eyes and the cold Coke can in your hand. Shit, it's even moist.

And it's a bigger shock to realize you're not in the body you've broken in, broken down, built up. There's no gray in this beard; hell, there's no beard. The muscles might be knotted but the bones haven't been cracked and broken and splintered. Everything seems new and fresh and God above, good. He has an arm and he can move it. He has feet and he can step. He has eyes and he closes them for a moment just because he can.

And it's great. It's... it's the greatest relief he's ever felt. Until he realizes where he is.
I can't tell them.
There's a slight misstep as he makes his way to the bar.
I can't tell them anything.
Just one.
I can't--
Before he sits at the counter and, feeling like it's all at once the most amazing and the most terrible thing in the world, makes his order.
No goodbyes. No help. I can't tell them what's to come. I can't tell them anything.
"Coffee."

[ooc: if your character is psychic, please ping] ~~[1:41pm: pause needed; work is being evil]~~ [tentatively back; still at work, though]

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Mon, 28 Jan 2008 22:34:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

"--I came on home, by interstate. My baby crave -- two kindsa taste!"

What's that caterwauling by himself?

"You got the flavor! You got the flavor!"

Sigh.

Some gods should not be allowed to get their jollies in public sometimes.

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Thu, 24 Jan 2008 01:09:00 GMT

Posted by: ladyfirestarter

Millitimed to January 13

Out of (and in) Milliways:

And I'm calling you, I'm calling you
From ten thousand miles away

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Hot shot -- come on!

Wed, 16 Jan 2008 19:34:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

It all started with a tragedy. No, not the Santa suit: the Tennessee Alcoholic Beverage Commission. But there's something they didn't count on, that being that nothing says "try me" to two Titans like the judicious application of a stupid law.

Because when the going gets tough, the tough get going. It's dirty, dangerous work, but noble. And when you're good at what you do, it pays off.

All of this is to say that there are two new, smug faces with a strong family resemblance behind the bar tonight. The sign behind them reads simply:

VINTAGE JACK DANIELS WHISKEY
1914-1920, UNOPENED
YOU'RE WELCOME

[[ooc: Two muns, two pups, come one, come all! Here late -- step on up!]]

10:17 PM CST - ZOMG, we love you. Please no new threads, for conservation of brain asplodey. Thanks all! <3

12:12 AM Aaaaand the muns are turning back into pumpkins. Slowtime/fade/what have you? Seriously, you guys are the best. My stomach hurts from all the laughing. Lessthanthree, Milliways. Less than three.

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Sat, 12 Jan 2008 01:45:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

OOM: Blodwen Rowlands disappeared just before Christmas.

Let her stay gone.

Warning: not pretty.

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Thu, 27 Dec 2007 22:59:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

Santa Claus stumbles vaguely backwards into Milliways.

Wait, is that Santa?

...no, it's just Prometheus wearing a Santa suit. He seems pretty happy about it. There's no telling how long he's been wearing that thing either.

Must have been a pretty wild night or three.

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Thu, 27 Dec 2007 18:48:00 GMT

Posted by: awesome_lilly

Christmas wasn't bad for Lilly. A little weird, but that was a given considering... everything.

It is, however, over now and she's seated at the bar, ordering a drink and smiling when it pops up along with candy.

She turns to survey the room. Watching people is fun. Talking to people would be more fun.

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Sun, 23 Dec 2007 18:59:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

He comes through the front door, unshod, undirected, and perfectly serene. Behind him, the land is arid and tense, at odds with his presence. There is a gentleness to him, a steady tranquility that does not scan as entirely human.

That is not the only humanness missing. The being is made completely out of clay -- wet, pliant clay, at that. He smells of the living earth. Yet his clay tongue can speak, and his clay legs bear him forward, and the holes cut where his eyes should be guide him through the Bar. (There is nothing to see inside those holes; just a blackness, immune to outside light.)

Still, he seems to have some civilization on him. The rough-spun tunic ties in the front like a robe, and there is a word written into his chest.

ΕΘΕΛΩ

[[ooc: plotlocked!]]

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Sat, 15 Dec 2007 22:14:00 GMT

Posted by: notboundnow.livejournal.com

OOM: Where has Prometheus been all this time? The simple answer is Boetia.

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Sat, 01 Dec 2007 22:32:00 GMT

Posted by: mercurialist

A few days ago ~~thanks to Millitime twisting into an always-convenient knot~~, Mercer caught up with Puck for the first time in well over a year. There'd been a hell of a lot of stuff to catch up on.

Especially some events from the summer that'd been, uh...kind of incredibly less than pleasant. A lot.

He's at one of the couches near the fireplace now, legs tucked up into a crouch, cap off and between his hands. Mercer worries his fingers over the embroidered wings as he stares at some indeterminate, invisible point halfway between the fire and the coffee table in front of him.

There's one person in particular he's looking to talk to tonight, and he hasn't seen him around yet.

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