milliways_bar | Entries tagged with judah low

wilsons-musings.livejournal.com

The door is right there, and he's slowly sitting closer to it, everyday, but he can't quite bring himself to get there. To get up and walk out and walk back home. He's being a coward, and he knows it, but he's sort of enjoying his escape.

So he's sitting in a booth near the door only he can see, with his back to it, and an irish coffee keeping his hands warm.

[ooc: open to anyone, but i might have to slowtime, i'm a little busy.]

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

Night falls, and the air begins to hold a slight chill.

Winter is returning, slowly.

The bonfire tonight is bigger, and the bar serves hot tea, coffee, and chocolate as well as alcohol. S'mores fixings, as well as other sweet treats, are available.

Children light up the patchy woods with sparklers.

This is it.

Curl up with your friends, your lovers, your friends who are lovers, or your friends who may become lovers before the night is through.

The lake party is almost over.

a-fell.livejournal.com

The door opens to admit a tallish, blondish, tweedish, bookish fellow. He steps in with a warm, glad smile... until he sees what Bar seemingly has wrought in his absence. "Oh, my giddy aunt." Sidestepping several cloth-bound patrons, he stops at Bar for tea. "My dear, could I trouble you for a largeish mug of Earl Grey, the Daily Prophet, and a pencil?"

Bar obliges, and Aziraphael thanks her, stepping around several more puppet people to settle at the usual table and open the paper up to the crossword section.

Free; able to be bothered. 10 Letters.

He sips his tea and half-nibbles on the eraser, stumped.

wilsons-musings.livejournal.com

He isn't sure how it happens, but suddenly, he's somewhere else.

He'd left the police station, left the hospital and driven to the hotel. He opened the door to his room, and stepped through, and he was here.

A bar, it seems, and not his room. And he's pretty sure he's never been there before, but there's something vaguely familiar about it.

He forgets to be scared, or worried that he's entered a seemingly alternate dimension, and instead tries to figure out why he's got deja vu.

[ooc: all welcome the new wilson, who has no idea what's going on. open tag, help him out?]

leftthecradle.livejournal.com

The Door opens.

Rather it's shoved open by a dappled, grey nose. Said nose is followed by an equine body...a filly not quite a year old.

"Cai! Come back here!"

The filly whickers playfully and trots quickly into Milliways. There is a mildly irritated man in robes who follows her.

Let's all welcome the Ranger and Cai back, everybody.

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

There's a dude behind the Bar.

Weird.

He's like. Serving and shit.

Maybe he's like. An employee or something?

He writes some specials on the board.

Whiskey Sour

Classic Martini

All Beer On Tap Half-Off

Weird. It's like this is a bar or something.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Last night was not one of the good ones, for Harry. Oh, he took the precaution of getting out to the woods well before sundown, and yeah, he stayed away from anything that walked on two feet or otherwise resembled a patron- but it was still the first of three nights surrounding an early September full moon. That's never a good combination for the man. It's amazing how many flashbacks a brain unfettered by a human shape's constraints can unleash.

If it were possible for him to sleep safely, he'd spend the daylight hours today doing that, but there are some places you really shouldn't go. Right now sleep is one of them, so Harry Wells is settled in at one of the tables instead with a mug of tea that's been brewed so strong and so long it could probably clamber out of the cup and beat certain preparations of coffee in a fistfight. All things considered, he could probably use a distraction- in fact, he'd probably welcome one.

http://users.livejournal.com/_wonder_girl_/

The door opens, casting enough light that the girl who steps through for a moment is visible in spite of the darkness in the bar.

As the door swings shut, Alice blinks.

And blinks again, and observes that it makes very little difference.

"...Oh, dear," is the first thought to get voiced, followed closely by the second: "How curious."

song_tra_bong

Clatterthudtripcrash--

"Ow."

Careful where you step; there's a Mary Anne on the floor, sprawled over what used to be a chair.

yuppie-trash.livejournal.com

After this, he settled in.

In the standard (Hugo Boss cotton striped dress shirt in a subtle herringbone pattern in periwinkle. Hugo Boss silk tie that has textured boxes inside of circles, yellow and navy blue. Cap-toe leather lace-ups, also by Hugo Boss. Salvatore Ferragamo belt. Burberry houndstooth pattern cuff-links, a classic look in sterling silver.) clothing. The suit jacket is discarded, balled up on the other side of the booth, wet. A smudged stain across one cheek.

Bottle of something cheap (MD 20/20, Red Grape Wine flavor) in hand, he watches the bar, and everyone looks like single-celled organisms.

The Bar at the End of the Universe

Entries tagged with judah low

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Lake Party Bonfire Night Two

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Happy Hour, or: Who's this asshole?

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Milliways Bar

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