The weather in London's been pretty kind, this spring. The last frost is some weeks behind them now (which is saying something, considering the wretched winter), so yeah, if you want to get technical about things, Crowley could have started Operation Re-Plant Fucking Everything some time ago. However, it's important to note that descriptors like ' ( Read more... )

The front door opens to reveal a rather dusty looking angel, and an oil and grime-streaked trickster. They are bickering amiably about handlebars, or perhaps storage compartments, or even tailpipes. All three have been discussed already today, probably more than once ( Read more... )

Once again, the front door slams open, admitting Coyote. This time, she is dressed to the nines (maybe even the tens). She is carrying a flute of champagne, and maaaaybe a sprig of mistletoe.

"Hello, Milliways!" she crows happily.

The line for New Years kisses starts here.

Raguel is back in his corner, nursing a beer and glaring. Technically, however, glaring would require him to be looking around, and for the most part he's staring into the amber depths of his glass. His eyes flick up occasionally when the door opens, but his expression doesn't waver.

Plotlocked, sorry! Mun is slammed with RL stuff tonight. :(

The door to Milliways opens to a blast of music. A crackly radio is playing Pitbull's 'I Know You Want Me' at what is probably its top volume. The growl of a motorcycle engine fades into the distance as someone pokes her head into the bar ( Read more... )

[OOM-but-not: After a short sortie to survey the baseball field . . . it's post-game party time!]

[OOC: Post-game party is open to all and forever. Have fun!]

[ Play Ball!]

[OOC: The link above takes you to the beginning of the Milliways Baseball game. From there, everything is linked in sequence, or you can hop around looking for your friends and relations. Spectators are still welcome. Later this evening, there will be a link to the post-game party, and everyone is invited.]

Raguel breathes an audible sigh of relief as he enters, and goes straight up to Bar for a drink. No sign of - of anyone he might have tried to visit lately, but there often isn't. He finds a stool near the end of the bar, and with his back to the polished surface, falls into his usual pattern of staring around with an unconscious glare on his ( Read more... )

OOM: TUESDAY 1ST SEPTEMBER
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

- T.S. ELIOT, 'THE WASTE LAND'

OOM: TUESDAY 25TH AUGUST
And this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see.


- T.S. ELIOT, 'THE WASTE LAND'