(no subject)

[gone_byebye]

Ray's not really sure how to make up to the Bar and its patrons for the fact that his little experiment in warping space essentially set off the chain of events that led to the Allpocalypse. Ecto's offered to attempt to lend a hand with the reconstruction, but since she spent about half an hour this morning backing in and out of the Firehouse door with no luck at all, that doesn't seem to be in the cards. Francis was able to follow Ray to Milliways, but the data connection Ecto normally uses went dead as soon as the robot dog stepped through the door. Miss Eartha couldn't cross the threshold either. So he'll, um... he'll talk to Mikey or Mrs. Reynolds about it at some point.

Right now he's out back, which looks better than he'd been expecting, and he's got his training drone out and his lightsaber, because practicing on a nice stable familiar New York City rooftop is one thing but working on muddy, irregular natural ground is something else again. And also because people get so freaked out when he does target practice with the proton pack anywhere except the Paranormal Responder Corps training facility and it's such a pain in the neck to get out to Floyd Bennett Field at this hour of the morning. Maybe he'll get in some proton practice here later, but right now- lightsaber, both with and without the proton pack on. You never know when you're going to need it.

Feel free to say hi, either to Ray or to the robot dog that followed him here, but be aware that he probably won't answer you until the floating drone stops trying to set his hair on fire.

(no subject)

[electro_kinetic]

There isn't a whole lot on the other side of the door that interests Noriko in the concept of going back to her own world, aside from the box of origami paper and folded cranes that comes in with her when she steps back through; the downside is that to accommodate a thousand cranes (ideally, anyway) the box is pretty big, and blocks her line of sight. We apologize if she runs into you with it by accident, as likely so will Noriko.

Failing that, you can find her at a table, where with her gauntlets still on but covered with bright blue-and-black striped long fingerless gloves she's proceeding to fold more birds out of a rainbow of colorful papers. Feel welcome to ask what she's doing or why, or even offer to help; she's got a whole bunch of paper to share.

(no subject)

[thenewblack]

Back home, which is comfortable if nothing else. Good to know where your closet is, to have memorized ages ago where all the squeaky boards are when you get up in the night.


So, fully dressed this time and jittery with insomnia and excess energy because going to school doesn't take the same sort of effort that getting back to the right state does.

At least here no one is going to ask about what she's doing up and about at a ridiculous hour.

[Tiny Tag: Artemis Crock]

EP

[mute_clay]

Clay has settled down on the porch, a lit cigarette between his lips.

His hands are busy carving.

With a pocket knife, he is coaxing a small field mouse out of a piece of wood left over from the chaos and mayhem he narrowly missed.

Occasionally, he looks up from his work, casting a quick look around, eyes narrowed against the smoke.

His door still won't open. And he is hesitant to try too often. You never know when you might be overstepping.

(no subject)

[mnt_raph]

[OOM: previously ]

To those lacking in third sight, the view around the Lost and Found box hasn't changed much in the last twelve days. It's still sitting lidless in the middle of the bar, and the same gruff looking bald man in black is still keeping watch.

But...for those lucky enough to be able to view the subtle and sublime, something wondrous is about to occur. A ghostly three-fingered hand reaches up from the depths of the box grabbing the edge. Slowly what appears to be a large mutant turtle emerges from the box. Draped over one of the turtle's shoulders, fireman's carry style, is the still form of...something.

Seconds after the turtle clears the box a medium sized beach balls rolls up the inside edge of the box, bounds out, and comes to rest next to the ankle of the bald man.

The bald man doesn't react to the turtle, or what ever the turtle is carrying, but the beach ball...that gets his attention. Admittedly, it's kind of hard to miss it when a beach ball appears to be nuzzling your leg.

"What tha'..."

(no subject)

[gondolin_noble]

Glorfindel disappeared from the bar only for a moment or two, to make sure the twins hadn't somehow gone and done something horrible to themselves, and that the door still worked properly.

They hadn't, and it did, and shortly he returned to continue keeping an eye on his lord until he can feel confident that the bar isn't going to dissolve into chaos again. But that doesn't mean he feels particularly inclined to lounge around the bar - instead, there's a golden elf out back attacking the pells with sword and knife. There's no such thing as too much practice.

(no subject)

[magneticxman]

Lorna is sitting at the bar. There's a book and a half-consumed chai latte next to her. The book is about infant massage, and has many pictures showing off techniques. In her lap she has a pencil and notepad, and she makes notes without looking every now and then. The notes are largely large and scrawly, but generally legible.

Eventually she gets to the end of the book and looks up, stretching a little. She's still getting used to some of the more recent changes, and her back aches a little. Sitting on a barstool for an hour or so was probably not the smartest idea, in hindsight.

(no subject)

[balancingminds]

Not quite OOM: The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.
Ernest Hemingway

Tiny tag: Charles Xavier

(no subject)

[the_fairest]

OOM: This is something she really can't handle before coffee.

"--is no way there is a bar in the backyard, Emma. Are you sure you haven't been spending too much time with Hen--"

The voice had drifted closer and closer until a young woman, with short black hair, appeared in the doorway, looking from over her shoulder to the wide expanse of the room in front of her.

"Emma," Mary Margaret hissed. A completely failed stage whisper. "There's a bar in my backyard."



[Two pups, two muns. One semi-new, one brand new.
Tiny Tags: Emma Swan, Mary Margaret Blanchard]

Sadly, we must call slows for sleep after this last round of tags. We might be back for an hour tomorrow night, but definitely on Wednesday night to pick right up where we left off. Thank you, one and all, for your very Once Upon A Warm Welcome. This night has been full of magic and delight.

(no subject)

[missmarybennet]

In spite of all the recent upheaval in the Bennet household, Mary has had a pretty nice birthday. There have been tokens from her family, her favorite lunch, and Mrs. Bennet even refrained from harping on the Bingleys’ unexpected departure from Netherfield during the meal. Then the Bennet girls, in what could only be termed a bit of impending winter mania (or possibly just a release from general agitation) took to the lawn of Longbourn with shuttlecock and racquets and played until dusk bade them to go indoors.

So Mary looks fairly happy when she takes a seat at Bar. Her expression ebbs only slightly into wariness when a plate materializes before her, along with a note: Many Happy Returns. Upon the plate is a small cake, iced in vibrant rainbow colors, with a lit candle rising from the center.

It’s pretty. Some sort of odd Milliways custom, no doubt, but pretty.

Eighteen. Goodness, she’s getting old.

But Mary is determined not to worry about that for today.

(no subject)

[thesupersmeller]

[ OOM: After the apocalypse, Gus manages to not be dead. However, has sustained a nasty blow to the head, bruised ribs, and a broken wrist from the fall when the bar kicked him out with a *slightly* misplaced door.]

The door doesn't reappear until almost two weeks after Gus was booted out of Milliways onto the beach, and honestly he'd sort of figured it was really gone for good. He's cleaning the Psych office in search of a foreign and foul smell that Shawn insists he has nothing to do with when he opens to door to a bank of high school lockers that normally contains various stuff they don't keep out in plain sight - and is face to face with an entirely unexpected bar.

"There's a bar in my locker..." he says to nobody in particular, he's been spending a lot more time alone lately and talking to himself sort of happens. On first instinct, he slams the door and fumbles his cellphone out of his pocket with his good arm, the left still tightly wrapped in a brace and held static in a sling against his chest, and texts Shawn.

Milliways in locker

 

 

When he doesn't get an immediate reply, he takes it as a sign that he should check it out on his own.

"Here goes nothing..." Gus whispers, closing his eyes as he maneuvers himself into the locker, reaching back to pull the door closed behind him. Hen he opens his eyes, very slowly, the bar isn't shaking and falling apart... and there's no giant fire spewing genitalia. That's a good sign. In fact, everything seems to be back to business as usual...

Still not entirely convinced everything's fine, he makes his way to the Bar and asks her; "Can I have a beer?"

[ooc: And Burton Guster is back in the bar... he'll bounce back easily enough, he's just still a little traumatized from the whole 'thought he was gonna die' thing.]