OPEN THREAD - ALL SKATE

[mnt_mike]

There's a rummaging coming from behind Bar today. A rummaging and ... is that humming?
Then, rather suddenly, a large cardboard box appears on Bar's top.
On one side of this box, in the chicken-scratch-like scrawl that could only be described as Mad Bomber, are the words LOST AND FOUND.
Mike pops up into view, and opens the flaps to the box. The rummaging continues.

"I know it's got to be in here somewhere," he mutters to no one in particular, as he reaches further and further into the box.
And further.
Further still.
Seriously, this box should not be this big, and yet...here we are.

And as he reaches, he tosses some random things out of his way. Things that include, but are not limited to the following:
A rubber chicken that screams as it flies through the air.
Something that looks rather suspiciously like the mummified head of Jeremy Bentham. (bentham's head)
A silver and blue block with the words POW emblazoned on two opposing sides.

Just then, as it appears that he's going to reach just a little bit further into the box, far enough that he might tip and fall in... again, the hose of the soft drink dispenser leaps from its cradle, and wraps itself around his ankle.

"Thanks Bar," he says sheepishly as he rights himself, turning his attention to the random things now strewn across her top.
"How can it not be in here?! Is this thing broken?" he asks, picking up the box and giving it a shake.
Nothing happens.
So Mike begins the process of returning some of the things he removed, except...one item in particular doesn't seem to want to move. In particular the POW block.

It's sitting right where it landed with a Mjolnir-esque thud. It won't pull. It won't push. It won't budge. In a pique of frustration Mike Slams his hand down on top of it...only to find that it does crush.
And when it does, it releases a wave of energy that spreads out like ripples on a once still lake. A wave of energy that knocks Mike clear off his feet.

"...ut oh."

[ooc: HI and Welcome to the First Official Milliways All Skate.
The Rules are simple:
- This post, and any post with the subject heading ALL SKATE are open to everyone.
That means old characters, new characters, retired characters, doubles of characters, original characters, non-canon compliant characters.
- We will all play nice and adhere to Wheaton's Law: Don't be a dick.
- Gratuitous behavior, either of a violent or sexual nature, will not be tolerated in the Comm. Take that to an OOM, and then Content Warning the hell out of it before you link it.
- Communication is paramount. Everyone's keyed up, let's just have some fun.]

Comments

[weird_cop]

Kev had been in the Portakabin that his team use instead of a normal nick, getting ready to enjoy the first instant coffee of the day. Then something had happened and now he's in the weirdest pub he's ever seen in his life - and he's seen some weird-as-fuck shit, he can tell you.

So. Plain clothes police officer right now giving this place the side-eye. Alert, semi-tense, all the time aware that the whole place is singing with the Sight, but in ways that he's never seen before.

But no one's started anything yet so he's not assuming anything, just going to wait for someone to start it.

[OOC: probably about to slowtime immediately, but HELLO.]

[element_wizard]

If Kev would like something really interesting to look at, he should take a gander at Alec. Or not.

Because to the Sight he's not there. Just a great big warping hole of nothing that twitches and undulates. To normal vision he's there; pretty boy with pointy ears and a scar slashed down his left eye. Working through his lunch and going through the lost and found box with undisguised enthusiasm.

"Oh. Cool!" he says pulling out a dull grey bag about the size of a lunch bag. "Always wanted to run into one of these." He digs inside with an intense look... arm going in a bit deeper than it should before pulling out a fuzzy thing. Tossing it to the floor, right near Kev, the fuzzy thing turns into a rather large badger.

[sempercorvus]

It's been a long time since he's been in a pub, or restaurant, of any kind. It wasn't his intention to be in this one, but it just sort of appeared. His first instinct is to leave the loud, crowded place, yet the door won't open.

He hates being caged in.

After a few deep breaths, he heads toward the bar. Hopefully there will be a bartender or someone who can tell him what's going on.

[sticktothemission]

There is no one at the bar, unfortunately.

A few stools down is a tall, built man in army fatigues, though. He's sipping on a milkshake (vanilla coconut) and working on a tablet. He looks up after a few seconds of the man just standing in his peripheral vision.

"Uh, she's voice activated," he calls over.

[ever_lovin]

"What in Sam Hill?!? Milliways!" Exclaims the rocky man in the black and orange jump suit. He looks delighted, though a little put out as he's currently carrying a large piece of machinery that looks like it would leave a crater if he dropped it. Carefully, he shifts to the side, away from the tables and booths until he finds a clear enough space to set it down carefully.

That done, though he did move a table to give more space around the part, he looks around wondering if he'll recognize anyone as he makes his way to Bar. "Hey Doll, been a while. Can I get a hoogie and a pitcher of beer?"

[ooc: Slows almost immediate as I'm working.]

[watchmakers_son]

One of the things Mike chucks across the bar, in his emptying of the Lost and Found box, is a piñata.

A piñata that bears a startling resemblance to a certain brain-eating supervillain that used to wreak havoc on the bar.

(Only with more brightly-colored paper frills ringing the torso.)

That supervillain is long dead, but, well. There's a piñata! Should, you know, anyone need to get out some therapeutic anger in these trying times.


[ooc: mun will not be tagging back, but HAVE AT if you'd like]

[hail_the_username]

A faint drumbeat begins to sound, of the peculiar rhythm that can only be achieved by beating a drum about the size of a checkers piece with two small paws and one tail.

They appear one by one, out of crevices and corners where you wouldn't have thought anything could hide, most of them brandishing sticks entirely too large for them to be carrying. Countless pairs of little ink-drop eyes are fixed on the piñata.

For lo, was it not said of such things: You Give That Thing A Good Whacking And See If Something Tasty Falls Out?

The drumbeat stops, and the High Priest gives a ululating cry, and the mice DESCEND.

[becareful_boyo]

The door opens and a middle-aged blonde woman with flour handprints on her skirt tosses a towel over her shoulder and walks through backwards, propping it open with her hip.

"And you'll not be havin' another any time soon, lad. I've no need to experience anew the dreadful noises your fiddle makes when you're so deep in your cups you can't find the proper strings. Mayhap you should apologize to Duncan himself for the insult. And repair that stool."

She turns around, smirking merrily, and almost trips herself as she stops dead. There's surprise on her face, but not complete shock. After all, she has heard about this place ever since the Goddess saw fit to dump her husband at her door.

Or was it the Trickster God? It's hard to say, truth be told.

[mnt_mike]

Just when Mike thought his eyes couldn't get any wider...they do.

"A-abigail?"

[nitro_is_ace]

There's a girl sitting at one of the tables, her feet kicked up onto a chair next to her. Her over-large bomber jacket, bedecked with more pins and patches than seems entirely sane, is draped over the back of her chair. Her Doc Martens are a bit scuffed up, but that just shows they're loved, see?

The bomb she's making, on the other hand, just shows that she still doesn't understand most people find that sort of thing alarming.

She has a large pot of hot cocoa and a massive pile of cookies, along with her wires and timers and canisters, so it's not all mayhem, see?

[engineermage]

Making bombs is alarming? Kale has heard that one but never put any truck in that concept. In fact he's drawn to the bomb like a raven to a shiny object. He's also wearing - out of coincidence - a bomber jacket minus the pins and patches beyond a few military ones. He's also got a pair of goggles on his head and a pair of well worn gloves on his hands.

"What sort of bomb are you making?" he asked.

[element_wizard]

There's an odd moment where reality warps just briefly and Alec is sitting on a stool at the bar, sandwich halfway to his mouth. He blinks a few times in mild confusion before addressing the bar. "Look. If you're going to shuffle me into another version of yourself, the least you could do is bring the rest of my lunch with me."

A bowl of soup, empty plate and lemonade appear in front of him.

"Thank you."

The lost and found box catches his attention. Sandwich in his mouth he scoots over to peer into the box. "Oooh... random stuff!" Or actually "oooh raum uff!"

[scots_wolf]

"Better be careful," says the very tall blond man with the whisky who is sitting three stools away. "Random usually means very random in here and might easily bite your nose."

[works_in_space]

Captain's Log, stardate unknown. I seem to have arrived unbidden in a strange extradimensional location, one that looks like...a bar. Enough of a bar that I was able to order a Romulan ale simply by asking. Though I'm uncertain as to how the replicator was able to generate it so easily. I will keep my guard up, but so far nothing here seems particularly threatening..

[nitro_is_ace]

Ace grew up in a time before cellular phones, and despite her adventures since, still finds the whole hands-free thing a bit... odd. So when this guy starts spouting off, she considers it free Bar entertainment and watches him give his monologue as she systematically strips the ends of wires for her next set of bombs.

[brobrobrobrobro]

"Bro," says an unsavory sort of bro last seen locked up in the security office. He is surrounded by other equally unsavory bros, all in matching tracksuits.

[childofrebellion]

Cassian startles when the wave hits, just keeping his caf from spilling and notices the matching group entering, "Who the kriff are you?"

[mighty_avenger]

A woman opens the door decisively and steps into the bar. She looks just like Carol Danvers... but slightly off. Her uniform is different and her hair, okay, well her hair is always different.

"Did someone in here just try to break the universe? Cause I really don't have time for that today."

[nitro_is_ace]

"Not this week, though, you know, time. It's... more like a jelly, you know?" Ace replies, out of sheer habit of usually being the one asked if she caused the problem of the day.

...

Never mind she usually caused the problem of the day.

Usually with a very satisfying explosion.

"Cookie?"

[of_clay]

Diana's been chasing the wave of energy all day. When she opens this particular door - sword at the ready, shield at her back - she realizes she's been looking in all the wrong places.

Nothing seems immediately out of place, aside from the place itself. She's never seen anything like this before. She sheathes her sword and tentatively approaches the bar. Presented with a flyer with all the usual regulations, she smiles.

A respite might be nice.

[crowschild]

As stealthy as a five year old can be (not very, though Ceilidh is better than most) Ceilidh sneaks over to Diana. Standing up on her tippy toes she reaches up and knocks her fist on the shield before hiding under the lip of the bar giggling.

[clan_of_two]

A Mandalorian strides across the bar, wearing beskar armor with a blaster on his hip. Following close behind is a small green skinned creature with big ears and wide eyes.

Toddling along, the Child looks around the bar curiously as the two pass through, headed for a table.

Choosing one with a good vantage point of the bar and its patrons, and with easy access to an exit, Mando picks the Child up and sets him down on a chair, then takes a seat for himself.

Something is up today, and Mando observes the bar carefully while the Child peers up at anyone who should pass close by.

[pirate_hondo]

Hondo isn't entirely sure where he is. Which should disturb him a lot more, since unfamiliar territory can bring unnecessary risk. But it can also bring unexpected opportunity.

Not that seeing anyone in Mandalorian armor ever puts him at ease. Especially if the Mandalorian is in a bar and doesn't take his helmet off. Still, that doesn't mean there will be trouble.

[jedied]

This particular Rey hasn't been in this particular version of Bar before, but it's close enough to the one she has seen that she doesn't spend any time freaking out about it. She just sits down with a Jedi text and orders a chocolate chip cookie the size of her face and a cup of caf.

She's attempting to translate some things that are in a language she's never seen in her life, but there are, you know, diagrams and things to help her out. But she absolutely requires snacks.

And you know. Maybe conversation. Possibly brooding emo Darksiders. People from the other version of her universe. Who can tell???

[lastskywalker]

One brooding, emo, Darksider reporting for duty.

He just stares at her for a minute before finding his voice to speak.

"You're back so soon?"

[childofrebellion]

Cassian had finally finished his report and was getting up to go to the counter when the wave hit. He cursed as he held his table to keep it steady then looked around to see where it was coming from.

[nitro_is_ace]

Was the girl with the table covered in a small drift of mechanical bits there before?

Maybe.

Probably.

...

Eh.

But she has cookies and hot cocoa to share, so... can't be all bad, right?

[illyria]

Here's a face who hasn't been here in a while, though officially speaking she's around now and then. She's just stealthy about it. And from some point in the distant future of her own canon, which is to say... she's mellowed a bit.

More than a bit, probably.

She'll still judge you and find you lacking if you're an inferior being, however.

She just might tell you about a little less abruptly.

Illyria, God King of Primordium (former), reporting for... bothering.

[element_wizard]

Alec is not an inferior being, though he looks like one. Scrawny, pretty and pointy eared. The slash across his left eye, a bit grey, was a bit odd. At least to the eyes. To other senses well... he's a giant hole in reality that warps space and time. An Ancient Eldritch Entity.

Currently he's fiddling with something that he found in the Lost and Found box. It pops out of his fingers and drops onto the floor, exploding in a brilliant burst of flame right in front of Illyria. "Nutballs, that was the last bean."

[saturnshiro]

He's never been here before. He has no idea where or what this place is.

And he doesn't care. There's only one thing in the universe that Segata Sanshiro cares about.

Which means whoever you are, your ass had better be playing a Sega Saturn right now.

[skyhigh_seance]

Klaus... does not know what a sega saturn is. Klaus does not care what a sega saturn is. Klaus is busy painting his toenails a very sparkly red, so... he's good on the entertainment front. He's also sat curled up into a knot so his very lanky self can reach his toenails comfortably, on top of a table, in an open kimono and short-shorts, so.

There's that.

[the_seafarer]

Perhaps he hadn't expected to be hit with a blast of wind and energy when he opened the door from the sunny outdoors back into the Bar, but, well --

One does learn to brace one's self when walking through doors around here.

It's only a few steps to the Bar, where a cup of tea already sits and steams, but it's plenty far to notice that the main room seems a bit -- disheveled.

And a sight busier than he'd seen in a long while.

A passing wait rat scurries by, pauses, and gives him a pointed look; reaching up, Caspian feels at the windblown mess of his hair and sighs in resignation.

"Dear me."

[fey_wild]

"You look a bit worse for wear, are you alright?" asks a...well, in their world, they'd be immediately known as an elf: pointed ear and a complete lack of canine teeth do that. The leather apron they're wearing doesn't do a damn thing to conceal that for a blacksmith--obvious, given the hammer in one hand--they're awfully slight of build.

Not to mention oddly covered in delicate floral tattoos.

[theblackarrow]

You know what this bar needs? A Pirate Princess!

No. That's not right. Not that there's anything wrong with being a princess. Many people enjoy the role! It's just that Raven is a little over it right now. Being locked in a tower by your Father and your traitorous, treasonous, and all around terrible brothers will do that to a woman.

Raven is the Black Arrow. The most fearsome and currently very, very vengeful pirate on the seas!

And apparently in Milliways.

[shes_so_fetch]

Oh look! A moody teenager in strange clothing. That's new.

Moody teenager looks angry, but mixed with the befuddled look of someone who's just stepped into Milliways for the first time.

May puts on a friendly smile and waves the newcomer over to her table.

[scots_wolf]

There is one tall, blond, battle-worn medieval Scotsman by the bar, sipping a pale whisky and reading a book by a 21st century philosopher.

Angus Urquhart of Monadhliath seems completely oblivious to the fact that he was killed by zombies years ago, and died for good.

[fey_wild]

There's a distinctive thud nearby the scotsman as a hammer drops to the floor from the hand of a slim-built young person wearing a thick leather apron and carrying a half-done sword stock.

"The hell happened to my forge?"

[royal_dis]

The door opens, and a dark-haired dwarven lady enters, bearded and braided and wearing both jewels and weaponry.

She looks around warily at first, but then makes her way to the bar and calmly asks for ale.

[archmagetrust]

And ale appears. Bar's good like that.

Blinking into place a few stools down is a grey-haired human in blue travel robes, a staff across his back. "Greetings, Lady Bar, I hope today finds you well. Might I trouble you for a lunch platter?" A tray of cheeses, meats, and fruits native to Azeroth appears. "My thanks!"

[alwaysroomforhope]

"Oh shit, Mikey, what did you do?"

Steph helps herself to a seat *on* the bar, looking around at the chaos with wide, happy eyes. She's in jeans and a band shirt, looking somewhere close to twenty years old, a backpack heavy with textbooks dropped to the floor beside her.

"Did you blow up reality? ... again?"

[dreamingofelectricsheep]

Viv has been wandering the bar, observing as is her way, when she catches the words of the cheery seeming teen girl. She stops and stares a moment before asking, "Is Mike in the habit of blowing up reality?"

CRAU!10 Years & 5 consecutive games (but you never forget your first multiverse)

[tobeclosetohim]

"Fuck."

It's small. Very small.

Small as the knuckles turn white on the doorknob.
Small as the woman standing by that door.
Black boots, jeans, leather jacket all.

Same long golden hair.
Same copper eyes.




It's silent and direct as a knife thrown.
Her path to the bar. The way she lays a hand on it.

How her eyes almost close for a second at the texture.
The small, small whisper, "Took you long enough."

Re: CRAU!10 Years & 5 consecutive games (but you never forget your first multiverse)

[pacificator]

Somewhere nearby, there's a girl with a gun.

(The girl. With the big-ass gun.)

It's not out, fuck! Like she'd prove to Dolls that she's as irresponsible and reckless as he keeps saying she is. No, Peacemaker's tucked neatly into the side of her boot, just like always, which is good, because it frees up her hands for more important things.

Like drinking. Or flipping off anyone who maybe needs it.

(But mostly drinking.)

Her brain doesn't want to make sense of what she's seeing, so she's happy to see something she understands: blonde, tight jeans, good jacket. An outfit that's the visual equivalent of a rattlesnake's rattle, a cat's hiss. An outfit with an attitude to match, and they both say fuck the hell right off.

Wynonna huffs a sigh, mouth pressing into a chagrined twist. "Hey."

A pregnant pause. She lifts her beer in salute. "Like your jacket."

[resoluteandunyielding]

The door creaks. Robes swish.






Then, there is silence.



(Except there isn't,
because the crowd carries on.)





To the next person closest to her: "Excuse me. Could you help me?"

Padmé doesn't add that she thinks she got lost, because that would be a lie. Padmé knows she did not lose the way to her office. The same way Padmé knows this is not her office. She just doesn't know what exactly has happened. To herself. (Or her office.)

[lastskywalker]

That person happens to be a tall man, dressed all in black. He bows his head to her.

"My lady, how may I assist you?"

[themidnightson]

It's hard to say when exactly Edward showed up.

Especially, since all he's done since he showed up (again) was deposit a stack of three school books, one binder, and a half-empty bottle of water on a table adjacent to a couch, before settling himself into that couch next. Ignoring the stack of school props, and the hub-bub of voices and invasive thoughts, and even Delerium's rainbow fish swimming in the everlasting fire of the Milliway's fireplace, for the book in his hands.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia is not a vampire, though save for the lack of sparkling and golden eyes she might be mistaken for one: she sits very still, very calm amid the frenzy of the bar room on the opposing end of the couch Edward is occupying. There is a teacup and saucer in her hand (floating barely two millimeters above her palm) and a silver spoon lazily stirring of its own accord.

The one not-normal thing he might notice, though, is the resolute silence from her thoughts, as if they were on different sides of a leaden door.

[janebecomes]

Jane opens the door with pen in hand a piece of paper, she almost has the line she needs and to ask her sister how the line sounds. She stops when she realizes this isn't her home, she looks around and says oh very quietly before going to the counter to order herself a pot of tea. Then she sits at a table to write the line and observe, she's missed the bustle of Milliways.

[paintedpromise]

As Jane gets back to work, a young woman is threading her way through the crowd. It's hard to do carefully, with her arms full of her oils for quick sketching and her sketchbook. Even with years of practice and none of the clumsiness of her teenage years, she eventually drops the box--right onto Jane's table--and one of the sticks slips out and rolls a little.

"I'm so sorry," Laetitia begins automatically, putting her things down so she can try to get them sorted out again. "I'm not usually so rude."