milliways_bar | Entries tagged with clive

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive was down in the bar again, along with the treadle sewing machine that he occasionally borrowed from Bar, he wasn't using it at the moment, sorting through a box of scraps he'd found in his room from the last time he'd gotten himself stuck on purpose.

He may have been working out something to make, he may have already had something in mind, he may have just been sorting.

In any case, go on and talk to him, heps friendly and he doesn't bite!

magick-willow.livejournal.com

There's a sign pinned to the board, neatly printed in fairly girly handwriting.

We're Getting Married!!
Tara Maclay and Willow Rosenberg are getting married on February 11th and we need your help.
Seeking musicians, deities with connections to romantic honeymoon locations, and tailors/seamstresses to help us get ready for our big day. Please contact Willow Rosenberg, Room 69.

Also if Rupert Giles, Dawn and Buffy Summers, Xander Harris, Anya Jenkins (formerly the demon Anyanka), Faith Lehane, Joyce Summers, Spike (aka William the Bloody), Angel (but not Angelus please), Cordelia Chase, Andrew Wells, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Jenny Calendar, or anyone from Sunnydale, CA (who isn't evil) are around, please contact Willow ASAP.

Thank you.

Willow R.

P.S. Goldilocks, we need to go dress shopping soon! - WR

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive had heard the music and hadn't thought much of it, that was just Milliways, always something going on.

It wasn't until now, two days later, that that bone-deep itch had finally gotten the best of him. Clive wasn't a singer by any means, that was Gypsy's gig, he was the cameraman and now costume designer.

But that wasn't going to stop him from dancing.

So there you have it, gothboy in a featherboa and a top hat, dancing like a madman, clearly Doing the Unstuck Well, clearly, that is, if anyone were close enough to hear the music piping from his headphones, other than that it probably just looks like a lot of flailing.

(tinytag: Broadway Goes Brutal plot)

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive was downstairs for once. Chances are he'd been downstairs quite often, really, it was just easy for him to blend in, even when there wasn't much of a crowd.

Tonight, however, he had the treadle sewing machine that he sometimes borrowed from Bar, just at the moment he was hand-stitching some edging, but he'd be back to the machine shortly.

Also, it should be noted, he had a jar of these on the table next to a jar of buttons and a tissue box now full of ribbon rosettes.

Also? He'd already eaten a good half-dozen of the lolipops. Approach at your own risk.

madetomend.livejournal.com

Sally wasn't here last Halloween- she was home, saving not only Christmas, but Halloween as well.

So it is a bit of a shock to wake up this morning wearing a tattered wedding dress, a tattered veil, and white high heels minus her usual striped socks.

She makes her way to Bar, walking delicately so as not to rip the dress further. The note regarding the current possession of Bar gives her pause, so she decides to occupy her time over in a close by booth, nervously (and quite helplessly) watching Bar.

Tender lumplings everywhere
Life’s no fun without a good scare!

That’s our job, but we’re not mean
In our town of Halloween!

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive was downstairs again, sans sketchbook this time, but with a notepad, as well as an array of small dishes of candy and a glass of iced coffee.

He was, apparently, taking notes. And doodling.

Feel free to ask what he's doing, he'll be more than happy to share. The marshmallow-candycorns were the best so far.

blue-star-badge.livejournal.com

At the bar was a young man with an apron, on the bar in front of him was a wide array of bits and pieces, hard to say if he was putting something together or taking something apart, in any case he was certainly concentrating on it awfully hard, brow furrowed as he worked.

~~~

Over in a booth there was another young man, this one with a top hat and a pinstriped jacket. Apparently Clive had felt like getting dressed up, it was because he could feel the fall in the air, and fall meant one thing: Halloween.
That would probably be the reason for the small dishes of various candy, he was taste-testing while he sketched.

~~~

In another booth, in a different part of the bar, there was a young legend-goddess with a crate of jam jars. More than one, really, but for the moment she wasn't paying much attention to them, instead working on some beaded leaves humming to herself as she worked.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

It was apparently time for Clive's semi-monthly, self-imposed Binding time. At least, if the rolling suitcase and the backpack were anything to go by. He dragged both up the stairs and returned not long after, carrying a lunchbox camera case, and a sketchbook, curling himself up in a booth with both, just watching.

Know him? Want to meet him? Want to know 'what's with the hair?' Stop by and say hi

cheevy.livejournal.com

The still slightly crippled hippie is in the bar. He remains unable to use his right arm, which is in a sling, but this is kind of okay -- he has a new toy.

It's a laptop.

Now, based on the way he is using it, it's fairly clear he really doesn't know what it does other than function as a typewriter hooked to a television screen. Since he can't write just now, he's instead typing. Very, very slowly.

Click.... click... clickclick... click..........click..... click click.... click...

He's got almost 3 whole lines written!

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive? Was celebrating.

Not only had Milan been utterly fabulous, but Mother had gotten an upgrade. Of course, it had started as a firebombing, but Empress ChiChi, her boys, the girls, and of course Gypsy, weren't about to let something like that keep them down for long.

And Clive, well, he was a generous boy even when he didn't have much to give. Not the case now, mister hot-shot fashion designer.

That would probably explain why he was sitting at one of the smaller tables, almost-swaying and almost-giggling, they'd been having a grand-reopening party before he'd arrived, and just at the moment he was very happy about... well, everything.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

The fashion designer was back.

He'd boxed up the skirt and top he'd been working before, and now he was working on what he knew best, bodices and shawls.

Well, the bodice was on the dressmaker's dummy and he was working on a shawl, big wide paisley crochet, black of course, with fringe, and an interlocking spider-shaped silver clasp sitting on the table to get stitched on once the shawl was finished.

He wasn't surly, he was just concentrating, and he hadn't had lunch yet.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Fashion designer
Treadle machine moving fast
Hasn't eaten yet

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

The fashion designer was ~~back~~ still around, though he'd put aside the treadle machine and the dressmaker's dummy for the moment in favor of food.

It had been a few days since he'd had anything other than snacks, and he had finally realized that the shakiness was due to more coffee than protiens and produce. So he had a plate of nachos, a smaller plate of chicken Ceasar salad and a slice of black forest cake that was apparently made of pure chocolate-cherry bliss. There was also a vanilla milkshake to wash everything down with, Clive was set for the rest of the day, given the size of Bar's portions.

G'head and interrupt, he's got more than enough to share.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

The gothboi was still around, still working on outfits for his showcase.

Just at the moment he was glowering at the beading on the hem of a shawl, it wasn't cooperating with him at all, and he was apparently trying to reason with it telepathically.

Someone might want to point out that it's not going to answer, and he should probably get something to eat.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive was still in the booth he'd taken over with design work, probably he'd gone back up to his room at some point, but really it was anyone's guess.

Today he was working with the treadle machine and a dressmaker's dummy, he was using the hem of his sleeve as a pinbook, tacking together layers of cobweb patterned linen to make a layered skirt.
Honestly he liked working with linen, not only was it comfortable, but it wasn't as demanding as other fabrics.

He'd actually had breakfast today, as evidenced by the now empty plate at the edge of the table.
Go on and bother him while he works, he'll like it.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

The fashion designer was still in the bar, in the booth he'd taken over with design work.

Just at the moment he was working at the treadle sewing machine that he borrowed from bar, making a patchwork feaux-punjabi top, tidy secure stitches on the underside to hold it together, and once it was done he'd put bit decorative frankenstein stitches on the topside.

He's only had coffee today folks, beware of hyper babbling if you go poke him.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

It's the witching hour. Do you know where your fashion designer is?

He might not be yours personally, but Clive was over in one of the larger booths, having taken over the table with an assortment of sketches and fabric swatches, working on designs for his upcoming show in Milan.

There was a half-finished caramel-marshmallow-mocha-cream shake on the edge of the table, along with a basket of cooling paradoxes.

G'on and talk to him, he'll share, and he'll be happy to tell you all about what it is he's doing.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Mother's Day was always a bit of a downer for Clive, and he knew what day it was because he'd brought his planner, not that time really mattered since it would still be the same day he left once he got back, he just liked to know.

In any case, there was a fashion designer taking over a booth, working on designs and sipping occasionally at a chocolate chai. He was distracting himself with work, as he was prone to doing.

He'd be more than happy to answer any variation on: 'what the hell is that?'

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

That? That was the face of UTTER GLEE!

No, really, it was. Seriously.

Clive all but exploded through the door, laughed when he realized where he was and hopped up on the nearest table: "Ladies, gentlemen and whatever else of Milliways; I'M GOING TO MILAN!"

This, for a clothing designer, was a Very Big Deal™
Congratulate him, tell him to stop getting glee all over the bar, buy him a drink, whatever

(recycled post? I see no recycled post here o_o;)

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Well wouldja look at that? The boy cleaned up nice sometimes, wearing the pinstripe jacket that Sally had made for him, as well as his favored tophat. He'd been going to a meeting.
Though the blinking as he adjusted from bright outside to not-so-bright inside was probably a dead giveaway that his meeting wasn't here.

He grinned all the same, practically bounding across the room to Bar, swinging himself up in a seat and giving her a pat, "Chocolate cherry shake, nachos, you know what I like."

He dug in as soon as the food appeared, meetings made him nervous and any reason to postpone one was good in his book.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Ah 'around' that fabled place where someone is when no one's seen them in a while.
Clive has been 'around'. He's been all sorts of 'around'

That might explain the grin upon finding Milliways instead of the Mother dressing rooms.

Suffice to say, happy little gothboy sitting at the bar, feather boa, skull & crossbones messenger bag full of design books and all.

Chocolate cherry milkshake, plate of nachos, totally botherable.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

A young man bobbed into the bar, nudging the door open with his back, headphones on, bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder, sketchbook under his arm and featherboa trailing.

He was in the middle of doing the unstuck before he realized just where he was, and then he grinned, lowering the headphones, "Oh man am I glad to see this place.

scaredbybook.livejournal.com

The bar door slams open, and Kira comes in from outside.

She's wheezing slightly, in the manner of someone who's been running around in cold winter air, and carrying a dark felt bundle. There's odd white streaks over it. Kira looks around, heads for a booth, and puts it down. Now it looks more like a large, dark, hairy wolf.

Kira isn't really looking, though. She's shedding her coat and poking through her pockets for her emergency sewing kit. Somehow it's never been so emergency-ish as it is right now. And with the tone of a props doctor to a passing nurse, she summons a waitrat. "Hey! I need a cordless hairdryer and batteries, please?"

So. Witch, busy drying the stuffing of a puppet with one hand while she tries to thread a needle held between her lips with the other hand. It's very eyecrossy. Maybe she could use a hand?

watches-storms.livejournal.com

Everyone's used to the bar door opening.

When Tris strides in, it only takes her a moment to realize this isn't her room. Also, the place fair blazes with magic- and she's currently renting a tiny loft atop a cookhouse where they she didn't have so much as a health-charm hanging.

Most certainly not her room.

Looking back to examine the door shows the hallway of the cookhouse: three steps and she exits, shutting the door firmly behind her.

A minute later, the door opens again.

Grey-blue eyes examine the space- a tavern- quizzically. Stepping back into the bar and shutting the door behind her (and then checking the door several times to make sure it will still open and lead her home) Trisana Chandler examines the bar with an expression that's one part inquisitive another part annoyed.

She'd like an explanation, please. In fact, she'll demand it from the first person who catches her eye.

And the glass dragon perched on her shoulder might possibly draw your eye to what would otherwise be a very plain girl. It's chattering. In chime-like tones.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

It may sound like a small whirlwind full of buttons, but it's not, not really, it's a hyperactive gothboy -who's had coffee- working a borrowed treadle sewing machine.

Skippy, the kangaroo perched on the table, currently in a dressing gown, wanted to be a ballerina today. That meant that Clive had to make a tutu, which was what he was currently doing.

Swan Lake with an all transvestite goth kangaroo cast anyone?