milliways_bar | Entries tagged with sam linnfer

"Cheat!"

"Jerk!"

"Mean!"

"Shortarse!"

"Lanky!"

A devil and a (sort-of) Jedi walk into a bar.

They're squabbling, as usual, and using magic and the Force to make their points (whatever those might be), also as usual. It's hard to tell whether or not they've actually noticed they're back in Milliways...

Until a stray blast of power (Force? Magic? Who knows? Not them!) flies over Sam's shoulder to hit the Demon Karaoke Machine.

Sam and Atton freeze wide-eyed, a pair of oversized naughty children. An ominous silence reigns.

And then, just as they relax, the big band starts up - which is apparently the cue to flood the bar and rafters with fuzzy, technicolour, singing... beings?

It's time to play the music!
It's time to light the lights!
It's time to tip your waitrats in the All-Skate Post tonight!

It's time to get made-over!
'Til Bar thinks you look right!
It's time to raise the curtains on the All-Skate Post tonight!

"Why do we always come here?" Sam demands.

Atton can only shake his head. "I guess we'll never know. It's like a kind of torture, to put up with your jokes."

But now let's try a Paradox!
(Why don't you try a Paradox?)
It's time to get things started
On the most sensational,
Inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational --
This is what we call an All-Skate Poooooooost!

A ball of green smoke from Gonzo's trumpet hits both Sam and Atton square in the face as the music fades out, taking the Muppets with it; though the bar retains its new intake, a noticeably less fuzzy cast now flood the place.

The pair originally responsible for the chaos can only stare at each other. "Well," Sam says, eventually, "That was... different."

"You're telling me," remarks Kermit, heading to the bar for a pondweed and soda.

[Welcome to another Milliways All-Skate!

All welcome - yes, that means all. Whether they're retired, deleted, AU, original or already being played by someone else, bring 'em along.

Usual all-skate rules apply:
1. Everyone's stressed out of their mind right now, so have fun!
2. Communication is key.
3. Gratuitous behaviour (either of a violent or sexual nature) will not be tolerated in the bar proper. Take that to an OOM, and then Content Warning the hell out of it before you link it.
4. Please don't be a dick.

Please also feel free to notice the sudden onset of Muppety chaos - or not, as you prefer. This will most likely be Sam's last ever Milliways EP, as I've sent in his retirement request - I'm not intending to throw him into the comments, but if you want him for a thread, shoot me a message.]

necessary_child

"Well, if you can send that to me today, I should be able to get some notes back to you by lunchtime tomorrow..."

A ruffled black head pokes around the door.

"...Huh."

Sam ambles in, still wearing his usual scruffy black, and carefully shuts the door on the university behind him.

"This is - huh. This is definitely weird."

Not just because he hasn't found a door in a long time, but also because he's just realised he can't understand a lot of the chatter going on - and he hasn't been somewhere he can't speak the language in millennia.

He finds his old favourite spot at the bar to perch on, surveying the room, and lets the flow of languages wash around him as he hunts for a) his girlfriend, b) his best friend, and c) his cat.

Even if you aren't one of the above, you're welcome to come say hi.

[OOC: Sam speaks basically every language in Earth, Heaven and Hell. Please let me know if your pup's language sounds like or shares words with any of those.]

golden_dog

The first thing Pearly notices on arrival in Milliways is that the world is smaller, much smaller, far too small. Not in the sense of space – he’s used to the cramped alleys and underground cellars of the Narrows or the Five Points – but in that his vision is restricted. He looks up at the ceiling with a quiet snarl, razor eyes rolling back in his head…no Avenue of the Nine, nor the Twenty. No Sarganda Street, no Diamond Row. Nothing.

He looks around, glaring. The knife in one hand drips blood on to the floor, and he wipes his face with the other, which holds a gun, single-barrel, ivory handle. His mouth opens to speak to the place at large – the first saloon in a long time not to quiet at his entrance – but then his eyes fall upon the Observation Window.

….oh. Oh.

The knife drops to the floor, and everything else melts away.

[OOC: I strongly recommend reading this post before tagging, and perhaps his profile as well. Open until whenever!]

baptizemyself

It's beautiful bright sunny day. The squid is chilling in the lake. The demon bunnies are skirting the edge of the forrest, looking for easy prey. And there is a party going on.

Why?

Why not!

Who needs a reason to have a good old fashioned lake party?

Certainly not us!

[OOC: Happy Tenth Anniversary, Milliways! You know the drill! Tag one, tag all, threadhop! Enjoy!]

necessary_child

Well, look who it is.

Sam Linnfer, aka your friendly neighbourhood Lucifer, is back in the bar as if he's never been away. He smiles when he sees the place, and grins when Bar solemnly presents him with a cupcake with a single candle perched on top, burning cheerily.

Molly Hayes has a birthday! Who knew? Or she has cake, anyway. Same difference, right?

Ergo, one newly officially fourteen-year-old (ish) mutant with a small heap of candle-topped rainbow-coloured cupcakes, beaming at the bar.

(She has a sparkly milkshake, too. She's not a complete Neanderthal.)

Meanwhile, one slightly weary agent of SHIELD is quietly lurking in an appropriately shady corner, drinking a beer.

Being as he just came in from a briefing regarding New Mexico, Phil Coulson remains blissfully unspoiled for the future. The mun remains blissfully unspoiled for most of Agents of SHIELD, and both would like to stay that way, please.

spit_it_out

I am drowning, not waving
Here in the darkness

I'll find my peace.

There had been room to run.

There is no longer room to run.

...not good. He does not like this.

Out in the forest, something roars. It is loud enough to echo through to the bar; a deep, bestial noise of pure fury.

Trees begin to fly into the air. A rock soars above, and crashes onto the lake shore.

And then, a thudding beat of huge footsteps, gaining speed, accompanied by the crash of something heavy sprinting through undergrowth, and trees being smashed into pieces. The howl does not stop.

The Hulk bursts out of the forest. A pause.

(LIGHTS. PEOPLE.)

He smacks the ground with both fists, causing it to shake.

And then leaps for the bar.

[OOC: Here we go, then. Post locked to Thor, and Molly Hayes. Reaction tags welcome, but please do not get involved in the actual fight. See the backroom post for details. :)
Also, potential trigger warning for suicide in the OOMs. (Wtf timing, pups?) Nothing at all graphic.]

never_shall_yield

A few hours after this...

The door to the infirmary opens. Javert stands on the threshold; upright, serious and resolute. He wears no uniform. He is clad as a simple labourer, in black jacket and trousers, and a blue shirt that does not conceal the rope burn at his throat.

He does not know what he was expecting, but it was not this.

He sees the bar. He sees chairs, and tables, and a door at the other side of the room. Stairs, a fireplace. Beings; there is no way to describe all of them as 'people'. He swallows imperceptibly, and takes a step forward. And then he sees the Window.

The stars are exploding before his eyes.

He thinks, a few minutes later, after the last of his life's constants has been thoroughly ripped away - - of course. Of course.

Knowing it is just punishment does not help.

[OOC: Guys, in all seriousness...I love you. <333 But I must crash now. Spelling mistakes are rising, which means bed. Also, I cannot keep my eyes open. Am around all day tomorrow, and beyond, to continue. THANK YOU FOR BRAVING HIS CRAZY. <333]

stuck_mynock

Sometimes, an Atton.

He's sprawled on the sofa, absently cleaning his lightsaber - a process that involves having most of the parts floating above him as he works. He has his Security badge pinned to the back of his glove.

Botherable.

necessary_child

Sam is sitting at the bar, where he has acquired a tiny, obnoxiously pink cupcake with a candle in it.

It has been some time, but the candle has not gone out. He is intrigued, mainly because he can't sense any magic on it.

But he's humming 'happy birthday' under his breath, in spite of himself.

othercaptjack

It's pretty hard to say when Jack was last in the bar - since leaving Earth his doors have been few and far between, and he's not entirely sure how linear his appearances are in any case.

But it's never exactly a surprise any more. Not much is.

He heads for the bar in a swirl of blue coat (a replica, now - but some constants are comforting), and trails his fingers softly along her edge with a faint smile.

"Hi honey," he says. "How's things?"

After a few minutes chatting quietly, he vaults across the bar and grabs a chalkboard.

HAPPY HOUR

Black Russian

White Russian

Red Russian

He strips off the coat and stows it away under the bar, then starts to investigate the bottles behind him while he waits for orders.

[OOC: Closed to new threads, and existing ones paused for slowtime/fade, as you guys like. Back tomorrow!]

mycursedface

The front door opens.

A pretty normal occurrence, really, particularly when someone walks in.

Make that two someones - both dark-haired, both short for their genders, the man wicked-eyed and scruffy but nevertheless basically human-looking; the woman decidedly not. She has golden wings, black snakes tumbled through her black hair, and is carrying a cocktail glass.

To be fair, so is the man. The man-shaped-being.

(Their clothes aren't exactly Earth, either, being made of fabric of...whatever planet Atton left them on before he got distracted by something shiny. Medusa could never remember how to pronounce it.)

"Ohhhh, look! Milliways!" Medusa says, passing her hand over her eyes. "I was wondering when it was going to appear again."

Not too much, though; she has sand on her feet.

[ooc: ~~two pups, two muns, open until we say otherwise!~~

And saying otherwise. We'll pick up threads when we can :D]

necessary_child

If you haven’t seen Sam Linnfer about in the past few months, this is ABSOLUTELY simply because you haven’t been paying attention and definitely not because his mun has been flakier than that one Cadbury’s chocolate bar.

He is a very busy guy, being Bound and all! Really! I swear!

And when he comes downstairs this morning, as he has been doing every morning, honestly, he is presented by Bar with both his customary coffee and a cupcake with a (pink) candle shaped like a number 5 on it.

Said cupcake is forgotten very quickly when he happens to glance in the direction of the wall ... and sees a door.

His door.

He’s going to spend a while now staring at it. Luckily, the candle doesn’t seem to be burning down, because otherwise that cupcake would very soon be enlivened by the taste of candlewax.

[OOC: Milliversary post! All threads will be millitimed to before the Jack-Atton-Sam thread.]

isaysimplewords

Not long after the dream, a Door appears. Cal has gathered his thoughts enough now to remember what happened last time he came in right after one of those dreams, and so he pauses cautiously in the doorway.

When nothing happens, he relaxes and steps inside. He gets a raktajino and claims a spot by the fireplace, where he tries to distract himself by watching all the costumes.

It's not working very well.

necessary_child

Sam and Atton are out the back, shirtless and practice-fighting on a piece of relatively flat clear ground.

In practice, what this actually means is that they’re rolling around together on the ground, cheating and/or using their powers at any possible opportunity as both valiantly attempt to be on top or to at least look as if they might be winning.

Feel free to comment on the homoerotic subtext (though trust us, they’ve noticed), bet on the winner, stand around and offer hints, throw popcorn, commentate... Whatever.

Just one warning. Please bear in mind that the people fighting are an ex-Sith and a very much current son of Magic (the giveaway is the lightning) and whatever you do, do NOT get in their way.

Unless it's to give them cake. They like cake.

necessary_child

There is a Sam outside in the moonlight, enjoying the very last tendrils of the summer's warmth to ... well. Who knows. His face is utterly unreadable, but he's out by the lake, sitting on a particularly large rock on the lakeside with his sword (the one that was a gift from Atton, not his true sword, lost beyond his door) balanced delicately across his knees.

You can come and talk to him, though. If you're the right person, you might even manage to make him smile.

lil-green-apple.livejournal.com

There is a Pomona in a bar.

There is a Pomona on a couch in a bar.

There is a Pomona curled up on a couch with a mug of gods' milk (otherwise known as chocolate milk), watching the fishes swim around in the fire, in a bar.

zparklemotions.livejournal.com

One may wonder what possesses a person to wear sunglasses even when they dun't need 'em. Indoors, for instance, in the middle of the apparent daytime.

Otto Chriek may be an especial source of puzzlement, since he has not deigned to take off his dark glasses even to read. He is reading now, dressed in his usual work clothes of a black silk vest with tails and approximately a gazillion pockets.

At the Times, workdays tend to expand to fill entire fortnights. However, it seems-- happily enough-- that he can snag a few extra hours for relaxation when that certain door pops up and transports him here.

Naturally, he has taken advantage of the opportunity to acquire cocoa.

necessary_child

There is a Sam! He's outside on the jetty, dabbling his feet in the water and watching the sunset.

Come bother him.

Inside is a Martha, curled up on a sofa with a big glass mug of Irish coffee (mmmm, whiskey), a slice of chocolate cake, and a copy of A Study In Scarlet.

She hasn't noticed that she's acquired a cream moustache from the coffee.

Have you met Miss Jones? If you have, or even if you haven't, you may like to come and tell her about it.

[Tiny tags: Gene Hunt, Teller]

[OOC: Sorry guys, but I'm feeling gross and heading to bed. Slowtime?]

necessary_child

One Friendly Neighbourhood Lucifer, sprawled on a sofa with a book. Periodically, he reaches out for an After Eight chocolate from the box next to him, or (depending on how lazy he's feeling) one of the little square chocolates levitates itself to him.

DEFINITELY botherable.

necessary_child

There is a group - well, more of a sort of rabble - of people playing kickabout on the expanse of green behind the bar. Goalposts have been marked out with the traditional piles of jumpers, more or less equally spaced.

Periodically the ball goes in the water, but you can't have everything.

(Team colours are black versus pink - blame Sam Linnfer and Molly Hayes, respectively - but really they're ... more like guidelines than rules. As are the rest of the rules, really.)

Come and join in? Or just stand on the sidelines and cat-call. That's okay too.

[OOC: Party post in honour of Milliways's sixth birthday! Tag in at will, threadhop, tag in once or stick around for hours, start new threads ... you all know the drill. Go wild!]

isaysimplewords

Maybe Bar was listening in on Cal's conversation with Ianto yesterday, despite her unconscious state, or maybe the napkin note is a coincidence.

Cal's not gonna take bets on that one. He doesn't believe in coincidence when it comes to Milliways.

He doesn't have any particular theme ideas, and it has been awhile, so he decides to go with his old standby for specials.

Drink Specials

anything non-alcoholic
vodka

Putting the word "anything" on the specials board presents him with more than enough of a challenge, anyway.

tinytag: hopewood pertellis

[OOC: ~~Open till at least ten PM EST. Threadhopping, as always, is encouraged.~~ And closed. Thank you!]

necessary_child

There is a small boy with lively black eyes (and livelier black hair) perched on a barstool, steadily working his way through a chocolate milkshake that's almost as tall as he is. A book is floating in the air in front of him, its pages periodically turning themselves.

Well, you can't get the pages sticky! That would just be wrong.

[OOC: I wanted to play teenySam, but don't have access to the right icon while I can't afford to pay for an account upgrade. So, via kind permission of the mods, you will be tagged by my alt account

fled_heaven!]

isaysimplewords

Cal has had a few days to unwind since the events of Cubefall.

A few very quiet days, during a lightly scheduled week at the shelter. He used to be good at multiple days without much going on. Now he's not really sure what to do with them, and the Door to Milliways is something of a relief. Next week he'll have more shifts, but this one is edging dangerously close on monotony.

Come join Cal as he has a raktajino and tries to figure out when he became a person who has a hard time going more than one day without something to do.

[OOC: Open till it scrolls.]

isaysimplewords

At some point in what is, subjectively, more or less, the morning, a woman slinks downstairs. She's wearing men's clothes that are too big for her, and has to hold her pants up as she makes her way to the Bar and calls up her Cubefall vidscreen.

A few seconds later, a relieved Cal Chandler is standing in her place, adjusting his clothing and looking around furtively.

. . . no one saw that, right?

[OOC: ~~Disappearing for an hour at some point soon to watch Doctor Who, but otherwise am around for the evening.~~ I'm back and it's open till it scrolls!]