A Rider is Born: Prt2

[cursedrider.livejournal.com]

[And he cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and a cage of every unclean and hateful bird.[Rev 18:2] A Summons is Given, and A Rider is Born]

(no subject)

[sinisteressex.livejournal.com]

Though he's slightly disoriented, Dr. Essex is coping with his sudden arrival in Milliways quite well.  In fact, he's even deigned to order a drink, it's not like he has to worry about being poisoned.

There is some annoyance at the fact that being in this bar keeps him from his data.  He also noticed that the door vanished upon his arrival.  Perhaps he was to be stuck there for some time.

All in all, he felt it was better to sit and contemplate his current situation.  Which means there's an evil geneticist sitting in the corner booth farthest away from the bar, a good sized amount of brandy in a snifter for company.

Perhaps someone should explain the bar to him.

(no subject)

[oh-wowee.livejournal.com]

Through the door comes a rock star with his Flying V and a mini-amp.
For the first time since he made plans to give Rachel lessons, Toki actually shows up in the bar to give them! Holy schlameal! 

He's in a fairly good mood, he's feeling healthier than he had been feeling for the past two weeks, and for the first time, he doesn't have a blonde following him.
He honestly hopes he gave Skwisgaar the slip this time. However, Skwisgaar was the kind of guy who knew where Toki would be if he wasn't 1. in his room or 2. in the main room.

He takes a seat in a chair and starts playing, keeping the amp just loud enough to hear over the regular bar noise. 

~Chuggadachuggadachuggadachug Reeeeooow~

Botherable!

(no subject)

[cursedrider.livejournal.com]

[OOM: We all go a little MAD sometimes. Especially when playing host to paranormal entities.]

There is a rumble outside.

The rumble of an engine coming up fast. What's a rider without a steed? Or more importantly, what's a stunt cyclist without his motorbike? This however, is no ordinary motorbike. It moves with unnatural horsepower, looking less like a family heirloom and more like an animal proper.

For one thing, the wheels are on fire leaving a trail of singed grass in it's wake.

Here, the sun is in full force. So as the engine chugs to a halt and the creature stumbles from the seat to check and see if it's working, it falls.

The noise that the thing emits is like nothing human. A shrieking keening that echoes off the deepest caverns of the world. The pain of a creature that does not want to go quietly. It still has things to accomplish.

Have you ever seen a corpse decompose in reverse? A magical transforming motorbike? Now you have.

With the death of the hellcycle, the path of fire vanishes and the grass returns-leaving only a faint smell of ash in the air, and the smell of sulphur. It clings to the man now moaning to himself, clutching the earth with needy fingers, the cool wet of the morning grass unbelievably soothing.

To recap. Unconcious man lying on the grass next to a very beautiful 1967 chopper, possibly reminiscent of Peter Fonda's "Ride" from Easy Rider.

Welcome back to Milliways Johnny.



[As of now, Johnny's emiting uber!paranormal vibes. Medical puppets could potentially be needed, but ping me on clericpikachu before tagging just so I can tell you what's what?]

(no subject)

[truequest.livejournal.com]

Zelda sneaks downstairs and stops by the bar. "Madam, could you give me something else to wear...I want to look normal." she says quietly. A pink cotton dress appears, with matching slippers. She smiles brightly. "Thank you." she says before returning to her room and putting on the dress.

After a few minutes the Hylian princess returns, without her crown or jewelry and wearing the new dress. She hops onto a stool with the sketch book Bar had given her a few days ago, and begins to draw.

(no subject)

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

On the other side of the door, an empty, recently painted and carpeted room is visible. Knox comes through, smiling that his direct access to the Bar seems to have followed him to his new apartment.

He heads to the Bar and orders a coffee as well as 10 copies the May 8, 1990 issue of PM, featuring his latest column. (He should have brought his own copies of the paper with him, but he forgot them at his old place. Still, what else is a magic Bar for besides making copies?) He earmarks his column in each copy, and sits back to relax a bit.

[ooc: the usual odds of slowtime apply]

(no subject)

[milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com]

[OOM: Hunting down the men of Gruinard Island has an unexpected, if questionable, benefit.]

Wells walks into the Bar from Yorkshire, carrying a pair of hefty black cases. These he takes to the Bar and sets down on the surface. "These are for Security," he says. "Though if you can just give 'em the contents, I'd appreciate the cases back."

The cases disappear into the bartop, returning a moment later.

"Thank you," he says, taking them down. "Now something to write on, if you don't mind… thanks." He doesn't take long to compose the requisite ( note to members of Security: )

Somewhat reluctantly he sets the note on the Bar and watches it vanish.

"Thank you."

It's too early for beer, even back in the England he came from, so he's going to go outside and find the heavy bag he hung from one of the trees. Right now he really wants to hit something until it stops moving, but he'll settle for just hitting something.

(no subject)

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon? He could really get paranoid about doors. Years of not being able to open them at all is getting reinforced by the fact that lately he opens them and the wrong room is on the other side.

Especially when he was on his way to working out. Three or four attempts at opening and closing the door later he sighs and props his sword (nearly three feet and nearly five pounds of metal) on the Yorkshire side before giving up and walking in. He's sort of figuring that Sarge should explain about Spoon and swords before Spoon actually walks in with a weapon.

Spooney, himself, would really rather not get shot. He's nervous, of course, and tilting his face to scent for familiarity while he lights a fag. He's not, however, stressed enough that he's freaking out. As long as he doesn't smell Ryan, he's fine.

...He'll just keep telling himself that, mmkay?

(no subject)

[alorn-bear.livejournal.com]

Fond as Belar is of the polar bear's shape, it's getting a little warm outside for that. He's gonna have to find a new bear to use pretty soon. The short-faced bear's not bad, but some days you just want something a little less extinct, you know?

Not that he's in bear form at the moment, since he's actually inside the Bar and the ANSWERING PRAYERS - BACK IN 15 MINUTES sign is up on his table, but he's gonna be considering that once he's done handling those particular godly duties. Assuming somebody doesn't distract him first.

(no subject)

[gabriel_tam]

[Last week, Mal Reynolds had a conversation with Gabriel Tam.

A rather important one, as it turns out.

Today, before Parliament, Gabriel Tam formally sponsors the the Interplanetary Infrastructure and Guardianship Act.]

Exit Post

[callitavesper.livejournal.com]

There’s only two people worth saying goodbye to in this place. All the others, the ones he considers associates or friends in the vaguest sense, aren’t too close to him that they’d miss him (so he thinks), and he wouldn’t want to pass on to Suzi the same pessimism he passed on to Sarah.

When he approaches the bar wearing the same blue suit he wore when he first walked in, he doesn’t consider leaving a pile of notes, partly because he doesn’t know he can leave notes. He’s stopped by the bar to pick up a few things. He shoves a few folded newspapers into his vest as he walks towards the door.

He doesn’t stop for once last glance at Milliways. That would be too sentimental—and he’s not sure he’d have it in him to leave if he did. Already he’s pushing Milliways to the back of his mind, and by the time he opens the door and walks into his own world it’s just as if Milliways itself was not worthy of his goodbye.

(no subject)

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Ace, having decided the TARDIS has withstood enough tinkering for one day, is sprawled on the couch, blissed out to 'Queen' from her iPod and working on more of those torturous metal puzzles in a very contented fashion.

Magic, sprawled on the floor beside the couch, is doing her best impression of a throw rug. Maybe someone will trip on her, feel guilty, and give her food. ... A dog has to live in hope.

(no subject)

[velocitygirl]

[OOM: Inyri's just going to stop leaving her room. Zekka's not enjoying his day and takes it out on Inyri. Warnings for violence. Seriously.]

Note on the notice board

[asar-suti.livejournal.com]

Attention new gardeners!

All of you that I spoke to and that are going to work in the garden this year: we assemble on Tuesday morning on the lawn immediately outside the door! I will bring coffee and tea, and if we are lucky, Gil might provide cookies. You get to look at the team and the garden, and if you still want to work with them and in it (and under me), you can commit, and I will tell Bernard your names so you start earning tab.

See you tomorrow!

- Asar-Suti

(no subject)

[undignified]

Wes wanders in, vaguely tired and still in his flightsuit (though he ditched the helmet and chestbox already). He brightens when he sees the bar, and finds himself an empty booth.

After ordering a large cup of caf from a waitrat, he settles in sideways with his feet up on the bench.

It is possible he is attempting to sleep.

... it's not working very well.

Intro Post

[heartsblackened.livejournal.com]

Anyone who happened to be near the entrance of the bar's doors would feel a sudden burst of cold as a young man dressed in black appeared, but it wasn't because of the outside temperature draining the warmth of the building. What followed with the chilly walk of the youngster was the sweet smell of roses and a distant aroma of burning ink as he approached the bartender just up ahead.

So many corrupt souls, he thought to himself as that tempting smell filled his senses.

If only father hadn't succeeded in foiling his plans. If he'd won, got what he worked so hard in achieving, then he'd be the most powerful and feared being in existence. But his punishment for trying to overthrow an already superior creature showed in his lack of supernatural abilities; his memories were hard enough to earn back.

But this place, he just so happened to wander upon while in a blank state, was not home.

(no subject)

[cursedrider.livejournal.com]

Over hill and over dale, along the misty mountain tra-ail-...

He only wishes he could remember where that was from.

And since his arrival this morning, Johnny has only been able to wander around helplessly looking for his bike. The very idea, the very nerve that someone would take it...

I'm only two days here and a major theft is reported. No security, it didn't say very well for the bar itself if in the first two days he was robbed of one of the only things he really cared about.

The other-

Something seized Johnny from out of nowhere. Dropping to his knees, he screamed again. The sound rose and fell off the trees and hills as he...ignited.

Pay no attention to the human torch that just lit up outside the bar folks.

""....HRRRRNNNNNNNGGAAARRRRRRR!"





[I figured seperate entity should get seperate post. Please to be aware of the terms and conditions posted in the back room. Ping if you'd like to start anything! as it is, Johnny'll most likely leave folks alone.]

(no subject)

[his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com]

That's the annoying thing with relationships, even unofficial ones. You find yourself caring and actually getting used to the whole flipping idea of maybe, hey, it's alright to possibly see someone again, and then? They say goodbye. And you don't know if they're ever even coming back.

Sarah may have, despite herself, spent a good part of the day moping after James had left. But now, she's downstairs at a table by the Observation Window, trying to be productive. There's a typewriter on the table in front of her (no where nearly as good as her typewriter back in Croydon, of course), but the paper inserted only has a handful of words on it.

Instead, she stares out the window, sipping at her cup of tea, frowning, and quite possibly cursing herself for acting so positively ridiculous right now.

Happy Hour!

[collects_ears]

George is in a good mood.

He's become an 'official' Uncle!

Come and share his excitement.

"Tonight's drinks are: Deep, Dark Secret, Dr. Raspberry, The Drink Without a Name and Dreamy Chocolate Winter."

Tonight's apron is red, with the letters T, G and J on them - in white lettering.

"What'll it be?"

Into the Black, Part II: Game On

[bring_a_sponge]

[OOM: The briefing's complete, the teams are ready, and the Front Door awaits. It's time to step across the threshold, back into the Headquarters of the Men in Black, where Teams Alpha, Delta, and Omega are delighted to find all sorts of shiny things.

Of course, these being Milliways people, the shiniest things of all are the ones that make other things explode.]

(no subject)

[evryinchbut1.livejournal.com]

Your server is: Valerie

Valerie's glancing around as she ties on her apron, grabs her tray, and starts making her rounds. There seem to be a lot of new faces, lately.

Waitress on duty; feel free to flag her down.

(no subject)

[revdubya.livejournal.com]

A man with an enormous cowboy hat and a disturbingly empty-headed smirk swaggers into the bar.

"YEEEHAW! The Reverend Dubya Bush is back in town, and he's gonna hunt down the Great Satan wherever he lurketh! The Moron Church and the Ministry of N. Ron. Hubbard won't be stopped this time!"

(no subject)

[the-h-star-r.livejournal.com]

The population of the bar is up one dejected-looking no-armed whitey rolling around on the floor crying.

Try not to step on him, plzkthnx.

(no subject)

[callsignhusker]

"Don't dance with me, Kara. I love you like a daughter. I don't deserve that."

And she'd told him, and he'd responded, and he hadn't said any of the things he wanted to say, and he didn't get violent, and rationally Commander Bill Adama knows that's the best thing. Two years on board Galactica, and she never told him that his son shouldn't have passed basic flight. Lee knew; he didn't.

What Adama doesn't want to think about is what that says about him, and all the people he knows, and all the people he used to know.

(What Adama doesn't want to think about is the last two years. The last two months. His two sons, one alive, one dead.)

Kara left his quarters two minutes ago. Adama is due in the CIC. They're expecting him. They need him. His door is still open; he crosses his threshold.





Bill Adama is in a bar.

His eyes narrow.

(no subject)

[were-needed.livejournal.com]

Steed is in the bar, people-watching as he sits in a corner booth. Hat and umbrella on the table, out of the way.

It's frustrating, not being able to get out. And still not knowing either how he got in or why. But he looks out for anyone who might know what they're doing. And anyone else who is up for friendly conversation.

(no subject)

[johnnycoolguy.livejournal.com]

That over there would be a Milo, fresh from CTU and leaning bad-temperedly on the bar.

It's drinkin' time. (And he hasn't even gone through canon yet, poor thing.)

Come chat with him. He'll rant amusingly.

(no subject)

[artist-reborn.livejournal.com]

The smell of the sea is nothing if not distinctive. Songs are written about it. Aged sea dogs drink to its memory. Landlocked sailors do the same and dream of it at night, like one would pine for a long-lost lover.

Still, it is not among Felix Phoenix's favorite scents. It might even be said that it is among the least. But it is a smell to which he has become accustomed -- it permeates every stitch of clothing, every lock of his long, (white) ice blonde hair -- and the sudden absence of it forces him out of his thoughts and into the present.

Two dark eyebrows lift as he surveys his surroundings, gracefully turning to examine the door at his back. He opens it. Looks back through the passageway in the lower forecastle of the Unwelcome Stranger. Shuts it again.

There's a tavern where there shouldn't be, and people who are clearly not the coffee pirates. Or Art. It would be impossible to miss Art.

"Of course," says Felix in his low, musical voice: resigned, if not understanding.

Sketchbook tucked securely under his arm, long, paint stained fingers clutching a bit of charcoal, he seats himself in an available chair. He looks ahead, dark blue eyes watchful, and waits for the other shoe to drop.

It so frequently does.

(no subject)

[geeky-agent.livejournal.com]

[OOM: At work, Chris gets the answer to a few questions.]

(no subject)

[politestpirate.livejournal.com]

From a slowtime long, long ago....

After Wellard took Nita out to help Helva and Niall-

[OOM: Wellard and Nita have a talk.]

No warnings except for a bit of teenage woe.

(no subject)

[teh-data-fork.livejournal.com]

Ah, for the days when Adam's canon made sense, and he was still in it.

But alas, those days have long passed, and so Adam's just sitting dejectedly on his usual couch, writing something. At least he's got music to cheer himself up.

And lots of alcohol.

(no subject)

[oh-frak-me.livejournal.com]

(OOM: This is the part where Apollo and Starbuck muns suck at linking things back in here, so here we go...

Lee and Kara spend one more night together and then return to Galactica so Lee can catch up with Kara.
Lee lives through three months on Galactica before milliKara joins him.

Threads are long. Threads are smutty. Threads are angsty. Honestly, you should expect this of them by now...)

(no subject)

[notagod-apollo.livejournal.com]

((OOM: Kara's surprise Leaves Lee speechless. For about two seconds. Then there is sweetness, porn, comforting, lunch, and teasing. Not necessarily in that order.))

The door opens to a blue lit triangular shaped hallway where there are two pilots with gym bags slung over their shoulders, laughing. It actually takes a second for them to realize that the door hasn't opened to Galactica's gym like they were expecting.




((OOC: Warnings for smut of the dirty talk and wicked food porn sort.))