milliways_bar | Entries tagged with johnny blaze

Elle's sitting at the bar, perched on one of the barstools legs crossed and ankles twisted around each other.

And she has a chocolate milkshake with a bright blue straw. This seems to have captured most of her attention for the moment. She twists the straw between her fingers, occasionally placing her finger on the top and lifting out of the shake and into her mouth like a spoon.

She might be preferring some sugary cherry-flavored frozen water, but this is still pretty good.

noblevengeance.livejournal.com

A brief moment of respite. A break perhaps, a breather. A moment of peace from all the recent insanity. A door way. A... bar?

Well, that's new.

Context? Who needs context on Halloween? All you need to know is The Rider is inna bar.

Sort of?

madolyn-madden.livejournal.com

Madolyn suddenly feels very cold.

Her hands quickly fly to her stomach, which she discovers is bare. She also is beginning to see that her hair is no longer blonde, but dark brown. And, and, and, are her clothes made of leather? And is that a quiver? Are those gloves? And is that a bow? Is that a braid in her hair?

So, she'd been looking forward to Halloween but is now seriously reconsidering that thought. Turning a bright shade of red, she immediately heads for the nearest corner booth.

She's trying to get her gloves off, but to no avail.

[ ooc; Mun going to sleep as of 11:32 PM Central Time. Feel free to create a new tag if you feel like it. I will be slowtiming everything to completion. ]

cursedrider.livejournal.com

It's halloween and that requires a suitably halloweeny puppet.

Thusly there is a ghostly bounty hunter in the bar. Well okay, not ghostly.

More like "On fire."

The rider's taking a night off. (Two nights off if you want to be accurate) which means that Johnny's (weather he wants to or not) is probably going to be incommonicado.

Hell, he'll even let this den of miscreants slide. Unless their sins are really worthy of the pit.

So when the door to the outside opens and a flaming skeleton steps in, Bar...lets him. However briefly. The Ghost Rider's promised to behave.

unless...y'know...you make him mad.

[OOC: Slowtime is very probable but don't let that discourage you from tagging! The Ghost Rider will not penance stare anybody (unless you REALLY want it). He gets a few days off like the rest of Satan's minions. Tag at will. If you DO want to be penance-stared im me at clericpikachu and we'll talk]

cursedrider.livejournal.com

There is a roar from outside the bar. With the roar there's a disgruntled looking biker-like figure with short brown hair.

The mun's creativity ~~wanes!~~ abounds.

And when the door opens and the door closes it is a much...wiser Ghost Rider who enters.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Johnny Blaze.

[Slowtime warning in effect? But don't let that discourage you! I WILL PICK THEM UP.]

young_tmriddle

Sometime during the evening, Tom walks in through the House of Arch painting and makes his way to the message board.

With a wave of his wand, a sign appears, which reads:

Wanted: Teaching Staff for the House of Arch Academy

We are in need of teaching staff for our private school. Currently we have three main pupils, ages eight to thirteen, with others who drop in for occasional lessons.

We're looking for mature, qualified individuals, preferably with experience teaching children in English, maths, science, and art. These appointments will include the option of room and board in the House of Arch, as well as fair compensation.

Please sign up below if you're interested, and include a brief explanation of your experience and background. We'll review your application and contact you by owl or by note to schedule an interview.

Lady Door and Lord Ostium (a.k.a. Tom Riddle) of the House of Arch

With another wave, a clipboard with sheaves of parchment and an attached quill appears under the sign. Tom steps back a moment, and then changes the quill to a pen. Satisfied, he returns to the House of Arch.

touch-destiny.livejournal.com

[A very long time ago, there was an apology and a gift was given, and a few words of destiny spoken.* Now is not the time when they come true, but it might be a beginning of a beginning.]

From along the lakefront, a woman comes walking. Rust-colored skirts sway, edged with sand and dampened six inches deep, at least. Gold glitters in the dark coils of her hair, flaring with the light of the setting sun, and she stops, in the water, her skirts floating around her ankles.

Cupping her hands before her chest, she lifts them to her mouth and whispers to the things held there. Beyond, the Black Pearl sits calm on the steady lake. The things in her hands click as she moves them gently from palm to palm; beads in her hair and on her dress clink, the Pearl's rigging creaks, and the sky grows orange.

Some small breeze comes rippling over the water to tug at her dress, and she smiles. Its sigh is very nearly a song.

[*Also known as the OOM from after the tofu plot which I never posted. But it works here, too!]

[ETA: I am going to bed, but I'll be sure to tag up everyone tomorrow. Thanks, guys!]

passthefudge

"Maddie! Bring my fudge down when you come!"

You hear that bellow? It's coming from the Door which has just swung open on a set of stairs. At the top, you might glimpse bits of living room furnature...but not for long. The view is quickly blocked by a large, orange object which barrels down the stairs and into Milliways. As it skids to a stop, you can see it's a rather large, jumpsuit-clad human. A very shocked, larged, jumpsuit-clad human.

He stares for a moment, wheels in his head audibly grinding.

"GALLOPING GHOSTS! MADDIE! THE LAB'S BEEN COMPROMISED!"

cursedrider.livejournal.com

Johnny Blaze is in the bar.

Reading a worn copy of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Repair." Occasionally he glances outside. Tonight he'll be going out and letting the rider have fun.

For now, as the sun sets, he's here.

dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com

Pickles was sitting around, really more lounging than anything, spread out sideways in a chair as he wrote in a notepad, writing down ideas for a song.

CaR wiTHouT a dRivER, TaKing THE whEEL aNd drivinG iT To safETy

SlEEpiNG wiTH THE ENEmy

SpuN ouT

HoT cHicKs

SHooTiNG aNyoNE THaT GETs iN youR way, pay off aNyoNE wHo sEEs

That's when he started crossing out the entire thing and crumpled that particular piece of paper, and dropped it. From the looks of things, he'd done this several times since he'd sat down. He's got his usual fortress of empties going on, and a cigarette between his lips.

schrute-space.livejournal.com

[OOM: Jim and Dwight get set for a routine sales call.]

A door opens bringing with it a wintry gust of Northern Pennsylvania wind and two paper salesman.

The looks on their faces are familiar even if they aren't. It's the dazed, confused look so many people wear when they first enter Milliways. The dark-haired one slowly turns around, looking at where they just walked in, then just as slowly turns back around towards the bar. That stunned look never leaving his face. His bespectacled friend just shakes his head.

"This isn't the parking lot," Dwight mutters, brows furrowed as he takes in his new surroundings. Then realization dawns and his confusion turns to anger.

"Damn you, Jim."

They didn't have time for childish games!

hippodamio

When you are a boy of eight years, there are days you cannot help but run everywhere you go, pricking at everything around you like a curious dog in a room full of meat. So too here; when the stable-master's back is turned, his charge slips away to have a look at whatever presents itself. There is a door he has never been allowed through, as it leads to the stallion barn. Just this once he would like a look at the great beasts up close, not from such distance as his elders think safe.

But this? This is not the stallion barn- it is not even the stable. . .

The small boy who stands just inside the door wears a belted linen tunic and sandals. His eyes are wide with surprise, and for once (much to the surprise of his tutor, were he here to see it), his voice is shocked to silence.

After a moment there is a small scraping noise, as of metal on stiff leather. He has never yet used the little bronze dagger (hardly bigger than a wooden toy) on anything living, but he does not wish to be taken off guard by anything in a place so strange as this.

sizzuhs.livejournal.com

Things were really picking up at the airfield with the possability of a jump in the next few days. Preparations of packing gear, checking parachutes, and reviewing plans filled up most of the hours giving way to tension and sometimes boredom.

Gene, however, wasn't going to let that affect him.

Flipping through a hastily scribbled list of medical supplies he needs to restock on the Easy Company medic doesn't even notice the supply tent flap that would have lead into a large wall tent was now actually a bar. The sounds of people talking didn't even phase him- people always talked in the supply tents.

"Spina," Roe says in his slow Cajun drawl, "got th' list Cap'n Winters gave ya? Gots t' make sure we get all th' su'plies we needs." When Spina doesn't answer Eugene looks up causeing him to blink dark eyes once or twice with a mild look of shock upon his slender face. "Uh...th's ain't th' su'ply tent no more."

Keen observation for a medic, no?

Welcome to Milliways, Eugene Roe.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

One man, two puppies, and a game of tag enter the bar. The man is not involved in the game, the puppies are. They're also rolling, bouncing, and generally having a good time while trying to figure out who is currently 'it'. Spoon herds them gently over to Bar for his cuppa and their bowls of water. Today isn't a quiet day, but it's getting there. Things keep wanting to push up, even if he's pushing them down mostly satisfactorily.

no_justice

He had a bike, once.

It didn't have a motor. But it did have a horse's skull on it. And it was, like the best two-wheeled vehicles of a certain type and weight, inherently cool

Another time he had a flaming steed. More than once, actually. But they were just horses. And they had an unfortunate tendency to set their bedding on fire.

Death likes to stick to the classics these days. A dazzling white warhorse that's very very alive, even if as it lands outside near the stables, it takjes a few seconds to figure out what height the ground is supposed to be at.

The skeleton dismounts and pats his horse fondly. It's been a busy night.

cursedrider.livejournal.com

Johnny...is in a bit of a mood.

Which is why he's got a portable DVD player with white ear-buds. He's actually deep in thought and not paying attention to the movie.

Passersby will witness unmitigated gore. It's the original Hills have Eyes movie.

Zarathos, in the meantime, is deciding that mutated humans or no, they're all guilty as they get.

Be warned. Johnny's got the volume up loud enough so that if you happen to have really good hearing? You can hear the music pounding and the occasional scream.

anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com

Today is a day like any other. The sun is shining, the birds are crapping on the heads of those unwary who venture outside beneath the trees, and there's a heaping portion of potent magical food set out for unsuspecting bar patrons.

The curry has bided its time.

And it has waited long enough.

It slops placidly within its enormous bowl. Beside it is jasmine rice; behind it is a dusty trickle of curry powder. The very suspicious might think that it looks like the curry is trying to send some of its powder into a nearby jug of water, but they're clearly delusional and paranoid.

The fact that the entire display might not be there when certain patrons look -- patrons who have had some experience with curry -- is just . . . a trick of the light.

seewhatyoumean.livejournal.com

There's no particular fanfare when the Door opens; it just swings out, allows a slender, caped figure to venture through, and then closes neatly behind her.

She pauses inside the door and tilts her head at the Bar, emanating puzzled curiousity.

That's about all that one can see; she's slender, female and curious. It's hard to tell more than that, because she's dressed in head-to-toe black, and we really do mean head-to-toe, with a yellow bat outlined on her chest and a sweeping cape trailing after her.

f33dm3.livejournal.com

There's a large potted plant on the floor of the Bar, near the front door.

It wasn't there a while ago. Weird. Did the Oompa-Loompas decide to redecorate or something? If so, they need to take better care of this plant. It looks like it's on its last legs. Or stem. Or whatever.

[ooc: Please read this backroom post on Audrey II's feeding habits before tagging.]

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

Very, very little can put a smile on Belar's face quite like the opportunity to make a really freaking inspiring speech. It's true; fond as he is of beer and women and war and sailing and all those good things, he'll drop anything for a crack at making a good speech. It just so happens that the Alorns celebrate his festival day in the spring- and the Mongols who've asked him to be their god decided the same thing recently. And you know what that means, don't you?

Yup. Acceptance speech.

He's done with that now, though, and the Mongols're all celebrated out, at least for the moment. Right now he's just taking his good mood to Milliways so he can put up the ANSWERING PRAYERS sign and handle the Alorn in peace before finding some other suitable form of celebration.

pirate-gibbs.livejournal.com

Gibbs sits ashore, chewing on a biscuit, sipping some tea (with rum, of course), lost in thought. Soon, if his understanding of things is right, he will stand face to face with Hector Barbossa, as treacherous a man as ever sailed the seas, and agree to work with him to save Captain Jack Sparrow. He's not sure what disturbs him more: that Tia Dalma can bring back the dead, that she would bring back Barbossa, or that Barbossa would ever help the man who killed him or his crew.

Rum can only offer so much surcease from such concerns, even for Gibbs. So he might welcome company.

cursedrider.livejournal.com

Johnny...is no stranger to nightmares. They've been coming more frequently as of late.

Ordinarily he'd be on his bike, but he's still stuck here. ~~Now in the right community~~
That's starting to make him anxious. And when Johnny's anxious, his...darker habits show up. True he has tried to live a life free of vices, but sometimes-sometimes-

This is why Johnny is staring out the observation window with a dark expression, smoking a cigarette.

Yes. You heard us right.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

A collection of canines in various sizes, colors, and shapes pours into the bar. Eventually it resolves itself into a four-way tug-of-war with Nelly quite cheerfully holding her own against Spoon and two puppies. Spoon hasn't lost grip on his end of the rope, but he does keep shedding and regaining the help of the puppies.

Nelly weighs more than the other three combined. So when she decides that the tug-of-war needs to continue in a straight path from front door to back door...

Spoon calls out apologies to people bumped and tables shifted as he and the kids are dragged outside.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: Wells never told any of his students at the Slayer Academy why a forty-three-year-old Englishman was able to keep up with Slayers. They were bound to figure it out eventually. Fortunately, it does not end in fire and silver.

That would make following up on a certain application more difficult than it had to be, really.]

Wells steps in from Yorkshire and lets the door close quietly behind him. It's been a good day, for once. After everything else that's happened it's a relief to get one of those once in a while. It'd be nice if there were more, of course, but he knows better than to get greedy. Just now he'll settle for tea and a spot to sit by the fire, and possibly company.

happy-footed.livejournal.com

The door opens to mist (well, what do you think happens when subartic temperatures mix with the air in the bar?).

Lights pierce through it (because it's morning and the windows are being Convenient).

Music can be heard, though how is, like the biological mechanics of the crew of the Satellite of Love, something you shouldn't worry about.

And in the midst of this, a penguin makes a groovy entrance. He doesn't know he's made it yet since he is, in fact, in the groove, but he'll probably figure it out soon.

Feel free to help.