Hank McCoy / X-Men First Class / Multidimensional Barplace
A third party may be needed for this argument.
A third party may be needed for this argument.
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boston_bruiser2012-11-20 06:33 pm(no subject)
It's a clear, cool night, and moonlight reveals two silhouettes on the back porch. The first is in a lawn chair, a beer in his hand and a six-pack on the deck next to him. He's hunched over, looking at the lake.
The second is smaller, furrier, and much closer to the ground. In fact, it's on the ground, its head tucked between its paws and eyes half-open.
The second is smaller, furrier, and much closer to the ground. In fact, it's on the ground, its head tucked between its paws and eyes half-open.
AU!Daemons Multi-pup Post//Milli-bar.
First up, we have a a wizard greeting a dog as if they're old friends who haven't seen each other in ages [it's true, to a point].
"A dragon, Betria! A dragon!"
"When do you go to see it?"
"Soon I hope."
There's more chatter, before the two decide they've had enough talk and it's time to let Betria be a dog and play.
We now have a dog and an otter playing chase about the bar...
...which has startled a not!hare and ... another not!hare and sent them running.
"Oh! Oh! Help help! Dogs!."
Really, she was just minding her business.
Rescue her? Tell her to calm down?
All this is not being noticed by two young men carrying on a "conversation", the theme of is a well-worn subject of theirs.
"...most people aren't aware of just how pervasive government control even is in their lives. Take for example education or the pharmaceutical industry. The whole point of both is to dumb down people so that they're too chemically lobotomised to realise that what they're being taught is government-approved propaganda. And when you tell them otherwise they get hostile."
"Oliver, do you realise how stupid you sound? The government isn't some all-powerful entity trying to keep everyone in a Matrix-like state—"
"The Matrix is actually a very good metaphor for what I'm talking about, Curt—"
"Yeah. Take the red pill, Neo..."
"Guys. Will you watch out? You almost ran into that rabbit!" calls out the crow on Oliver's shoulder...
And finally, twin brothers* with twin stoats have a table between them, with a sign that reads [beneath a symbol that wouldn't look out of place in one of Oliver's favourite conspiracy sites] "Lost? Troubled? Seeking guidance? Let the Brothers of Light help you find your way".
[*Xamot and Tomax are not above using psychic means to get people to do what they want. Let me know if you want them to mesmerise your pup.]
[Cross-posted to![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mixed_muses]
"A dragon, Betria! A dragon!"
"When do you go to see it?"
"Soon I hope."
There's more chatter, before the two decide they've had enough talk and it's time to let Betria be a dog and play.
We now have a dog and an otter playing chase about the bar...
...which has startled a not!hare and ... another not!hare and sent them running.
"Oh! Oh! Help help! Dogs!."
Really, she was just minding her business.
Rescue her? Tell her to calm down?
All this is not being noticed by two young men carrying on a "conversation", the theme of is a well-worn subject of theirs.
"...most people aren't aware of just how pervasive government control even is in their lives. Take for example education or the pharmaceutical industry. The whole point of both is to dumb down people so that they're too chemically lobotomised to realise that what they're being taught is government-approved propaganda. And when you tell them otherwise they get hostile."
"Oliver, do you realise how stupid you sound? The government isn't some all-powerful entity trying to keep everyone in a Matrix-like state—"
"The Matrix is actually a very good metaphor for what I'm talking about, Curt—"
"Yeah. Take the red pill, Neo..."
"Guys. Will you watch out? You almost ran into that rabbit!" calls out the crow on Oliver's shoulder...
And finally, twin brothers* with twin stoats have a table between them, with a sign that reads [beneath a symbol that wouldn't look out of place in one of Oliver's favourite conspiracy sites] "Lost? Troubled? Seeking guidance? Let the Brothers of Light help you find your way".
[*Xamot and Tomax are not above using psychic means to get people to do what they want. Let me know if you want them to mesmerise your pup.]
[Cross-posted to
mixed_muses]Noriko Ashida | X-Men milicanon futureverse | barways-ish
It is a tired Noriko that flops into a chair with a bottle of Jones soda and a box of puffy koala cookies, and a headache. Her still-blue hair is put up in a twinset of messy knot-slash-ponytails on the crown of her head, and all is blessedly quiet for a moment until one of the bigger cargo pockets on her oversized jeans starts to move.
She pointedly ignores it.
It rustles some more, and a white faced weasellike head pops out, only to be followed by the rest of the creature it belongs to, with a vividly orange body and tail, and somewhat dirty brown feet. After perching on the arm of her chair and pressing against the box of cookies--then putting its head into said box--it scurries up to the back of her chair, streeeeeetching out along the part of hair down the middle of Noriko's scalp so its nose and paws rest just on her forehead. The girl cracks open an eye at last and rolls it up, popping a cookie in her mouth with a crunch.
"You think you're being funny up there, don't you."
"Whaaaaaaaaat? C'mon get uuup," whines the marten currently occupying her head in a chittery sort of voice. "It's Milliways, I want to go outsiiiiiiiiiiide," he wheedles.
She pointedly ignores it.
It rustles some more, and a white faced weasellike head pops out, only to be followed by the rest of the creature it belongs to, with a vividly orange body and tail, and somewhat dirty brown feet. After perching on the arm of her chair and pressing against the box of cookies--then putting its head into said box--it scurries up to the back of her chair, streeeeeetching out along the part of hair down the middle of Noriko's scalp so its nose and paws rest just on her forehead. The girl cracks open an eye at last and rolls it up, popping a cookie in her mouth with a crunch.
"You think you're being funny up there, don't you."
"Whaaaaaaaaat? C'mon get uuup," whines the marten currently occupying her head in a chittery sort of voice. "It's Milliways, I want to go outsiiiiiiiiiiide," he wheedles.
vance_freeman2012-09-29 08:08 pmEli Freeman, ca. 2042 (Half-Life futureverse OC) - somewhere Milliways-ish
"'The common headcrab, Xenogenus calvacaris, was widely thought to be a parasitic lifeform, but further study revealed...'"
The young man who just walked in has dusky skin, a mop of curly red hair, and vivid green eyes, the latter of which are focused entirely on the clipboard full of papers that he's reading as he walks.
"'...is actually a mating instinct mistakenly inflicted upon a human target. By an unfortunate coincidence...'"
The white rat on his shoulder is trying to get his attention. "Eli?"
"'...closely resembles that of a female headcrab in heat. As a result--'"
"Eli."
"Hm?"
"Look up."
He does, and blinks a couple of times at his surroundings. "Oh. How long ago did we walk in here?"
"Eighty-six words ago. You really need to stop pacing around while you're editing."
"C'mon, you know I think better when I'm on my feet..."
"Not well enough to pay attention to where you're going, apparently."
The young man who just walked in has dusky skin, a mop of curly red hair, and vivid green eyes, the latter of which are focused entirely on the clipboard full of papers that he's reading as he walks.
"'...is actually a mating instinct mistakenly inflicted upon a human target. By an unfortunate coincidence...'"
The white rat on his shoulder is trying to get his attention. "Eli?"
"'...closely resembles that of a female headcrab in heat. As a result--'"
"Eli."
"Hm?"
"Look up."
He does, and blinks a couple of times at his surroundings. "Oh. How long ago did we walk in here?"
"Eighty-six words ago. You really need to stop pacing around while you're editing."
"C'mon, you know I think better when I'm on my feet..."
"Not well enough to pay attention to where you're going, apparently."
Atop your neighborhood rooftop
Batwoman sits and watches the warehouse across the way through high powered binoculars...in the rain...in the cold rain. She doesn't have time for rain so she ignores it.
"Are we going to be much longer?" grumbles her daemon Belle, who takes the form of a treeing Tennessee brindle dog. "The rain's picking up."
"You'd rather these kids stay lost or kidnapped?" she asks without looking up.
"Are we going to be much longer?" grumbles her daemon Belle, who takes the form of a treeing Tennessee brindle dog. "The rain's picking up."
"You'd rather these kids stay lost or kidnapped?" she asks without looking up.
orchidkaboom2012-02-24 10:26 pmLOL Random Setting
It is a very, very busy dock. People are coming in and out of taxis. Farmers and fishermen load and unload their boats with brightly scaled catches or strangely shaped squashes. Tourists are waiting to get on small boats or taking pictures.
"How did you get down there?"
And Amanda is trying to figure out how to catch a small, brightly colored tropical viper that caused a lot of excitement earlier. She's not helped by the ring of publicity that this sort of endeavor results in. A tourist takes a picture. Amanda smooths her hair back and tries to figure out how to capture the snake without losing her dignity.
(Her daemon happens to be sitting on her duffel bag, discouraging it being picked up but otherwise being supremely unhelpful. Snakes are like that.)
"How did you get down there?"
And Amanda is trying to figure out how to catch a small, brightly colored tropical viper that caused a lot of excitement earlier. She's not helped by the ring of publicity that this sort of endeavor results in. A tourist takes a picture. Amanda smooths her hair back and tries to figure out how to capture the snake without losing her dignity.
(Her daemon happens to be sitting on her duffel bag, discouraging it being picked up but otherwise being supremely unhelpful. Snakes are like that.)
boston_bruiser2012-02-14 11:36 pmVoodoo, TVDF, MCed MoH RB
Three months, seven days, and five hours ago, Commander Brian "Voodoo" Colson, Resistance Navy, became a paraplegic.
“Brian.”
Three months, seven days, and four hours ago, he became hypovolemic and went into a coma.
“Brian. Brian, wake up.”
Three months, seven days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes ago, he was medevaced and rushed to an aid station.
“Brian, wake up.”
Three months, five days, and one hour ago, his condition was considered stable.
“Brian. Please.”
Two months, twelve days, and one hour ago, he was moved to a wheelchair and placed under observation.
“Wake. Up.”
It has been three months, seven days, and two hours since Maia last left his side.
“Don’t do this to me, Brian.”
Her fur has had tear stains in them for two months, two days, and nine hours.
“Don’t leave me here.”
It has been five days, eight hours, and ten minutes since she last slept.
Her eyes have been red for three days, seven hours, and nine minutes.
They’ve been in Milliways for four hours, two minutes, and two seconds.
His oxygen tank and nutrient drips were last changed two hours, eight minutes, and five seconds ago.
It has been three months, seven days, four hours, one minute, and thirteen seconds since Brian Colson last opened his eyes of his own accord, and three months, seven days, four hours, one minute, and two seconds since he closed them.
“Brian. Please.”
And for all Maia knows, Brian Colson is running out of time.
“Wake up.”
(OOC: Tag in if you want, but I won't be able to respond for a very, very long while.)
“Brian.”
Three months, seven days, and four hours ago, he became hypovolemic and went into a coma.
“Brian. Brian, wake up.”
Three months, seven days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes ago, he was medevaced and rushed to an aid station.
“Brian, wake up.”
Three months, five days, and one hour ago, his condition was considered stable.
“Brian. Please.”
Two months, twelve days, and one hour ago, he was moved to a wheelchair and placed under observation.
“Wake. Up.”
It has been three months, seven days, and two hours since Maia last left his side.
“Don’t do this to me, Brian.”
Her fur has had tear stains in them for two months, two days, and nine hours.
“Don’t leave me here.”
It has been five days, eight hours, and ten minutes since she last slept.
Her eyes have been red for three days, seven hours, and nine minutes.
They’ve been in Milliways for four hours, two minutes, and two seconds.
His oxygen tank and nutrient drips were last changed two hours, eight minutes, and five seconds ago.
It has been three months, seven days, four hours, one minute, and thirteen seconds since Brian Colson last opened his eyes of his own accord, and three months, seven days, four hours, one minute, and two seconds since he closed them.
“Brian. Please.”
And for all Maia knows, Brian Colson is running out of time.
“Wake up.”
(OOC: Tag in if you want, but I won't be able to respond for a very, very long while.)
The Blur Building
You've come to a lake today. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps by accident- it's up to you. The lake's a broad, still body of water, its dark bluegreen surface a deeper contrast to the cloudless sky above. A fence-sided pathway leads out across the surface to a nebulous structure of rectilinear struts and diagonal rods cantilevered over the water.
Nebulous is most assuredly the word for it, too- the struts and rods are nothing more than a skeleton to fog, a building of sorts constructed entirely of half-anchored cloud and steam three hundred feet wide and sixty-five feet high. The approach is a damp one, as the building of fog replenishes itself by drawing a constant stream of fine mist from the lake below even as the upper reaches drift off onto the wind. Not to worry, though. The four hundred foot long ramp that leads from the pathway up to the heart of the cloud-building has a booth at the very bottom which offers coats to the visitors, protective clothing of neutral color and cut. The coats shift slowly in color and intensity as the wearers come into proximity with other visitors, apparently indicating some kind of personality compatibility- or not. There's no sign up to explain that, so it's hard to say.
Inside the cloud building are rooms of white noise and white-out conditions, or rooms in which the visitor can look down at vistas all over the world and receive the view they would from a passing cloud. There's an area called the Angel Bar, as well, which purports to offer water from everywhere on Earth- among other things. There's even a string of rooms that seem to provide the experience of passing through the clouds of other planets, or interstellar nebulae somewhere, if one is equipped to recognize the experience.
Come, visit. You can return home any time you like.
[OOC: setting taken from the 2002 Swiss Expo in Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland.]
Nebulous is most assuredly the word for it, too- the struts and rods are nothing more than a skeleton to fog, a building of sorts constructed entirely of half-anchored cloud and steam three hundred feet wide and sixty-five feet high. The approach is a damp one, as the building of fog replenishes itself by drawing a constant stream of fine mist from the lake below even as the upper reaches drift off onto the wind. Not to worry, though. The four hundred foot long ramp that leads from the pathway up to the heart of the cloud-building has a booth at the very bottom which offers coats to the visitors, protective clothing of neutral color and cut. The coats shift slowly in color and intensity as the wearers come into proximity with other visitors, apparently indicating some kind of personality compatibility- or not. There's no sign up to explain that, so it's hard to say.
Inside the cloud building are rooms of white noise and white-out conditions, or rooms in which the visitor can look down at vistas all over the world and receive the view they would from a passing cloud. There's an area called the Angel Bar, as well, which purports to offer water from everywhere on Earth- among other things. There's even a string of rooms that seem to provide the experience of passing through the clouds of other planets, or interstellar nebulae somewhere, if one is equipped to recognize the experience.
Come, visit. You can return home any time you like.
[OOC: setting taken from the 2002 Swiss Expo in Yverdon-les-Bains, Switzerland.]
boston_bruiser2012-02-12 03:43 amMCed MoH RB, TVDF, part trois
Voodoo and Maia are hunched over a pair of glasses at a corner booth, the former turning them around in his hands, the latter lounged belly-up on the table - this is going to end badly, she knows it.
"You think these are Freeman's?" he asks.
"Do I look like a lenscrafter to you?"
"Are you expecting me to answer that honestly?" THWAP as paw meets head. Voodoo squints at her as he rubs the impact site - this isn't the first time.
"You're a terrible daemon."
"And you're a drunken asshole."
"Not always."
"No, just mostly."
"Not even that."
"Whatever. Try putting them on. They might make you look smarter. God forbid they actually make you smarter."
"Okay, being my daemon and all, aren't you supposed to not, y'know, be a total bitch to me?"
"Yup. That was before you used your gig in the Navy as an excuse to go on bender after bender and leaving little ol' me to clean up after you. Do we still have that 'Frequent Drinker' mug you got from the Casino?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because one of these days I'm going to lace it with habanero sauce. Give you a taste of your own medicine. God, I never want to see Dubai again so long as we live."
"Way we've gone, that might just happen." Voodoo puts the glasses on -
- and snatches them off.
"Jesus fuck. Don't know if they're Freeman's or not, but whoever they are, they're blinder than a fuckin' mole. Goddamn..."
"Dumbass."
"Shuddup."
Therefore, we have a SEAL holding his head in his hands, trying to stave off an impending Killer Headache Of Death, and a honey badger lounging on her back, about to doze off.
Do what you please.
"You think these are Freeman's?" he asks.
"Do I look like a lenscrafter to you?"
"Are you expecting me to answer that honestly?" THWAP as paw meets head. Voodoo squints at her as he rubs the impact site - this isn't the first time.
"You're a terrible daemon."
"And you're a drunken asshole."
"Not always."
"No, just mostly."
"Not even that."
"Whatever. Try putting them on. They might make you look smarter. God forbid they actually make you smarter."
"Okay, being my daemon and all, aren't you supposed to not, y'know, be a total bitch to me?"
"Yup. That was before you used your gig in the Navy as an excuse to go on bender after bender and leaving little ol' me to clean up after you. Do we still have that 'Frequent Drinker' mug you got from the Casino?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Because one of these days I'm going to lace it with habanero sauce. Give you a taste of your own medicine. God, I never want to see Dubai again so long as we live."
"Way we've gone, that might just happen." Voodoo puts the glasses on -
- and snatches them off.
"Jesus fuck. Don't know if they're Freeman's or not, but whoever they are, they're blinder than a fuckin' mole. Goddamn..."
"Dumbass."
"Shuddup."
Therefore, we have a SEAL holding his head in his hands, trying to stave off an impending Killer Headache Of Death, and a honey badger lounging on her back, about to doze off.
Do what you please.
boston_bruiser2012-02-10 06:30 amVoodoo, the very distant future - Millicanoned Medal of Honor reboot part deux
Anyone out back of the bar might hear a lot of movement out by the lake. And, well...a fair amount of arguing.
"I'm telling you it's a bad idea."
"How is it a bad idea? Ain't like it's gonna hurt anyone."
"Fine, it's a stupid idea."
"Well aren't you just the beacon of moral and emotional support right now."
Anyone who catches a glimpse of these shenanigans will see a stubble-faced man in a blue polo, Oakleys, and khaki cargoes darting between a handful of steel pistol targets and duct-taping weights of various poundage to the backs of each while a honey badger looks on.
"You want moral and emotional support, I'm sure I could dig up a few clippings of Dear Abby."
"Ouch. Are you sure you're my daemon?"
"Last time I checked."
"Really? When was that?"
"About the time you pulled a Rip Van Winkle after Shepherd's last 'recruiting drive'."
"What? I wasn't that drunk."
"You told your commanding officer that there were red crayons in her hair."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't-"
"Those were her highlights."
"Well, good, now we've got that cleared up-"
"You kept mistaking her husband for an arthouse Peter Parker."
"That's bullshit-"
"You told Shepherd you'd enlist if he gave you a keg and let you wear a kilt."
"Oh, shit, really-"
"You were up on the roof for half an hour yelling about how you were going to do your 'Tarzan swan dive'."
"I think that's a little far-fetched-"
"You kept barging into the supply closet, yelling 'where's Narnia?'"
"Now that one I own up to-"
"And you asked the bartender if she was single."
"What was wrong with that?"
"Her husband was right next to you."
"Okay, that might've been a less-than-stellar judgement on my part."
"Just like this is. I'm telling you, Alyx isn't going to like this."
"What, you're psychic now?"
"No, just cynical. With your ideas, it's usually sufficient."
"You know what, I just might take you up on that Dear Abby offer."
Do what you will.
"I'm telling you it's a bad idea."
"How is it a bad idea? Ain't like it's gonna hurt anyone."
"Fine, it's a stupid idea."
"Well aren't you just the beacon of moral and emotional support right now."
Anyone who catches a glimpse of these shenanigans will see a stubble-faced man in a blue polo, Oakleys, and khaki cargoes darting between a handful of steel pistol targets and duct-taping weights of various poundage to the backs of each while a honey badger looks on.
"You want moral and emotional support, I'm sure I could dig up a few clippings of Dear Abby."
"Ouch. Are you sure you're my daemon?"
"Last time I checked."
"Really? When was that?"
"About the time you pulled a Rip Van Winkle after Shepherd's last 'recruiting drive'."
"What? I wasn't that drunk."
"You told your commanding officer that there were red crayons in her hair."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't-"
"Those were her highlights."
"Well, good, now we've got that cleared up-"
"You kept mistaking her husband for an arthouse Peter Parker."
"That's bullshit-"
"You told Shepherd you'd enlist if he gave you a keg and let you wear a kilt."
"Oh, shit, really-"
"You were up on the roof for half an hour yelling about how you were going to do your 'Tarzan swan dive'."
"I think that's a little far-fetched-"
"You kept barging into the supply closet, yelling 'where's Narnia?'"
"Now that one I own up to-"
"And you asked the bartender if she was single."
"What was wrong with that?"
"Her husband was right next to you."
"Okay, that might've been a less-than-stellar judgement on my part."
"Just like this is. I'm telling you, Alyx isn't going to like this."
"What, you're psychic now?"
"No, just cynical. With your ideas, it's usually sufficient."
"You know what, I just might take you up on that Dear Abby offer."
Do what you will.
boston_bruiser2012-02-08 04:37 amVoodoo, the very distant future - Millicanoned Medal of Honor reboot
You don't become a SEAL without picking up a few - okay, a lot - of survival skills.
"Cleaver."
Cleaning freshly caught game, be it fish, rabbit, or what-have-you, is one of them.
"Deboner."
The thing is - the techniques are limited to terrestrial fish, rabbits, and what-have-yous.
"Paring."
So when you finally get your hands on food in the form of an alien lifeform, and it's up to you to get the meat off it...
"All I see's fat. What about you?"
"Same here."
...you're kind of SOL.
"Did we check the claws?"
The honey badger across the table nods. "Bone."
"The, uh...the fuckin'...beak...thing?"
"Bone."
"The...hole?"
"Couldn't tell."
"Fuck this, I'm going with the 'hawk."
Some assistance, please?
"Cleaver."
Cleaning freshly caught game, be it fish, rabbit, or what-have-you, is one of them.
"Deboner."
The thing is - the techniques are limited to terrestrial fish, rabbits, and what-have-yous.
"Paring."
So when you finally get your hands on food in the form of an alien lifeform, and it's up to you to get the meat off it...
"All I see's fat. What about you?"
"Same here."
...you're kind of SOL.
"Did we check the claws?"
The honey badger across the table nods. "Bone."
"The, uh...the fuckin'...beak...thing?"
"Bone."
"The...hole?"
"Couldn't tell."
"Fuck this, I'm going with the 'hawk."
Some assistance, please?
The Obliteration Room, Queensland Gallery of Modern Art
Sometimes places have much more ominous names than they deserve. Take the room you've just walked into, for example. A small sign to one side indicates that it's called the Obliteration Room, and given that it's an ordinary household suite of rooms and furniture painted in matte white- entirely in matte white- that name is probably pretty unnerving.
And then if you look closer, you'll note that the Obliteration Room is in fact a participatory art installation, that there is a door out to the rest of Queensland, Australia behind you, and that you have just been issued several sheets of paper with brightly colored sticky dots on them- along with a note to apply them to the surfaces of your choice, and that other stickers and color-producing media are available on request.
No, really.
Enjoy.
[OOC: As soon as I saw this thing on Cracked I knew it needed to show up in an RP setting somewhere.]
And then if you look closer, you'll note that the Obliteration Room is in fact a participatory art installation, that there is a door out to the rest of Queensland, Australia behind you, and that you have just been issued several sheets of paper with brightly colored sticky dots on them- along with a note to apply them to the surfaces of your choice, and that other stickers and color-producing media are available on request.
No, really.
Enjoy.
[OOC: As soon as I saw this thing on Cracked I knew it needed to show up in an RP setting somewhere.]
Inaugural post- welcome aboard!
First, there was NOTHING.
Then, it EXPLODED.
And then, there was a PARTY.
... essentially, the Big Bang has just come to pass, and there is already a place with a dance floor and music and a number of roving robotic waiters, and complicated mazes of pipes and bars overhead for flying and arboreal daemons to perch on, and an area with a swimming pool lit by multicolored pulsating lights for those with aquatic daemons, and... well, you get the idea. Welcome to the beginning of everything. Everyone and his/her/its daemon is welcome so long as they behave themselves. Enjoy!
Then, it EXPLODED.
And then, there was a PARTY.
... essentially, the Big Bang has just come to pass, and there is already a place with a dance floor and music and a number of roving robotic waiters, and complicated mazes of pipes and bars overhead for flying and arboreal daemons to perch on, and an area with a swimming pool lit by multicolored pulsating lights for those with aquatic daemons, and... well, you get the idea. Welcome to the beginning of everything. Everyone and his/her/its daemon is welcome so long as they behave themselves. Enjoy!