milliways_bar | Entries tagged with deadpool

All is still in the mountains. And then the horizon erupts in flames, the deep pink and purple flaming into impossible red, as the ground shakes with the deep, deep, deep call of a drum.

A demon from an ancient world stirs.

A creature of shadow and flame, the Balrog sets the ground alight as it crawls fluidly, digging claws like steel into the earth. Fire wafts from its nostrils and eyes; fire crackles across its massive body. The odors of blood and charred flesh flood the air around it.

The Balrog surveys the bar, still a ways off. Wings stretch as it raises itself to its full height, an inferno standing firmly in place. Swinging a hand out, the Balrog conjures a fiery sword. A multi-pronged whip made of molten lava cracks in its other hand.

Its roar of challenge is deafening.

(OOC: Obvious warnings for violence in most threads, not so obvious warnings for eye squick in the Yrael thread.)

littleyellowboxes

Deadpool is sitting on a comfortable couch by the fireplace. He's surrounded by a pile of sharp objects. A couple swords, a combat knife, several pouches full of throwing knives, a few shuriken...you get the idea.

He's industriously cleaning, sharpening, and polishing all of them. It's a lot more focused energy than you usually see from Deadpool.

Oh wait, he's humming In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida under his breath, and occasionally doing an air guitar solo. He's probably fine.

littleyellowboxes

Deadpool is sitting at a table in the bar. On this table is a plate containing the remains of a burger, a few empty beer cans, a few full beer cans, and a brand new 64 pack of crayons.

He is currently occupied with a coloring book that is not work safe, nor safe for the eyes of small, easily traumatized children.

Not that we're usually work safe anyway.

"Shhh. I think it's working. I feel calmer already!"

He's also online as weirdwardWiseacre if that's more your style.

crabbycustomer

CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board MAGICAL MYSTERY BAR VIRTUAL BULLETIN BOARD

CCG: BEEN A WHILE SINCE I OPENED ONE OF THESE
CCG: LOTS OF NEW USERS
CCG: THE WAY THIS WORKS IS KIND OF A FREE FOR ALL GROUP DISCUSSION
CCG: PLEASE NOTE THAT FOR EVERYONE'S SAKE I HAVE EXCLUDED OUR PAST AND FUTURE SELVES FROM CONTRIBUTING TO THE DISCUSSION
CCG: SO THE 'CURRENT' STUFF IS MORE OR LESS VESTIGIAL AT THIS POINT
CCG: NONETHELESS....
CCG: LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT, LET'S TALK ABOUT OUR PAST AND FUTURE SELVES
CCG: HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THEM?
CCG: DO YOU EVER BLAME YOUR PAST SELF FOR YOUR CURRENT PREDICAMENTS?
CCG: OR MAKE DECISIONS IN THE PRESENT WITH THE INTENTION OF LEAVING THE PROBLEM UP TO YOUR FUTURE SELF?
CCG: IF YOU COULD TALK TO YOUR PAST OR FUTURE SELF WHAT WOULD YOU SAY?
CCG: NOT DUMB TIMELINE GAMES, I'M TALKING ABOUT PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS HERE
CCG: INSULTS, APOLOGIES, QUESTIONS, SHARING JOKES?
CCG: WHATEVER
CCG: ALTERNATE SELVES FROM CHOICES NOT MADE ARE ALSO FAIR GAME

[ooc: In and out through the day; feel free to tag in & talk among yourselves even if I'm not around!]

crabbycustomer

Karkat, of course, posts his notice every week. For the last several months he's been posting it on the other bulletin board. You know, the other one, over there. Right, that one, over on the fourth wall. Just off-camera. Next to Minkus.

But this week it's back on the usual one.

ATTENTION BAR DENIZENS

OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF MY EMPATHY BLADDER I, KARKAT VANTAS, HAVE CHOSEN TO SHARE WITH YOU AN EXTREMELY USEFUL COMMUNICATION UTILITY FROM MY REALITY, SUITABLY PARED DOWN AND SIMPLIFIED FOR EASE OF USE.

IT IS CALLED T MINUS.

IT IS A CHAT CLIENT. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A CHAT CLIENT IS, IT IS A SYSTEM FOR LONG-DISTANCE TEXT-BASED COMMUNICATION BETWEEN TWO PEOPLE OVER THE INTERNET. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE INTERNET IS YOU HAD BETTER COME TALK TO ME PERSONALLY BEFORE YOU OVERWHELM YOURSELF WITH THIS THING. BUT TRUST ME, IT IS PRETTY COOL.

IT SHOULD WORK INTERDIMENSIONALLY, WITHIN MILLIWAYS OR FROM YOUR WORLD TO MILLIWAYS. OR WITHIN YOUR WORLD, I GUESS. UNLESS IT MALFUNCTIONS. IF IT MALFUNCTIONS PLEASE LET ME KNOW SO I CAN GO BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF THE SERVER WITH A CROWBAR. A MAGICAL CROWBAR THAT FIXES COMPUTERs ~~GLITCHES~~. IT ALSO SUPPORTS FUNCTIONALITY FOR BULLETIN BOARD POSTINGS THAT ARE VISIBLE TO EVERYONE FROM A HANDHELD DEVICE, PASSING UP OR SUPPLEMENTING THIS ANTIQUATED PIECE OF SHIT.

IT ONLY RUNS ON DEVICES FROM MY WORLD. I AM SUBSIDIZING THESE IF YOU WANT TO GET ONE FROM THE BAR BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GET A USERBASE STARTED ON THIS THING. IT IS ORGANIC TECHNOLOGY SO PLEASE REMEMBER TO FEED IT, THERE ARE INSTRUCTIONS LOADED ON THE FUCKING THINGS. OR COME TALK TO ME. I AM THE GREY KID WITH THE HORNS, I AM PRETTY HARD TO MISS. ACTUALLY THERE ARE A FEW GREY KIDS WITH HORNS AROUND BUT PROBABLY ANY OF US CAN HELP YOU.

YOU CAN TAKE ONE WITHOUT TALKING TO ME, I DON'T CARE, BUT IF YOU NEED SOMEONE TO HOLD YOUR FROND I AM AROUND. OR TRY MESSAGING ME FIRST TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE SET UP CORRECTLY.

MY USER NAME IS chirurGeneralist.

adamantiumloner

The front door opens and a man saunters in from parts undisclosed.

He bellies up to the bar, but before he can get an order in a shot in a glass appears pinning down a note. Logan eyes them both; reading the note with the glass in hand.

"Yer kiddin', right?"

Another note appears, this time with a bottle.

Draining the shot glass, Logan heaves a sigh.

"Fine."

An eye patch pops up beside the bottle and he snorts.

"Yer funny."

Grabbing bottle and shot glass he rounds the counter to the other side. The notes and eye patch get brushed off the counter into the trash bin and he contemplates the specials board a moment before chalking in a few items.

Specials
Wild Turkey
Jack and Coke
Anything Canadian

That done he pours himself a shot from the bottle of bourbon Bar gave him and waits to see where this is going to go.

cutting_edgex23

[OOM, after this: Now entering Avengers Arena, a.k.a Murderworld . . . . . the last two people Arcade was ever expecting.]

[Warning for violence and some death.]

littleyellowboxes

There's nothing quite like trashy late night TV, even at the end of the universe.

Especially when you have infinite channels.

Deadpool sits at a table and stares at one of the mounted TVs, completely rapt. On screen, a Doberman wearing a police hat appears to be interrogating a suspicious looking Pomeranian. 'I'm no stoolie!' the dog says. 'I'm a purebred!'

"He's totally lying," Deadpool informs no one in particular. He pulls his mask up far enough to shove some cheese doodles in his mouth. The scars are very evident, but not particularly noteworthy when put up against the rest of his outfit, weapons, and choice of TV shows.

[OOC: Mercy, you nerds! I'm going to bed. I'll be back tomorrow. This post is closed for now. He'll be back again.]

littleyellowboxes

The front door opens. There's sounds of chaos and a firefight from outside, shouts, and a vaguely squishy THUNK.

Then a BOOM loud enough to rattle the silverware on the nearest tables.

"Ha! Maybe that'll learn ya!"

Continued gunfire suggests that it has not, in fact, learned them. Moments later, the world famed mercenary DEADPOOL staggers into the bar. He's tall! Strong! Manly!

Oh god, he's a little on fire. And possibly covered in blood.

It's fine. That's why the outfit is red!

"Cool! Hallucinatory bar." He manages to haul himself up onto a bar stool, and promptly stares off into space. Not that you can tell with the mask.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

The cocktail party upstairs is in full swing.

wadewilsonsdead.livejournal.com

Oh snap.

Deadpool.

Bar.

He's eating peanut butter out of the jar.

By dipping a candy bar into it and spooning it into his mouth.

Tasty!

tim-drake.livejournal.com

When Robin realized that he was no longer in the hospital where they had gone to check on the mysterious cases of illnesses, he was conflicted whether he was glad to escape the gloom of the situation or irritated from being taken during such an important time. It was a good thing that the time spent here was relatively fast in comparison to the time flow of his world.

Deciding that he could take a break from the depressing situation and distrubing revelation that he had come from, Robin took a seat at one of the booths for a rest. He figured that once he felt more refreshed that he would return to the chaos waiting for him in the world he lived in. He even decided to try a milkshake because Kon seemed to insistent about it before.

So there Robin was, sitting in one of the corner booths, sipping his milkshake and gnawing on his straw.

i_vanquish_evil

[ooc: Pre-Milliways]

A 7-foot werewolf flies through the doors of Milliways, crushing a couple chairs in the process. The beast is still for only a moment before it roars to its feet, drawing itself to its full height, ears twitching at the noise, nose sniffing at the air. It knows something is different, but not exactly what.

The beast appears to be searching for something.

In the distance, heard through the open doors, the chime of a clock at quarter to the hour can be heard...

[ooc: thread locked to the people on this list - but feel free to react in outside posts if you want.

Characters being injured will each have their own thread inside the post.]

ETA: werewolf, slayer, vampire, etc violence... there's LOTS...

fire-and-life.livejournal.com

She--she thinks she is a she--she thinks she thinks, though she's not sure she should be doing that, really--has many names. The Phalkon, and the Phoenix, and the Force, the Chaos-Bringer and the Black Angel, and a thousand others from beings of all planets.

But she thinks--if she can think--that she once had another name, not a title. But it wasn't really hers.

The name that feels truest is Phoenix, she thinks. If she can think.

So Phoenix enters Milliways for the first time, fire and burning energy and light and brightness in the form of a woman.

Eyes that aren't really eyes curiously study the inhabitants as she stands, uncertain.

wadewilsonsdead.livejournal.com

So there's Deadpool.

And he's singing again. Loudly.

"WELL I'M PROUD TO BE A CANADIAN
WHERE AT LEAST I KNOW I'M FREE
AND I WON'T FORGET THE BEERS I'VE DRUNK
AND THE HOCKEY THAT I'VE SEEN
AND I'LL GLADLY THROW UP!
NEXT TO YOU
ON A BENDER STILL TODAY
CAUSE THERE AIN'T NO DOUBT THAT I GOT NO GRAMMAR...
GOD BLESS THE... aw, fuck it. I'll never rhyme ANYTHING with 'grammar'."

He laughs at his own witty political commentary and continues to the bar.

prydeful

Kitty enters, reading. Think Belle from Beauty of the Beast, not looking up. Except she doesn't really bother with the walking around people or things bit. Just through them, til she orders a cup of coffee and settles at a booth.

wadewilsonsdead.livejournal.com

CRASHING THROUGH THE BAR
DRINKING FROM A JAR
DEADPOOL (DEADPOOL!!)
DEADPOOL (DEADPOOL!!)
WAY WAY LATE AT NIGHT
HE IS NOT QUITE RIGHT
DEADPOOL (DEADPOOL!!)
DEADPOOL (DEADPOOL!!)
NOWHERE TO RUN
NOWHERE TO HIDE
HERE'S A BAR WITH HIM INSIIIIIIIIIIDE
HE BROUGHT ASTROGLIDE!
DEADPOOOOOOOOOL
THE REAL CANADIAN PSYCHO!
DEADPOOL IS THERE!
KILLING FOR MONEY WHENEVER THERE'S CASH
OVER LAND AND SEA AND AIR
DEADPOOL IS THERE!*

By "there" we mean in the bar. And singing that. Loudly.

*with all due apologies to whoever wrote the GIJoe movie theme.

wadewilsonsdead.livejournal.com

Deadpool sidles into the bar, creepin' while you peepin'.

He also is DEFINITELY looking for a certain someone. A certain blue winged mountain-dwelling someone.

But he's willing to talk to the rest of you lot, too.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace is in the bar. But you knew that.
She's curled up in the darkest corner of what she has deemed 'her' booth, and a mug of hot cocoa sits steaming away on the table next to her. She's watching the bar, quietly, keeping an eye out for further develpments.
If you want to talk to her, I promise she won't bite.

...

Hard.

wadewilsonsdead.livejournal.com

(oom: A Very Important Phone Call.)

Deadpool trudges back into Milliways, something very... defiant in his posture. Well, as defiant as you can be while pushing a shopping cart loaded down with about a dozen 2' by 1' boxes marked FRAGILE in bold letters.

Regardless, there he is, against his better judgement.

timsbooks.livejournal.com

*Tims singing again. Sorry.*

As I walk through the valley where I harvest my grain
I take a look at my wife and realize she's very plain
But that's just perfect for an Amish like me
You know, I shun fancy things like electricity
At 4:30 in the morning I'm milkin' cows
Jebediah feeds the chickens and Jacob plows... fool
And I've been milkin' and plowin' so long that
Even Ezekiel thinks that my mind is gone
I'm a man of the land, I'm into discipline
Got a Bible in my hand and a beard on my chin
But if I finish all of my chores and you finish thine
Then tonight we're gonna party like it's 1699

We been spending most our lives
Living in an Amish paradise
I've churned butter once or twice
Living in an Amish paradise
It's hard work and sacrifice
Living in an Amish paradise
We sell quilts at discount price
Living in an Amish paradise

*Tim chuckles and slips into his normal seat. Bah.*

susan-death.livejournal.com

The door opens and a young woman walks in.
She is dressed sensibly and modestly, looks like a school teacher or governess, and is generally wholy unremarkable, except for the black stripe in her white-blonde hair, which is tied back in a stern bun. She is carrying a plain black umbrella* which she shakes dry and she enters and looks around.

She is clearly suprised to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings, but is noticeably not shocked, just annoyed. From the Look on her face, you should probably be hoping she isn't annoyed at you.

"All right, which one of you is it this time?" She says to the air in general, looking around for a person** she recognises.

Susan Sto Helit has entered Milliways.

*which she absolutely didn't fly in with. She's not that kind of governess.

**or possibly a rat

etananesoe.livejournal.com

How sad droop the willows by Zalal's fair side,
If reality could scream, she would. Rather than the gradual fading of Morpheus, or the simple presence of the other Endless, Nyarlathotep has torn a hole between the Dreaming and the waking world. He is there, tall and black, cold and red-eyed. His hands rest on Moiraine's shoulders, tilted slightly inward. The claws on his smallest fingers touch just above the top of her breasts.
Where so lately I stray'd with my raven-hair'd bride;
She is there with the rough and primal sound of good leather rustling against silk. From ground to throat, she is encased in it. A dark blue which is nearly black, but not quite, the dress is almost like armor. It is fitted tightly at the top, nearly a corset but not quite, with lapels similar to a man's suit coat. The skirt is full, held out by petticoats rather than hoops. It has embossed on it and lightly painted pictures of the napthalot flower. Her collar and cuffs have a spill of ruffled silk; a nearly cerulean color which is almost obscenely bright against the near-black of the leather.
Ev'ry light-floating lily, each flow'r on the shore,
He is, in his way, protective of her. He is, in his way, caring. He glances up from her, to smile at the room. It is not a comfortable smile.
Folds in sorrow since Moiraine can see them no more!

wadewilsonsdead.livejournal.com

OMG WTF DEDPUL BAR!

check it out, there he is, stomping his feet and clapping his hands.

"Hey! Hey-ey! I gotcha money, dontcha worry! Hey! Hey-ey!"

(ooc: click that link, you will be pleased!)