First Entrance

[biggerstingers]

The front door opens and a young woman of variable size backs in, voice raised.

“Hank! Have you even seen the size of this place? I didn’t know you could go down... that... I’m pretty sure there isn’t supposed to be anyone else here right now.”

Milliways, Janet Van Dyne. Wasp, Milliways. Try not to shoot each other. Much.

(Mostly) Tinytag: Wasp
OOC: This is me throwing this up and heading directly to bed, but it's open until it scrolls and who doesn't love slowtime?

(no subject)

[askwhatsreal.livejournal.com]

oom, pre-milliways:
[annie cresta]

   The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
It seems farther than ever before

(no subject)

[crabbycustomer]

[OOC: Some time ago, Karkat left the bar and returned to his doomed asteroid.

OOM: If this is how you folks make art it's fucking depressing]

Karkat returns to the bar considerably worse for wear.

There's the colors on his shirt; liberal smears of magenta and jade green, with smudges on his hands and face, along with pinkish smudges on his face, as if he's been grubbing around in paint. But it's not grub sauce. There's a meaty, bloody smell that hangs around it. It's a smell he's very very familiar with. Under it his grey skin is greyer, pastier than ever; his hair is a rat's nest.

There's the way he moves, like somebody cut the connection between his sponge and his stems and they're just kind of wandering on their own, and the slow, dream-like eyes that move around the bar. He keeps walking for a while, and then he... stops.

He sits down, dropping into a loose cross-legged squat, and lets his (unbloodied) sickle drop from his fingers. He just sits there for a while.

[OOC: Open for whoever, forever, but will slow down after tonight. Backstory isn't really necessary to tag in, but it's there if you're curious!]

(no subject)

[respectthegun]

Since Floyd Lawton was last seen in the bar, he has been to Hell and back.

Literally.

When he was there, he ran out of ammo, it was horrible.

You can tell by the way... actually, you can't tell at all, really. His post-traumatic surly self is much the same as his usual surly self, in many ways. Certainly, this isn't the first time he's come into the bar and immediately leant against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

He'll order a dirnk as well, in a minute.

(no subject)

[real_or_notreal]

It's Sunday, again.

Peeta really hates Sundays.







Which makes him quite relieved to find The Door.
And kiss his whole damn world goodbye for a while.

(no subject)

[v-accidentprone.livejournal.com]

Alex has a rucksack full of books and is entirely prepared to spend a few hours at Milliways working on homework so he has plenty of time to play football later. (Yeah, Milliways is weird, but he's not stupid; he's been offered a godsend to his free time, and he'll take it.) But he swings by the bar first to get a snack, and instead receives a note politely requesting that he tend the bar.

He stares at it. "You do know I'm only fourteen?"

Yes, the note informs him, it is aware of that.

Alex sighs and hops behind the bar, getting the idea of the layout before he attacks the specials board.

HAPPY HOUR SPECIALS
Milkshakes
(bartender is not qualified to serve alcohol)

Help the bartender with his coursework and get 2/3 off anything.

With that sorted, Alex settles behind the bar with a bag of crisps and a notebook to get in a little work in between customers.

(no subject)

[fiery_ring]

Carlotta has added riding to her list of 'Things she probably shouldn't be doing with her leg in plaster'. She missed Orion terribly when she was in Spain, and he welcomed her back with enthusiam.

Will's family were somewhat less enthusiastic, fearing she was overdoing it.

So this afternoon she's come back to the bar and managed to get on Bramble. No tricks of course, but it's refreshing to be able to move around at a normal speed. She's been for a ride around the lake, and is now approaching the stables.

Getting down might be somewhat more tricky, but she managed the acrobatics of that before.

(no subject)

[not-inkansas.livejournal.com]

Another threefer!

Quaritch is out for his morning run (or maybe just coming back in, or just going out...you decide!).

Boba Fett is at the target range, getting in some practice with some target...and probably any demon bunnies that bother him. Moving targets are always better, you know?

And Bonzo Madrid is also doing a slightly more abbreviated morning run than Col. Quaritch, but he's also going through an exercise routine of his own.