Honey, I Shrunk the Pups Plot

[sticktothemission]

This. This shit right here is why Reaper had hesitated about returning to Milliways when the Door found him again. Costumes he can tolerate. Being only a few inches tall? That's a problem.

He's currently trapped on the seat of the lazyboy by the fireplace. He can't even see over the arms of the fricking chair. He huffs and crosses his arms as a cloud of black smoke puffs off him, then reins in his agitation. Losing his temper won't help anything right now. He probably looks like an action figure when he's this tiny.




[OOC: Open forever.]

Honey, I Shrunk the Pups Plot

[cook_the_rude]

In the rafters, a very small Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting, watching things going on. He has a doll-sized glass of wine in his hands, and holds an equally tinified waitrat on his lap, stroking the shivering tinytiny creature like a villain strokes his white cat.

partially millitimed to February 16th

[configuration_birdwatcher]

Bastion walks into the bar today and is immediately redecorated by forces unknown into a shiny red-and-black colour scheme with gold accents and filigree everywhere. Ganymede, sitting on their shoulder, is unaffected (despite the icon) except for a confused chirp as his perch changes colour beneath his feet. They retract their head back in surprise, and then look down to examine their inexplicably repainted chassis, rotating their manipulator arm through its range of motion in front of their face to get a better look at the designs. From what they can see of it, it's very... intricate. Even their eyelights have changed from cyan to yellow.

After a bit of time indoors, they head out to the lake, intending to explore a part of the Milliways grounds that's not the forest. They assume that whatever the bar did to their colouration is for some kind of special occasion, but they're not sure what holiday it is now, and they're curious how much the season has changed. It looked like early spring last time, but now it's snowing. Has it been several months here? Did time run backwards at the bar? Or is it just an ordinary late-winter cold snap? The snow continues to fall.

They step back indoors somewhat later to warm up, only to discover (with some alarm) that the bar is now nearly empty of patrons. Wait, not empty. It's full of tiny people.

[OOC: The first part of the post is Millitimed to the Lunar New Year, the last part is current, and the middle stretches like taffy between the two. Catch Bastion in any of these times and places! They're still regular size, but open to tags from shrunken pups.]

(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim has been made to hike up a mountain. 

No, wait. Jim has been made. To hike. Up a mountain. Never mind that he agreed to it, that doesn't matter. Of course he was going to agree to it, because he generally has to make up for having done something awful, or put some goodwill in the bank for the next awful thing (not that Sherlock thinks in such terms, but Jim figures it can't hurt anyway). Point is, there was hiking. It was hot. There were bugs. And just when they got back and were going to the beach to get all this gross off, this door shows up. Maybe it's trying to be helpful, seeing as it's time for his three-day 'don't do the ghost thing' top-up, but he's still going to go ahead and consider it bad timing.

At least there is a cold drink. And a sofa to collapse onto, whereupon his legs immediately stiffen up to the point of pain. This is going to be agony tomorrow. Jim drinks some water - then some vodka - and internally groans.

Also, there appears to be some very small people around the place. He suspects Fuckery. Bravo, whoever did it.

Honey I Shrunk the Pups

[grandadmiralartcritic]

Thrawn, Grand Admiral of the Empire and commander of the Star Destroyer Chimaera, steps from his shuttle onto the landing pad in Coruscant --

And ends up in Milliways instead.

He is greeted by a flash of blue light, and then he is abruptly only several inches tall.

This will certainly impede his return to Lothal and the factories there. It is . . . vexing. And almost completely unexpected.

His first matter of business is, of course, to find some protective cover, and from there to evaluate his current situation. It may take him some time.