Knowhere IC

[Filtered to R³]

Foun' some land. Good land, good location.

Bought it t'day. Ya'll wanna come an' take a look? Got plenty room. T'ink we oughta put in a pool. 'Dis place need a fuckin' pool.

Wave pool. Artificial sun. Need a fuckin' tan. Have some sand shipped in. Indoor beach.

Make 'dis place 'de paradise people missin' back home.

How the hell do you guys stay warm in this thing? I'm wearing like three layers and I still feel like my fingers are gonna fall off.

(  Filtered to Mary Winchester  )

Tribbles have managed to cause multiple power outages in the Med Bay. (There's a sentence I never thought I'd write.) Are there any generators around or someone willing to head to Earth and pick one up for us? We should probably have a couple generators here in case of emergency anyway.

Dis' place got gutters deeper'en da' pots at the Breaux Bridge Crawfish festival.

Startin' ta' feel more like 'ome everyday.

[ Rocket and the Remys ]
Be thinkin' it be about close to time to start puttin' things in place on somethin' more lucerative d'en watchin' people all day. Rumblin' is d'ere be new players takin' over turf and if there be power up for grabs, and we be stuck in space, d'en maybe now be the time to make a move on gettin' the new Casino up and runnin' no? Take advantage of the chaos.

Who: Gambit (1610) & Laura Kinney
What: Running into the little Logan!
When: Sometime mid-day *Backdated to July*
Where: The Marketplace
Rating: Triggers for possible violence and language -- and because Laura, will update as needed: Current trigger tags: Minor mentions of past abuse.
Status: Log - Complete

( Good Lord, was she stealing? Merde, did she suck at it! )

Let's play a game! We'll call it interesting fact. Tell me something interesting about the place you come from.

The winner gets a prize.

What's fun here? Or should I start looking for a way to get my Viper off this spacehead?

Who: Gambit and Killian
What: An inevitable meeting.
When: 4 September
Where: Starlin's Bar / Gambit's Abode
Rating: Drinking, swearing and prostitution.
Status: Complete

( A person could disappear in that crowd. )

I'm hungry.

Who: Harry Dresden & Gambit
What: Angry Harry goes to talk to Gambit about Ed.
When: Directly after this.
Where: Gambit’s Apartment - 127
Rating: PG-13
Status: Log - Complete

( Harry snorted but didn't stop moving. ‘Nah. Sorry man, I've got a date with a hot blonde.’ Texas, damnit. Not York. )

Who: Laura Kinney (MCU!AU and BB! Remy! (MCU-AU)
What: Kid Gambit meets Kid Wolverine
Where: Somewhere on Knowhere, maybe around the Markets?
When: During the tropes plot
Rating: Who knows will update as needed, they’re weird kids.
Status: Log, incomplete due to character drop.
Notes: I tried to post this before midnight, but am late, but it obviously all happened before the drop, so it happened for Aug activity.


( Laura simply hadn’t been expecting someone her size. )

T' whoever lef' ( 'dese ) on m' apartmen' doorknob..

Merci.

Just when you start to think you seen everything, people be comin' back with stories that make you sure glad you missed a thing or two.

[ Lil Red, Rocket Raccoon ]

Since d'ere be evidence to suggest maybe dis' job not gon' be lastin' forever, and it seems criminal there be so few places for d'ese 'ere hard workin' Knowhere folks to be losin' d'ey money. Seems that maybe now be da' best time to be sittin' down and maybe seein' what we do about that hm?

[ Rogue ]

Been thinkin' we overdue for a trip back to Bayou for some proper food, together dis' time. What say you hm?

Who: York, Gambit & Hawke (OPEN to Natasha, or anyone else in Collarverse!)
What: Gambit's shooting up flares so Hawke can find them.
When: A short time after they arrive.
Where: Collarverse!
Rating: PG
Status: Completed

( Gambit had said he could make it a bigger explosion, but there was really no reason to. )

[Filtered to Sabo]

[No where near as accomplished as Sabo, but the Cajun doesn't care -- his singing voice is just fine, thanks! As long as you're comparing him to dying sheep.]

"Show me 'de way't'go home, bum bum
I'm tire' an' I wanna t'bed!
I had uh lil' drink 'bout an hour ago
An' it gone righ' t'm'head!
Wherever I may roam, bum bum
O' land o' sea o' foam,
Can always hear me singin' 'dis song
Show me 'de way t' go home."

Y' know, y' wanna go out partyin' an' get trashe', shoul' letta guy know, coulda taken y' home an' taken 'vantage of ya.

Who: The Twelfth Doctor / Everybody who went to look for the idiot
What: The Doctor has skirted away in his TARDIS and his friends are coming for him
When: Time is irreverent.
Where: Space, the final frontier
Rating: Nothing above PG- 13, I'd say
Status: Open - Ongoing

[I'm still very much on hiatus because busy at work, but feeling antsy and I want to RP the Doctor. Comment with your character's reaction and let me know if you want to develop it into a full blown scene, which I promise to get to once I'm back in the swing of things )

( He's going to try his best to avoid Issues... )

I have to be honest. I never thought in a million years I'd ever get to say 'I crawled on the face of a celestial.'

But today I did. I've been using some of the equipment and materials on Knowhere to see if I could upgrade my webshooters to work in space (so far, not so successful), and also working on getting my wall crawling to work on surfaces in space THROUGH a space suit. That was definitely successful.

Now I need lunch. Or dinner. What time is it? I never know anymore.

We got suspicious activity in de shadows, we got folk who like collectin' t'ings dat ain't deirs, an' we got plenty o' folk who'd jus' as soon kill y' as let y' have a piece o' dat profit from de mines. 'bout de only t'ings missin' t' make dis place de Big Easy is class and Mardi Gras.

Need a wizard?

I'm open for business. Consulting advice, lost items found, private investigations, magical know-how.

I don't produce endless purses, love potions, or contract for entertainment or parties. I'm a wizard, not a stage magician.

Need an appointment? Contact Castiel.

[ooc: be aware of mentions of rape in the comments]

( Dropped on Harry Dresden's doorstep, with a neatly written note )