MULTI-PUP POST!
So, in celebration (or anticipation, you be the judge) of her forthcoming university-goingness, this management would like to bring you a post of many pups. Fair warning: I move in officially on Sunday, so my net-time is likely to be limited. Slowtimes may well be very slow slowtimes indeed, in other words.
ANYWAY.
Sam Linnfer has acquired a very large ice cream (raspberry and cream) cone and is determinedly pretending it's still summer. He's sitting on a table with a good view of the bar, swinging his legs immaturely and licking ice cream as he people-watches.
Being Bound is beginning to get dull. He hasn't found someone new to sleep with in days, even.
Someone come entertain the bored!slut!Lucifer.
~
Molly Hayes is still not sure whether or not she's supposed to be grounded. She's consequently up in the lower rafters (less noticeable), leaning comfortably against a strut and blowing big pink bubbles (blame Bar, she gave her the bottle of bubble-mixture) and also peoplewatching.
The bubbles are getting larger as she gets the hang of it, so she's probably quite noticeable by now. Oh well.
~
There is a tiny figure standing in the doorway, beaming.
"...Well, at last, dahling."
The three feet of pure ego otherwise known as Edna Mode has not seen the Bar in a long time. And she still earnestly believes it needs a makeover, pronto. So she's currently sitting at a very tall stool (it's better not to ask how she got up there), sipping a bright blue cocktail that's as tall as she is, scribbling frenziedly at a pad of paper and chattering to herself, very fast.
ANYWAY.
Sam Linnfer has acquired a very large ice cream (raspberry and cream) cone and is determinedly pretending it's still summer. He's sitting on a table with a good view of the bar, swinging his legs immaturely and licking ice cream as he people-watches.
Being Bound is beginning to get dull. He hasn't found someone new to sleep with in days, even.
Someone come entertain the bored!slut!Lucifer.
~
Molly Hayes is still not sure whether or not she's supposed to be grounded. She's consequently up in the lower rafters (less noticeable), leaning comfortably against a strut and blowing big pink bubbles (blame Bar, she gave her the bottle of bubble-mixture) and also peoplewatching.
The bubbles are getting larger as she gets the hang of it, so she's probably quite noticeable by now. Oh well.
~
There is a tiny figure standing in the doorway, beaming.
"...Well, at last, dahling."
The three feet of pure ego otherwise known as Edna Mode has not seen the Bar in a long time. And she still earnestly believes it needs a makeover, pronto. So she's currently sitting at a very tall stool (it's better not to ask how she got up there), sipping a bright blue cocktail that's as tall as she is, scribbling frenziedly at a pad of paper and chattering to herself, very fast.