So, uh. Let’s go over the checklist.
Do you have food? Yes, you have food. Bottled water? Plenty. Food for the buns? Of course. Booze…? Yeah, you went down to Wal-Mart during the pre-hurricane rush specifically so they’d be too distracted and busy to card you, remember? Old trick someone taught you. Board games? Yup, pulled them out. Netflix? Yeah, hopefully the power stays on long enough to be able to, y’know, watch anything. Same goes for music. Guests? They’re coming soon, more than you planned. Are the buns safe? Yeah, they’re in their room, make sure to check on them, make sure people don’t bug them. Grill stuff? Taken care of. First aid kit, for humans and rabbits? Yeah. Phone charged? She was stupid, but not that stupid. Is the floor clean? Definitely.
So why be so tense, Mary?
Well, maybe it was because she invited more than she expected? Or because her parents were out of town, and if something went wrong they’d know. Or maybe it’d go wrong and everyone would talk about how much it sucked. Either way.
At least her makeup was done, though.
Mary capped the black liquid lipstick and blotted the excess off her lips. She looked fine, honestly. Today was the black tights with the constellation pattern. She tried to figure out where to go from there, until she settled on a black t-shirt that she went to town with scissors on some time ago, making a cutout neckline. Paired that with black shorts, fishnet arm warmers, a long necklace, and a choker.
After doing her hair, she took a few photos. First standing in front of the bathroom mirror, then holding the phone up and away from herself in various parts of the house. A few sets of both, before she settled on one in the living room, laying on the couch while doing a peace sign, smiling. Uploaded to Instagram.
Caption: "getting ready to chill during the hurricane!!! <333"
She didn't think the outfit or picture was that good, but sometimes it was better to keep her feed active, just to remind people she still existed. She didn't have the time right now to do a full photoshoot.
Now was the time to make sure she got everything!
Mary spent a few minutes hauling out various coolers, and party supplies. Previously she'd moved the couch and coffee table to the side, leaving some room for guests. Already there were a few items on the table. She made cupcakes last night- chocolate with cherry frosting- and left a hastily drawn note with messy handwriting saying "i'm gluten free! c:". She had a few more things, too, like potato chips with mango salsa, deviled eggs, (an attempt at using up the eggs before the power goes out), and vegetables. She had a few more things in coolers as well. Like cider! And stuff for grilling. Once people get here they could grill.
Oh, and bottled water. She doubted it could get any more extreme than a category one, but like, folks are going to be drinking too.
The whole reason why she got into this mess was because she offered a group of friends to stay over at her house during the hurricane, specifically stating "hurricane party". But then people overheard and were like " yo, party?" And Mary was like "um, yeah". And a few more people asked if they could show up, and Mary didn't say no. There was a saying in Mangrove Garden: "Invite five, invite the whole school." Well, not so much a saying as something she made up, but the gist remains. At least her house was big, was elevated with a drive-under garage, and had rounded corners. Though seeing Laura float out of the house using a couch cushion would have been hilarious. Served her right. Though, was she showing up? No idea, honestly. Just one of many trash-tier people she'd have to look out for if she decided to crawl out of streamer hell.
And hey. She specified "potluck" as well, so if she missed something someone could fill in. It was going to be like, three days of dealing with her classmates, though.
… Her parents were going to kill her. They knew she was hosting people, but she didn't tell them about what happened. All the better to keep things clean and organized and not chaotic until the party's over and they come back from their trip. They'd planned it before the hurricane even was a thing, and they were already out of town when the hurricane decided to approach Miami. She'd been calling them and stuff, of course.
Blinders on the windows? Present, the house typically had a lot of natural lighting, but the window guards were dimming it. How are the buns? She checked on them. They seemed fine, Ozzy was demolishing a cardboard box and Ivy was in her litterbox, eating hay. Best to give her privacy. Mary kept them in their room, since she had no idea if anyone in her class were bunny-nappers or something stupid like that. But she'd keep an eye on them. They kind of tolerated bad weather, but the first time they spent a hurricane with them they hid, Ivy thumping furiously. They did better now, but best to make sure they weren't freaking out. Mary made sure to lock the door to their room, just in case.
She also locked her parents' room, keeping anything particularly valuable inside. Also anything Jesus-y, because like… she didn't want people to think she was trying to convert people or something? That'd be weird. Just going to a typical hurricane party to get turnt up then SIKE. Turns out you get a lesson about our Lord and Savior. Sad thing was, she could see some people at Safe Harbors doing that.
Mary went to the front door, surveying the rules she had printed and pasted to the wall facing the front door.
Mary made a mental note to take down the sign once the party was over. She didn't want to explain 420blazeit to her old pastor dad, after all. The other sign below it, though, it could stay. It'd been there for ages, from a house party over a year ago.
It showed a picture of two adorable giant lop-earred rabbits, and another picture, this one of a men's tennis shoe with holes in the heel and toe. The caption was "please take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable! but put them on the shoe rack or they'll become OURS!!!! rip dad's shoe."
She had no idea why her parents never took it down. Maybe it was a good reminder in general or because they thought it was funny the way she phrased it, but there it stayed.
Mary couldn't think of anything to add to the rules right now, though, but the rules could change on short notice!
She went back to the living room, made sure the radio worked, set the TV to the Netflix selection page, and checked the board games. They had a fair amount of them, currently sitting on the coffee table, but if the power went out and Monopoly was making people want to kill each other they could always play a party game. Mafia, maybe? Or Truth or Dare? She needed to figure out what movie they were gonna watch while the power's on, though. Mary had her laptop sitting on the counter with Spotify open, and, with a finger press, she started the music.
Mary laid down lengthwise on the couch, replying to some text messages. It was halfway through "Heads Will Roll" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs when she heard a knock, followed by someone shouting.
Mary sat straight up. The hurricane was supposed to hit Miami this evening, but she scheduled the party to start around 4, a bit ahead of it. Leave it to people to show up around 3:30, though. Good thing she anticipated that
"Door's unlocked! Come in, make sure you read the sign!" she shouted.
Well, let's get this party rolling, she guessed!
Heads Will Roll
Mary's hurricane party, September 2020. Open!
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Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
Off somewhere in the distance somebody was playing music way too loud. Like, you couldn't make it out from the house other than it being noise? They must be passing through because it kept getting louder.
And louder.
And, oh, oh it was going straight for the house wasn't it?
A white 2019 Volvo XC40 with a messy blue-green strip cut with a thinner purple wave on each side stopped in front of Mary's house, blaring the best song ever written as loud as his speakers would go.
Rupert had heard about the party like, obviously? He heard about every party, he was the party! Wow too much parties were a lot of work and he really needed to respect that like hosting was a big deal there were a lot of details that went into it and it took a lot of courage just to like invite others to share your space and it was super rude of him to take credit for the whole thing like that oof he was glad nobody heard that unless they could read minds and if they could read minds what were they doing reading his there were way cooler brains out there that weren't thinking about how you could read minds which like if you thought about it if you were reading a mind thinking about reading minds it was kind of reading your mind because to read a mind you had to be thinking about reading your mind and eventually that'd just be a big weird loop that would probably make your head squish like when Ainsley when he biffed it off the cliff oh geez now he really hoped nobody was reading his mind because wow he could not have that on his conscience like he'd probably never even know until he cracked open a newspaper in a couple days and it was like dude this is wild there's this guy and they found him with his head exploded and he'd know it would be all on him and he'd be walking around with that on his shoulders for the rest of his life because who could you even tell about that kind of thing who would believe you but it was fine that wasn't going to happen it was ridiculous it was time to party he was here to party with his friends and have fun!
He was a little excited!
Though he had to address the elephant in the room. Mary was maybe kinda not his super biggest fan because they'd gotten off on the wrong foot a couple times? It was all him! He just, like, wasn't getting on her vibe, man, and he hadn't figured out how to make it up to her. The party was his opportunity to make that all up. There was this whole thing about how there wasn't going to be food and you were supposed to bring something which gave him this totally tubular idea: what if he brought all the food? We're talking pizzas. We're talking salads. We're talking taco packs. We're talking vegan pastas. We're talking wings. We're talking donuts, cupcakes, danishes, ice creams, if there'd been space in his car he'd try to figure out where he could get a gosh darn chocolate fountain! Next time. 'Cuz after this time there was definitely going to be a next time. Rupert was going to be the hero Mary needed and she was gonna Shake. His. Hand.
Radical.
He killed the music and hit the buttons for the back and side doors to open up. There was, uh, a lot of stuff here! Maybe he should have asked a couple people for help...but then he'd have to share the surprise! He'd got it all in there. He could probably get it all out. Definitely! Though if Mary wanted to give him a hand he wouldn't say no, and checking with her first would save a lot of awkwardness...to the front door!
And louder.
And, oh, oh it was going straight for the house wasn't it?
A white 2019 Volvo XC40 with a messy blue-green strip cut with a thinner purple wave on each side stopped in front of Mary's house, blaring the best song ever written as loud as his speakers would go.
【ＲＵＰＥＲＴ ＡＮＤＲＡＤＡ－ＨＵＢＥＲＴ ＨＥＲＥ ＴＯ ＢＬＯＷ ＵＲ ＴＡＳＴＥＢＵＤＳ ＭＹ 
Ｔ Ａ Ｓ Ｔ Ｅ Ｂ Ｕ Ｄ Ｓ】
Ｔ Ａ Ｓ Ｔ Ｅ Ｂ Ｕ Ｄ Ｓ】Rupert had heard about the party like, obviously? He heard about every party, he was the party! Wow too much parties were a lot of work and he really needed to respect that like hosting was a big deal there were a lot of details that went into it and it took a lot of courage just to like invite others to share your space and it was super rude of him to take credit for the whole thing like that oof he was glad nobody heard that unless they could read minds and if they could read minds what were they doing reading his there were way cooler brains out there that weren't thinking about how you could read minds which like if you thought about it if you were reading a mind thinking about reading minds it was kind of reading your mind because to read a mind you had to be thinking about reading your mind and eventually that'd just be a big weird loop that would probably make your head squish like when Ainsley when he biffed it off the cliff oh geez now he really hoped nobody was reading his mind because wow he could not have that on his conscience like he'd probably never even know until he cracked open a newspaper in a couple days and it was like dude this is wild there's this guy and they found him with his head exploded and he'd know it would be all on him and he'd be walking around with that on his shoulders for the rest of his life because who could you even tell about that kind of thing who would believe you but it was fine that wasn't going to happen it was ridiculous it was time to party he was here to party with his friends and have fun!
He was a little excited!
Though he had to address the elephant in the room. Mary was maybe kinda not his super biggest fan because they'd gotten off on the wrong foot a couple times? It was all him! He just, like, wasn't getting on her vibe, man, and he hadn't figured out how to make it up to her. The party was his opportunity to make that all up. There was this whole thing about how there wasn't going to be food and you were supposed to bring something which gave him this totally tubular idea: what if he brought all the food? We're talking pizzas. We're talking salads. We're talking taco packs. We're talking vegan pastas. We're talking wings. We're talking donuts, cupcakes, danishes, ice creams, if there'd been space in his car he'd try to figure out where he could get a gosh darn chocolate fountain! Next time. 'Cuz after this time there was definitely going to be a next time. Rupert was going to be the hero Mary needed and she was gonna Shake. His. Hand.
Radical.
He killed the music and hit the buttons for the back and side doors to open up. There was, uh, a lot of stuff here! Maybe he should have asked a couple people for help...but then he'd have to share the surprise! He'd got it all in there. He could probably get it all out. Definitely! Though if Mary wanted to give him a hand he wouldn't say no, and checking with her first would save a lot of awkwardness...to the front door!
Mary had just placed a fruit salad a scrawny, timid junior by the name of Cherise had handed her on the dining room table when she heard… noises. Like, barely audible music from far off. At first, she thought it was one of her neighbors hosting their own party off in the distance, but it got closer and louder. Mary squinted some. It was old people music-- good old people music, and she usually didn’t mind old people music, in fact a lot was good, but still old people music-- and it was loud. Mary stopped her attempt at removing the plastic foil, and took a deep breath. It obviously was coming from outside, so her best guess was it was someone blasting it for the whole neighborhood to hear on their car or something.
Her muscles recoiled a bit as it got even louder, the noise hitting her ears like a bat to the head. She thought she heard someone talking to her, a bit of laughter, her own music barely audible, but the music outside was still penetrating her ears like a hot knife and she couldn’t focus on anything else for a moment other than DO YOUR DANCE DO YOUR DANCE DO YOUR DANCE MAMA.
Thankfully, it stopped, and after a few seconds Mary could hear herself think again, albeit with a few aftershocks in her muscles.
Deep breath. Take a time out if you need to. But this early in the party, really self--
...
That stopped near them, didn’t it?
Might as well investigate.
Mary took another breath, and went to the front door, slipping some boots on beforehand. Once she peeped outside, she saw a gaudy car and--
Oh, that was Rupert. He was a dumb, but at least he was like… well, he wasn’t a Laura or a Marielle or even a Verity. It was just, he needed to shut up sometimes. Sometimes he didn’t know what he was talking about, or… really, how anything worked. So, yeah, he got on her nerves at times. Plus he dressed like he just piled on every piece of Nintendo memorabilia known to mankind alongside random objects from the local thrift store. Mary, of course, could appreciate a good aesthetic, you just… need to understand what you’re trying to do.
Mary stepped outside, peering closer at the van from the elevated patio. Blinked a few beats.
“Um, hey Rupert?” she said. “Uh… need help with anything?”
Her hand fiddled with her necklace for a moment. She hated how hesitantly that came out. Just deal with… whatever this is.
Her muscles recoiled a bit as it got even louder, the noise hitting her ears like a bat to the head. She thought she heard someone talking to her, a bit of laughter, her own music barely audible, but the music outside was still penetrating her ears like a hot knife and she couldn’t focus on anything else for a moment other than DO YOUR DANCE DO YOUR DANCE DO YOUR DANCE MAMA.
Thankfully, it stopped, and after a few seconds Mary could hear herself think again, albeit with a few aftershocks in her muscles.
Deep breath. Take a time out if you need to. But this early in the party, really self--
...
That stopped near them, didn’t it?
Might as well investigate.
Mary took another breath, and went to the front door, slipping some boots on beforehand. Once she peeped outside, she saw a gaudy car and--
Oh, that was Rupert. He was a dumb, but at least he was like… well, he wasn’t a Laura or a Marielle or even a Verity. It was just, he needed to shut up sometimes. Sometimes he didn’t know what he was talking about, or… really, how anything worked. So, yeah, he got on her nerves at times. Plus he dressed like he just piled on every piece of Nintendo memorabilia known to mankind alongside random objects from the local thrift store. Mary, of course, could appreciate a good aesthetic, you just… need to understand what you’re trying to do.
Mary stepped outside, peering closer at the van from the elevated patio. Blinked a few beats.
“Um, hey Rupert?” she said. “Uh… need help with anything?”
Her hand fiddled with her necklace for a moment. She hated how hesitantly that came out. Just deal with… whatever this is.
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Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
He went to knock and something about the resonance on Mary's door kinda took him, like he still had tasty bass line throbbing in his soul and this felt like the right place to get out. So he tapped a couple more times in rhythm, and a couple more, he had the whole thing going in his head so he let his body do its natural thing which right now was apparently some kinda tight spin move he didn't know he had in him dope dope dope but as he came back around to tap the door again there was "Mary!"
Rupert switched up his fists into a couple finger guns. Kachow, smooth like butter. "Yeah, I got some stuff, I was thinking maybe…" There was a distinct lack of bump and/or grinding going on behind her. Huh. "Oh, am I the first one here?" Wow what a faux pas. It could take them awhile to get all this out alone, lots of non-party effort and figuring out where everything went, long awkward stretches with just the two of them, this was...perfect!!! Nothing brought people together like the common enemy of big ol' workload! People made lifelong partnerships out of nothing because of their bad odds all the time on SotF and hey, admittedly the rest of their lives weren't that long but the spirit would stick if they'd made it out, he was sure of it! "Well, maybe I should just show you!"
Oh he was giddy now. She was gonna love this. Forget a handshake. They were going straight to Hug Buddies.
Rupert switched up his fists into a couple finger guns. Kachow, smooth like butter. "Yeah, I got some stuff, I was thinking maybe…" There was a distinct lack of bump and/or grinding going on behind her. Huh. "Oh, am I the first one here?" Wow what a faux pas. It could take them awhile to get all this out alone, lots of non-party effort and figuring out where everything went, long awkward stretches with just the two of them, this was...perfect!!! Nothing brought people together like the common enemy of big ol' workload! People made lifelong partnerships out of nothing because of their bad odds all the time on SotF and hey, admittedly the rest of their lives weren't that long but the spirit would stick if they'd made it out, he was sure of it! "Well, maybe I should just show you!"
Oh he was giddy now. She was gonna love this. Forget a handshake. They were going straight to Hug Buddies.
- ??? : Start -
There was a saying (says who?): "Invite five, invite the whole school." Dude: basic af. Lucille knew a couple some lames who wouldn't be found at a good time if dragged through the front door... Not by name she knew'em, duh.
The host, chica con lentes, was That Bitch herself, among any of many other bad bitches, Mary. Okay, like, modest exaggeration though. Mary was okay. Mary's parents probably knew her parents, not that anyone was asking. Ask Lucille and it was like, ya'know? ... Made that bitch. Only so much you could do to rescue the outfit? ... Scene, or some-kinda Melanie Martinez spin-off emo, Lucille wasn't sure what it was called but she knew its nickname Yikes. Yeah... jeez. Cute buns though. As in: bunnies. The ass might've been okay, but nothing stand-out Thicc with Chanel Cs enough that even straight girls had to peep the fit.
Car in desperate need of a paint job and a resale had stolen the closest curb spot, oof. @ the valet and move your bumper sticker ass, bitch! Lucille pulled up on 'em, parked the X5 right besides. Crazy dad trusted her on just a half-year old permit (like fuck she was complaining).
Lucille was bringing it when she stepped out, for sure. Glossy like she was waterproof. The track pants were, like, more than a hundred-proof cotton, fibers so advanced science couldn't even. Thom Browne. Baby blue. So comfy, like, dude. This was how you made a capital-letters Impression. Hoodie was a ink-black Kors- had the logo on it, as in, pretty hypebeast gauche but it'd been got on sale. Must buy- went with everything anyways, if she was going for something more casual but still money af. Only the sneaks weren't eye-popping, planning ahead and wearing the shitty Nikes in case the rain started early.
Smart like that, ya'know?
She was fronting a bit as she crossed the yard, taking it slow so she could scope 'em out. Mary was on point, hodoring against some marshmallow shape dude who... aw shit, Lucille knew 'em like she knew most of the Mangrove Manchilds. Rupert was cool, dude. Cute in a dorky way, as in, Lucille's eyes literally completely phased his outfit out like the fit didn't even exist. Might as well not have even existed for all the good it did, ya'know? It wasn't capital-letters Important.
She didn't announce herself right off, she wasn't rude. Except where it counted. She caught Mary's eye, pointed at the car. Like, bitch. Lucille was proud of herself for thinking ahead: she'd packed the fam's (as in, the ones with the sperm and eggs that had produced her own ungrateful ass) backup generator. Fuck if she were spending up to a whole two days without TV. They were running all kinds of 65 specials in primetime slots- even had the good looking talking heads on for at least some of 'em.
Honestly the only reason she was here was because her other option was joining her old folks heading out west for the rest of the week to escape the storm, and it was like, bitch: I already been out to Alta, shit's old news.
There was a saying (says who?): "Invite five, invite the whole school." Dude: basic af. Lucille knew a couple some lames who wouldn't be found at a good time if dragged through the front door... Not by name she knew'em, duh.
The host, chica con lentes, was That Bitch herself, among any of many other bad bitches, Mary. Okay, like, modest exaggeration though. Mary was okay. Mary's parents probably knew her parents, not that anyone was asking. Ask Lucille and it was like, ya'know? ... Made that bitch. Only so much you could do to rescue the outfit? ... Scene, or some-kinda Melanie Martinez spin-off emo, Lucille wasn't sure what it was called but she knew its nickname Yikes. Yeah... jeez. Cute buns though. As in: bunnies. The ass might've been okay, but nothing stand-out Thicc with Chanel Cs enough that even straight girls had to peep the fit.
Car in desperate need of a paint job and a resale had stolen the closest curb spot, oof. @ the valet and move your bumper sticker ass, bitch! Lucille pulled up on 'em, parked the X5 right besides. Crazy dad trusted her on just a half-year old permit (like fuck she was complaining).
Lucille was bringing it when she stepped out, for sure. Glossy like she was waterproof. The track pants were, like, more than a hundred-proof cotton, fibers so advanced science couldn't even. Thom Browne. Baby blue. So comfy, like, dude. This was how you made a capital-letters Impression. Hoodie was a ink-black Kors- had the logo on it, as in, pretty hypebeast gauche but it'd been got on sale. Must buy- went with everything anyways, if she was going for something more casual but still money af. Only the sneaks weren't eye-popping, planning ahead and wearing the shitty Nikes in case the rain started early.
Smart like that, ya'know?
She was fronting a bit as she crossed the yard, taking it slow so she could scope 'em out. Mary was on point, hodoring against some marshmallow shape dude who... aw shit, Lucille knew 'em like she knew most of the Mangrove Manchilds. Rupert was cool, dude. Cute in a dorky way, as in, Lucille's eyes literally completely phased his outfit out like the fit didn't even exist. Might as well not have even existed for all the good it did, ya'know? It wasn't capital-letters Important.
She didn't announce herself right off, she wasn't rude. Except where it counted. She caught Mary's eye, pointed at the car. Like, bitch. Lucille was proud of herself for thinking ahead: she'd packed the fam's (as in, the ones with the sperm and eggs that had produced her own ungrateful ass) backup generator. Fuck if she were spending up to a whole two days without TV. They were running all kinds of 65 specials in primetime slots- even had the good looking talking heads on for at least some of 'em.
Honestly the only reason she was here was because her other option was joining her old folks heading out west for the rest of the week to escape the storm, and it was like, bitch: I already been out to Alta, shit's old news.
Upcoming:
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
In a quarter mile, turn left.
Fisk drummed his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat of a Talking Heads cover that Fisk thought was the original blaring on his spotify, his mom's white mini cooper with black stripes going seven over the speed limit like the real criminal Fisk was. Fisk liked parties. Well, no, that was an understatement. Fisk loved parties. Of course Fisk wasn't all too excited about the reasoning behind this current one, natural disasters were only cool when it happened somewhere else where Fisk can watch on the internet in the safety of his own room, and not danger close, but honestly Fisk wasn't worried. Worst case scenario Dad would pay for whatever damages occurred to their home, it'd just be an inconvenience for the next month or so. Still, barring that, Fisk was excited for the party, if not the reasoning behind it.
All in all, they were plain and simple fun. A social gathering where people gather around from all walks of life to play the great social game. Truthfully, everyone comes for the same reason, to flex. Either money, looks, or 'charisma', everyone shows up to one up another. Most people fail, and make asses out of themselves. When alcohol is involved, that percentage increases. Fisk however, never fails. All three he would pass with flying colors, any day, alcohol or not, because Fisk had a secret fourth attribute that you couldn't just fake.
Class.
If you didn't have class, then you simply didn't have a chance. You were doomed from the get go. Fisk sang along to the song. "Can't sleep coz my bed's on fire~ Don't touch me cause I'm a real live wiiire~"
Turn Left Now.
He blinked. "Shit!" Fisk missed his turn after bastardizing the French language, mimicking the vocalization's he had heard without actually knowing those words or even what they meant. Fuck it, he'll do a Euey and turn around when he gets the opening.
...Anyways.
Class.
If you want to succeed at a social gathering, you need class. Why? Because everyone in their life has made a social foe-pass. You're going to make a mistake, there's no doubt about it, and nothing you can do to avoid it. You flex your new watch to the kid with the Rolex, you don't realize your fly is unzipped after a bathroom break until you're wondering why people are giggling at you with your legs spread on the sofa, you stutter and forget your pickup line, all those things that Fisk has encountered, not personally of course, not that he'd admit anyways, but thing's he's seen and noticed. If you don't have class, after those little incidents you're done. Finito, over. With class, you can bounce right back. That bouncing back makes all the difference.
Also, bringing three gallons of Milo's sweet tea and a Tupperware filled with three packs worth of tempura fried oreos help. Can't go wrong with that kind of flex, because let's be real, you're the tempura fried oreos guy. Outside of the most incel-like behavior, whatever mistake you make will be quickly forgotten. Course that was only if you were the tempura fried oreos guy. You add on well dressed, good looking, and rich to that, and you get Fisk Bateman.
Speaking of well dressed, Fisk was certainly flexing in that department too. With a pink and white striped double breasted sport coat, black button up, white satin vest, and fitted black suit pants, you already couldn't top that. Add in the accessories of his brand new brogues, with metal heels and toes, engraved in roses and floor dee lay, along with a magenta ascot, and some *literal* rose tinted aviators and you had a recipe for turning heads. Admittedly, the sport coat was tailor made for a costume he was bringing to a Halloween party, but nobody knew that yet. Ten thirty one comes along, and people will see him as Angel Dust, sure, but until then, he was the Great motherfucking Gatsby.
You have arrived at your destination.
"Thank you Siri, I'm aware of that." Fisk took note of his surroundings as he pulled up into the driveway behind the other vehicles. Speaking of Class, there was Lucille first, who depending on the day was a diceroll as to whether Fisk was sarcastic about that or not. Next was Rupert who was the anti-thesis to class, but what he lacked in tact he compensated with enthusiasm, so he was bearable. Sometimes. Finally was the main event herself. The one who risked her house for this whole shindig, considering the hurricane and the type of dipshits that may or may not also be showing up. Mary was a much braver individual than Fisk was, that was for certain. Had he tried doing something like this at his house, father would've gone Red Foreman upon him with the amounts of boot to ass he would receive. Also forced child labor and potential heat strokes would ensue too...
Fisk parked his car, and reached around in his glove box. Pack of Marlboros, pack of matches, because a lighter just wasn't that classy. Neither was smoking, and Fisk wasn't a smoker, but he made the appearance that he was, lighting up for a dramatic entry was rather common, because first impressions were everything. All prepped up and ready to go, Fisk hopped out, and closed the door with his hip as he brought the cig to his mouth. He struck the match, and brought it up, lighting the cancer stick. He made sure to take short breaths of it so he wouldn't cough or hiccup, first impressions were everything, before shaking the match out, and flicking it away into the street with his finger as he began to stride over to the group. "Gooood~" Fisk checked his watch as he put away the pack of smokes into his breast pocket. "-Afternoon, ladies and... Gent." He hated introductions where there was multiples of one gender but a singular of another, made everything all awkward to say. This fucking cigarette sucked by the way. The shit he had to do to make a good first impression...
"Anything I can do to assist y'all?" First impressions guys. Distance yourself from the other rich boys by offering to help. Throw in a 'yall, for that added southern gentleman effect. Add on everything else previously mentioned.
Class.
Fisk drummed his fingers along the steering wheel to the beat of a Talking Heads cover that Fisk thought was the original blaring on his spotify, his mom's white mini cooper with black stripes going seven over the speed limit like the real criminal Fisk was. Fisk liked parties. Well, no, that was an understatement. Fisk loved parties. Of course Fisk wasn't all too excited about the reasoning behind this current one, natural disasters were only cool when it happened somewhere else where Fisk can watch on the internet in the safety of his own room, and not danger close, but honestly Fisk wasn't worried. Worst case scenario Dad would pay for whatever damages occurred to their home, it'd just be an inconvenience for the next month or so. Still, barring that, Fisk was excited for the party, if not the reasoning behind it.
All in all, they were plain and simple fun. A social gathering where people gather around from all walks of life to play the great social game. Truthfully, everyone comes for the same reason, to flex. Either money, looks, or 'charisma', everyone shows up to one up another. Most people fail, and make asses out of themselves. When alcohol is involved, that percentage increases. Fisk however, never fails. All three he would pass with flying colors, any day, alcohol or not, because Fisk had a secret fourth attribute that you couldn't just fake.
Class.
If you didn't have class, then you simply didn't have a chance. You were doomed from the get go. Fisk sang along to the song. "Can't sleep coz my bed's on fire~ Don't touch me cause I'm a real live wiiire~"
Turn Left Now.
He blinked. "Shit!" Fisk missed his turn after bastardizing the French language, mimicking the vocalization's he had heard without actually knowing those words or even what they meant. Fuck it, he'll do a Euey and turn around when he gets the opening.
...Anyways.
Class.
If you want to succeed at a social gathering, you need class. Why? Because everyone in their life has made a social foe-pass. You're going to make a mistake, there's no doubt about it, and nothing you can do to avoid it. You flex your new watch to the kid with the Rolex, you don't realize your fly is unzipped after a bathroom break until you're wondering why people are giggling at you with your legs spread on the sofa, you stutter and forget your pickup line, all those things that Fisk has encountered, not personally of course, not that he'd admit anyways, but thing's he's seen and noticed. If you don't have class, after those little incidents you're done. Finito, over. With class, you can bounce right back. That bouncing back makes all the difference.
Also, bringing three gallons of Milo's sweet tea and a Tupperware filled with three packs worth of tempura fried oreos help. Can't go wrong with that kind of flex, because let's be real, you're the tempura fried oreos guy. Outside of the most incel-like behavior, whatever mistake you make will be quickly forgotten. Course that was only if you were the tempura fried oreos guy. You add on well dressed, good looking, and rich to that, and you get Fisk Bateman.
Speaking of well dressed, Fisk was certainly flexing in that department too. With a pink and white striped double breasted sport coat, black button up, white satin vest, and fitted black suit pants, you already couldn't top that. Add in the accessories of his brand new brogues, with metal heels and toes, engraved in roses and floor dee lay, along with a magenta ascot, and some *literal* rose tinted aviators and you had a recipe for turning heads. Admittedly, the sport coat was tailor made for a costume he was bringing to a Halloween party, but nobody knew that yet. Ten thirty one comes along, and people will see him as Angel Dust, sure, but until then, he was the Great motherfucking Gatsby.
You have arrived at your destination.
"Thank you Siri, I'm aware of that." Fisk took note of his surroundings as he pulled up into the driveway behind the other vehicles. Speaking of Class, there was Lucille first, who depending on the day was a diceroll as to whether Fisk was sarcastic about that or not. Next was Rupert who was the anti-thesis to class, but what he lacked in tact he compensated with enthusiasm, so he was bearable. Sometimes. Finally was the main event herself. The one who risked her house for this whole shindig, considering the hurricane and the type of dipshits that may or may not also be showing up. Mary was a much braver individual than Fisk was, that was for certain. Had he tried doing something like this at his house, father would've gone Red Foreman upon him with the amounts of boot to ass he would receive. Also forced child labor and potential heat strokes would ensue too...
Fisk parked his car, and reached around in his glove box. Pack of Marlboros, pack of matches, because a lighter just wasn't that classy. Neither was smoking, and Fisk wasn't a smoker, but he made the appearance that he was, lighting up for a dramatic entry was rather common, because first impressions were everything. All prepped up and ready to go, Fisk hopped out, and closed the door with his hip as he brought the cig to his mouth. He struck the match, and brought it up, lighting the cancer stick. He made sure to take short breaths of it so he wouldn't cough or hiccup, first impressions were everything, before shaking the match out, and flicking it away into the street with his finger as he began to stride over to the group. "Gooood~" Fisk checked his watch as he put away the pack of smokes into his breast pocket. "-Afternoon, ladies and... Gent." He hated introductions where there was multiples of one gender but a singular of another, made everything all awkward to say. This fucking cigarette sucked by the way. The shit he had to do to make a good first impression...
"Anything I can do to assist y'all?" First impressions guys. Distance yourself from the other rich boys by offering to help. Throw in a 'yall, for that added southern gentleman effect. Add on everything else previously mentioned.
Class.
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Mary blinked a few more.
So, uh, he was all giddy and excited and stuff? Must be that pre-party excitement. She wrapped her arms around herself. Right.
“Oh, yeah, actually, some people came over early. There’s not like, a huge amount of people yet, obvs, but like… it’s still pretty early, right? So they’re coming soon.”
There was Cherise, and Javier from tech crew, and someone whose name was Gustave or Gustavo or Gaston or something, but it was embarrassing because she wasn’t sure which one it was and it sucked because she’d seen him at fashion club meetings so she should know, and someone else she couldn’t even guess but she’d seen her in English a dozen times so she should know her name, which was worse. She looked inside as a bit of laughter exited the house. That was Javier. Back to Rupert.
Mary straightened herself out. Shoulders back, standing up straight. One more breath for the road! She didn’t want to look like a simpering moron, after all. Mary was the hostess, and she had to pull herself together and act like it.
“Um, okay. What can you show me?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
Rupert… she didn’t know. Gosh, did she not know. He was extra, and she approved of extra, yeah, but sometimes, she didn’t get things like blasting old people music (was that him? She was sure that was him), having a gaudy car, or… whatever was the thing at the door. The one where he spun and did finger guns. It was a brand of extra that was extra even by her standards. To be fair, you should expect some degree of extra from the drama and fashion people at school by this point so, yeah?
Right then. Try not to be a gigantic flaming jerkface here. He seemed excited for… whatever he wanted to show her. She prayed to God it was his food/supplies toll. Mary craned over, looking at the oddly painted car, trying to look through the windows. Someone else had just driven up and parked nearby, and-- that was Lucille, wasn’t it? Mary wasn’t super great with names, but, like, she knew her. Lucille was like… more high-end in her tastes? Less the whole… quasi-Monster High thing she went for, or the diehard Nintendo fan thing Rupert went for. She honestly didn’t get her thing. See, Mary was more about the aesthetic than the clout, so she didn’t get the point of buying, say, an overpriced hoodie with a designer’s brand plastered over and nothing else, when you can find a good thrift store hoodie a home, design it to your tastes, and then add your brand to it. Well, she did, actually, but like, still.
Oh, yeah, and speaking of which, Blofield was here too. He was his own thing. See, his face was scarred up, but he decided to own that and play into the Bond villain aesthetic. And honestly? That she could get. Though, it took her awhile to actually learn his name? Again, not good with names. So, for a while, he was “Blofield” until Mary looked at some stuff for a production or something, and hey, turns out his name was Fisk Bateman. She thought? But the nickname stuck out of habit. Might as well be his name anyways.
“Right,” Mary said, clapping her hands for a beat. “First, welcome to the party, thanks for coming. Second, what did you guys bring for the toll? We can start there, I guess.”
Rupert definitely brought something, she supposed. Dunno about Blofield and Lucille. But keep it together, Mary.
So, uh, he was all giddy and excited and stuff? Must be that pre-party excitement. She wrapped her arms around herself. Right.
“Oh, yeah, actually, some people came over early. There’s not like, a huge amount of people yet, obvs, but like… it’s still pretty early, right? So they’re coming soon.”
There was Cherise, and Javier from tech crew, and someone whose name was Gustave or Gustavo or Gaston or something, but it was embarrassing because she wasn’t sure which one it was and it sucked because she’d seen him at fashion club meetings so she should know, and someone else she couldn’t even guess but she’d seen her in English a dozen times so she should know her name, which was worse. She looked inside as a bit of laughter exited the house. That was Javier. Back to Rupert.
Mary straightened herself out. Shoulders back, standing up straight. One more breath for the road! She didn’t want to look like a simpering moron, after all. Mary was the hostess, and she had to pull herself together and act like it.
“Um, okay. What can you show me?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
Rupert… she didn’t know. Gosh, did she not know. He was extra, and she approved of extra, yeah, but sometimes, she didn’t get things like blasting old people music (was that him? She was sure that was him), having a gaudy car, or… whatever was the thing at the door. The one where he spun and did finger guns. It was a brand of extra that was extra even by her standards. To be fair, you should expect some degree of extra from the drama and fashion people at school by this point so, yeah?
Right then. Try not to be a gigantic flaming jerkface here. He seemed excited for… whatever he wanted to show her. She prayed to God it was his food/supplies toll. Mary craned over, looking at the oddly painted car, trying to look through the windows. Someone else had just driven up and parked nearby, and-- that was Lucille, wasn’t it? Mary wasn’t super great with names, but, like, she knew her. Lucille was like… more high-end in her tastes? Less the whole… quasi-Monster High thing she went for, or the diehard Nintendo fan thing Rupert went for. She honestly didn’t get her thing. See, Mary was more about the aesthetic than the clout, so she didn’t get the point of buying, say, an overpriced hoodie with a designer’s brand plastered over and nothing else, when you can find a good thrift store hoodie a home, design it to your tastes, and then add your brand to it. Well, she did, actually, but like, still.
Oh, yeah, and speaking of which, Blofield was here too. He was his own thing. See, his face was scarred up, but he decided to own that and play into the Bond villain aesthetic. And honestly? That she could get. Though, it took her awhile to actually learn his name? Again, not good with names. So, for a while, he was “Blofield” until Mary looked at some stuff for a production or something, and hey, turns out his name was Fisk Bateman. She thought? But the nickname stuck out of habit. Might as well be his name anyways.
“Right,” Mary said, clapping her hands for a beat. “First, welcome to the party, thanks for coming. Second, what did you guys bring for the toll? We can start there, I guess.”
Rupert definitely brought something, she supposed. Dunno about Blofield and Lucille. But keep it together, Mary.
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Primrosette
- Posts: 898
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 1:59 pm
- Location: In Her Dark Abyss
Bacchia didn't really like parties one bit.
But that didn't stop you from coming to Mary's party. Being there as mortal support for a dear friend is something that you love to glorify in, hmm? Also you liked to see drama unfold and then you can use some small fuck-up as a little bit of playful taunting.
She stopped briefly to stare at the parked cars and she was trying to keep her polite smile from dropping. She guessed she should have borrowed her Mom's car to get over to Mary's house and all she could think that it was a missed opportunity to make a dramatic entrance. If she wanted to become more recognizable; then she would have to be more willing to make small sacrifices and she should become the star in the spotlight. The fact that she had just walked here with pure determination showed that she really did care about Mary and she knew that they had had their ups and downs with each other before. But at least this time as far as Bacchia knew; she and Mary were on good terms.
At least you remembered to bring the food for the toll. That would have been embarrassing!
She glanced down at the plastic bag that was hooked around her arm and she had make sure to bring some containers of healthy food. She thought that it would be a win-win with Mary to be considerate of other people's health and maybe she could get more brownie points with other people at the party.
Speaking of other people....
Rupert. He was okay-ish. Lucille. She was ????. Fisk.... He was meh!
Bacchia was dressed up in her usual goth getup and she strolled over with elegance and confidence towards where the others were standing. She noticed that Fisk was somewhat in her way of Mary and she felt the urge to shove him to the side. But she didn't do that and she was keeping her polite smile present for everyone to see. She needed people to see that she wasn't a complete monster of a girl and she had an interesting reputation around school as it was.
"Mary!" She said with an air of genuine cheerfulness as she peeked around Fisk to look at the other girl and she gave her a small, warm wave before squeezing herself beside Fisk. "I honestly thought that I would be the first one here. This is a pleasant surprise."
She was doing a good job over not overacting it. She didn't want to look as cringey as Fisk was anyway. Gag!
But that didn't stop you from coming to Mary's party. Being there as mortal support for a dear friend is something that you love to glorify in, hmm? Also you liked to see drama unfold and then you can use some small fuck-up as a little bit of playful taunting.
She stopped briefly to stare at the parked cars and she was trying to keep her polite smile from dropping. She guessed she should have borrowed her Mom's car to get over to Mary's house and all she could think that it was a missed opportunity to make a dramatic entrance. If she wanted to become more recognizable; then she would have to be more willing to make small sacrifices and she should become the star in the spotlight. The fact that she had just walked here with pure determination showed that she really did care about Mary and she knew that they had had their ups and downs with each other before. But at least this time as far as Bacchia knew; she and Mary were on good terms.
At least you remembered to bring the food for the toll. That would have been embarrassing!
She glanced down at the plastic bag that was hooked around her arm and she had make sure to bring some containers of healthy food. She thought that it would be a win-win with Mary to be considerate of other people's health and maybe she could get more brownie points with other people at the party.
Speaking of other people....
Rupert. He was okay-ish. Lucille. She was ????. Fisk.... He was meh!
Bacchia was dressed up in her usual goth getup and she strolled over with elegance and confidence towards where the others were standing. She noticed that Fisk was somewhat in her way of Mary and she felt the urge to shove him to the side. But she didn't do that and she was keeping her polite smile present for everyone to see. She needed people to see that she wasn't a complete monster of a girl and she had an interesting reputation around school as it was.
"Mary!" She said with an air of genuine cheerfulness as she peeked around Fisk to look at the other girl and she gave her a small, warm wave before squeezing herself beside Fisk. "I honestly thought that I would be the first one here. This is a pleasant surprise."
She was doing a good job over not overacting it. She didn't want to look as cringey as Fisk was anyway. Gag!
"I brought molly. Hope that counts."
Virginia was tall, and she was a ginger. These were two things that generally made you easy to pick out of a crowd, but she had a habit of sneaking. It wasn't intentional. She just moved quietly, spoke quietly, and eventually faded into the background of louder personalities no matter what she was wearing or doing. She went to parties more than people thought, evading notice without expending any effort.
It might have been funny to say that she had been there the whole time; she had, sort of. She'd been parked outside for a while, anyway, and had waited to catch sight of someone that she knew heading up to the door. Bacchia had unknowingly been selected for the buddy system, and Virginia had slipped out of her car and followed her.
Virginia sidled up to the rest of the small crowd on the porch. Fisk was smoking already, and he wasn't even smoking anything fun. Disappointing.
"...That was a joke," she clarified, though nobody had asked. She had been told that she didn't inflect enough when she was kidding. She lifted the plastic shopping bags that she was carrying to show them off. "I brought cheese. The fancy kind. And crackers." She had actually brought molly too, a little baggie of tabs tucked into the pocket of her skirt. That wasn't the part that was a joke. In the past, she'd kept the baggies of that kind in her bra, but pulling them out whenever people finally wanted to get high was never as sexy and smooth as it looked in movies, for several reasons. She wasn't in the habit of wearing lowcut shirts, and that meant that she always had to reach up her top and dig around instead of just pulling something out of her neckline. Not enough cleavage to store things in there, either.
Anyway.
Virginia was only here because she'd never been to a real hurricane party before, despite living all her life in Miami. There had been "parties" with her friends, but getting high in someone's room with five other people wasn't... quite the same. This was a real joint. None of her closest friends were going to be there, either.
...Anyway.
Maybe they wouldn't burn Mary's house down. That seemed like a more present risk than getting swept away in the storm.
Virginia was tall, and she was a ginger. These were two things that generally made you easy to pick out of a crowd, but she had a habit of sneaking. It wasn't intentional. She just moved quietly, spoke quietly, and eventually faded into the background of louder personalities no matter what she was wearing or doing. She went to parties more than people thought, evading notice without expending any effort.
It might have been funny to say that she had been there the whole time; she had, sort of. She'd been parked outside for a while, anyway, and had waited to catch sight of someone that she knew heading up to the door. Bacchia had unknowingly been selected for the buddy system, and Virginia had slipped out of her car and followed her.
Virginia sidled up to the rest of the small crowd on the porch. Fisk was smoking already, and he wasn't even smoking anything fun. Disappointing.
"...That was a joke," she clarified, though nobody had asked. She had been told that she didn't inflect enough when she was kidding. She lifted the plastic shopping bags that she was carrying to show them off. "I brought cheese. The fancy kind. And crackers." She had actually brought molly too, a little baggie of tabs tucked into the pocket of her skirt. That wasn't the part that was a joke. In the past, she'd kept the baggies of that kind in her bra, but pulling them out whenever people finally wanted to get high was never as sexy and smooth as it looked in movies, for several reasons. She wasn't in the habit of wearing lowcut shirts, and that meant that she always had to reach up her top and dig around instead of just pulling something out of her neckline. Not enough cleavage to store things in there, either.
Anyway.
Virginia was only here because she'd never been to a real hurricane party before, despite living all her life in Miami. There had been "parties" with her friends, but getting high in someone's room with five other people wasn't... quite the same. This was a real joint. None of her closest friends were going to be there, either.
...Anyway.
Maybe they wouldn't burn Mary's house down. That seemed like a more present risk than getting swept away in the storm.
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Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
[CHRIS TYRRELL: PREGAME START]
He was overdressed, he was overpacked, but stuff it. Chris didn't care, better to be safe then sorry. And sorry for when he wakes up in the hospital, because the house landed on him.
Honest to god, he would have never attended this if he knew Mary of all people was hosting, he'll actually rather have his room collapse on him. But hey, whatever, he was tired from catching the train here, and most of his friends are here anyways. Chris propped up his sunglasses, and stared at the large house with a dumbfounded expression. Someone needed to turn down the damn music, or preferably, just have better music taste. Sure, let the whole world know that you have white trash music tastes while they're getting their home looted a few streets away. That will endear people to you.
Chris wasn't planning to come, but dad said that the house probably wasn't going to hold up very well. He had done everything he can to keep the basic foundations from collapsing, bless the old man. But both of them knew that staying over at a motel or some friend's place was best. So when he heard the hurricane party, well. It was a party, and it was a hurricane shelter. Two good times wrapped up in one while the word went to hell outside. How could he refuse?
So he packed up basically everything that wasn't over 3 feet or a television into a hiking bag, and put on some of his best clothes on. Sunglasses? Check. Red beats headphones? Check. Black and white sport hoodie that was too big for him but that was the point? Check. Oh, and don't forget the knee boots and the denim jeans.
Chris walked over to the door, and slamming it open, Chris began to regret his decision of coming here.
The first thing he saw was well, Mary. And Mary was...let's say...a bat**** maniac. It was like someone took a moron, then turned up the prick factor, and had them decide to overdose on stimulants all the time. She even was in therapy dang it! And if she wasn't, then she better get in there. And go to a 'special needs' school. Special needs his butt, they're just trying to have school sugercoated for them. Chris could go to one too, he just needed to act like Mary and add a pinch of even more stupid in there! But he wasn't that type of loser.
The other kids weren't as bad. Luckily. Chris took off his sunglasses, and smiled at the crowd. Well, tried to. Hard to smile at Mary. But Virginia was nice, Lucille was a dumb chick but she was cool company. Bacchia was eh, pretty cool. Fisk is awesome to work with at drama, and actually, he was REALLY good, which Chris appreciated a lot, and Rupert....actually, doesn't God send those kinds to hell? Guess Mary was a dumber chick then he thought. But Rupert asides from being a complete freak was nice enough, if not actually really gross.
"Hey, what's up, I'm early, or did no one come to the poor old hurricane party? Yo, Fisk!"
Fisk was about the most familiar face in here so far, Chris liked him a lot. Sending a salute over at him, Chris walked in. He had read the rules from outside, he had everything packed, some cool people were here to drown out the losers. What could go wrong.
"I've brought old music CDs, hurricane emergency equipment, sleeping bags and some food. I'm not just a crasher, okay? Excuse me."
As Chris shoved past Mary, he remarked that to her, in a low, curt voice. Just because he was here, doesn't mean that he was her friend, okay? He just needed a place that isn't going to have its roof fly off while he was sleeping, and it just so happened to be Mary's. Unfortunately.
He was overdressed, he was overpacked, but stuff it. Chris didn't care, better to be safe then sorry. And sorry for when he wakes up in the hospital, because the house landed on him.
Honest to god, he would have never attended this if he knew Mary of all people was hosting, he'll actually rather have his room collapse on him. But hey, whatever, he was tired from catching the train here, and most of his friends are here anyways. Chris propped up his sunglasses, and stared at the large house with a dumbfounded expression. Someone needed to turn down the damn music, or preferably, just have better music taste. Sure, let the whole world know that you have white trash music tastes while they're getting their home looted a few streets away. That will endear people to you.
Chris wasn't planning to come, but dad said that the house probably wasn't going to hold up very well. He had done everything he can to keep the basic foundations from collapsing, bless the old man. But both of them knew that staying over at a motel or some friend's place was best. So when he heard the hurricane party, well. It was a party, and it was a hurricane shelter. Two good times wrapped up in one while the word went to hell outside. How could he refuse?
So he packed up basically everything that wasn't over 3 feet or a television into a hiking bag, and put on some of his best clothes on. Sunglasses? Check. Red beats headphones? Check. Black and white sport hoodie that was too big for him but that was the point? Check. Oh, and don't forget the knee boots and the denim jeans.
Chris walked over to the door, and slamming it open, Chris began to regret his decision of coming here.
The first thing he saw was well, Mary. And Mary was...let's say...a bat**** maniac. It was like someone took a moron, then turned up the prick factor, and had them decide to overdose on stimulants all the time. She even was in therapy dang it! And if she wasn't, then she better get in there. And go to a 'special needs' school. Special needs his butt, they're just trying to have school sugercoated for them. Chris could go to one too, he just needed to act like Mary and add a pinch of even more stupid in there! But he wasn't that type of loser.
The other kids weren't as bad. Luckily. Chris took off his sunglasses, and smiled at the crowd. Well, tried to. Hard to smile at Mary. But Virginia was nice, Lucille was a dumb chick but she was cool company. Bacchia was eh, pretty cool. Fisk is awesome to work with at drama, and actually, he was REALLY good, which Chris appreciated a lot, and Rupert....actually, doesn't God send those kinds to hell? Guess Mary was a dumber chick then he thought. But Rupert asides from being a complete freak was nice enough, if not actually really gross.
"Hey, what's up, I'm early, or did no one come to the poor old hurricane party? Yo, Fisk!"
Fisk was about the most familiar face in here so far, Chris liked him a lot. Sending a salute over at him, Chris walked in. He had read the rules from outside, he had everything packed, some cool people were here to drown out the losers. What could go wrong.
"I've brought old music CDs, hurricane emergency equipment, sleeping bags and some food. I'm not just a crasher, okay? Excuse me."
As Chris shoved past Mary, he remarked that to her, in a low, curt voice. Just because he was here, doesn't mean that he was her friend, okay? He just needed a place that isn't going to have its roof fly off while he was sleeping, and it just so happened to be Mary's. Unfortunately.
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Latin For Dragula
- Posts: 399
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 10:28 pm
Oh hey wow there were eight billion people here all the sudden? Which was kinda disappointing because he and Mary were about ten montage shots away from being college pen pals who get estranged when one of them has to go to The War and goes missing in action and it's super sad but then they show up on their doorstep ten years later to deliver the one letter that never made it home and they cry a lot and become godparents for each other's kids and meet the president and now all of that was straight out the window big big big riperoni! He couldn't get bogged down on details like that. Now he could make like 20 friends! And he had some friends already! Lucille and Bacchia were pretty great. Uh, not that everybody else wasn't great to, that'd be uncool, sorry mind-reader whose head he might explode! Lined up like this they were kinda a wacky bunch, sorta like a crowd after an old afterschool special? Except they didn't have any nerds. Was Fisk a nerd? Fisk could be their nerd. Nerds were great too!
Rupert clapped his hands firmly. "I brought enough for everybody!" Oh but that might be stepping on Mary's toes kinda? Rupert respected her authority and it was her rule! "To eat, I mean. You gotta pay your toll." Yeah, they got it. No dwelling! He gestured to the door and started popping open doors with his keyfob. "If you wanna help I guess just uh, grab an armful of whatever! And ask Mary where it goes!"
He started up front with the pastries stacked up on the ice cream. Which probably wasn't super smart because you wouldn't want dessert first? Whoops! His arms were already full! Forward! "Hey Mary, you got any freezer space?"
Rupert clapped his hands firmly. "I brought enough for everybody!" Oh but that might be stepping on Mary's toes kinda? Rupert respected her authority and it was her rule! "To eat, I mean. You gotta pay your toll." Yeah, they got it. No dwelling! He gestured to the door and started popping open doors with his keyfob. "If you wanna help I guess just uh, grab an armful of whatever! And ask Mary where it goes!"
He started up front with the pastries stacked up on the ice cream. Which probably wasn't super smart because you wouldn't want dessert first? Whoops! His arms were already full! Forward! "Hey Mary, you got any freezer space?"
Oh no. Why the molly.
Mary was honestly prepared for weed. Like, it smelled awful, and she was more of a booze girl anyways. But she knew how many of her classmates liked it. So, she took that into account when she realized how many people were potentially coming. She couldn’t fully stop people from lighting up or taking edibles or whatever, but she could figure out how to avoid fire hazards and how to avoid smell being an issue and making sure the buns’ little lungs aren’t affected somehow. Lots of consulting Dr. Google, lots of figuring out the mechanics. They had Febreeze, which wasn’t perfect for getting weed smells out, but it was a good start. But weed, weed she could manage.
Dunno about molly. Even if Virginia was truly, genuinely joking…
Mary smiled. At least the cheese was good. Probably could pair that with a good wine or cider. They had some, so could try that maybe?
But oh, Backy! Good thing she was here. Sometimes they hated each other and sometimes they liked each other? Frenemies, she guessed! She wondered what she brought for the toll. She could tell she brought something.
Also, rude? Chris just came in here, being all, oh, are people not showing up for the poor little party? And shoved past her. To be fair, Chris was a rude guy in general. He wasn’t cool like at least some of the drama club kids could be. Like, Fisk was a tryhard at times, sure, but at least he was a dedicated one. Same with Sylvain, really. Chris was just… man had issues. Kinda hypocritical, coming from her, but like, he didn’t need to make a stankface every time she said something, y’know. She wondered why he was even here? Maybe it was because he had nothing better to do, maybe because his parents kicked him out for the time being, who knows? Mary shot Chris’ back a glare, before proceeding.
But before she did so, Rupert happily went to open the trunk of his car and--
“Oh, uh, wow!”
That was a lot. She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Not sure if it was funny, just that it was surprising. She had no idea if there were enough people to eat what she could see so far.
“Um… right. I’ve been placing stuff on the dining r-room table, yeah? And marking stuff if they’re vegetarian and gluten-free, since like… the range of food I can enjoy is only so wide.”
Having food restrictions was tricky. Like, vegetarianism was self-imposed, sure, but at least it was better for you and the environment than shoving down burger after burger after burger. But she couldn’t have wheat unless for some reason people wanted to see her break out into rashes. If they did, they had issues. Anyways!
“Uh… we do have some freezer space, actually! And we have coolers, but they contain things like, drinks and stuff. We’ll have to do a bit of rearranging.”
She clapped her hands again. Nervousness?
“Right! I’ll help you guys get everything inside, I guess. Thank you for paying the toll, I appreciate it. Sincerely.”
Even if Rupert brought what had to be a literal truckload. But she smiled.
It was genuine. If nervous.
Hopefully Virginia was legit joking about the molly.
She went down the steps to Rupert’s car, getting a closer look at the… stock. It was the best way to describe it. Did he seriously order from every restaurant in Miami? She reached to grab her own portion. It smelled conspicuously meaty.
Mary was honestly prepared for weed. Like, it smelled awful, and she was more of a booze girl anyways. But she knew how many of her classmates liked it. So, she took that into account when she realized how many people were potentially coming. She couldn’t fully stop people from lighting up or taking edibles or whatever, but she could figure out how to avoid fire hazards and how to avoid smell being an issue and making sure the buns’ little lungs aren’t affected somehow. Lots of consulting Dr. Google, lots of figuring out the mechanics. They had Febreeze, which wasn’t perfect for getting weed smells out, but it was a good start. But weed, weed she could manage.
Dunno about molly. Even if Virginia was truly, genuinely joking…
Mary smiled. At least the cheese was good. Probably could pair that with a good wine or cider. They had some, so could try that maybe?
But oh, Backy! Good thing she was here. Sometimes they hated each other and sometimes they liked each other? Frenemies, she guessed! She wondered what she brought for the toll. She could tell she brought something.
Also, rude? Chris just came in here, being all, oh, are people not showing up for the poor little party? And shoved past her. To be fair, Chris was a rude guy in general. He wasn’t cool like at least some of the drama club kids could be. Like, Fisk was a tryhard at times, sure, but at least he was a dedicated one. Same with Sylvain, really. Chris was just… man had issues. Kinda hypocritical, coming from her, but like, he didn’t need to make a stankface every time she said something, y’know. She wondered why he was even here? Maybe it was because he had nothing better to do, maybe because his parents kicked him out for the time being, who knows? Mary shot Chris’ back a glare, before proceeding.
But before she did so, Rupert happily went to open the trunk of his car and--
“Oh, uh, wow!”
That was a lot. She couldn’t help but laugh a bit. Not sure if it was funny, just that it was surprising. She had no idea if there were enough people to eat what she could see so far.
“Um… right. I’ve been placing stuff on the dining r-room table, yeah? And marking stuff if they’re vegetarian and gluten-free, since like… the range of food I can enjoy is only so wide.”
Having food restrictions was tricky. Like, vegetarianism was self-imposed, sure, but at least it was better for you and the environment than shoving down burger after burger after burger. But she couldn’t have wheat unless for some reason people wanted to see her break out into rashes. If they did, they had issues. Anyways!
“Uh… we do have some freezer space, actually! And we have coolers, but they contain things like, drinks and stuff. We’ll have to do a bit of rearranging.”
She clapped her hands again. Nervousness?
“Right! I’ll help you guys get everything inside, I guess. Thank you for paying the toll, I appreciate it. Sincerely.”
Even if Rupert brought what had to be a literal truckload. But she smiled.
It was genuine. If nervous.
Hopefully Virginia was legit joking about the molly.
She went down the steps to Rupert’s car, getting a closer look at the… stock. It was the best way to describe it. Did he seriously order from every restaurant in Miami? She reached to grab her own portion. It smelled conspicuously meaty.
Lucille had seen this exact kind of scene in TV before... Something like it could've happened in, like, 22. One or two people gathered in a spot suddenly became twenty out of nowhere with everyone competing for their bit of hogging the spotlight. Fuck 'em all, incidentally, Lucille was of course the natural queen of the spotlight (JK! Everyone who had shown up was some amount of okay and lame and 'who the fuck are you' combined and mixed to taste. Like, the sort of people who could individually have a breakout performance on TV if they were lucky with their draw.
Like, imagine though. The Mangrove Manchildren slated for a Season Sixty-Seven performance... Imagine the fanservice costumes tho. Quick take off the top- she bet Chris'd get something he'd look decent in. Dude was hot, but like, in that low key way where it wasn't worth it to actually heart-eyes his direction all that much.
Also, Fisk was like, a next level creep. She'd have easily bet money on him being one of the first to kill, besides, like... herself. Dude was totally a paper tiger though, all bark and not enough teeth to bite with. She'd have his number in the hypothetical Day One showdown.)
Anyways.
"I got an extra cooler in the car dude. We get your stuff in first then we do my car, yeah?"
Rupert was like, excited for this, wasn't he? Cute AF, honestly. Lucille would have unironically, actually squeed if she hadn't been grabbing enough food in her arms to blow out her own back.
Had to flex on 'em.
- ??? : Continued elsewhere in the party -
Like, imagine though. The Mangrove Manchildren slated for a Season Sixty-Seven performance... Imagine the fanservice costumes tho. Quick take off the top- she bet Chris'd get something he'd look decent in. Dude was hot, but like, in that low key way where it wasn't worth it to actually heart-eyes his direction all that much.
Also, Fisk was like, a next level creep. She'd have easily bet money on him being one of the first to kill, besides, like... herself. Dude was totally a paper tiger though, all bark and not enough teeth to bite with. She'd have his number in the hypothetical Day One showdown.)
Anyways.
"I got an extra cooler in the car dude. We get your stuff in first then we do my car, yeah?"
Rupert was like, excited for this, wasn't he? Cute AF, honestly. Lucille would have unironically, actually squeed if she hadn't been grabbing enough food in her arms to blow out her own back.
Had to flex on 'em.
- ??? : Continued elsewhere in the party -
Upcoming:
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
Second Chances V3 (deconreconfirmed):
Relations Thread!
Olivia Fischer (original handler, Maraoone)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Faith Marshal-Mackenzie (original handler, Frozen Smoke)
Memories: 1 Pregame: 1
Sayuna Lewis (original handler, Cicada)
Princess McQuillan (original handler, Cicada)
Pregame: 1
Virginia neatly sidestepped the activity as Chris pushed his way in, and Rupert, Mary, and Lucille bustled back out. Her offering was sufficient, she guessed.
She shot Bacchia a glance, eyebrows slightly raised in question, but she decided to slip in the door after Chris instead of waiting around for further answer. She'd spent enough time standing on porches waiting for instruction to have figured out that it was usually better to just head in and find a piece of furniture to claim.
...Ah. There were rules. Posted on the door like the Martin Luther of parties had decided to swing by and preach to the masses. She gave the paper a quick scan. Mary's handwriting wasn't very good, but the rules were acceptable. Fairly lax, all things considered. She hadn't brought any weed, so that wasn't something that she had to worry about. The rules conspicuously left off any mention of other things, but she'd already copped to having the molly and Mary hadn't said anything, so Virginia was going to assume that it was fine.
The other sign was cute, too. After she finally stepped over the threshold and bent to unzip her boots, Viriginia made sure to store them in the rack as instructed. Then, she floated on in, following the music to the heart of the party so that she could add her toll to the spread on the dining room table.
She shot Bacchia a glance, eyebrows slightly raised in question, but she decided to slip in the door after Chris instead of waiting around for further answer. She'd spent enough time standing on porches waiting for instruction to have figured out that it was usually better to just head in and find a piece of furniture to claim.
...Ah. There were rules. Posted on the door like the Martin Luther of parties had decided to swing by and preach to the masses. She gave the paper a quick scan. Mary's handwriting wasn't very good, but the rules were acceptable. Fairly lax, all things considered. She hadn't brought any weed, so that wasn't something that she had to worry about. The rules conspicuously left off any mention of other things, but she'd already copped to having the molly and Mary hadn't said anything, so Virginia was going to assume that it was fine.
The other sign was cute, too. After she finally stepped over the threshold and bent to unzip her boots, Viriginia made sure to store them in the rack as instructed. Then, she floated on in, following the music to the heart of the party so that she could add her toll to the spread on the dining room table.
-
Irina Ivanov
- Posts: 222
- Joined: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:47 am
- Location: The Land Down Under
Dear god. He definitely wasn't the only one who overpacked, and he had a HIKING bag that was half as large as him, and half as heavy as him probably to boot. He would have used the boot of the car, but Chris couldn't drive. He had to thank the hurricane somewhat, he didn't look out of place with the other few passengers on the bus, who had obviously stockpiled for the hurricane. He could do with some weight lifting anyways, haha.
But seriously, Rupert, SERIOUSLY? Did the guy decide to take out his parents' pantry? And the nearby supermarket aisle? Jeez. Chris could really do with some food though, so oh well, more the merrier he guessed. Not really, if one more weirdo like Rupert shows up, he was going to lock himself in the bathroom. Or lock them in. So, what did he get for the party? Well..hm. It was nothing exciting, but it was definitely a lot, he guessed.
One, two...three. Three cans of soap and spaghetti, oh, and two cup noodles for himself. Bags of crumpled up chips that was going in a bowl, bottles of water, a bundle of CDs he had picked randomly, and of course! A mini hurricane kit. Because you know, hurricane. That was alright, that was enough. Chris wished he'd brought something more...special, that people will notice though. (Reminder: Bring the board game next time) Crouching down, Chris took the items out of his bag, which didn't seem to deflate much anyways, and placed them on the kitchen floor, at the side next to his bag. If Mary decided that was a bad place to put it for some reason, she can go move it herself.
As he stood up, Chris sighed in relief, goodness that was heavy. Now he could just sit down, enjoy the party, maybe try out the molly if he didn't have to pay, and-
Oh right, those two outside. Rupert would need some help, Chris doubted the guy could lift that much up without twisting his wrist or something. Not so much with Lucille, but if he didn't help, he wouldn't be a gentleman, wouldn't he? And obviously he was, so he should show it. Cracking his knuckles rather loudly, he moved to where the cars were, and where people were bringing in their offerings. He reached a hand out, quite literally, as he walked out to help.
"Dude, you're seriously going to need someone else carrying that in. Want me carry some stuff in or not?"
...That was a lead on question, if someone was too dense to tell. Who DOESN'T want to have someone bring all THAT in for them?
(Chris Tyrrell continued in Kangaroo Court)
But seriously, Rupert, SERIOUSLY? Did the guy decide to take out his parents' pantry? And the nearby supermarket aisle? Jeez. Chris could really do with some food though, so oh well, more the merrier he guessed. Not really, if one more weirdo like Rupert shows up, he was going to lock himself in the bathroom. Or lock them in. So, what did he get for the party? Well..hm. It was nothing exciting, but it was definitely a lot, he guessed.
One, two...three. Three cans of soap and spaghetti, oh, and two cup noodles for himself. Bags of crumpled up chips that was going in a bowl, bottles of water, a bundle of CDs he had picked randomly, and of course! A mini hurricane kit. Because you know, hurricane. That was alright, that was enough. Chris wished he'd brought something more...special, that people will notice though. (Reminder: Bring the board game next time) Crouching down, Chris took the items out of his bag, which didn't seem to deflate much anyways, and placed them on the kitchen floor, at the side next to his bag. If Mary decided that was a bad place to put it for some reason, she can go move it herself.
As he stood up, Chris sighed in relief, goodness that was heavy. Now he could just sit down, enjoy the party, maybe try out the molly if he didn't have to pay, and-
Oh right, those two outside. Rupert would need some help, Chris doubted the guy could lift that much up without twisting his wrist or something. Not so much with Lucille, but if he didn't help, he wouldn't be a gentleman, wouldn't he? And obviously he was, so he should show it. Cracking his knuckles rather loudly, he moved to where the cars were, and where people were bringing in their offerings. He reached a hand out, quite literally, as he walked out to help.
"Dude, you're seriously going to need someone else carrying that in. Want me carry some stuff in or not?"
...That was a lead on question, if someone was too dense to tell. Who DOESN'T want to have someone bring all THAT in for them?
(Chris Tyrrell continued in Kangaroo Court)