october: free for all | ❝ lurking in the shadows ❞

[quickfingers]

WHO: EVERYONE? Anyone. (And Peter.)
WHERE: X-Fam House, Nonah.
WHEN: Friday the 13th!
WHAT: Giant ass Halloween party. On Friday the 13th. YOU ARE ALL INVITED.
WARNINGS: tbd, probably some disaster.
NOTES: So this party's invites are pretty scattered so if you have CR with Peter, you can feel free to assume you've been invited (if he hasn't literally ic inboxed you) or found an invite/ heard about the party from anyone else and are still welcome to have fun! Feel free to plurk me (valleyheart) if you have questions but aside from Peter's top level, it's free game to do what you want!



The Invitations

[If you're a friend of Peter you might've been invited personally, but even so you might find one of these bad boys slipped your way, in your mail or taped to the inside of your next pizza order leading up to the 13th. On the back of the invitation is a hand scrawled address in Nonah, the home of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr - if you're familiar, you're familiar. If not, doesn't matter, 'cause it's Peter's disastrous party about to go down and you're still welcome.]

The House

[The party takes place at the "X-Fam" house in Nonah, which some of you may remember hosted a bbq not too long ago. Yeah, the place where Erik and Charles live - not that this party's sponsored by them in any shape, way or form. In fact it's more of a "while the cat's away, the mice will play" type scenario because asking permission to hold a killer party is not something Peter did.

He was responsible enough however to use caution tape to cross off the doors of the bedrooms in the house, preserving the privacy of his housemates to a degree. The other rooms aren't off limits and neither is the backyard, all of which are decorated festively for the occasion. Cobwebs litter corners and hallways, weaving through the banister rails complete with fake spiders nestled in them. The curtains are somber, as a variety of stick on decals are covering windows and mirrors alike. Decorations sit on mantles and door frames, with each window sill featuring a lit candle or something equally spooky.

The backyard is lit by dim orange lights, featuring seating and open night air for those who wish to get out of a hot, loud house and admire the stars. Just mind the witch legs and don't litter cigarette butts everywhere, alright?

The door's open and a variety of tunes are playing, audible from the street.]

The Party

[So you were invited (or not,) and you found your way to the right house. The lights are dimmed and the music's loud, so come in and get a drink from the fridge or the creative yet nerdy 'keg'. Peter's no Martha Stewart nor is Wanda really in a mood to make a lot of cute treats so you'll have to put up with standard party fair: potato chips, pretzels, a huge stack of pizzas and a few large bowls of candy corn. That shit is everywhere, there's no escaping it. You need ice? Just don't choke on the critters.

Rooms not cordoned off are yours to wander and get wasted in, same with the stretch of grass in the back yard. Wander with your goblets of definitely spiked punch and a handful of candy corn. Because if you're not eating it then you suck.

At some point there will be a cake pulled out because Peter's drowning in sisters and Lorna's birthday is this month. Clearly the thing to do is to (monster) mash it in to the Halloween celebrations with a creepy cake. Say a spooky happy birthday to the girl with green hair when you get the chance.]

Comments

Ronan Lynch | OTA

[nightmarist]

[The raven boys - because they are raven boys - voted on A Midsummer Night's Dream as their theme for the night. Cast as the Fairy Queen Titania, Ronan arrives in glitter and gossamer, adorned with enough bangles to sell out a New Age shop. The outfit is subtly enchanted so everything that sparkles also glows in a way that's too bright, like a lens flare filter applied to real life. The effect would be dramatic on anyone, but particularly on Ronan, who stands at 6'2" and has a build better suited to an Amazon than a Fairy Queen. He was probably miscast.

As he's never the most social of his friends, Ronan makes a beeline for the alcohol and keeps drinking through the night. When he's denied the safety of his clique, he wanders out to the backyard and does his best impression of a statue, sipping at his beer and distantly admiring the decor.]

Re: Ronan Lynch | OTA

[fehus]

[blame the pumpkin beer, or the events of the night in general, but the statue act gets him. coming out onto the deck, Magnus walks right out just a few feet from Ronan and isn't able to differentiate him from the pale shadows of the house. blond hair slicked back with Ronan's hair stuff (though now, for some reason, coated in glitter and the odd darker-streak), it's typical that he'd seek a breath of fresh air. however, while he (like Ronan) usually needs one, when it comes to big social events like this, rather than looking anxious and awkward, like he usually does at this point in the night, he looks -- tremendously, tremendously happy, expressive in a way he rarely is, even around his friends. thinking himself alone, leaning against the railing, he's grinning and overwhelmed, as he rubs his hands repeatedly through his slicked hair, mussing it somewhat, getting glitter all over himself]

[also very notably, his face and neck are quite covered in red lipstick marks, which he probably does not know about, given his usual shyness]

[nightmarist]

[Ronan glides over to Magnus's side, or at least gives that impression, thanks to his skirt's floating organza layers and the soundlessness of his bare feet. He leans up against the railing next to Magnus, eyeing the scattered lipstick marks on his skin with faint amusement.]

Well, look at you.

[fehus]

[he jumps at the sudden voice -- some fierce undead warrior of Odin, etc etc -- but then he's looking up at Ronan, all gauzy and ethereal. he looks like a cross between a dream and a nightmare, thinks Magnus quite fondly]

[he tries to shove all that emotion, battering around inside his chest like some kind of crazed trapped bird, back into the box he usually keeps it, with limited success]

Y-yeah -- um, yeah, I know.

[again, yeah, he definitely doesn't know; he touches his mussed hair, trying to flatten it back out again. he'd tried to style in Ronan's bathroom and under his guidance with the hair stuff, but the impulse to try and dye it was a later one, back at the camp. the streaks and glitter are not the best look, which is what he thinks Ronan's referencing]

It didn't come out like, great. I don't think I can pull off dark and spooky, anyway, walking corpse or not.

[he's trying to slow his heart, but his pulse is still thudding hard in his wrists and at his throat. it's all just, a lot]

[nightmarist]

[Ronan would point out that, no, he's referring to the lipstick. But then Magnus would probably try to wipe it off, and Ronan much prefers him wandering around the party like this a little while longer.]

Should we trade costumes? You'd be a much better Titania. I don't know what Adam was thinking.

[admemoriam]

[At least Ronan isn't alone in his inability to stop drinking at some healthy point throughout the night. Noah eventually meanders up to him in the yard, full up on liquor and rosy in the cheeks. There's a bit of moss from his antler headdress stuck to his nose.]

I'm too walk to drunk. Pick me up.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan laughs as soon as Noah appears, reaching down to clear away the smudge of moss from Noah's nose with his thumb. Then he hooks his arms under Noah and hoists him up, an easy task despite his delicate attire. Noah is practically weightless to him, a doll resting atop his thick forearm.]

This is thematically appropriate, I think? We're probably both gonna fall the fuck over.

[admemoriam]

[Noah loops his arms around Ronan's shoulders the best he can, and presses a sloppy kiss to the side of his face.]

If you crush my antlers, you're making me new ones.

[nightmarist]

It's a deal. I kinda wanna nap, anyway.

[But he's steady enough on his feet, for now. Ronan shifts around a bit until they're both comfortable, cradling Noah against him.]

Magnus thought your costume was Cool Fungus.

[heisenbitch]

[ Here comes a sight for sore eyes: Jesse Pinkman, smudged guyliner around his eyes, fake blood smeared down the sides of his face, a stupid novelty plastic meat cleaver affixed slightly wonkily on his head, and his otherwise completely non-Halloween-inspired clothes draped in strings of fake spider webs, complete with little plastic spiders here and there. On the corner of his mouth is a messily smudged red lipstick mark - either he's kissed someone and kind of missed their mouth, or someone had sloppily tried to kiss him and kind of missed his mouth. For someone who is completely sober, the state Jesse is in looks like he should be at least halfway on the path towards completely plastered.

Emerging from the hot and stuffy house into the backyard, he moves near the tall glittery glowing statue for a much needed cigarette. As he's pursing a smoke between his lips and reaching into his pocket for his lighter, he throws a glance over at said glittery glowing statue and realises it's a person. He gives them a quizzical, somewhat bemused up and down appraisal. That is one hell of a weird costume. Super cool, but weird. His eyes drift up to the person's face and... Jesse squints with curious recognition. ]

...Ronan?

[nightmarist]

[Ronan was beginning to wonder how long it'd take for Jesse to recognize him. Personally, he doesn't think this is much of a disguise. There aren't a whole lot of guests at this party who rival him in size.

He gestures to Jesse's attire.]

What's going on here? Murder victim left to rot at the mercy of spiders?

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesus, what a skyscraper of a kid. What a costume. At Ronan's remark, though, Jesse stops gazing in curious appraisal at Ronan to peer down at himself. ]

Man, who even knows. Probably. [ Pausing to light his cigarette. He takes a quick drag and pockets his lighter as he looks back up to Ronan. A sweeping gesture of his hand at himself, a wry smile tipping up the corner of his lipstick-smudged mouth. ] This is what happens when you show up to a Halloween party without a costume like a loser: People make sure you look like even more of a loser.

[nightmarist]

You should've known what you were getting into, man. This world takes costumes seriously. A consequence of superheroism and supervillainy.

[Though Ronan can't blame Jesse. If he wasn't capable of literally dreaming up his costumes, he'd never put in the effort himself.]

[ghoulking]

[ Kaneki is wallflowering at the backyard as well, a glass of water in hand, and resting his feet. He is wearing flats (he is not going to use high heels when cross dressing, that's too much) but women clothes and shoes are still tiring for someone who doesn't wear them.

as he spots Ronan, and after debating if he should approach or not, Kaneki overcomes his own awkwardness and offers Ronana a smile ] Nice costume. You look great.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan, who doesn't know Kaneki well enough to recognize him in costume, had been one hundred percent convinced he was a she before he opened his mouth to speak.]

You make a more convincing woman. Congratulations, I think?

[ghoulking]

[ kaneki snorts, amused ] I've done this before, but I'm going to admit - I learned everything from books and google. [ but he shakes his head after ] I should have cosplayed as a well known female character, though. [ because a lot of people think kaneki is a woman and ask him "what is she supposed to be dressed as". ]

[gentrify]

[ mickey is not much of a social creature, not when it's a swarm full of strangers in a place that's still too different from the eight or so block radius of his home town stomping ground. but this party, at least, isn't the kind of upscale sophisticate crap ian liked to hang out with after his club dancing nights. just a bunch of fucking teenagers fooling around with each other and getting shitfaced.

so that's what he's doing. being a teenager, and getting shitfaced, even if that first part doesn't really feel like it fits. hasn't, for a long while. it's the latter that has him running into ronan, though, near stumbling around the grassy field, having ingested enough booze to make a six foot football playing frat boy look like a toddler in comparison, he meanders his way over to statue of an amazon looking lady (rich people invest in some fucking weird shit), and slumps down on the lawn, back to the side of his calf/knee.

except the statue isn't a statue, or an amazon, or a lady. awk.

he misses ian. ian would've warned him of this. ]

[nightmarist]

[It could be worse than having a handsome young man fall at his feet. Ronan sees him coming, tracking Mickey with his eyes all the way until the moment he's slumped up against his calf. Ronan, in a show of support, doesn't move his leg out of the way. Nor does he make a comment. He merely sips at his own drink and continues watching Mickey, waiting.]

[gentrify]

[ it'll take a long few minutes worth of waiting for mickey to catch on to this. not until after another swig from the bottle he'd had in hand, after he pulls out his phone to check the time or any alert notices (the lock screen showing the bright haif of the missing boy in question), after he lets out a very gentlemanly belch, after murmuring some lyrics to the current some playing, and finally, finally, when he leans his head back to look up to the sky.

and sees the statue staring right fucking at him.

it doesn't happen immediately, because mickey thinks maybe he just took something weird that mixed bad with the booze. he holds his eyes for a long several seconds. waits for it.

oh. the statue blinked. ] Motherfuck— !

[ just gonna throw himself to the side here like he's dodging a grenade. ]

Re: Ronan Lynch | OTA

[pigmypouter]

[There was actually some conflict about the costumes initially—Blue had put up an impassioned but ultimately unsuccessful bid for Titania, and it was only partway through a lecture about the lack of strong female roles in Shakespeare that someone was smart enough to suggest Hyppolyta for her instead. This works better, anyway. The beaded jewelry that drips off her head and neck looks queenly enough, and she feels like she could actually kill a man in this toga. No boob cutting, though, she's not that committed to the fantasy.

Blue finds Ronan in the backyard admiring some glowing pumpkins, and for a moment it strikes her how....Ronan he looks in the dim orange glow. It makes his cheekbones look even more deadly, his jaw sharp enough to cut a person. He's terrible and beautiful and wow, what's in this drink?]

You look sparkly. Persephone would love it.

[nightmarist]

[If not for Adam's insistence, their roles would be reversed, and Ronan likewise takes a moment to privately admire Blue in all her Amazonian glory. It turns out that she can look fierce and regal when she's wearing something other than Regretsy fashion. Who knew?]

I've got nothing on Noah. He's shedding glitter everywhere.

[pigmypouter]

No, that's just Noah normally.

[Ha ha, so funny.]

I'm proud of us. We should go someplace with a a costume contest. We'd win and then we could buy something with the prize money.

[Like a seeing machine. For the house. It could live in Blue's room.]

[bragnificent]

[ At some point in the night Reggie makes it outside for some fresh air, although he doesn't make it especially far-- dressed as a robber, he's handcuffed to his better half, Archie the cop, in the classically comical "these are actually real cuffs that they don't have a key for, meaning they're chained to each other for the night" sort of way, so Reggie can only take a couple steps beyond the back door if he wants to leave enough slack in the handcuff chain for Archie to continue hanging out inside. It's awkward and inconvenient as hell, but they're making it work, taking it all in stride. Sort of.

Reggie sips from a red solo cup, squinting out into the dark evening at the brightest spot in the yard. ]

Holy crap. [ Reflexively he tries to shield his eyes from the brightness, but when he's held back by the handcuff chain he just sips his beer and tries not to look directly at the glittering figure. ] Wait, let me guess-- you're dressed as a hangover.

[nightmarist]

Holy shit, you got it in one. Nobody else guessed it.

[Judging by Reggie's weird angle, Ronan figures out he's sort of trapped by the door and ambles over. Shimmery layers a-fluttering in the breeze, he leans up against the wall and gets obnoxiously close to Reggie, seeing as he's trying to look away.]

[bragnificent]

What can I say-- I'd know one of those anywhere. Kudos for accuracy.

[ The closer Ronan gets the harder he is to look at, though, and Reggie lifts his beer-holding arm to somewhat protect his eyes from the approaching shining gay beacon. He grimaces in a slightly pained way and hisses: ]

Although maybe a little too much accuracy.