(mingle) It must be party time

[forethinking]

Who: Ren Amamiya, Wanda Maximoff, you!
When: 12th of September
Where: Good Harbor Beach
Summary: Here's the barbecue log! Eating, playing games, having a bonfire and sleep-over on the beach!
Warnings: Alcohol? Ghost stories?



ɪ. ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ

Congratulations, you've made it to the Good Harbor Beach September barbecue! With the weather cooling, but still pleasant enough, it's a pleasure to have a hangout involving ADI's residents and those who live at Bonnie's. There are still so many people who don't know one another, and many to strengthen bonds with, so the hours your dearest Wanda and Ren spend cooking and flipping and seasoning are nothing but rewarding! Seeing people enjoying themselves is great and it's motivating for them to keep doing these encounters every now and then.

On the menu, we have:
- Burgers;
- Steaks with jacked potato sides;
- Ribs;
- Zucchini-and-Pecorino fritters;
- Several different salads, including ovcharska;
- Aubergine kebabs with charred onion salsa;
- Salmon yakitori;
- Takoyaki;
- Cupcakes
- Apples and honey;
- Cherry dumplings;
- Sarmale filled with rice;
- Bundevara (pumpkin pie);


For drinks, there's a selection of alcohol, as well as coffee, water, tea, and a variety of sodas. Take in the nice view, jump on the ocean, sink your toes in the sand and enjoy yourselves. There aren't any usable tables, but there are several blankets on the floor for your perusal.

ɪɪ. ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ

With bellies full, now it's when the real fun begins. There are a few decks of cards being passed around, as well as one of their single tables now organized to a beer-pong competition. Individually, games such as Never Have I Ever, as well as Truth or Dare can be seen, and those who wish to use their skills for entertaining are more than welcome to do so.

A little bonding here, a little drunken chatting there, this is your time to shine!

ɪɪɪ. ᴀ ʙᴏɴꜰɪʀᴇ

With those who have a curfew to worry about in mind, a bonfire is lit, and a few tents are set around the beach (may have to be shared). If anyone's got a nice story, now it's the time to share it, or perhaps if anyone can play an instrument, it's about time to break it out of its case. The night will be lively until the early hours of the morning, and of course, mindful of those who couldn't stay up this late.

The next morning, everyone will be properly thanked for their attendance and tupperwares will be distributed with leftovers for those who'd like to take some food home, the beach will be cleaned impeccably and everyone will go their own way, hopefully with smiles and a new sense of unity and connection from the amazing night they've just experienced.

ɪᴠ. ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏᴏᴄ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

(Please put in your top-level subject line or prompt line whether it's okay to threadjack! Just to keep things more dynamic, we encourage it!)

Comments

ota & threadjack to your heart's content

[ployboy]

i.
Is ADI paying off the permit? The city of Gloucester doesn't really allow bonfires on their beaches. They have pretty strict regulations for their parks.

[He's just saying.

And maybe glancing around, over his shoulder or past yours, or bending over to pick up that one napkin that was blown away by the breeze. Don't litter, you animals.

Tim's equally sure alcohol can't be brought out or be drank so brazenly in public spaces (there are minors here) but he's about done with his civic duty.

He piles on the desserts onto his plate, first. Natch.]

ii.
[There's a song stuck in his head and no one here is singing it. He's been pretty good (he's been great) at staying sociable and open, but as evening comes, the crash is hanging over his head like some dark, personal rain cloud. He's found a seat (on a stray chair, on a blanket, on the sand which is coarse and gets everywhere, whatever) but now he's nodding off. Oops? Don't let him zonk out again, please. Or do. He'll be ripe for sacrificial burying under sand or something.]

i

[writetheway]

I'm not sure. [Monika hadn't considered how the logistics were set up, but when someone brings it up, she does look a little concerned. At least, as someone who isn't a minor but is too young to drink, she's staying away from the alcohol.] I hope we don't all get kicked out. Ren might know, he helped set it up.

[Monika doesn't know Wanda, so Monika can't point her out, but she knows Ren.]

[ployboy]

[Oh, those are comforting words. It's enough to make Tim's brows hike up- alright then, is someone at least on lookout duty? No? He hadn't seen anyone who looked like they'd be on lookout duty.

What a way to go, his first arrest going to be for all that trespassing he never committed to back in high school. Somehow, though, the girl's concern is soothing.

They're not all hooligans, here. Tim sighs, brings a hand up to rub at his neck.] He'll have it figured out, right? [Ren is a responsible guy, right?] He's smart.

[Right.]

[writetheway]

[Monika thinks about "I'll edit later".] Well... Maybe we should ask. [At least Winter (Bucky--she doesn't know his real name, but hey, neither does he) is kind of on self-assigned lookout duty.] But it's probably fine!

[ployboy]

[Good feeling over. She's not vouching for her friend. Alarms are sounding in his head.] Uh.

[Eloquent. But Tim thinks he can spot the familiar figure up ahead, and he offers Monika an apologetic half of a smile before stepping forward. Like, "I'm sure it'll be fine, yeah" but completely unspoken because] Let's go ask. Worst case scenario is we all get a slap on the wrist.

[They can't arrest all of 'em.]

[writetheway]

[Monika nods and picks Ren out of the crowd, waving at him to catch his attention.] Hey, Ren? We've got a question about the barbecue! [Just a quick question, hopefully...]

[forethinking]

(Ren's a little busy, flipping the next round of burgers when he sees the two heads coming his way with a wave and a smile.)

How can I help?

II

[cacophonish]

[ Hey look, there's Tim zonked-- zonking? is he mid-zonk?-- out on a blanket in the sand. Jeff's just going to reach out with one foot and give him a nudge. ]

Dude. Wake up.

[ Another nudge, then Jeff flops down beside him, humming a song for a few beats as he looks out at the water. ]

I think I want to write a song about mermaids. Like, a nice song. A love song, you know? [ Is Tim awake yet? Does it matter? Jeff's going to look over at him and keep on talking regardless. ] How do you think they fuck? Mermaids, I mean.

[ployboy]

[He'd been attempting to smother himself, laying belly down on the blanket, arms crossed lazily and forearms acting as a poor pillow for his forehead. The deep and even huffs of breath could convince someone he's dead to the world, sure. But Tim doesn't have that luck.

Maybe he could, if he ignores the kicks.

Nope.

A familiar voice is chattering on next to him in the next moment, and Tim pushes himself up on his elbows to stare unimpressed at the bard. Maybe the lame light of late evening will hide his furious blush, the way Tim hopes it hides enough of scarred arms now that he's braved truly casual attire.]

Why would I want to think about that?

[...]

It would depend on if they hatch fry or lay eggs. [If they have sexual relations for strictly breeding purposes or for

pleasure

things like that.]

You said it was going to be a nice song.

[cacophonish]

Right... [ Nodding, as if that's a thought that Jeff has also had, even though it absolutely definitely wasn't. ] Yeah, I guess it does depend on that.

[ And down he goes, stretching out on his back, turning his head to look at Tim. If he notices any blushing or scarring, he's at least nice enough not to draw attention to it. ]

What, that's not nice? Fucking's a part of the whole love thing.

[ Or so they say. Jeff's got a lot more experience with one than the other. ]

What should I write about instead?

[ployboy]

[It's the Pygmy goats all over again. Tim wants to ask if Jeff even knows what fry are, but then he's missing his fish and in the next moment he's got a frog in his throat. He huffs, inching himself just a little further off the ground. Because it'd be weird if they just lay down together, right?]

You can have love without... that.

[With all the strength of a protest said in earnest.

Tim had loved... Steph. He knows he had. Does. And if thinks about Tam, or... but he doesn't, because they're never getting back together. Because Tim does things wrong. Instead of thinking about

he shakes his head.] I don't know, man. I told you, I'm not creative.

[Jeff belongs on a beach, Tim decides.]

[cacophonish]

[ He hums softly in thought. Tim's right. Jeff can concede that. If he really thinks about it, the only love he's ever felt didn't involve ...that at all. ]

Were you ever in love?

[ Big question from one barely-an-adult to another. First it's mermaid fucking, and now this. Maybe Jeff's just in a mood tonight. A thoughtful, big question mood. He reaches out to push Tim's shoulder, a lazy attempt at knocking him over. As dudes do. ]

Bullshit you're not creative. What kind of music do you like, dude?

II

[120vision]

[ Sacrificial burying under the sand? Yes, please. Gojou is attempting to sneak up on Tim, carrying a bucket of sand in his hands. He's pretty good about being quiet, but he isn't aware that Bats are even better about detecting people - so he's not trying too hard to conceal his presence. ]

[ployboy]

[Yeah, actually, just leave him to his early hibernation. As any true Green Day fan knows, they're not supposed to wake up before September ends. And this has got to be the only blanket that wasn't covered in nasty sand anyway, and it's not that Tim wanted to doze off.

Have at it, stranger. He'll sleep like the dead.

Until he doesn't.]

ii.

[forethinking]

(Ren's bringing a round of coffee for those who, like himself, wish to stay awake all evening. Ren figures it's a matter of safety - last time he was so close to the ocean, it wasn't that great.

When he finally reaches Tim with a nice cup of caffeine, he notices that the man is snoozing a little bit. He seems to have been fighting slumber all night, so he finds it important to attempt to wake him up, softly with a hand on his back.)

Tim?

[ployboy]

[It's awkward. He's half reclined on some abandoned cooler, near enough to the crowd to have been a part of it once but out of the way in that oblivious fashion of someone who could not take it any longer. It's awkward.

But the... fears, the entities, the monsters going bump in the night, they want Tim to suffer a full 8 hours of sleep, apparently. So out like a lamp he'd gone.

He hears-- something, before his senses all come back to him and he feels a hand on his back. His shoulders tense-- twitch-- and then Tim peers up and relaxes.]

Coffee?

[And Ren, but. Priorities.]

[forethinking]

(Ren's decided to give in to the entities that surround them recently. After his incident with the selkies, he's been doing a lot of thinking. It's a way to get back to the creatures and monsters, both human and not quite, that terrorize their neighborhood and protect the ones that don't have the means to do so. He's seen Loki use his abilities. No one's died, not a soul fell ill. He can feed the entity with the sweat and tears of shitty people. Not very different from his Modus Operandi back home, after all.

Either way, that's the last thought in his mind. All he's thinking is getting some caffeine into his friend, who's trying to stay awake so hard thus now!)

Mhmhm. You're trying to stay up, right?

[ployboy]

Yeah.

[Really not much more to say than that. Tim's aware that his voice sounds sleep-rough. Gross. Someone's gonna get entirely the wrong idea, and with bullheaded determination Tim shuffles upright.] Sorry, I don't know... what keeps happening. [It's been

nice.

It's been a nice party. People have enjoyed themselves, gotten to know each other better. Tim almost wants to rub at his eyes but, ugh, sand. It's everywhere. He smiles. Ren's cool.]

I'll go back to ADI for the night but I want to stay as long as I can here. [--] This was a great idea, by the way.

[forethinking]

If you miss the curfew, use my room. I’ll stay here.

(There’s not a bone in Ren’s body considering leaving. He’s in his element, reveling in the smiles, the company, the ocean, the sounds of laughter. It’s so nice.

Just missing the Phantom Thieves. His team would have had a blast and he lets out a nostalgic, tiny sigh before the smile is back.)

Thanks. We wanted everyone to feel closer.

i

[sorser]

[Guess who’s not in his sorcerer’s regalia today? It’s Stephen, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, dragging a rolling cooler full of drinks through the sand. The sight is absolutely mundane compared to their first meeting, which might make it all the more surreal.

A beach barbecue isn’t exactly his scene, but he did promise he would help; the preparation for this many people showing had kept him surprisingly busy. Stephen scoots the cooler next to a table with a spread of food, then stoops down to open it up — it’s full of unopened soda cans, nestled snugly in a bed of ice.]

Haven’t you ever bent the rules a little?

[Even Stephen, whose responsibilities are bigger than most back home, doesn’t always strictly adhere to the by-the-book rules. And this?

This is just a barbecue.]

[ployboy]

[This entire other worldly experience has been the worst fever dream Tim's had the misfortune to conjure up. He's watching the man, detached enough to be defensive, but there's an obvious understanding that wasn't, well, with Tim. before.

There's no freaking way anyone from the League or Council or-- literally no way anyone would get roped into pulling a soda cooler down the beach, looking like an average American dad.

(Correction, there is of course a way but the obsessive paranoia can only stretch so far.)

Tim makes an offended little noise, like a real protest got stuck at the back of his throat.]

I-- yeah, sometimes. Do you need help? [He asks like he hasn't already swiped... a marshmallows bag.]

[sorser]

[There’s something quaint about all of this, and maybe even Stephen can appreciate the mundanity of a barbecue in the midst of the less-than-ideal circumstances as to why they’re even here in this world. It exists to while away the idle hours, which is always a positive in his book — he’s allergic to idle hands, you see.

Stephen looks pointedly at the bag of marshmallows.]

It looks like you’ve already got your hands full. Straight for the sweets?

[He straightens, having plucked one of the sodas from the cooler, remnants of already-melting ice clinging to its side.]

But no, I’ll be fine. I promised Wanda I would help, not that I would enlist help along the way. You should try to unwind and enjoy yourself.

[Tim can do that, surely.]

i

[musicdied]

[Yelena gives him a dubious look, the sort that very clearly says, "ah, so you're the group narc".

Someone who barely looks old enough to shave and is fussing about permits isn't likely to be anything else.]

I think "ADI threw money at it" is always the safe bet.

[ployboy]

[Wow, she's looking at him like he's in the wrong for asking. Tim brings a hand up to rub at his neck, though he wonders if the gesture would be more disarming if there was an actual attempt at meekness.]

I just feel bad for the locals.

[Yeah, that's definitely his crusade.]

I don't think I've seen you around.

[musicdied]

[She snorts quietly, and gives her head a slow, sad shake, as though disheartened by the rigid upbringing he's clearly had.

But hey, a subject change. She can roll with that.]

I'm easy to miss in the crowd. Too many tall people. But if you are looking for a name, I'm Yelena.