(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

stephen strange | mcu | ota and threadjacking is ok!

[sorser]

ONE

[What’s a barbecue without a grill? Not a barbecue at all, clearly — and a barbecue without someone to oversee the actual grilling is a barbecue just looking to fail.

Of course, when Stephen—having promised to help a certain someone when this was all announced—is the one manning the grill, maybe failure isn’t that far off the mark, anyway.

The previous person had stepped away, and he had assured to keep an eye on whatever is currently sizzling: maybe it’s a veggie-kabob, maybe it’s a few burger patties. That’s all well and good, and Stephen stands there with a metal spatula in one hand, looking as though he absolutely knows what he’s doing, until he doesn’t. Until things start to steam, smoke, or char just a little too much, and he calls over his shoulder—]

Wanda, am I supposed to flip these? Wanda? Wanda!

[…Okay. She’s not here.

Stephen frowns and slides the spatula under one food item experimentally, flipping it over on its side. It sizzles angrily.]

…Not so hard.

[this is fine]

TWO

[The bonfire blazes, and Stephen takes a seat nearby, small glass of beer in-hand.]

So… this usually means story-time, right?

[Which means it’s a great time to get to know all these people he’s now sharing this world with — which is just another way of saying it’s time to gather up as much information as possible.]

Tell me yours. What’s it like, where you’re from?

THREE

[Or maybe you’ll catch him gathering up used plates and cups, or other assortments of trash, cleaning up after everyone near the end of the party, with items stacked perilously high in his arms. They wobble a bit as he tracks from place to place, holding more than what one man should clearly be able to balance.

Still, he seems to be doing okay, unless you notice the distance he has to walk to dump these back into the garbage. On a second thought, maybe he should’ve brought a trash bag with him.]

You know what’s better than having a fun, social gathering? [He grins a little, obviously dry, at the nearest person.] Cleaning the whole mess up.

[Hi, you’ve been VOLUNTOLD to help.]

three. chore buddies?

[variantl1130]

[Oh, Strange… Loki looks him up and down, arms crossed and brow raised.]

That’s quite a tower you’ve got there, [he teases.] It’d be a shame if something toppled it over…

[…He’s kidding. But he wants to see the look on the doctor’s face before he offers his help. There’s a trash bag stashed in his back pocket, ready to pull out once he’s got his intended reaction.]

in which Stephen continues to rope Loki into menial tasks

[sorser]

[Stephen stands with his leaning tower of trash, foot shifting in the sand to realign it from wobbling a little too far to the right. He sends Loki a look with raised brows, not terribly put-off, but he’ll give as good as he gets.]

If you even think about it, I’ll throw you into the ocean.

[That ocean way back there. How, with his hands full? One might wonder, but surely it’s an empty threat anyway.]

And that would be the real shame.

[variantl1130]

[It's an even better reaction than he'd hoped for! He breaks into a very satisfied laugh.]

I was expecting a jab, but not a threat! You've impressed me, Strange.

[Finally, he reveals the trash bag, and opens it up before him.] How about you topple that tower into this before you drop the whole thing? I think you might be a bit in over your head, there.

[sorser]

[Empty threats all around, it would seem. Loki is not toppling his trash collection over, and Stephen is not sending him through a portal straight into the ocean. Likely for the best.

Though he does appear pleasantly surprised at this quick willingness to help, quirking just mouth a little as he begins to dump the collection of paper plates into the trash bag.]

I’m trying to expedite the clean-up process. It’s not like this is the part that anyone enjoys.

[Not that he’s complained at all. He seems happy enough to help a little.]

You’re in a particularly helpful mood, though. This party must’ve put you in good spirits. I’m sure I even heard you singing earlier?

two

[littlegentleman]

[Junior's staring so intently at the fire that he doesn't immediately realize that he's being spoken to. When the silence following the question settles, however, he blinks, looking away from the blaze toward Stephen. There's a slight sort of confusion on his face, and then doubt, followed by something more guarded.]

I don't know. It's normal, I suppose.

[It's not, really. He knows it isn't. He's literally never talked about himself, before, so even knowing that there's nobody here from his own world who could chastise him for spilling secrets, it just seems...forbidden.]

Sorry, I don't have any stories.

[sorser]

[Firelight flickers, casting guttering shadows across any who sit nearby. It acts to fill the moment of silence that follows as Stephen considers that response, sipping at his beer.

Most would drop it, maybe. But he’s never been the kind to give up after one try, driven by a want to know at least a little about these individuals surrounding him, pulled from various worlds.]

“Normal” doesn’t mean much between all of us. My daily normalcy is spent living in a magical townhouse, hoping reality doesn’t crumble down all around me.

[Normal is a useless baseline, even between people who don’t harbor superpowers or magical abilities. Even more useless between the people here.]

Do you honestly think there’s anything at all “normal” about the people who have been gathered here?

[Everyone has a story; he’s almost certain of it.]

[littlegentleman]

[Junior hesitates, glancing between Stephen and the bonfire.]

No, you're right, I don't think there is.

[Just being here means there's something abnormal about all of them. And then, he knows there are plenty of things he could share that wouldn't even come close to trying to keep reality in check. Still, he isn't used to speaking more than has generally been considered absolutely necessary.]

I'm afraid I'm not too sure what to share. My name is Junior...and I work for the British Library.

[sorser]

You can share whatever you like.

[As much as Stephen would like to siphon as much information out of everyone here, he won’t overly pressure them to spill every detail of their lives back home. Sure, it would be nice, but he’s far more reasonable than that.

Usually.]

I have to say, I’m almost jealous. That’s a criminal amount of books.

[Needless to say, the British Library is in a league of its own. Stephen is used to the libraries in Kamar-Taj and the Sancrum, and while those are impressive in their own right, they’re small potatoes in comparison. (Even if the reading material is likely… very different.)]

What is it like to work there?

[littlegentleman]

What's it like...?

[The question somehow takes him by surprise. It's not often that he really considers his own feelings, since they're considered by those he knows even less. Junior looks up toward the stars, considering.]

It's busy, and there's a lot of traveling involved. I'd been recently stationed in Hong Kong and Japan. I just try and do a good job.

[He hesitates again, not sure if he should stop and ask questions of his own.]

What's your name?

sorry for the wait!

[sorser]

[Traveling? He considers asking what kind of tasks for the library require traveling, when the notion of an introduction interrupts this line of thought.]

My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. Other than the obvious title, I’m also—

[Not nearly as shy about who he is, at least not to others who ADI has swept under its wing.]

—a practitioner of the mystic arts. A sorcerer.

totally fine! I know how it goes :)

[littlegentleman]

Really?

[Junior blinks as he looks at Stephen straight on. A sorcerer. It's an odd concept to think about. On one hand, magic doesn't particularly exist in his own world. But then, on the other, there's people like himself and Agent Paper. Is it magic, or science, or something else entirely? He doesn't really have those sorts of answers.

Feeling like he's staring, Junior feels his cheeks grow hotter than from the fire, and he tucks his hands beneath his knees.]

Do you prefer Dr. Strange, then?

two

[horrifictie]

What's it like?

[ he has a glass of seltzer water in his hands (the party demon in his head screams for some of that beer stephen has, just a tiny drop, a little sip) that he turns, thinking about the question he parroted back. ]

I *could* give you the whole reality low-down, but I have to warn you: I'm not a charming bourgeois lady on a boat, nor am I all that educated.

[ oh joyce, the most charming swamp monster he will ever know. ahem-

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Easy: Success] - Remember to include a *wacky* fourth choice. Just for fun, if nothing else! ]

Ok there is a lot of ground to cover and I'm guessing you don't want to sit here all night with me, because trust me it could really take that long, so pick a topic: the pale, the battle for the mineral rights, the state of global politics, or the story of how I defeated a giant racist in mortal combat.

[sorser]

[Stephen would pour his beer out on the spot if he knew what kind of temptation it is — as it stands, he merely clinks at the bottle with the tip of a fingernail. He isn’t awfully surprised that Harry would have a variety of options to choose from. A man like this—in profession, demeanor, enthusiasm—probably has an arrangement of tales waiting to be spilled.]

I definitely never mistook you for a bourgeois lady on a boat.

[Very specific.

And then the options come; “the pale” seems like the proper choice for a man interested in the mystical and metaphysical, based on the name alone. But even Stephen isn’t immune to the draw of the wacky fourth choice.

I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t ask about that?]

Oh, I want to hear about that last one. How and why.

[horrifictie]

Aha. My tale of triumph.

[ well, you asked for it doc - wacky story it is. ]

Before I arrived here I was working a case where men from a local company union were suspected of killing a man via hanging. As part of my interviews, I had to visit the Union's boss and get his testimony. Problem is, the route to his office was being guarded by a man. His name was Jean-Luc, but the people had another name for him: Measurehead.

Measurehead was two meter tall behemoth, but more than that? Dude was an extreme racist. I'm talking eugenics race science, next level racist. Had a whole categorical system to break down his judgments of every race out there. If the guy on the street was an every day worker, then he was the CEO of racism.

[ he takes a sip and clears his throat, then sets the drink down to have use of his hands for the story. ]

I had to push a button to get into the union office and Measurehead was in the way. Peace was never an option. He presented me a choice: either I subscribe to his race science and become his disciple, swearing fealty as his new bitch, or I best him in single combat.

The battle was fast. [ he closes his fists and throws a punch at the air. ] I landed a jab to his jugular, the one part of him not built like a brick wall, and then! [ he uncurls his fists and waves his slanted hands in front of him. ] Then I did a 360-spin kick to finish the job - disco inferno!

[ a final smirk is shot as he sits back down, taking his glass in hand again. ]

And that, Dr. Strange, is how I single-handedly defeated racism.

[ RHETORIC [Formidable: Success] - To be clear: you didn't contribute *anything* related to repairing the societal toxins at the core of racism, and Measurehead neither changed nor learned anything from this encounter about being less of a bigot.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Easy: Success] - But you did kick his ass and conquered him *physically*. If you can't reason with a bigot, then it's better to punch them. ]

[sorser]

[Well, he’s not disappointed. It’s a wacky story with a lot to pick apart and question, until the whole thing turns into a spider-webbing network of questions that could lead down any number of rabbit holes.

One: how did the overall investigation go? Two: is Harry much of a fighter? A 360 spin kick is no small feat. Three: disco inferno?

But perhaps overshadowing all of that is a sense of disbelief, as though he’s being told a tale with pieces of it exaggerated, yet he doesn’t think that’s the case. Why should he doubt it? In the grand scheme of things, Stephen himself has dealt with, ah, “wackier.”]

The man sounds like it had it coming. That said—

[Maybe this is the real sticking point for him.]

—is this an example of an everyday case for you? Or just one that was particularly [off the wall] eventful?

[horrifictie]

Wouldn't know. [ he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. ] I lost my memory a week before coming here.

[ you know, normal things! ]

[sorser]

[Not entirely normal.

Though Harry would be the second he’s spoken to with the issue of memory loss — the first being another man from his world, far less talkative than present company.

Even so, it’s unexpected in a way that makes his brows lift.]

So is asking “what happened” a moot point?

[horrifictie]

[ LOGIC [Trivial: Success] - That much you have pieced together. Unfortunately for you.
DRAMA [Easy: Success] - Sire, may I advise a white lie? It would not make a promising impression onto your new friend if he learned you got *shitfaced*, so to speak. ]

Uhh, yeah, yeah I don't remember how I lost it. Really weird that. [ ahem- ] It's retrograde. I can form new memories, but everything from my past is gone more or less.

It's... not as bad as it sounds, so don't worry doc. You should tell me a story next.

two

[forethinking]

(Ren had gone for a swim, so when he returns and smells some burning, he's mildly worried. He does not recognize the man flipping the burgers, but he observes with a smile as he hears the comment, happy that it looks like a new milestone has been achieved.)

Give it three minutes, and put it in a bun.

(He recommends, towel drying the soaked curly hair and reaching for his glasses on the table nearby.)

I'm Ren. Do you need any help?

(And a hand to shake.)

[sorser]

[It’s a milestone if you count not burning these patties in a window of ten minutes a success — though without proper direction, there’s no guarantee it’ll continue this way.

Thankfully, proper direction seems to be nearing. Stephen turns when Ren approaches, taking into account the instruction. Three minutes. He can do three minutes.]

I’m not exactly a grill master, but with a little instruction, how hard can it be?

[Stephen completes the handshake — it’s brisk even if his grip isn’t entirely strong.]

I’m Stephen. I believe we spoke over your post.

[forethinking]

(Stephen... Wanda's friend? Ren lights up almost immediately. He was looking forward to meeting the man. Like he said, an acquaintance of Wanda's is one of his as well.

He's very easy.)

Oh! That's right.

(And the glasses go back to his face, almost instantaneously softening his features. The sheer power of anime glasses.)

Do you want me to teach you?

[sorser]

[The power of anime is clearly one unmatched.]

It’d make sense. Another pair of hands to rotate out, so you’re not stuck here all day. The host has an obligation to have fun, too.

[Spoken like Ren clearly hasn’t just come back from a dip in the ocean.]

[forethinking]

I'm used to it, though.

(Ren worked several jobs, one involved being the only person in a beef bowl shop - including but not limited to: making the food, doing the dishes, taking the orders... Really, he's fine! This pales in comparison to it.

Ren moves to where the cheese slices are, carefully placing them on top of the patties and getting the buns to toast as well. Observe!)

Everyone with a full stomach comes first.

(Which he thought he had achieved, but really, this is what he's here for!)

[sorser]

[Okay, well, since his minutes aren’t yet up, Stephen will indeed observe Ren and make a few mental notes here and there. It’s like med school all over again, except with burgers.]

Used to what? Multitasking and sacrificing your own fun?