(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

[cacophonish]

[ One good smirk deserves another, so here's Jeff, smirking back at Tim, bright and teasing. He bats his eyes innocently and repeats: ] 'Which question?' [ Jeff props himself up on his elbows, like he's determined to keep the two of them on-- or close to-- the same level. ] Both questions. Come onnnn...

[ His smirk fades as he considers his mom, though. ]

Yeah, I guess. [ 'I guess.' No, it's not that ambiguous. They are close. Or were, he supposes. It'd been months since he stopped by for a visit, even before he woke up in 2021, and now...

Now he doesn't know if he'll ever see her again.

That sucks. ]

I don't... I don't think I make sense to my dad, so he sticks to my brothers. But my mom, she... [ He smiles again, warmly, though he won't look at Tim now. Like it's too scary to look at somebody else while he's being, you know, real ] She always knew me even before I was born. I was, like, this close to being named Apollo, 'cause... She knew. She always used to say my heartbeat felt like a song, or the way I'd kick or... whatever. [ He laughs and wiggles his fingers at his head. ] That's the kind of witch she is. She likes to talk in fairytales and myths and shit.

[ Jesus this is the most he's said about... well, anything besides music, probably, since coming here. It feels weird. He needs to ruin the moment. ]

You know, I'm trying to imagine you as a little kid, but all I can see is you springing out of your dad's head fully formed. What's it like with your parents?

[ Another question for the pile. That's three to dodge now, Tim. ]

[ployboy]

[It's easy to ignore the goading; it's time for a story. Tim's full attention is on Jeff. The fall of the smirk on his lips, the fondness radiating from him with every breath and gesture. Tim can understand him looking away. This doesn't sound like something he'd love to share, either.

Some hurt seeps into his chest so he jokes,]

You can get away with calling your mom a witch?

[Timothy Jackson Drake. That's his name, the one he's always had. Mostly it's Tim. Rarely would he be called Timothy. He doesn't think he recalls some what if discourse about his name.

He shrugs and feels nothing big. He just hears the dull sound of the ocean's lazy waves.] I've been alone for a while. The man who adopted me, Bruce... he's good. One of the best men I know. [He also didn't have legal guardianship over Tim anymore. Bruce had come back, and he hadn't even asked-- it gnaws at him. Tim shifts, kicks his legs out straight.] But I was just too used to doing my own thing, I guess. Have my own place, come and go as I please. It's cool.

[cacophonish]

Yeah, 'cause I'm a real son-of-a-witch.

[ Ha.

Jeff lays back again and pulls his legs in, knees pointing up at the sky. He's looking at Tim again, squinting a little in the dim light, like he's trying to discern... something. He doesn't really know what.

Tim doesn't launch into any stories about his parents. No warm memories come out of his mouth. Even what he says about Bruce is succinct, like it's not much more than a statement of fact.

He wants to ask about Bruce. About what happened to mom and dad, if he ever knew mom and dad, or... It's all so heavy, isn't it? The conversational equivalent of strapping weights on and walking right into the ocean.

Jeff hugs his arms against his stomach, silent for a few moments, before he shoots a teasing smirk at the other boy. ]

And now you've got roommates and a curfew and a fucking-- mile-long list of house rules. Suuuucks, dude.

[ployboy]

[It falls flat, Tim keen to the notion that he's-- disappointed. Not as in, he is disappointed but more, he has disappointed. It's a warped idea maybe, but he's known pensive, expectant looks for so long that the suspicion of letting someone down is eager to claw its way under his skin, through his limbs, up to seize his running thoughts and bring everything to a standstill.]

I kept busy. [Unprompted. Like he needs to stop talking, because nobody asked.] There was work. We had the Neon Knights Foundation running smoothly, finally, and we had the funding to... [Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, talking about funding. In a beach, in a different world, sharing so much of nothing with a sandy-haired guy who makes him anxious.

Tim lets out a low, grounding breath. He hunches over, but just to brush some sand off the edge of the blanket. Futile, but fun.] How obvious would I be if I said ADI just reminds me of boarding school? The... saving the world bit is new, though. Of course.

[cacophonish]

[ For as spacey as Jeff is, even he can pick up on the anxiety there, the way it seems to push that extra rush of words out of Tim. He sits up, cross-legged, and leans in close, because what is personal space? It's nothing. He gives Tim a poke. ]

Relax. It's cool. I'm not-- [ What, judging? Pitying? He kind of feels like even saying that will introduce another wave of anxiety. ] You're cool. [ A beat, then he grins. ] Even if you went to a fucking boarding school.

What's the Neon Knights Foundation?

tldr; ohno

[ployboy]

[God, his life might have gone so differently if he'd gone to a boarding school.

But that's useless ruminating.

Tim pulls a face, annoyance at the proximity and at the words, regardless. He doesn't need to relax. He needs to do the opposite.

He has the sense not to voice that to Jukebox Hero.] The Neon Knights... [See, here's the thing: Tim is damn proud of the project. He figures he has every right to be. And it's not often he gets the treat of being able to talk about the things he's proud of having done--

scratch that, his face is on billboards and tabloids all over the fucking place back home, interviews and public appearances exhausting him in ways that getting the crap beat out of him never did--

but it's really different to be able to talk when he just wants to talk, y'know?

I slay dragons, I buried the Hydra, I fight the good fight

he can't say that but he can say] So, the Neon Knights is... we provide shelters for youth. There was a lack of support for a lot of the kids in my city, and that made them turn to... violence, [drugs] rough crowds, you get the picture. We got the gangs into a treaty. It's all no-cost, there's rec centers up, clinics. It's not enough [it's never enough] but it's a start.

And then we secured the funding to go international and [it's weird to just talk] ...I already told you about Moscow, didn't I? [Or... was it Malcolm?

It's weird to just talk and the novelty is catching up to Tim. He looks from Jeff to the bit of sand he's collected, and uh. wraps it up.]

People need to... make their own choices. For how they want to fight their battles. Sometimes it's just bad luck that keeps them from... having the opportunity to see beyond what is, um. [Huh.]

From seeing beyond what they're being told. About what they should do, what their future holds. It needs to be in their hands, and there has to be education for that. There's a long road ahead. [He looks up, surrendered to contemplation.] But it's a start.

[...]

It was so worth getting shot over.

[cacophonish]

Wow.

[ It's not sarcastic; he's impressed. Wholly impressed, in a way that's difficult to articulate.

Because this is a lot. But it's not A Lot in a bad way or anything. He's met... a lot of people who could use supports like that. It's the kind of work his dad would support, that his brother will probably get into, once he's done with law school and shit. ]

That's... really fucking cool, man. It's like, beautiful. [ This just in: Jeff's a hippie. Anyway, he grins. ] I feel like I'm talking to a real superhero.

[ (LITTLE DOES HE KNOW.)

Wait.

Hang on.

Jeff makes a face. ]

You got fucking shot, dude?

cw brief mention of police corruption

[ployboy]

['Beautiful', this idiot says, and Tim wants to push him.

Wants to see his face at the thought of Tim being named a superboy in Hong Kong.

His grin is sharp, though. Arrogance does that, Tim guesses.] Some crooked cops were bribing the gangs, pushing them to fight. The type of people who rely on power to keep their crimes quiet and who the love the fear they put in others. That can't keep happening in my city. I got the intel, got an audience, and called them out.

I want to help people, and I can, so that means I should. [And... he stands, dusting sandy hands on the legs of his jeans before stretching a hand out for Jeff to take.

Look-- Tim's hungry. And maybe a little giddy.] C'mon, get up. [ya bum]

[cacophonish]

[ 'My city.' Jeff doesn't miss that wording, and he's not sure if it speaks to an overwhelming feeling of responsibility for the place, or if it's something more... territorial.

In any case, Jeff's about to say something very deep and meaningful now. Are you ready? ]

Fucking pigs.

[ Jeff takes his hand, hauling himself up easily, practically bonelessly. ]

I'm up, I'm up. [ He stretches a little, like he's shaking his limbs loose again. ] I'm still gonna write that song, you know. About mermaids. [ And fucking. He smiles his dreamy smile, laughing at some private joke. ] 'Fishbones'...

[ Catchy name, right?? ]