Birthday Party

[peripheries]

Who: Paul Atreides and all his CR
What: Throwing everyone’s favorite Duke a surprise birthday party
When: Forwarded dated to April 1st
Where: Bone House in Gaze

Content Warnings: Drinking, underage drinking, drugs (both fictional and not), drawings of space worms, skeletons, will add further warnings if necessary



When you arrive at the house in Gaze, (affectionately known as Bone House), a skeleton will open the door and offer to take your coat if you have one. No need to take your shoes off or anything!

The large house has been decorated with black streamers and confetti. In the entryway and hung on the railing to the second floor that overlooks the entrance to the great room are large banners that say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL” (though one looks like it used to say “Jaune” but was just painted over? Whatever).

In the Living Room, there is a large board and various colored markers for people to write messages to the birthday boy. There is also a table full of bottled water and various couches, chairs, and beanbags to collapse into if the party gets to be too much and one needs a quiet place to rest or a place to chill if you’ve imbibed too much… well, whatever you had.

It is also where all the food and drinks are.

There’s an extremely large charcuterie board with the usual meats, cheeses, and olives as well as an extremely eccentric collection of snacks ranging from individual sized Cheez-it bags, to humungous bags of Doritos and salty chips, as well as nearly every kind of Oreo one can imagine.

There are also various cakes, all angel food. Some are misshapen, some have an attempt at being frosted with whipped cream and fruit, one even says “Happy Birthday Ka-” before that was hastily covered with a bunch of strawberries jammed really close together.

At the island, a skeleton is playing bartender. Surprisingly, it can seem to take and understand individual orders, but there’s always a constant flow of tequila shots being made and sent out to the great hall to be served by another skeleton.

And, no, of course it’s not going to check your age to see if you’re legal. It’s a skeleton. Why would it care?

The Great Hall is the center of activity and where everyone is encouraged to mingle and have fun. There is a skeleton on the grand piano in the corner gleefully playing piano covers of the hits from the Shrek Soundtrack with the occasional cover of “DaRude’s Sandstorm” when it has another one to help out.

In another corner, on huge piece of paper that spans nearly 6ft wide and 8ft tall is drawing of an Arrakis sandworm and it’s giant maw. The game is Pin the Tooth on the Sandworm and it’s… very easy… because the worm maw is most of the board. Even if the skeleton spins you as you’re blindfolded, it’s pretty hard to lose. If you manage to do it, which is likely, the skeleton running the game will award you a tequila shot! If you lose, the skeletons will award you a tequila shot (but it’s rail).

(It’s a drinking game, isn’t the point to drink?)

There’s also a table that has many candelabras on it, numbering up to seventeen. They’re still lit and burning even though there is a sign that says “make a wish!” even though it almost looks like a shrine for the dead.

…It’s maybe clear that the concept of “birthday candles” was greatly misunderstood.

There is also a skeleton dealing out small doses of “Spice”, a psychoactive drug straight outta the Duneverse. However, you must check in with this Skeleton to get a dose. There will be no “permanently melting your brain with ancestral memories” at this party!

Teacher’s/God’s/Jod’s/The Emperor Undying’s study, adjacent to the main hall, is closed and locked. Though, the lock is fairly easy to break if someone really wanted to get in. There’s not even skeletons guarding.

That said, many things are warded with eerie runes of blood and bone.

So, fuck around and find out.

The upstairs is generally off limits. Party goers can climb up the stairs, and it’s encouraged if they want to look over the Great Room from above, but all of the bedrooms are carefully guarded by more skeletons who will SCREAM VERY LOUDLY if you try to enter and will become hostile if done by force.

Of course, this won’t happen if you are with someone who lives in the house.

Enjoy the party! Mingle away!

((ooc: if you have any questions or anything, please hit me up at worldtype)) or via PM.))

Birthday Board | At the Party | The Morning After | IC Party Games | Spice Dealer

Comments

AT THE PARTY

[peripheries]

[Place top levels for what your character is doing at the party here! Feel free to have events take place over the entire night and get creative with the setting.]

kaworu nagisa | evangelion | OTA

[peripheries]

cw: underage drinking

Early in the night
[There he is.

The orchestrator. The planner. The mastermind.

You’ll certainly see Kaworu at the party, though he’s a little hard to actually catch. He is in constant motion, darting from room to room to ensure everything is in order. He has to make sure there are abundant snacks, that the candles are still lit, and the skeletons are playing the music correctly and are properly handing out tequila shots as worm game prizes. It’s a lot! Plus his head is buzzing a little from the tequila shots he took while trying to learn the proper ritual to do so (salt, liquor, then lime, he has it memorized by now, he thinks).

Then, finally, he gives himself a moment to pause. He perches on the staircase railing that overlooks the Great Room, back resting against the wall, one arm looped around a knee pulled close to his chest and just watches the hustle and bustle of the party.

There’s a smile on his face, softer, and more delicate than the smug one he likes to wear around as a shield.

Pride is an odd feeling but enjoyable all the same.]

Later in the night

[Kaworu still likes to go to his little perch throughout the night. There’s a swell of emotions within him when he sees everything that’s happening that he keeps going back to, hoping each time he might be able to understand exactly what each feeling is.

He doesn’t. He can’t easily name all of them. “Pride” isn’t enough to capture everything. So all he can do is enjoy the feeling and the knowledge that he helped put it all into motion.

However, when he leaps down from his perch down into the Great Room, floating to soften his landing, he stumbles over his own feet and into… well. You. He has to grab your arm to keep upright (thankfully he’s very tiny). Then he straightens, looking a little confused at how that happened.]

Heyyy. Good party right? Have you done… [There’s a helpless gesture at the wall with the worm that now has many many teeth.] Worm? Paul loves the worms. You should… you should do the worm.

[Ah, it’s that type of party when the host gets hammered and just opens everything up to go off the rails.]

Wildcard
[Feel free to hit him up with almost everything as he'll be out and about everywhere! Contact me at worldtype, PM, or Discord at trevelyan#6066]

early in the night

[terriblepurpose]

[This party has been a surprise in more ways than one already. Paul has never known Kaworu to sink his hands this deep into messy human details before, which may be why he's had surprising trouble tracking him down until the angel ends back up in one of his more usual perches. Or maybe that's part of another of the surprises - Kaworu's unexpected talent for misdirection.]

There's my guardian angel.

[Paul sidles up to Kaworu's perch with a soft smile of his own, face slightly flushed from his own experimentation with the amber-colored liquor.]

I can't believe you got me.

[His reproach is lightly teasing; the weight of feeling underneath it is not.]

later; wildcard; draw me like one of your french broccolis

[wannasmash]

cw: the teens did space drugs
Because sitting guilelessly with no thought to giving an interesting angle was apparently unacceptable, Midoriya, in a fit of pique, decided to copy Paul. Not the Paul sitting with him and a drawing pad on the couch, but the Paul who strutted in with different clothes a little while ago, before Midoriya's spice mishap peaked then ebbed.

Midoriya isn't a good actor; his face remains in its calmly euphoric state as he openly stares too much at Paul, who is nice to look at and breathtakingly limned in what some might call "the shrimp colors." However, as anyone who spars with him can attest, Midoriya is very good at copying moves. The precise angle of his head is not a mockery but an exact clone of the birdlike cant Paul used to debut his earrings.

Paul can't complain. It's his move, so to speak, and it's good. Midoriya doesn't have earrings to show off, just a new haircut, shorter and trendier than usual, that will still grow out in a matter of weeks.

later in the night!

[grice]

[ oof— despite the ruckus of the party later into the evening, falco has kept himself relatively calm, especially when he had an egg on board! said egg has been wrapped around his front in a sling, cracks its little eyes open before— its eyes disappear. an egg with eyes? you’re just seeing things.

besides that, falco keeps his arms out to steady kaworu in the first place, especially if the teen angel decided to fall forward. he didn’t want an omelette all over them both, plus— the bridge of falco’s nose crunches at the smell of alcohol exhaled from the other’s breath, brows furrowing into concern. ]

How much’ve you had to drink, Mister Kaworu?

[ how much has . . . everyone!! had to drink!! ]

Later in the night- with preemptive apologies for his behavior

[detonating]

[Katsuki originally had planned to dip out early, but considering well. The state of Midoriya, both prior to this party, his state currently and weighing those things to who he knows have also arrived in Trench around the same time that he did? He's decided to stay, despite absolutely hating the atmosphere and the reasons why. Socializing in general and admitting to himself that he gives a fuck about Izuku's well being on a deep enough level to babysit (just distantly keeping an eye on him is more the reality of it) his drunk ass are two things that definitely aggravate the fuck outta Katsuki... and thus, he is not in a good mood when he gets bumped into.]

Oi--!!

[Fucking grabbed. Held onto for a second. By, unbeknownst to the blond, the host of the party. All he can do is look affronted--in a supremely bitchy way, and think of this person as yet another drunk dumbass. If this were a year ago, Katsuki would've fucking creamed this asshole instantly for daring to touch him and hang out in his personal space at all. But he's learning to be better, so all that happens is a shake off and a step back.]

Hahh? [He goes from irritated surprise to a hard knit scowl real fast when the person actually speaks to him.] Worm? [Do the fucking worm????? Now it's disgust that takes over the blond's face, just briefly.

Like the embarrassing as HELL dance move?! No?? He follows the gaze to the worm wall, and then looks at the dude like he's maybe sprouted two more heads.] I have no fuckin' clue what the hell that's even about, so fuck no! [He's just a guy, conned into coming by another stupid guy, who literally knows no one or anything except for the fact that Birthday Boy apparently died in a battle a while back.

Someone fucking kill him. Why did he agree to this, again????]

later in the night

[lipochrome]

[ Gideon, to her embarrassment, sways a little when Kaworu stumbles into her. She must be drunker than she thought. She recovers quickly, though, laughing and scooping Kaworu up before setting him down again. He weighs like five whole pounds! ]

Oh, trust me. I've done the worm. [ Gideon claps him on the back, for emphasis. ] You know what they call me? They call me...

[ Gideon pauses, her inebriation possibly ruining a bit of her comedic timing. ]

...Big-Worm Griddle. That's what they call me.

The Emperor | The Locked Tomb | OTA

[necrolord]

i. the skeletons. (general mingle)

[ So: this house is full of skeletons.

There are skeleton servants. There are skeletons guards. Batcat skeletons sit as silent sentinels along the front wall and gate. You swear you saw the white shamble of a Nightmare skeleton among the gnarled trees at the property's edge. Even in the foyer, where the marble flooring has cracked or broken, someone has patched it with eerie whorls of off-white.

Maybe you muttered a comment. Maybe you've been caught staring. Maybe a skeleton brushed against you in the hall and you whipped around and screamed.

One way or another, a voice comes from just behind you-- warm and human, a little amused: ]

I promise they don't bite.

ii. locked door: the study. (possible hand trauma and resulting h/c)

[ So you've decided to fuck around and find out.

God's own study is guarded by nothing more than a flimsy door lock. It is the only locked room in the house. Should you jimmy the lock, or force your way inside, or break in by magic-- maybe you're here on a dare, maybe you're suspicious of the nameless man with all-black eyes and a million undead-- you will find...

A boring study. Cluttered with paper, notebooks, and abandoned mugs of tea. But there are interesting things on the shelves: vials of blood that still roils like something alive. Lengths of bone that seem to whisper to you. The skull of something horrible: the skeletons of Beasts.

The stuff in here is cursed as fuck. The stuff in here is the Trench equivalent of a horrifying biohazard. Even touching some of it could tip a person into Beasthood. Of course, upon close inspection, each is surrounded by a tidy ring of blood runes. The magically-inclined can tell that this place is warded to hell and back.

Crossing a necromantic ward line isn't recommended. But maybe you're very curious or very stupid. ]

iii. off-limits area: the upstairs. (fight or stealth!)

[ If you're not a resident, and you climb the stairs-- to snoop around, to hook up, whatever-- you will be stopped on the landing by the skeletons. There are at least two in your path, a livid red spark in each eye socket. When you move, they turn their silent skulls to look at you.

If you brave that undead stare and squeeze past them, they will each begin to scream.

Scream isn't quite the word. It's a low, inhuman wail that builds and builds from within each skull, til the skeletons shudder with sound. It's like some kind of necromantic air-ride siren. It is horrifying, and probably deeply embarrassing.

If for some reason this doesn't send you running, the skeletons will try to scruff you and usher you back down the stairs. But they never do harm. They are unarmed and fragile; if you shatter one, it goes down in a pathetic pile of bones.

So: what are you going to do? ]

iv. wildcard!

[ Find me at ochrona or Rona#7132 if you need me! ]

ii

[justoscar]

[Oscar cared enough about the effort that was put into Paul's party that he kept his reservations about their host to himself. Paul was gifted with a type of foresight that Oscar was still learning-- and, if Paul sensed no danger to his person, then that was fine.

However, Oscar couldn't just forget the man's uncanny eyes. Even now, over a year after the fact and after witnessing the effects of her being culled half a dozen times, Oscar still sometimes saw her eyes in his dreams. The endless darkness within them, like a boundless abyss, was lit only by the crimson that hearkened back to old adages he had heard. 'Red sky in morning...'.

The fact that this man's eyes glimmered coldly, like the arctic sun as observed from the bottom of an abyss, haunted him. And, spotting the ostensibly locked door, Oscar found himself saddled with the most curious of questions:

What would Dipper do?

Waiting for a moment when the party seemed especially raucous, Oscar deftly broke the knob in a manner that could have only been known by someone with a carpenter's skill-- or years of practice stealing into locked chambers. Biting his lip, Oscar scanned around for witnesses before slipping inside

...He had no idea what he expected, but it wasn't this.

For a second he felt like he had been transported into one of the horror novels he had read while on the farm, with the villainous scientist keeping a shadowy lair that was lined wall to wall with vials and specimen jars of unknown substances. Sucking in a breath, he pressed forward into the study.

He needed something tangible to prove to himself that this man, this Teacher, was no more dangerous than Salem. Oscar knew that he would recognize his target on sight-- and that he needed this proof to rest comfortably at night.]

i

[loopsbian]

[ when satoko turns to face the emperor, it is with the look of a child who's been accosted at the cookie jar. to be entirely fair, she does have more reason than most to assume she's in trouble; rather than being panicked by the skeletons are turning up her nose at them, she's been steadily getting more in their way and watching how they react. by the time celestial kindliness has approached her, her badgering has gotten to the point of shoving her fingers into a skeleton's mouth and watching it curiously.

"a pity that they don't," she very nearly says. instead, she withdraws her fingers and turns to face the man. ]

Ah, um... My apologies. Where I'm from, this isn't a common sight.

[ it'd be easy to believe her on sight alone - she can't be any older than fifteen, and there's a lisp she hasn't quite trained out of her voice yet courtesy of a snaggletooth.

if only she didn't carry several thousand deaths' worth of thanergy all throughout her. ]

iii!

[grice]

[ oh no. and here falco thought they’d let him pass, but— as soon as the skeletons begin to wail once he’s squeezed past them, falco jumps and makes for anything could grab a hold of. railings, furniture, table legs— he hooks one arm into any of those things while the other coils protectively around a oval bundle in a sash over his chest. the egg in question is sadly startled with the sirens and the skeletal frames coming for them, adding a horrid, crying shriek into the mix. ]

I-I just want to find a room for him! He’s tired! Please—?!

[ maybe he was tired, too. a boy with too young a face, younger than anyone here. there’s too much drinking and spice use for him and his little egg friend going on downstairs, and there are two reasons why he doesn’t simply leave: one, it was mildly dangerous to go back home alone at this hour, and he didn’t want to bother anyone to go with him. second: these mad lads are going to need hangover remedies in the morning, if not help to clean the whole place up. ]

i

[the_obedient_servant]

[Chara looks up at him. It's not as if they're unused to his Skeletons, they have been learning from him for a couple weeks now. Still, they had been staring rather intently at them, almost irritably.

Fucking... skeletons.]

So long as they don't make puns or attack me in the HUD, they can bite all they like.

i

[dohaeris]

[sansa stills (she was only looking at a skeleton. perhaps a corpse so neatly rotted away didn't have anyone left to miss its bones? she hopes so, for all their sakes). anyone speaking with authority about the skeletons is likely to be one of the necromancers kaworu mentioned. perhaps she might find out more about how this magic works and where the skeletons come from. but she must be careful. alayne stone doesn't know about the night's king. alayne stone thinks the white walkers are just a story to get children to behave. she affixes a smile to her face and turns around, doing her considerable best to look guileless.]

Forgive me. I suppose I heard too many stories about strange things that snatch up naughty children when I was small. My nurse could be very frightening.

[all true, except she is not sorry.]

There is much here that's new to me.

Oscar Pine | RWBY | OTA

[justoscar]

cw: underage accidental substance use

Early

[Oscar had a hunch that he couldn't necessarily trust anyone's cooking in this house after hearing about Paul straining rice with his hands, and as such came prepared... with a casserole dish loaded with mac and cheese, a special on the farm for weekend potlucks and other such gatherings.

Besides food, he had made good on his promise to Kaworu and brought along a sheet and a variety of washable tempera paints with an assortment of tools for people to play with. He expected people to be drunk, but he didn't plan to partake in any tequila himself.

If it seemed like he kept stealing glances towards the locked study... no he wasn't. You're imagining it.]

Late

[...Or, maybe you weren't. Later in the evening features a much different Oscar, who is more decidedly done but still sticking to his personal values and not uttering a word of his experience to the others. When he wasn't sourly avoiding the antics of drunk or stoned people, he was staring out into the distance with a haunted expression shadowing his eyes.

Clearly someone found trouble.

Eventually, he became tempted to try the spice.... and misjudged, accidentally taking far more than he had intended.

Oops.

The farmlad could be found flopped over on the sofa next to a potted plant he had somehow found, gently fondling it's leaves while he stared up into the nothingness of the ceiling, quietly muttering what seemed like nonsense to himself.]

What do you mean you never got over her? Didn't she kill your kids? And you?

...Oh. Yeah... after taking a swim like that, no one was ever gonna save her. No matter how sweetly she looked at you.

...

You seriously didn't get any idea of trouble when you looked in her eyes?

Paul Atreides | Dune (2021) | OTA

[terriblepurpose]

[Content warnings: underage drinking, drug use, body modification]

1. rice libel | any time | OTA

I was rinsing rice. I know you don't strain cooked rice, and doing it with your bare hands? That's ridiculous. It was also once. One time!

[Paul's hands flutter illustratively through the air as he offers up this smiling explanation...or elaborate cover-up of his rice-related crimes.]

2. worm facts | early evening | OTA

[When Paul first put together what was going on in a burst of sound, light, and projectiles, a person might have been able to capture a glimpse of an unusual sight: the young Duke Atreides blinking and flat-footed, entirely disarmed.

But Paul is nothing if not adaptable. It doesn't take long before he has evaluated the altered environmental conditions, identified new key strategic objectives, and formulated a revised plan of attack for the evening's festivities.

This is why he is currently accepting a shot of tequila from a skeleton with a blindfold pulled down around his neck and the first buttons of his carefully pressed black formal shirt undone. It's not his first, but he trusts in the calibrated metabolic efficiency of his liver. He raises the shot glass in a toast to the next person he makes eye contact with, then gestures with it to the illustration of the sandworm he's sunk another tooth into.]

They're called Shai-Hulud, on Arrakis. They're fascinating lifeforms.

[His blue eyes blaze with the relentless enthusiasm of someone bearing great and terrible trivia, a myriad of factoids unfolding out endlessly into the dark oceans of the evening yet-to-come. Then his face breaks into a grin, and he downs the shot.]

Your turn. Pin the great beast of the desert, if you dare!

3. bone head | mid-evening | OTA

[The resident solemn arboreal memorials (Paul Atreides and Harrowhark Nonagesimus, respectively) quiet consultation and brief adjournment to the upstairs takes place mid-evening, and may be missed by most party-goers. Uniform black is functionally camouflage in the house that necromancy built, after all.

Paul's return about half an hour later is harder to miss. It's not that he's departed from the monochrome, but how he's rearranged it. Paul comes down the stairs with his blue-green eyes lined lightly in night, his formal button-down exchanged for a t-shirt sized to fit loosely on someone shorter and slighter than he is and composed of some slightly shiny dark fabric that had slipped over Paul's fingers like water as he rifled shamelessly through his bunkmate's belongings. Under his silver-buttoned black vest, it fits Paul less loosely.

These cosmetic differences are slight compared to the object of his original departure. Paul smiles at a tilted, dreamy slant as he slips back into the party with his four new bone studs, two to an earlobe, still red and aching in their newness.

His ultimate destination is the impromptu dance floor, but he takes his time getting there, and he may or may not be angling his head with a certain attention-seeking precision.]

4. spice spice baby | late evening | closed to close CR

[As the evening winds down, Paul is gauzily intrigued to discover the limits of his body's processing capacity. This is to say that he finds himself sprawled loosely on a couch with his eyeliner smudged, his hair hopelessly tousled, and a gentle warmth perfused through his blood.

In spice-heightened empathetic awareness, his breath slows to the rhythms of the tidal whispers of feeling in the house. He looks at the ceiling through half-closed green eyes full of drifting contemplation.]

Do you feel that?

[He doesn't turn his head to ask. He knows who's there, an individual presence close enough to gleam even in a sea of soft light.]

5. wildcard

[Please feel free to reach out to me at terriblepurpose or via DM to come up with alternative starters if you would like to!]

Izuku "Deku" Midoriya | My Hero Academia | OTA

[wannasmash]

Midoriya, a relatively short 16-year-old, arrives in jeans, his usual red sneakers (kept on only when he spots a large dance space), and the black collared button-down Madam Generosity gave him. Nowadays, it only just fits his well-muscled shoulders. His overgrowth of dark green hair has finally been cut--a little shorter and trendier than usual. (Ruby's ideas were tempered by Midoriya's wise insistence not to change too much. She is an agent of chaos otherwise.) It sets off hidden angles on his freckled cheeks. His roadmap of scars has doubled since the Leviathan, and his usual energy tends towards half-smiles and more restful looks at first. Hopefully the birthday party of a close friend will change that.

Disclaimer to all necromancers: He's fine
cw: early MHA spoilers
It's unclear how many, but there are around 8... presences within Midoriya. The abnormal amalgamation packaged with his superpower isn't spirits. They are fainter vestiges of human will. Sometimes they parse as an unintelligible murmuring. Midoriya doesn't seem to be conscious of it, nor will he elaborate if asked.

(Stunt) Mom Friend
cw: people including teens seemingly in danger but actually not, and possibly drunk. MHA spoilers.
At first, Midoriya doesn't feel like he can let his guard down enough to imbibe. He was (is?) on someone's hitlist. Shigaraki is his anti-drug. He will instead appear helpfully at someone's elbow carrying a jug of water and a cup. He listens to drunken confessions (on a couch, in a bathtub) with patience, compassion, and sometimes confusion. He gently helps people lie down wherever and swathes them in a blanket.

"Please don't... hang from the chandelier..." he politely calls up while holding out his arms intending to catch the one doing so with super strength. Later, outside, he positions himself on the roof and deftly catches people with Blackwhip like a bungee cord as they perform increasingly inadvisable backflips and other stunts. A Hero saves everyone.

Don't go home, you're drunk
cw: teen/underage drinking, actual spooky scary skeletons
The head of household assured Midoriya that this place is well-protected by an army of undead. (Midoriya, not wanting to be rude, didn't ask whether the skeletons were sustainably sourced.) Midoriya is ready to ease himself into Trying His First Drink. He has no inkling of his own tolerance, nor does he realize how much more sober he is sitting than standing.

"Oh sorry, excuse me--" he gasps belatedly with a lopsided smile to the person or skeleton(!) he just swayed into.

Later, he is just resting his eyes, sprawling fully clothed in a bathtub with his feet over the edge. It would be a shame if someone turned on the showerhead...

Lacking inhibition, his concern for others runs unchecked. With soft eyes, he sits next to anyone seeming out of sorts and gently touches their shoulder without saying anything. He understands. He doesn't know what yet, but he understands.

He tails people, asking, "Are you OK?" never minding that he has forgotten to drink water, and half his hair is inexplicably standing on end. Even the skeletons can't escape. "You know, it's not your fault you died..." he rambles consolingly, words slurring as he gently adjusts a badly knit scarf over its clavicles.

Wildcard
Feel free to tweak, combine, or wildcard. Plot with me at TeaMergency or in the game Discord or Bone House Discord. I am stuck forever in prose format, but you don't have to be.

Sayo Yasuda | Umineko | OTA

[forwantofahorse]

cw: underage substance use

a. early in the night
Just... get me something, Goat-kun. I need to start loosening up at some point.

[Sayo, sighing, flicks the golden butterfly perched on their index finger into the crowd, presses their back further into the wall of the great hall as soon as the familiar flutters out of sight... then pulls out their printed copy of Fell and Foul Play (they'd never gotten to read the radio plays, and there was apparently a previously-unpublished short story in the collection that they were excited about) and starts reading.

When Sayo arrived at the Bone House, they realized in short order that they had a critical lack of information. That is, Sayo Yasuda has never been to or even had a birthday party in their entire life. Sure, Jessica had organized some corny celebrations for Shannon that mostly consisted of cupcakes, a trinket or two as a present, and her and Mannen's company, but it wasn't really a party. And so Sayo had drastically underestimated what, exactly, they were showing up to in a white button-down shirt and faded jeans.

What made it worse is that while Sayo sorta knew Paul and Kaworu, and was friends-ish with The Necromancer and Paul... they realized the moment they stepped in the door that they had absolutely no idea what their wider social circle was like.

So they'd panicked, skulked over to the nearest socially acceptable corner, and started fretting about when the appropriate hour to get absolutely smashed so that they could be properly social would arrive.

And then a very proud goat demon dragging another party guest (or proper resident of the venue) by the wrist marches up to Sayo, whuffling happily. It's rather difficult to resist when half a ton of very polite goat muscle appears out of nowhere, clamps onto your wrist, and marches to elsewhere at the party.

Sayo stares at the situation before them for a few moments, whatever gears behind their eyes that were in the process of breaking down the components of a murder mystery grinding to a halt and collapsing at the sight.]

Goat-kun, I-

What did you-

How-

[They scream into their hands, face flushed.]

I- I- I must apologize, I, um, I should've known better than to give a goat such vague instructions...

[Goat-kun's ears droop and his back hunches further, apparently unhappy at being scolded.]

b. later in the night
[Apparently, the appropriate hour to get absolutely smashed so that Sayo could be properly social has arrived—either that, or Goat-kun finally brought them some actual liquor after a series of predictable-in-hindsight foibles. And Sayo has taken to it with gusto.

All of those nights having quiet—and occasionally rowdy—drinks with Kainé and Neo have paid off in full, as once the gnawing anxiety fades under the gentle hum of the best kind of shitty liquor available Sayo remembers their few brushes with fun in Trench. Sayo almost ruins their own enjoyment of the atmosphere by scoffing at how cliché it is to find confidence in the memories of their friends, but despite the cheesiness, it works well enough to at least get them out of their corner and into the party.

They started by walking up to the dance floor and bobbing their head to the beat. When Sayo realized that they were the picture of an awkward nerd and had a vision of George attending one of Jessica's concerts (for once, remembering their names doesn't bring a fresh spike of pain), they took another shot of tequila and loosened up; looking away as if they could avoid acknowledging themself and their amateur dancing, but at least their limbs were actually moving. Once they stumbled past the initial self-consciousness, it felt freeing to shuffle along to the music, to get their blood circulating, to feel like- and with a start, Sayo realizes that this is the first time they've felt like a normal teenager ever. Without the layers of artificiality, without the overwhelming horror of Trench or the reminders of their father's alcoholism over their head... it brings a mixed, melancholy joy to finally trip and fall into an experience that was normal for people like Jessica. If Jessica didn't have a mother that was so intensely controlling, at any rate.

Sayo just needed to do one more thing to complete the night.

Face flushed, Sayo slaps their own cheeks a few times to get their head in the game. A deep breath, in and out. It doesn't matter who, they just need to get out there and-]

Will you... [Sayo looks down at their shoes, blushing even as they extend a hand.] Will you dance with me? I mean, can I have this dance?

[If the strangely genuine atmosphere of the party had been slightly different, there was a chance that Sayo could've been a smooth operator. Putting on Beatrice's grin, raise their eyebrows at a calculated angle... but as it stands, you get a weapons-grade dork.]

c. latest in the night
...spice doesn't mean, um. A spice like cinnamon, does it? I'm just realizing that now. [Sayo says, looking queasy as they stare down at the hors d'oeurve that they've just sprinkled with a liberal helping of spice and taken a bite out of.

Oh no.]

shouto todoroki | my hero academia

[swellter]

i. Where's Waldo Shouto?!

a. Napping!

[ Halfway through the party, Todoroki can be found standing near the gaming area just outside the circle of players seemingly watching the game unfold. At least, that's what he was doing at the start. Midway through the game, his eyes start to lid and like a pro, he starts napping upright without a care in the world. Gotta get that shut-eye anyway he can. ]


b. Sitting!

[ After writing his detailed birthday greeting to Paul, Todoroki is shuffled out into the party by their host where he promptly gets lost in the throng of people. Not one big on conversations, games, movies, drinking, sugar, or whatever form of entertainment a healthy teenager his age would like, he finds himself near the collection of cakes or misshapen attempts at one. He doesn't judge. What gets his attention is the very prominent "Ka" where there should be a "Pa". The rest is lost under a collage of strawberries obscuring the name. ]

Isn't it Paul? Not Kaul?

[ He is very confused. Someone, please get him away from this unfolding mystery. Thankfully, he doesn't linger and picks up a water bottle before settling himself on a more conservative choice of seating than the bean bag next to him. Don't mind him just sipping his water.

Shouto Todoroki, everyone! What a party animal! ]


c. Napping!

[ Sometime between his first nap. Sitting in the living room sipping his water, Todoroki finds himself roped into other entertainments, likely by one of his friends. When they finally go off to do their own thing, the tired teen finds himself a nice little corner and leans against the wall where he promptly takes a nap standing up. Again. This time, there's a prominent frozen ball of air emanating from his nose. Someone, please pop it - if you dare! There's also a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. What a charmer, this one! ]


ii. Wildcard

[ ooc; write up your own prompt or mix and match. Have at it! I'll make it work. ]

anna amarande || sure, nier: automata

[hauntedsavior]

((blanket cw for drinking and drugs. there will probably also be gay shit in one way or another but that's not a cw so much as a goal.))

a. here comes the last of my bad days [drinking]

[it has been a while since anna's been invited to a party like this. she doesn't remember how to fit in without indulging herself, and even if she's friends with a lot of people and brought kainé along with her, she still feels. awkward. when she doesn't at least have a beer in her hand. come on, girl, you just went for drinks with—well, maybe don't share that part, but you should be better at this by now.]

Hey. What's up. How do you know the birthday boy?

[good work, completely sober anna. talk about him like he's eight. all right, fine, just let the night go on a little longer. once it has and she's sitting around with a few beers inside her, she feels a lot more at home. whether she's messing around with drinking games, from the wet and wild world of kings cup to the occasional round of spin the bottle, she's having a much better time. catch her singing along to songs that she recognizes, whether they're actually playing or not, and coming up to people she knows and slinging her arm around their shoulder.]

Hey, dude, how's it going? How you liking the party so far? Feels like I'm back in college. [she laughs just a little stupidly every time she says it. there's no way this is what her college life was like. she was never this cool.] C'mon, let's go do something fun together.

b. i hear 'em say "get your soul in shape" [fully crossfaded and vibing]

[the amount of spice that anna is on is wholly unconscionable. it started with doing a rail of it off of paul's table. she was told she was meant to eat it, and the other doses to get her to where she is now, she did eat. because holy shit, that stuff burned. but she hears about space drugs and she feels like she needs to really commit to the party, and besides, this is a safe space and she's pretty happy already.]

[she's found a quiet place to ride this euphoria out and try to commune with the other soul inside of her. the noises of the party are too loud and it feels like she's getting flooded with emotions if she stays with everybody. right now, then, she's on the fringes, outside, all but spread out on the grass and looking upward at the sky. she's muttering to herself as she stares with her hand curled up against her chest.]

You still there, girl? You still holding up...? I don't know if you can see what I'm doing out here. Not until Teacher takes a look at us. [even drunk and high, she won't speak someone's true name.] 'm making a life here. Building it brick by brick. Got a house, got a girlfriend, got people I care about... hope it's something that's good for you. Hope I've been listening to you and giving you the stuff you really want. 'Cause I love you and I wouldn't be where I am without you.

[she's talking louder than she should be and knows someone's going to overhear. or maybe someone came out to join her specifically. either way, she does sound and feel like she's at peace. like she means each word she's saying to this mysterious A2 of hers.]

c. i tell myself that can't be that [wildcard]

((listen, anna's just getting messed up at this party and letting down her guard all over the place. anything you're interested in exploring with that, go for it. she just wants to have a good time. hit me up here or on roseward if you got any ideas or just fire away and we'll roll!!))

sansa stark (alayne stone) | asoiaf

[dohaeris]

i. birthday batcat (paul, semi-open)

[if the concept of fashionably late exists in westeros, it almost certainly hasn't made it much farther north than sunspear. in any case sansa has a very special present that should probably be handed over before the party gets going in earnest. so she arrives precisely on time, and her entrance is not as dramatic as it could be. littlefinger would probably not approve, but she doesn't care very much anymore.

the skeletons strike fear in her heart and stir anger in her belly, but none of it shows on her face as she hands her shawl to the skeletal valet. alayne stone thinks the white walkers are only a story. alayne stone has no unburied dead. it feels a little like breaking her promise from the catacombs, but she reasons it's all right to be alayne stone in the service of house stark. in any case making a fuss will not put the dead back in the resting places they were left in.

beneath her shawl is a dress inspired partially by margaery tyrell but mostly by her quiet rage. she could never entirely work out how margaery's brocade bodices hung exactly, so she made do with leather pauldron-like caps over a black cotton bodice with a plunging neckline and sleeves that puff gently at her shoulders and twist tightly closed above her elbows. she's padded out the rest of her shoulders with raven feathers and black leather feather shapes, edged in steel and pale bloodstone beads, trailing down slightly lower on her right side, from which silver-and-charcoal weirwood leaves fall. shadowy direwolves barely sketched peek out from her collar and around her sleeves, and the high-low skirt piles in back to form a slight bustle, with a grey petticoat covered in silvery velvet scales and scale mail pieces grazes her boots. for once her hair is only half up, gently twisted back and tied with one of the leather feather pieces hanging down over the resultant ponytail. it has not been smoothed back with water and pulled tightly in order to appear darker, but blazingly, defiantly red. and of course there is the small black batkitten held close to her neck with its customary needle necklace.

lady has a matching collar studded with the black leather pieces and silver mail scales. in her mouth she holds a leather strap secured to two boxes containing two dozen cupcakes in every flavor sansa could find. she is not entirely sure kaworu managed to get paul to bake his favorite kind of cake.

she does not relinquish her black embossed satchel to the valet skeleton, either. she still has another surprise up her sleeve.

(other people are welcome to greet sansa once the batcat has been delivered!! any other responses will be assumed to take place after paul's.)]

ii. tequila sunrise (open, cw teen drinking)

[after much pleading sansa was able to get the tequila shot skeleton to mix hers with juice. it's not lemonsweet, but it's better than choking on spirits, which is almost certainly what she would have done without it.

distilled spirits are known but rare in westeros, and sansa is determined to keep her head at this party. she sips the juice carefully, which is not hard as it doesn't taste very good. nevertheless she is used only to beer and wine and finds herself a little more tipsy than she intended (and perhaps a little more honest). she rolls her eyes at whoever's nearest and friendliest.]

I don't know what I have to do to get someone to ask me to dance.


iii. 'investigating' (open)

[sansa has kept her eyes wide open in this house of unburied dead. she's noticed the lock on one door only and the skeletons lurking upstairs. if she catches you poking around, she might sidle up to you, doing her very best to project an aura of mild, amused, gossipy interest (which thanks to her paleblood is actually quite effective.)]

Did you find anything very exciting?

iv. the dog at the party (open)

[lady's ears are flat. there is a miasma of odd magic, and all the old bones smell wrong. still, she is nothing if not a polite guest, and can be found under tables, sometimes gnawing at an apple or other piece of fruit, and she is very much open to pets (unless it looks like you are going to steal her snack).]

Lazarus Sauveterre (L Lawliet) | Death Note | OTA

[hearthebell]

Prologue: Before Dark

[L's plan for the evening was very different than what ended up happening. As one who has long accepted and internalized that most of what other people do just isn't for him for all sorts of reasons, he can talk himself out of recognizing actual evidence to the contrary.

He'd been invited as Paul's friend and Bond. He'd still chalked it up to a mistake, and made arrangements for Lycka to deliver a note and gift so that Paul would know that he hadn't forgotten, and understand that the real present is his unselfish absence. He doesn't trust himself to not pull something (someone) irresistible apart, ramming a screwdriver into the delicate workings of an uneasy truce that seems to mostly be for Paul's sake.

He's in the Archives, his books and self covered in a fine layer of dust, when he receives Paul's message, and he stops what he's doing, nudging aside his cold coffee and glancing uncertainly at Lycka.]

It's got to be some kind of trick, right?

[His orca omen responds by summarily pushing over his chair.

He commits to what will give him time to derail his current plan and cobble together a new one. He leaves the Archives, cold coffee and all, checking into a hotel so he can shower, shaking out the wrinkles in the clean set of working class men's clothes that had spent a little too long shoved into the bottom of his backpack.

He looks like a slob, in the end, but at least one who has been fastidiously scrubbed down. An effort was made.]

A. The Skinny-Shamer in the Room

[He arrives a little later than he'd said he would, seeming vaguely flustered. His dark hair is flat and wet and his drably-colored clothes look oversized and rumpled, but the olfactory glow of strawberry-scented soap hangs about his slouching and lackluster frame like a halo.

After giving the skeleton his coat and taking in the decorations at Bone House (a place where he will always feel like an unwelcome intruder), he heads to the refreshment table, surveying the excess and finally just taking an angel food cake. The whole thing, serving platter and all.

He doesn't think that skeletons can really look judgmental, but if one could, this one might have just managed it.]

You're too skinny. You should eat more.

[It feels so powerful to be the one saying that instead of hearing it. The skeleton's eye sockets just stare, and L stares back, leaning down to take a large, dominant bite out of the top of the cake without breaking eye-socket contact.]

B. The Adult in the Room

[In truth, L probably would have felt too old for a party with fun and games and lively antics when he was about eight. Childish as he is, there are other ways he seems ancient and jaded, and he wanders around as though trying desperately to search for the appeal in the silliness.

It's a celebration of Paul, which also feels oddly dissonant. But if this can give the teen a break from his typical somber sense of duty, it must be a good thing... and it's indicative, in places, of someone like him, who doesn't really understand humans but is trying to pull together something that can appeal to them. Kaworu went all out, huh? Honest effort...

He steers clear of the obvious alcohol and drugs, because he feels that it's important for him to remain clearheaded while in Bone House. He's already struggling not to stray and poke around where he isn't wanted, specifically, because doesn't it mean that something is being hidden, something that could hurt others, hurt Paul once "The Captain" has no further use for him, or Paul dares to defy or question his authority?

He puts it out of his mind. He's here to show Paul that he remembered what the unselfish decision actually was, and acted on it.

He takes a tooth, lets the skeleton spin him, and wins the sandworm game that is basically impossible to lose. His award is a tequila shot, which he frowns at. The skeleton nudges it toward him insistently.

One won't hurt. Everyone else is so much further gone, because they started earlier. I still have an edge.

He's determined to retain that edge, but L is anxious in crowds and destined to win a lot more games. Who's to say how long it'll last when there's the gentle easiness of laughter that comes with social lubrication, and also brownies?]

C. The Detective in the Room

[This room is significant. This room is locked.

The lock is flimsy. L could pick it and toss it aside, without even bothering with blood magic, and no one is even watching.

He weighs the decision, but either because the inherent alienation he lives with has driven him to seek a more familiar situation, or the bits of imbibing that have made it into his system have emboldened his resolve, he's reaching for the lock, speaking softly and clearly in the antique language that is laced with blood magic.]

Metarkares sheffoleskra.

[Submit to me. The lock breaks delicately, almost politely, and L slips into the study.]

D. WILDCARD

[You can have it all! Throw your prompt here and I'll roll with it!]

Kainé | Nier: Replicant 1.22 | OTA (cw: underage substance use)

[foulhussy]

1. Early Evening

[ Perhaps you know the ashen haired woman that arrives at the party on the arm of Anna Amarande (looking very self-satisfied about that fact, with a smug little grin). Perhaps you had only seen her at the Leviathan mission base camp, or have not yet met her at all. Either way, Kainé is only here at Anna's insistence, for the birthday party of somebody she's never actually spoken to.

Surprising even herself, though, Kainé isn't in a bad mood, despite how out of the ordinary this is for her. She soon separates herself from Anna's side but stays close to her as she mingles. She's wearing a slinky black dress, and might look elegant if not for her gruff tone and the stream of profanity that issues from her mouth when she speaks. ]

This place is fucking awful. It looks like it was decorated by Dracula's grandma. [ How does she even know what Dracula is? Either way, she looks much more relaxed than usual. ]

2. Later On | Dune Your Mom

[ Later in the evening, Kainé has started to settle in. She helps herself to plenty of food, has several beers, and of course a healthy dose of the Spice. Not too much, mind you. Anna is having a fair bit more, and somebody has to look out for her.

Still, she’s clearly a fair bit further on than she expected to be. She’s feeling downright pleasant. She sits on the sofa with a slice of cake on her plate, uneaten. She occasionally looks around the room to stare pointedly at people, a quizzical expression gracing her features. All the universe is a vast interwoven whole, and all that she sees is a part of it. And it’s all… beautiful.

Now she turns to you, with her piercing gold eyes. She takes a sip of beer. And continues to watch. ]

Hey.

Peter Graham | Hereditary | OTA | shows up 15 minutes late with weed

[possessum]

CW: drugs (marijuana), nondescriptive mention of child death, demonic possession

( You know those random people who just kind of stand around in the backgrounds at parties, and nobody really seems to know them or why they're even there? Very much NPC Energy?

That's Peter.

He wasn't a part of the Leviathan Ordeal. He doesn't know most anyone here. He doesn't even know Paul (....though, unbeknownst to Peter, he actually encountered the birthday boy back in December, Corrupted out of his mind and attacking the poor guy from his demonic perch atop some bookshelves in the Archives. ....Which makes his presence here kind of awkward, probably.)

And Peter's not normally one to attend parties, anyway. His severe shyness, anxiety, and introversion are one reason for that; his,,,,,, extreme fucking demonic possession is another, but there's also the fact that a party was where his life changed forever, back home. Where he stopped being Peter Graham and became The Guy Who Killed His Little Sister. And even now, three years (or is it a lifetime?) later, Peter has to take a few moments before he can even walk through the door, and he's fighting the slick sensation of nausea in his throat. There's something almost ironic about the fact this place is filled with literal skeletons.

Through the evening, Peter can be found a variety of places. A common one is standing off to the side, looking awkward. Six feet tall, hair a mess of black curls, eyes rimmed in dark circles, wearing a perpetual frown, he might seem a little foreboding, but if approached, he'll offer a shy little smile and a wave. Who the fuck is he?? You probably don't know him. Why is he here?

Or, he'll offer you drugs. Because that is why he's here, to bring the birthday boy and his friends some marijuana. That's what he agreed to on the network post made by the boy who talked about humans like he wasn't one, and as the city's resident Tragedy Stoner™, Peter will fulfill that promise. You better believe he came prepared. He has a few different fun things to offer in his shoulder bag (he brought some bongs, guys) but first he'll just awkwardly, from the shadows, let you know why he's here.

Or maybe he approaches and asks you if you've seen a girl with antlers. (If you have spotted Luna Lovegood at some point in the evening, you'll have noticed that not only does she have little antlers starting to grow from her head, but she's also quite pale and sickly-looking, her pupil-less eyes having an almost iridescent shimmer. Is she... okay? He seems fretful to be apart from her.)

Or, maybe you encounter Peter staring at a nearby skeleton with an intensity that's almost.... not quite human. His head is tilted a little too far to one side, birdlike. It looks uncomfortable. His eyes are strained wide, somehow too full; something glitters there underneath the dark pools. Those with any sort of awareness to the supernatural or energies (....or anyone who's had a bit too much Spice) might be able to detect the presence of something Ancient and Other, something impossibly bright. Something flickering with a curious fixation. This thing knows what it is to raise the dead, only in the process of being stripped of itself, it's forgotten exactly how to do it. .....But it watches now, observing and absorbing, so close to the surface of Peter's skin that it's peeking right out of it — and it will continue to stare, unblinking and unmoving, until interrupted. )

luna lovegood | harry potter | ota

[creidim]

cw: drugs; corruption-related body horror

[ Luna's not been to many parties. She's here more for the fact Peter encouraged her to come along with him, rather than knowing Paul. She's sort-of met the boy before, considering they were both on the Sleepy Town expedition last month — although the the group was separated soon after arriving. But it's more of the fact that perhaps a party would be a good idea to try to relax a little bit, considering circumstances of the past six weeks or so.

And while she will mostly be around Peter for portions of the night, she'll be venturing off on her own. She isn't hard to miss considering her current physical state: pale and sickly-looking, her eyes pupil-less and shimmering with a strange iridescent glow. Most notably are the antlers protruding from her head; they're small, just singular points, thank Merlin — but there's no hiding them. She's fine, it's fine. Just a bit of Corruption, is all.

In the Great Hall, she'll be hovering near the grand piano being played by a skeleton watching with a keen interest. Occasionally she'll start swaying alone on the spot in time to the music, her hands reaching up looking as if she's dreamily batting away flies.

Or when it's a faster song she'll start bopping about to it, clapping her hands in time to the music. She will also be heard asking very politely if the skeleton knows anything by 'that beetle band'. She doesn't know much Muggle music, but she does know The Beatles. The skeleton doesn't pay her much mind, even if it's quite pleased by her enthusiasm.

In the Living Room, Luna can be found here for good chunks of the evening. She'll be stood at the table examining the oreo cookies very closely. Picking one up to squint at the writing upon it, trying to sound out the name out loud: oh-reeeee-oh? or-ray-o? oh-ro? Merlin knows. But they look like little sandwiches! Or chocolate bourbons, back home. How curious. It definitely smells chocolatey, at least. But what's the filling made of?

She'll also be in the corner with the comfy seats and bean-bags mostly just hanging out and relaxing. Towards the end of the night, when she's... very very high from perhaps one too many hits from a bong, she'll be found lying on the floor, backside to the wall and her legs up in the air resting upon it. She's in a daze, staring up at the ceiling for long periods of time in silence. Occasionally that silence is broken by bouts of uncontrollable giggling.

Something is clearly very hilarious. ]

gideon nav | the locked tomb | fashionably late

[lipochrome]

early; cw: alcohol

[ Gideon shows up in her best black t-shirt and jeans, the sleeves of the shirt oh-so-expertly cut off. She's even bothered to throw on a little paint, for Harrow's sake, but it really is the bare minimum -- mostly some black rings around her eyes and a few slashes at her lips that make her look like she has no clue how to use eyeliner. Which isn't wrong, to be fair.

Her time in Trench has taught Gideon that she's a heavyweight, but the tequila still makes her feel even more sociable than normal, which is a good thing. She'll approach pretty much anyone at the party, and offer to dance, arm wrestle, or take another shot. The party rockers really ARE in the house tonight. ]

late; cw: drugs

[ Gideon takes the spice, because she'll try anything once. By the end of the night, it leaves her sprawled-out on the couch, her paint well and truly smudged and her grin lopsided.

You might find her alone, in which case, she'll wave you over, and with a slurred sort of urgency in her voice, say: ]

Hey. Hey c'mere, I got a question for you.

[ Or you might find her with someone else smaller, sporting darker hair and even more face paint. She's curled up against Gideon, who in turn runs her fingers through her black hair every so often. When Gideon smiles up at you, it's gentler, without any of her usual bravado. ]

'Sup. Nice party, huh?