lifeaftr | TiK Tok

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TiK Tok

Who: Lup (

ohnehalfte), and possibly you!
What: Drunken party of drunkenness and shenanigans
When: Nov 17th, mid-day until everyone passes tf out
Where: Islet #2 aka Trash Island, somewhere out in front of cottage 1 and along the beach
Warnings: Drunk people, swearing, ill-advised people hitting each other with sticks, questionable food, drunken cuddles and crying, etc, etc tbc when there's more

Welcome to Islet 2! There are many reasons for you to be here right now. Maybe you live here. Maybe you're visiting someone who lives here. Maybe you've been invited to this sick party by one of the above idiots. Maybe you were just passing by and got dragged into the festivities. Who cares, really? You're here now!

Out in front of Cottage 1 there's the beautiful banner that you see above hanging on the outside, lovingly crafted by one of the twins. The twins have also lovingly crafted some vodka using magic and potatoes. Potato magic. And hey! There's also stuff that the twins cooked! Like potato tornadoes, fried shark genitals and Fantasy Kentucky Fried Pterax! And other food! And there's a fire! And activities! And drinking!

Mainly drinking. In fact, there is a large cooking pot that, at the moment, is full of the most moonshine-iest vodka you have ever had. There are empty halves of coconut shells to serve as cups, as well as some clay cups that may or may not have come from an interesting source. So help yourself! Who knows how long it'll last, considering the amount of guests. Heck! It might even be repurposed later, after all the vodka is gone! So drink up.

Anyway, feel free to join in on the festivities! There will be several threads for activities where people can mingle, or you can start your own. Have a party, chill out, and/or imbibe ill-advised substances to try and forget that you died. Wheeeee!

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[It figures that something noisy would be going on when he visited. And it figures he'd be dragged into it too.

The bonfire seems the most quietest place to be during this party so the Batter heads over there to sit down in the sand, giving it a bit of a distance so he's not too close to the ranging inferno. Being part of the Lone Wolf Club(TM), the Batter's going to engage in a bit of silent people watching. He's rather good at it, even if it amounts to being stared at by a baseball player with red eyes for someone else. He's not going to blink, if you're wondering.

It may be a surprise to the few people who know him but the Batter is actually drinking. Yes, he knows what alcohol is and has had it before. Sure Island Moonshine was a hell of a lot stronger then anything he's had before but the Batter's pacing himself very well.

Or maybe he just has a much higher tolerance for alcohol because he's not human and/or has the poker face to keep how drunk he was under wraps. Both. Both is good.]

Edited 2017-11-20 03:35 (UTC)

[On the opposite end of the spectrum, Wade... doesn't really have much of a poker face. Even with the mask on, it's pretty easy to read his expressions, which isn't exactly conducive to mercenary work. But he's a comic book protagonist, so luck is usually on his side-- as long as he's not attempting to settle down and have a domestic life, anyway, but that's neither here nor there. The point is, Wade is shitfaced, which you surprisingly wouldn't be able to tell unless you noticed he was somehow louder and more obnoxious than usual. And that he had a habit of singling out people who probably wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

Wade zeroes in on the Batter like a shark who has smelled blood, and he unsteadily makes his way over to the lone figure, the bottle of his magic wine clenched tightly in one hand.]

Hey! Hey, A-Rod! Th' fuck you doin' all the way over there, huh? Y'too good fer this party 'r somethin'?

[The Batter's like... five feet away from him. Definitely no need to shout.]

[Damnit Wade he's an unemotional jackass, not deaf. The Batter is just going to fix the man in the costume(?) with the most deadpan look he can manage. Which is pretty easy for him, alcohol induced or not, because that's just his face. Although Wade gets Extra Deadpan because holy shit you're loud.]

No. I am just not used to this.

[Which is true but he's being a bit more open about it then usual. Island Vodka plus whatever Muffet was cooking was starting to scratch at those walls. Or just making him care even less then usual.

Both. Both are good and probably true.]

[It's rather hard to gauge a person's expression when their face is partially obscured by a baseball cap, but Wade can feel the stony look the other man is giving him regardless. This does not deter him-- once you've been stared down by a ten-foot-tall green mass of anger management problems, everyone else's attempts at intimidation seems rather banal.

Wade barks out a loud and raucous laugh, as if the Batter has told him the greatest joke he's ever heard.]

Holy fuck-knuckles, duderino. Are you even for real? Watch out, everybody-- life of the party over here! Try an' hold back your excitement just a smidgen, yeah?

...Seriously though bro, yer either drinkin' too much or not enough, an' my money's on the latter.

[As if to emphasize his point, Wade takes a rather generous pull from his bottle of wine.]

[Look, not everyone has a constantly regenerating liver Wade. He may look like a duck-monster thing on occasion but the Batter has his limits.

Also Wade's language is reminding him of Dedan. "Joy".]

I'll do my best to hold my abundant feelings back.

[Does he sound a little sarcastic? Because the Batter is being a bit sarcastic. But get it? He's emotionless. Ahaha. Liquor does wonders it appears.]

Not enough, I guess. Or not enough to be completely inebriated.

[A.K.A, he's tipsy but not enough for it to show and that he can pull out the big words.]

[Hey, at least he hasn't taken his shirt off yet. The night's still young, though-- Wade's not drunk enough for that, but he's getting there.

And unfortunately for the Batter, what little respect for others' personal space tends to dissipate in the face of his growing inebriation. Which is why Wade claps him heartily on the back and thrusts the bottle of wine directly in the other man's face.]

Wrap your lips around this, my man. This'll get rid of that pesky sobriety in no time flat.

[Apparently he's more charitable when he's sloshed, too.]

[Please keep your shirt on Wade. Only a few people want to see that and the Batter isn't one of them.

But he's getting a clap on the back - please don't - and some wine shoved in his face. Now the Batter isn't tipsy enough he'll drink it without asking questions.]

What is it?

[Charity-smarity. What's in the bottle buddy?]

[Wade snorts at that, pushing the bottle closer to the Batter's face and waggling it now, obnoxiously. Judging by the sound of the sloshing the bottle's about two-thirds of the way full, which should indicate to the Batter that, if this is the only thing Wade's been imbibing this whole time, he's either a lightweight or this stuff is more potent than its bottle indicates.]

It's good. Trust me on this one, man. I mean, where's your sense of adventure? You seriously tellin' me that you guys are totally okay with shovin' steroids into your butts but you're too squeamish to take a sip of wine that someone offers you?

[Look just because the Batter's Puppeteer likes cheating in Scorpio-orbs when playing the game again doesn't mean he does drugs.

But meta jokes aside the Batter sighs and takes the bottle. It's pretty light so Wade's been hitting this pretty much all night or he just did not know his limits. Well, if it'll get him out of his personal space for five seconds...]

If I say yes, will you move back?

[He's got a 'Plz no touching' zone of about five miles Wade.]

[Oh, Batter. Your brackets say that like you honestly don't think it's the reason why Wade has gotten so close. The greater a person's territorial bubble is, the more focused Wade is on violating it if he thinks it'll make for a good trolling session.

Still, Wade reacts to the Batter's query with a sudden furrowing of his brows, as if the lovechild of Spock and Roger Maris had offended him.]

What, does my breath smell or somethin'?

[He quickly makes a show of doing a random breath check, huffing a few times into his hand and then taking a few experimental sniffs. Through the mask. Yeah, it's pretty clear that his actions aren't supposed to be taken seriously.]

[Wade he will punt you into the goddamn sea.

But he also sees the other man's point and sighs.]

I like my personal space.

[~~Not like saying that isn't a death wish, but still...~~]

[Sadly, that would only serve to make him more annoying. In a complete lack of self-awareness (though if it's real or just for the sake of trolling is, once again, anyone's guess) Wade slips an arm around the Batter's shoulders, leaning rather unsteadily against the other man as he offers him a conspiratorial grin.]

Oh god, I know the feelin'. Sometimes you just wanna have some peace an' quiet and suddenly some rando you just met like five days ago starts treatin' you like he's yer best friend. The worst.

[A few seconds of silence passes, long enough for the irony of the situation to fully sink in.]

Soooo... is that a yes on the samplin' of my drink or what?

[This is it. This is the Batter's life now. Karma is indeed a bitch.

The Batter leans forward slightly and it's probably obvious that he's doing it to try and get some space between the two of them. Again: let go of him Wade or he will rip your damn arm off and beat you to death with it.

But thoughts of murder aside, it's clear that he's not getting out of this without a taste. S I G H.]

Yes.

[And he's going to get it over with before Wade can open his mouth again. Bottom's up.

....so how fast does this kick in again?]

[Tell you what, Batter-- he'd be the luckiest guy alive if that did it for him. Regardless, Wade grins as the Batter takes a particularly generous swig, reaching up to grasp the bottom of the bottle.]

Whoa there. Easy, champ. This stuff's potent as hell, y'know? Don't wanna drink too much of it on your first go-- not until you know what it does to ya.

[The wine has a pleasant, lightly fruity taste, a little like newly ripened cherries, which completely belies its potency. Normal humans have been known to get instantly tipsy on the first few sips. A gulp like the one the Batter's just taken is enough to send them to the floor. Let's hope your constitution is as strong as your talent for purification, dude.]

[Yeah no, the regrets are intensifying even more so then usual. It does taste pretty good, don't get him wrong, but the warning Wade gives more then tips the Batter off it's stronger then what the taste may suggest.

In turn it may tip off Wade that the Batter isn't exactly normal when it doesn't hit the purifier like a semi-truck doing 100 on the highway. Or rather, doesn't hit him immediately. There's an odd delay and then the Batter has to lower the bottle to cough.

...It feels like his face is on fire. But he also feels pretty good too. Lighter.]

...it does taste good. Very good.

[Eloqu....aw, fuck it. Simple words now.]

[The Batter's reaction to the wine is a lot more subdued than most other people who've sampled a taste of Wade's wine, but Wade's good enough at reading people to be able to know exactly when the stuff begins to hit him. There's a-- well, it's not exactly a flush to his face, per se. More like a subtle glow. His posture never changes, but there's a definite relaxation in his shoulders; a resettling of weight upon his feet.

Honestly, the fact that the Batter hasn't keeled over after that big of a mouthful tells Wade clearly that there's more to this guy than meets the eye. Regardless, he doesn't move away from the man, clapping him a good one on his back.]

Tol'ja, didn't I? This's the good shit. Just kinda sits right in your belly and warms you up. Like a Hot Pocket, almost-- 'cept better, 'cause it doesn't burn your mouth all to shit.

[The Batter doesn't tell Wade not to do that, partly because that drink has definitely knocked him for a loop and partly because it's obvious by this point the other man won't stop even if he asked.

Also he's completely out of fucks to give. More so then usual, he means. Or whoever is writing this. He's not keeping track. Instead he considers Wade's words before speaking again.]

Have no idea what a Hot Pocket is. But I guess it's right.

[Maybe. There's a lot of maybes.]

You don't know what a Hot Pocket is?

[Wade feels a sudden twinge of sympathy for the man. How has he lived without knowing the pain of biting into a microwaved pastry that's equal parts cold and boiling hot, all because you were too lazy to cook dinner? How has he survived without experiencing the immediate regret after ingesting something that was probably never meant to be eaten in the first place? Wade gives the man's shoulder a few pats, leaning slightly into him to regain his balance (he's not drunk, the ground is just trying to trip him up).]

Don' worry, bro. I'll getcha some eventually. Maybe use a favor or somethin', if you ask nice. Hey... y'know what? I don't think I ever caught yer name.

So long as it isn't Sugar.

[Experiencing new food is fine but that's where the Batter will draw the line on trying. Because fuck that. He gets it, kinda, making people happy. But eating corpses? Don't make him laugh.

Or maybe the Batter's idea of happiness was just as warped as Enoch's. Being sure you've been loved and loved did nothing when you can't remember when and how it felt.]

Batter. [He can't be assed to add 'the' to it because people here give him no end of grief over it.] That's who I am.

Ah. Got the diabeetus, huh? Sorry to hear it.

[Which isn't exactly the most sensitive thing Wade could've said on the subject, but hey-- he's dying of cancer right now. Eternally. He figures he can afford to be a little glib.]

...You said your name's "Batter", right? What, is that like a codename or somethin'?

[The Batter actually snorts.]

No. It's made from corpses.

[He's dead serious. But that's just how things in ~~weird-ass RPG Maker games~~ his world works.]

And no again. Why people keep asking me that I don't understand.

[The Batter was aware it's not a normal 'name' but honestly he doesn't care.]

Uhhh maybe because it sounds like the name of the lamest superhero ever? I mean, what would your power be-- hittin' line drives? Slidin' into third?

[He suddenly blinks, unsure if he's heard the guy right.]

Wait wait wait, I just started payin' attention. You're tellin' me that sugar comes from dead bodies in your world? What, like some Soylent Green shit?

...Far out.

[Yeah, Wade's priorities are kinda screwy.]

It'd be a stupid superpower. I already know how to play baseball.

[So...a guy named the Batter, who dresses up as a baseball player and actually plays baseball....and finds the questions people ask about it stupid.

And yeah, you heard him right Wade. Sadly the Batter isn't one to get worked up about it, sober or not, so he'll just continue.]

It was supposed to make people happy and it did. And it's still a fucking bad idea.

[GG Enoch. GG.]

[Wade stares that the man in surprise for a few seconds before a surprised, incredulous laugh bubbles up from deep inside him.]

Pfffahahaha-- jesus dude, never woulda expected a giant stick-in-the-mud like you to just up and drop the F-bomb like that. S'like suddenly hearing Batman talkin' about eatin' pussy or somethin'.

[He suddenly snorts loudly, a crass and obscene sound.]

Hah! Pussy! As in Catwoman! I wasn't even tryin' with that one.

[...I think you've had enough, Wade.]

I can still call Enoch a fucking idiot regardless of my personality.

[Yes he is fully aware he's not normally fun to be with - or a 'giant stick-in-the-mud' as Wade as so gently put it. Also he's a little bit salty when it came to Zone 3's Guardian. At least Dedan had the grace to just break the Batter's neck during one of their failed boss fights.

And stop breaking the forth wall with references Wade, you sound like a dumber Zacharie.]

It could be worse anyway.

[Nobody on this island's met Dedan, after all. Now that would be a "treat" and a good enough reason for the Batter to hate his life just a little more then usual.]

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