lifeaftr | TiK Tok

Entry tags:

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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You know what's real good to have when you wanna laugh death in the face? Knives. And who's the most vulnerable and in need of knives on this island? The kids.

That's Lup's kinda blurry but very determined thought process as she swaggers through the crowd, stopping every reasonably child-shaped person and pulling out knives from her backpack like candy - most with blades of bone, a few made of shiny razor-sharp obsidian. So maybe you're not supposed to take gifts from strangers, but fuck that. This drunk, smugly grinning elf is already your friend for sure, ready to dispense not only sharp objects but the stabbing lessons to go with it.

Enjoy your new knife! Don't do anything with it she wouldn't do!

((Are you a child in need of a knife, a child looking to battle other armed children in an exciting edition of BABY FIGHTS, or perhaps even a real adult trying to stop Lup or her army of knife kids? Just mark what applies so we know who can tag you!))

Obviously, the most important thing one should pair with alcohol is fire. This is precisely why Newt has taken it upon himself to build the small fire he's started in a dug-out fire pit by the beach into a raging inferno. He's mainly trying to keep it going using driftwood he finds on the beach, as well as non-edible bushes and non-fruit-producing trees. However, he is getting quite a bit drunker as the night goes on, so who knows how long that careful pruning will last.

Nevertheless, the fire is a great place to hang out and talk to people. Or stare contemplatively, like the lone wolf you are. Newt, naturally, is always up for conversation. Though how coherent that will be as the night goes on, well...that remains to be seen. Either way, he can be easily flagged down. Or you could start your own thread! Go buck wild.

Pretty late into the night, when everyone is good and wasted and the Vodka Pot (TM) has finally been depleted, Lup has an idea that's probably in poor taste, considering the original purpose of the Pot, and therefore absolutely on brand for this party. She gets Taako to Shape Water the Pot full of ocean and then takes up position a few paces away, planting her feet firmly on the ground because otherwise she might fall over and that would be incredibly unrad. Cackling to herself, she takes aim with the umbrella and then lights the motherfucker up with a Fireball that consumes the whole thing. When the blaze fades after a few seconds, the Pot is steaming and Lup is hollering at anyone who's still conscious.

"Get in losers! The spa's open!"

The Pot itself, though, might be a liiittle hot to the touch still. Just take a running leap at it to get in or something, whatever. You don't get to leave a Lup hosted party without mild burns anyway.

((Chilling in a hot tuuub, real close 'n snug cos you're very gay! Soak and mingle!))

Edited 2017-11-19 20:59 (UTC)

Unfortunately, alcohol often makes for bad decisions. In Newt's case, this means deciding that some sort of drunken Fight Club is required. As such, he's drawn a very uneven, very messy circle on the beach and proclaimed it the fighting ring. Very loudly. And has been encouraging anyone who has an interest to step into the ring and fight. Except no weapons, because no one is allowed to die. And just slaps. This is a chill Fight Club, okay????

However, once he does get a couple people doing some (preferably drunken) hand-to-hand combat, he's also going to start taking bets, like some sort of awful drunken bookie. He'll probably find a random bystander and prod them, and ask, with a rather pronounced slur and a smirk that is not nearly as sly as he thinks it is: "Hey--heeeey. You wanna make a bet 'r somethin'?"

((be a fighter, be an observer, be really drunk, whatever you want my dudes))

The concession stand is open for business! Taako has plied it with a variety of snackables: roasted salted seaweed, spirally vegetables, fried bird bits, bananas both frozen and flambéed , sugary fried dough, SharkJunk(tm) and pretty much anything else you could fry and put on a stick. Put some caramel on it. Put mayo-nnaise on it. Who cares, it's a party. This is also where you get your turnt-juice. There's some pretty passable attempts at piña coladas, and other more culinarily questionable mixed alcoholic beverages. There's also an entire Miracle Bowl full of some kind of fruit punch, for children and designated Adults. The sign declares that it is all 'Buffet-style, bitches,' because cha boy has more important things to do than be chained to this table all night, handing you losers fried goods, but he'll be around to top things up and receive accolades as needed.

((Put up a mingly top level or praise your chef overlord, or both. Up 2 you, not fussy!))

[So, Muffet has been idly trying to figure out how to brew proper alcohol for a while now. Thus far, she's been stymied by her lack of metal components to build a proper still with, but she can improvise if needed.]

[If you passed by her house earlier in the week, before the party, you might have seen her muttering to herself and doing some rough but workable woodcarving. Using a wooden still, made by her own thoroughly amateur abilities, frustrates her inner perfectionist- but recent events have made it clear to her that alcohol is a much higher priority than she previously thought.]

[So having greeted her erstwhile hosts and fellow party guests politely, Muffet has set up on an easily-found spot in the general party area. She's got a large wooden bowl full of a dark, intriguing-smelling liquid, and is happy to offer some to anyone who'd like to try it.]

[Unless they're underage, in which case she also has a smaller but still pretty nice-smelling bowl of mango juice.]

[It's worth pointing out, at this point, that Muffet's standards of 'proper' alcohol may be a little bit higher than the standards of the average person. The good news is that, like all monster food, her makeshift whiskey is magical enough to carry some healing effects- which means no hangover or health issues. The bad news is that it will still get you completely plastered.]

[If you've ever wanted to drink something that tasted like delicious blackberries and bad decisions, now's your chance.]

[Roy isn't part of the wildest of the festivities, because they honestly worry him. The moonshine, a coconut-fill of which he cups in his hands to nurse, is pretty damn lethal and he's a little concerned that people are going to overindulge. So as much as he doesn't want to be a giant part-pooper...]

[Well, he's find himself a comfortable seat a little ways away from the largest shenanigans, staking it out as a corner where people who aren't whole-hog into abandon and hedonism can sit, converse reasonably, and generally try to relax. Gods know he's trying to do just that, and quell the nagging voices in the back of his head that worry they're all an inch from another disaster -- either one they can prevent, or one they can't.]

[Walk nearby and he'll offer a smile and a wave, as genuine as he can make them.]

Now it's not like Mickey's never heard of alcohol before. But with his naive and poor upbringing, he's under the impression it mostly comes in fancy wine bottles. So with all these new smells around and his constant curiosity, he wants to try all these new drinks! Everyone's having fun, and they deserve to have fun after all the awful things they've gone through. So, cheers to good friendship!

Predictably, it doesn't take him long to get absolutely blitzed. Not that he even realizes he is - but boy does he feel energetic! So here are your options -

A - Friend or stranger, Mickey is going to run up to you, grabbing your hands and shaking them with RAPID ENTHUSIASM. "Hey buddy! How've you been? Isn't tonight great? it's so great! You're so great! Everyone's great!"

B - Oh boy he feels like sharing some opinions he's been suppressing. Loudly. Non-stop.

"Y'know, all of you human-sort-of-people giving me all those looks like I'm funny-lookin'... You're the funny lookin' ones where I'm from! Didja ever think of that? But it's fine! You all look great. But NONE of you look greater than the Princess! SHe's the prettiest girl out of every single solitary world there is! And when I get home I'm gunna marry her! WHOO-HOO!"

Or C - THUNK. Mickey has momentarily passed out face-first into the ground. Please help.

It's been a long night. It's been a long night and because it's been a long night Newt happens to be Very Drunk. He's currently wandering slowly towards the cottage that he calls home in a squiggly, drunken line--which also means that he's not good at avoiding other people. Even if he tried. Which he, um, doesn't? Which means he's going to run into someone. He lets out a slightly startled 'oof!' when he does, rocking back half a step, and squinting through his now slightly-crooked frames. Who the hell did he run into exactly?

He recognizes pointy ears first, which means probably one of the twins, but...which one????

X-FACTOR: LifeAftr Edition

So you think you can ~~dance~~ sing, do you? Karamatsu... heh, Karamatsu begs to differ. With the cunning use of what is, essentially, a hollowed out wooden block that only barely helps his voice be louder than usual, he shouts out over the general noise and revelry with a challenge-- one that only the bravest, most confident, and most foolhardy would ever take up.

"Heh, who thinks they can beat me at a singing contest?"

It's karaoke fools get your asses over here. If you ask nicely, he might even accompany you with his guitar.

I Dreamed A Dream

By the time dusk hits, Karamatsu's had more than his fair share of the rapidly vanishing moonshine, cheeks red and smile as confident as ever as he wobbles back over to the...uh, microphone. In his half-drunken haze, he's come up with a fool-proof plan to impress the fiery angel who he's seen waltzing about all evening, handing out knives to all the good children, snorting at bad jokes-- generally having a good time and being the ethereal angel of his dreams.

It's clear what he must do. So clear- he doesn't know how he didn't see it before.

He has to impress the hell out of her.

So with a loud, slightly off-tune strum of his guitar, Karamatsu once again calls for attention, though this time, he's not looking for any volunteers. Just the attention is fine, thanks.

"I'd like to dedicate this next song to the prettiest young thing I know....Taako."

Especially if your name is Taako.

Or uh, if it isn't, but you said it was.

[Passed out somewhere with your drink? Just weren't capable of making it back to wherever you normally sleep?

Don't worry, someone's keeping an eye out for you. Asch hasn't partaken of anything more interesting than some questionably fried food, and seems to have decided that camping here for the night to keep an eye on people is the best option. In particular, anyone who actually passes out has a good chance of finding that they wake up near the remains of the bonfire...

Or possibly, while still being lugged over there in a fireman's carry by a redheaded teenager who is serving as one of tonight's metaphorical adults.

If you have managed to not pass out, you can probably still find Asch, near the end of the night, curled up near embers of the bonfire. He appears to be pulling an all-nighter, probably to make sure none of the drunks he's gathered choke on their spit and die in the middle of the night.

Sorry, he doesn't know how to help with your hangover.]

[Considering how polite and proper Ignis tends to be, most people probably wouldn't guess he has a pretty good tolerance for alcohol. So much social drinking tends to happen at court gatherings, his role as Advisor necessitates that he be able to down a few glasses of wine and not have it impact his judgment. His role as one of Noctis' protectors also necessitates those same drinks don't slow his reactions. Of course, he could have used his role as an excuse not to drink at all, but in some circles refusing a drink is seen as an insult making that option more trouble than it's worth.

Not that any of that political nonsense applies to this particular gathering. It had not been political duty, but curiosity that eventually drew Ignis into it. That and a need to distract himself from the million or so things that were troubling him as of recent. Checking in with friends and trying--or perhaps in good sense, bypassing--some of the stranger drinks seems like the perfect way to do that.

As he circulates through the crowds, a cup of the delicious blackberry-whatever-it-is that Muffet came up with is a constant companion. Another cup keeps him company when he finally settles down a short way from the fire, the gentle buzz in his head making it a lot easier to sort through everything on his mind without his overactive brain and emotions making him feel as though he's about to fly apart at the seams. The chatter, crackle of flames, and smell of blackberries are all comforting. Relaxing and reminiscent of home before things went to hell.

A few cups later--Ignis isn't going to easily admit he lost track of how many somewhere along the way--he decides it's best he make his way back to the cottage before either Noctis or Prompto begin to worry about where he is. Ignis starts to stand, and then very abruptly, finds himself sitting back down.]

I seem to have made a slight miscalculation.

[The words comes out in a soft laugh, the relaxing of his accent causing the words to blend together even more than the alcohol does. Shaking his head, Ignis runs hand though his hair mussing it more than it already was. A slight miscalculation indeed.

How could he have forgotten this is the first time he's drank since losing his vision? Things are just a little different now, and boy is his body letting him know that loud and clear.]

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like we're gonna die young

BONFIRE