riverviewlogs | third time's the charm

Entry tags:

third time's the charm

who: The NEETs, Chibita, anyone who was invited or wants to stumble across the party
what: A Belated Bday party for the NEETS
when: Afternoon-Evening, Dec 10th
where: On the beach in one of those convenient cabins mentioned in the mingle log
warnings: none insofar. Probably drunken shenanigans, bad karaoke and possibly feels? We'll see.

So once upon a time (that time being, specifically, on the TDM about a month and a half ago,) Ichimatsu mentioned to Chibita that he'd missed his own birthday. Naturally, Chibita suggested that they have a belated party to make up for it. Now, he's making good on that idea. It just so happens that the festival and the Beach Cabins offered above happen to be a rather good opportunity. So he's managed to snag one of them this morning, and claimed it for the party later.

Said cabin is now moderately decorated. There's a couple simple happy birthday banners up, as well as a couple non-helium balloons scattered on the floor. Chibita's set up a bit of food and drink in the kitchen for people to come in and nosh on. The table has been taken over by an array of finger foods, mostly. Chips, dips, veggies, bacon-wrapped-dates, shrimp chips, gyoza, salted chicken wings, and various yakitori. Oh, and, of course, oden. Because if Chibita's preparing the party, there is absolutely going to be oden.

There is, also, a cake. Said cake is homemade and looks quite similar to the one in this photo. But don't worry: that stick of oden is made of fondant and moulding sugar. The cake has also been safely tucked away in the fridge for safekeeping.

Aside from things to eat, there's also plenty to drink. Nothing really too 'hard liquor'-ish, though. Beer, wine and cider, mostly, as well as mulled wine on the stove, because it's cold and that's a great drink for the holidays. And plenty of soda and other non-alcoholic entities, for those abstaining or too young.

Additionally, there's several different board games in the shared living space for people to play with. Scrabble, Taboo, Pictionary, and even mahjong, to name a few. So have a go at those. There is, unfortunately, a TV screen that's been hooked up to a Karaoke machine. So that is also an option, to be used for good or for evil. There's plenty of space to lounge and mingle to your fancy, both inside and out. There's a fire in the fire place, as well as a bonefire outside, supplied with the necessary ingredients for s'mores.

So, uh...help yourself? Maybe you know any of these guys and were invited. Maybe you just stumbled across the party on the beach and decided to join in. The post is your metaphorical Belated Birthday Oyster.

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[You're such a small, weird, weird creature, Ichimatsu. He can't begin to understand this guy for 30 seconds, much less figure out what exactly's gotten into him. He gives the kid an almost startled look, before coughing out a low chuckle, once again.]

Someone might question you for deciding to take a liking to a years-dead old corpse.

[Ice-cold fingers move up from the others' back, reaching to tug, lightly, against one of his ears.]

For once, I've got few complaints.

So enjoy it while it lasts.

Oh come off it,

[He grumbles right against his chest, shaking his head just enough to be felt.]

"Years-dead old corpse" or not, you're nice to me. Consider, for a second, that that's a real novel concept to me, and you tell me how much I don't give a fuck what anybody thinks of me "taking a liking" to you.

[Does... he even realize how incriminating all of these words he's saying are. No, probably not.]

[Yeah, give him a second to 'come off it'. Because that bit is just going to make the 'years-old dead corpse' stare down at the other with a slightly baffled expression, his head tilting to the side slowly.]

You're a lazy shit, vulgar-mouthed and aimless.

Being mean to you would be like spitting on a homeless person.

Couldn't make you feel much worse.

[He's bad at being nice, so just give him a few more moments after directly insulting you.]

But if you're that determined to enjoy the concept of an undead old man being nice to you, guess I could get used to the company.

[He turns his head again and mumbles into his shirt, most of the sentence unintelligible, but Reaper would at least catch something to the effect of "Besides, we're apparently soulmates or some bullshit". Which, definitely and 100% were not words Ichimatsu ever planned to say to him. The fault in our alcohol.]

[In something of a belated action ~~because I forgot to have him react to it previous~~, he flinches at the cold fingers against his ear and squirms, trying to climb back toward his shoulder, but he... can't. At all. Not after he's been hanging there this long-- he probably barely had the arm strength to have pulled himself up on his own as soon as he'd swung over there. So instead he just kicks his feet slowly and turns his head to the side again with the intent of being heard.]

I'm a tenacious lazy vulgar-mouthed aimless homeless shit, so you better.

[...There's some form of emotion to his tone there, but it's hard to figure what the fuck it is. Is he laughing at himself? Is he laughing at Reaper calling him homeless? Ichimatsu is a fucking enigma wrapped in a burrito of emotional constipation.]

[Yeah, your head is right next to his and his hearing is a little better than a normal human's. So sorry, Ichimatsu, despite your attempts, he DID hear that.
But at least he's not bad enough to bring attention to it (right yet.)

But what he will respond to his the following negative sentence, as well as the drunk cat's terrible attempt at climbing up on him again.

He'll adjust his grip on the other so he's half-holding him, now--one arm hooked behind the others' knees, the other settling against his back to keep him from flopping straight over.

You're such a small man, Ichimatsu.]

Can you really go around calling yourself homeless when you're given a place like this? You self-depreciating little shit?

[Another click of teeth, another grin behind his mask.]

You're not as stray a cat as you might try to make me believe.

[He almost does just that, Reaper's arm under his knees making him lose his grip on his own wrists and tip backward into the hand against his back. You shut up, Reaper, he's not small you're just enormous. He strings together another sentence, this time actually unintelligible, but more because he just plain seems to have forgotten how to use his tongue than he's trying not to be heard. He presses his palms flat against the front of the man he's currently perched on the arm of, and blinks very slowly, one eye after another.]

...not here, no.

[That's. A confusingly vague statement, cat.]

[But before anything can be voiced or questioned about that, he pushes a little against his chest.]

...pu'me down.

[Just about as confusing as the unintelligible lines of garble-speak the other lays out for him before actually saying something he understands.
What the hell do you mean by not here. Doesn't he have a family, friends, and...

He shakes his head, as the last sentence actually makes sense to him. And despite how he'd actually made effort to making this stupid hang-on comfortable against him, putting him down isn't really a chore.

And don't worry, he won't just drop you like some sort of rude asshole.

The hand on the others' back comes up to grip the other by the hood--pulling him up just an inch before lowering him to the ground.

There.]

Can you even stand on your own two feet right now.

[Family, yes. Family that got Weirdly Complicated prior to his unwilling venture to space and then Quarantine, and leaving home is really only something he ever thinks about when he's drunk, so here the fuck we are. Friends... Yes, but he didn't really know how to acknowledge having them, really, until your edgy ass growled it at him. Coddled and cared for, pampered and spoiled as he may have been up until the Eluvio, Ichimatsu has never really been an adjusted or mentally mature human being. Call it the curse of not having any idea how to be an individual up until you realized you were already completely different from your siblings in a way you didn't know how to cope with.]

[He leaves his arms outstretched as he's hefted and set down, his legs curling slightly upward so he literally looks like a scruffed kitten for a moment, and his knees threaten to send him right to the ground as Reaper asks his statement-question. He garbles a sound and wobbles, going pale and making a face.]

'll find out, didn't wanna puke on you.

[And, there he goes, staggering off. In all honesty he probably only gets to a trash can, only somewhat in part because he has no actual idea where the bathroom in this place is.]

[At the very, very least, Ichimatsu is nice enough to keep from puking on him. He'll thank him later, when they're in a better setting, probably--but for now, all he can do is chuckle lightly as the cat staggers off to find a fucking garbage bin of ALL things to solve this little problem of his in.

Of course, the ghost is going to follow, hanging in the doorway of the room Ichimatsu's managed to find before evacuating his guts into the closest bin--and he shakes his head.

Fingers moving up to unclip his mask, moving it away from his face so he can make sure the other sees the full force of the grin he makes.]

Need me to hold your hair back while you do that?

Don't make me regret not puking on you, I could win the projectile olympics.

[That's... gross, Ichimatsu. But he's also got absolutely no real conviction to his words, because he's sunk down to kind of hug the trash can to himself while he sits on the ground, looking like a miserable little overstimulated lightweight.]

[He chuckles, quiet and low, as he shakes his head. What a troublesome brat you are.]

Not something you should go around telling people. Maybe it's you who need an exorcism more than I do.

[He crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway.]

Not exactly the way to spend a birthday.

[He laughs shortly only to be sick again, and then he's quiet for a while before he swivels, small wastebin in his lap. He's not fully facing Reaper, because having a face-to-face conversation with someone when you've got a literal trashcan of vomit in your lap is sincerely less than ideal, but he's at least directed more toward him instead of facing completely away.]

Yeah, well. Lotta times back home we'd just give each other porn magazines and loaf around more than usual eating snacks mom would spend extra money on. We've never really done anything worth celebrating.

[Wow, way to just tell him your life story in one goddamn sentence, there, Ichimatsu. All Reaper can really do is stand here and grin with that cocky expression as he looks down at the other who is currently hugging a wastebin.]

Keep sayin' shit like that and I'll make efforts to make you go out and do something worth celebrating just to shut your negative ass up.

[He makes a face, fake-gagging for a moment and rolling his eyes.]

That's unbelievably supportive and gross, don't do that. I'm already puking my guts out, here.

Figured you could just use some help with getting the rest of it out.

[He makes a face caught somewhere between still-nauseated and sincere alarm, which given the general look of him would be funnier if he weren't a pale sweaty alcohol-sick loser. He winds up setting the wastebin aside and just curling up on the floor, mumbling into it.]

I think I'm okay, actually. It was only three beers.

...

[He's quiet for the longest moments, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at the other. Contemplative, as if he's not going to respond and opt to stare at the bin-hugging male--he quietly shakes his head.]

Should have water and eat something to dilute what you did drink, then.

[He makes a decidedly pathetic sound, shaking his head.]

I don't wanna think about food for the next... several hours.

Suit yourself. Water it is then.

You able to manage your way off that thing, or should I muster up the kindness to do it for you?

[He grumbles into the carpet, and then pushes himself back to sitting up, swaying.]

How about we compromise and you help me up.

....

[He seems to struggle with the idea of doing that--as if the sheer idea of helping the other up is SUCH a chore...

Before moving off from where he's leaned up against the wall to offer him a hand.

See, he's not even just grabbing you like a misbehaving cat. Improvement, right?]

[He appreciates you, Reaper. Really he does. He gives the hand an unfocused frown for a long handful of seconds before reaching out to put his own in it, and then the other, dragging himself to his feet. If he leaves his hands in Reaper's, curled around two individual fingers, a moment longer than needed, surely it doesn't mean anything. His eyes are closed for a while, and then he shuffles in a vaguely doorway-like direction, squinting.]

Mmmh, thanks.

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third time's the charm

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cw emeto for those of weak stomachs

way to go ichimats

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