Castiel; The Fallen (
strangelic) wrote in
hadriel_logs2016-08-14 10:17 pm
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Entry tags:
August 15th; It's a Spooky Party!
Who: Castiel and YOU. ALL OF YOU.
What: It's a party! It was going to be a fun game of Twister party, but now it's a spoopy party. This is a massive mingle, so please feel free to write your own starters! And feel free to jump on the party game headers as well, or include them in your starters too!
Where: The bar!
When: August 15th
Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. No, I lie. Alcohol, truth or dare, people falling on each other, scary stories maybe and snogging in a closet. And talking about feelings. Please add your own warnings to your comment thread headers and I will add them to the list!
Whether or not the lights were off, Castiel was determined to go ahead with his plan to cheer up the residents of Hadriel, and get them interacting with each other. He'd made his plans a week in advance, and when it came right down to it, the idea of whether or not he would allow Fear to get in the way of having fun was practically moot. Of course he wouldn't. It was far simpler to be oblivious, far easier to overcome fear - at least his own, if not the god - with amusement, and companionship.
It threw a bit of a monkey wrench into his plans, and was, it had to be said, particularly devastating for his personal party trick in particular. How would his "pull my finger" joke work now? But he was determined to soldier on, and that meant that the bar was taken over by an eager angel, complete with food that had been collected from the orchard, and around the town, a pack of cards, a bag full of pebbles, a bunch of sticks with tiny carvings on them, and as much paint as he had left over from his aborted attempt to redecorate the Winchester apartment.
Not much of a party, but that was what guests were for. And party games. And alcohol, obviously--that was why it was being held at a bar.
So maybe they'd have to bring their own light, and perhaps people might take advantage of the spooky mood and audience to tell some of those stories that Fear wanted people to share, or to play horrid tricks on each other...but so long as things didn't turn into a remake of Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead, or House on Haunted Hill, they were probably fine. Actually, scratch that, so long as it didn't turn into any horror movie ever, they were probably fine.
But then, with Twister, Truth or Dare and Poker (any of which you can add "strip" in front of and they will be infinitely more fun) as available gaming options, perhaps it was a horror movie already.
What: It's a party! It was going to be a fun game of Twister party, but now it's a spoopy party. This is a massive mingle, so please feel free to write your own starters! And feel free to jump on the party game headers as well, or include them in your starters too!
Where: The bar!
When: August 15th
Warnings: ALL THE WARNINGS. No, I lie. Alcohol, truth or dare, people falling on each other, scary stories maybe and snogging in a closet. And talking about feelings. Please add your own warnings to your comment thread headers and I will add them to the list!
Whether or not the lights were off, Castiel was determined to go ahead with his plan to cheer up the residents of Hadriel, and get them interacting with each other. He'd made his plans a week in advance, and when it came right down to it, the idea of whether or not he would allow Fear to get in the way of having fun was practically moot. Of course he wouldn't. It was far simpler to be oblivious, far easier to overcome fear - at least his own, if not the god - with amusement, and companionship.
It threw a bit of a monkey wrench into his plans, and was, it had to be said, particularly devastating for his personal party trick in particular. How would his "pull my finger" joke work now? But he was determined to soldier on, and that meant that the bar was taken over by an eager angel, complete with food that had been collected from the orchard, and around the town, a pack of cards, a bag full of pebbles, a bunch of sticks with tiny carvings on them, and as much paint as he had left over from his aborted attempt to redecorate the Winchester apartment.
Not much of a party, but that was what guests were for. And party games. And alcohol, obviously--that was why it was being held at a bar.
So maybe they'd have to bring their own light, and perhaps people might take advantage of the spooky mood and audience to tell some of those stories that Fear wanted people to share, or to play horrid tricks on each other...but so long as things didn't turn into a remake of Cabin in the Woods, Evil Dead, or House on Haunted Hill, they were probably fine. Actually, scratch that, so long as it didn't turn into any horror movie ever, they were probably fine.
But then, with Twister, Truth or Dare and Poker (any of which you can add "strip" in front of and they will be infinitely more fun) as available gaming options, perhaps it was a horror movie already.
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After a while, though, he swaps the ineffective alcohol with a bottle of some condiment or another, "specially" prepared in such a way that'll help it to imitate some of the less elegant effects of getting stone-cold plastered.
Again: totally worth it.
Sans is also just as good at this game as his grinning exterior would imply.]
Never have I ever written something in Times New Roman.
[And that's just to start with. As the party goes on, he starts counting increasingly improbable non-achievements off on his phalanges.]
Never have I ever done a load of laundry.
Never have I ever eaten human food.
Never have I ever failed to land a punchline.
Never have I ever opened my mouth.
[Yeah. That's right.]
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But he gets stuck at the next one. ]
What's a punchline?
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Skullpture.
[He spreads one bony hand wide, palm up.]
Y'see?
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[ But he frowns even so. ]
But why is it so aggressive? What does punching have to do with it?
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You'd have to ask a linguist. I'm not big on etymology, but I think you can bet on a good fifty percent of every day sayings being non-literal.
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I don't see why people insist on saying things they don't really mean. In any case. Um--at least I've never seen my own bones.
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It's a strange, strange world we live in, my friend. And in that case, I've never seen my own wings.
[Mostly because he lacks wings, but he has it on good authority - thank you, Dean - that Castiel does indeed have wings, even if they're not perceptible on your average day.]
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Never have I ever met my father.
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How's that work for angels, anyway?
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I miss the food back home! You probably wouldn't have the stomach for it though.
[ He knows they already had their stand-up stand-off. But he just couldn't help himself. Okay, real talk now. ]
Bet you got all the humans with that one too, huh?
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Oh yeah. Not a one of 'em has the guts to go toe-to-toe with me.
[Geddit.]
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Ehehee! Looks like whatever they dish out would go right through you!
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Sans gestures in the general direction of his ribcage.]
I mean, literally. I had to bring my own drinks. Everything else kinda spills over.
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[He retrieves a bottle from his jacket with a flourish, taps the label with a fingerbone. Dijon mustard, the real good stuff, only he's made some necessary..."modifications" for it to have some alcoholic properties.]
But, y'know. Situation's always kinda fluid.
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[ wait, no. actually he's really confused, so. ]
...what does the mustard mean?
[ Never claimed he would get it all the time. ]
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[He sucks down a mouthful of the stuff, somehow without opening his teeth.]
Looks to me like you mustard me a question.
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[ How does a skeleton drink anything?? Crow doesn't know?? ]
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Didn't mention this last time, I don't think - but you're a pretty good audience. Ended up givin' me a real workout.
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[ In fact, most of Crow's jokes are more spur of the moment. And less successful. ]
Any time you want to put on another show, count me in.
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["Schedule" is a loose way of putting it, granted. More like he'll show up one day with a bunch of material and no place to put it, and he'll clear a space in about five minutes just so he can have a ball.]
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[ This is a strategic decision. He'll warm the crowd up, get the chuckles going for the main attraction. Or if he totally bombs, Sans will be able cover up his shame. ]
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Yeah, okay. Y'know, with a skeleton and a crow, we could call ourselves somethin' real witty. People might think we're the Grim Reaper.
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[ ... ]
Knock 'em dead! Hahaa! Oh, man. We gotta keep that one...!
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[Heh, knock 'em dead. Well, he's technically dead back home, so sure. Why not? It counts, don't it?]
You're real good at thinkin' of these on the fly, aren't ya?
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