portalhopping | Food Pantry Halloween Party

OPEN

Chrissy is trying to have fun, despite the fact that the longer she's in this costume the tighter her costume feels - and the fatter she feels herself. The cheerleader is in a constant state of fidgeting, pulling at her body suit, pinching it as if she'll loosen it from her stomach, and pulling her leather jacket closed and around her in order to hide the problem area. Despite the fact that it's warm, and she'd be much more comfortable without the jacket, she doesn't remove the leather jacket the entire evening.

She dances with whoever wants, hovers by the buffet table (by herself), and makes countless visits to the bathroom to freshen up all while trying to keep a happy face on when she's not fulfilling her duty as a volunteer or spending time with Eddie and her other friends. Only once in the night does she give in to the fact that she's starved and she hovers near the table stuffing her face with a few items (not getting a plate) before washing it down with some punch. And promptly thereafter putting as much distance between herself and the buffet as possible.

Afterward Chrissy spends a period of time in the bathroom before gluing herself to Eddie's side, practically - and when he is busy to whichever friend she can find (Lydia, Robin, Steve, Klaus - depending on who is available).

EDDIE M. (CLOSED)

Chrissy has lost count of the number of times she's fidgeted at this point. Despite being inside and the temperature certainly not being cool the cheerleader is still wearing the leather jacket over the off-the-shoulder skin tight get up that she's donned so that she can portray Sandy for the night. There's a part of her that, for the umpteenth time has found herself regretting this costume choice. At least when she had been a princess before the dresses hadn't been tight enough that there was nowhere to hide - not after Laura Cunningham had bought them large, tailored and then retailored them.

The beginning of the night had been great. Getting ready with Lydia and Prim had been fun - curling her hair, getting the red lipstick on, and then finishing it up with the matching red heels. It's not like anybody has said anything bad about the way that she looks. In fact, Chrissy is pretty sure that at some point she looked great.

Only now she's doubting the choice. Her stomach is churning - a mixture of the nerves and the fact that she got so busy today that she didn't eat before coming to make sure that being around the food in front of people here wouldn't be an issue. Why didn't she eat before the fundraiser? Because now, instead of being fine, she's walked to and away from the food multiple times - wanting to eat, but sure that if she does she's going to look even worse. And despite the fact that she didn't realize this earlier in the night Chrissy is positive that she's put on weight since starting with the therapist and getting help.

And now all she can see when she looks down is how much her stomach is sticking out in this damn costume.

Pulling the jacket closed tighter around her mid-drift as she moves to take a seat next to Eddie after a countless trip between the buffet and the bathroom, still not returning with anything, Chrissy has pulled her chair close to his at the table and she leans into him as she settles. "Miss me?" Chrissy asks playfully.

Did it take Robin several hours to apply the purple body paint and require the assistance of one of the other girls at work to put on all the stitch lines? Absolutely. Does she have any fucking idea what the costume actually is other than the package said Sally from A Nightmare Before Christmas? Absolutely not. Did she buy it and wear it because a really cute female customer saw her restocking shelves and, thinking Robin had been considering it as an option, encouraged her to "go for it, you would look so fucking cute in that"? Maybe, don't judge her.

Eddie and Steve both have been encouraging her to get to know Chrissy since Robin got here and, well. Chrissy is always nice to her in the group chats...they're not in high school anymore. Hell, they're not even in Hawkins anymore. She has no reason not to trust the boys' assessment of Chrissy's character, so when she spots Chrissy coming out of the bathroom and, for once, she's not glued to Eddie or Steve or Lydia or Klaus, Robin makes a beeline for her.

"Hey," she calls with a smile that feels fake as hell because even though Chrissy's been super nice and they run in the same circles, truthfully, Robin is still more than a little terrified of the Queen Bee she always knew Chrissy to be back home, however unrealistic that understanding was. She gives Chrissy a little wave and then grimaces a little and drops her hand because awkward, much? "Are you having fun tonight? I haven't had a chance to catch up with you much...since I got here, really, but...specifically tonight."

Shut up, Rob. You're talking too much. You're practically yelling to be heard over the music, so you're too damn loud. You're too much. You're always just...too. much.

Another smile that looks maybe a little less genuine and a little more nervous crosses her expression, as though a part of her is afraid Chrissy — or anyone, really — might overhear her internal monologue. "You look great, by the way. Finally, someone wearing a costume I actually recognize," she adds with a soft laugh.

Edited 2022-11-06 19:47 (UTC)

Eddie is also uncomfortable in his costume, but mostly because he looks like a total tool. Still, the smile on Chrissy's face when he'd shown up in the dumb old fashioned letter sweater with his hair moussed up in the front in a clear Harrington parody and tied up in the back, had been worth it. So had the leather pants and tight top that Chrissy was wearing under a leather jacket. He'd wolf whistled and did a really bad impression of Travolta by saying Sandy, Sandy, Sandy.

Except for the music, which seems to be controlled by a DJ with zero turn tables and nothing more than a phone and boombox speaker, the party is pretty decent. It's been fun seeing the costumes and familiar faces from around the complex. Chrissy seems to be having fun - at least at first - but it's hard not to notice the way she's begun to fidget, pulling uncomfortably at her outfit and surfing by the buffet table without actually ever returning with a plate of food.

"More than my guitar back home," he says, wrapping an arm around the back of her chair and leaning back into her in turn. He kisses her lightly on the temple before raising an eyebrow at her. "You okay?"

snack table

Caleb felt like a complete fucking dork when he walked into the Halloween fundraiser to volunteer with his sister and her roommate. Granted, he was still grinning like an idiot when he walked in dressed in his early 2000s millennial best and donning the ombre wig to really pull the outfit together. The fact that he looked ridiculous and felt just as dumb as he looked didn't — and doesn't — take away from the fact that he knows tonight's going to be a blast.

He, Sally, and Steve decided they'd dress up as the drag versions of one another's generational stereotypes. Caleb, frankly, is pretty fucking proud of how he did taking on Sally's generation at it's peak fashion of the early 2000s. His only regret is not being able to find a genuine Von Dutch hat in time for the party.

After about an hour of helping set out snacks and drinks on the tables that line one of the walls of the venue, and spending some quality time with both of his partners on the dance floor — God help him, he's running on the drunken, excited fumes of everyone else's good time just as much as his own, so he sure hopes it lasts — he heads to the snack table to refuel. He promised he'd stay at least a couple of hours before ducking out, so he needs to make sure he's got the energy to do that.

taking a break

After a couple of hours, the drinks people have been knocking back are starting to add up and Caleb waits until Sally invites Steve to dance again before he lets them know he's going outside for a little fresh air and he'll be right back. He waits specifically so that they don't feel like they have to come out and take care of him. He doesn't need to be coddled, he just needs a respite from the blurry swirl of boozy contentment he can feel snaking its way tighter and tighter around him as the night wears on.

Caleb stumbles a little, tripping over a child dressed as what looks to Caleb like a car of some kind — the Batmobile, maybe? — and gives a slurred apology to the kid's mom before disappearing outside.

The rush of cool air is not only refreshing, but it almost instantly washes away the worst of the drunken stupor he hasn't even earned on his own. Caleb takes the wig off and unzips the velour jacket, shrugging his way out of it, leaving him in the Juicy tanktop with a mess of wig hair and velour in his lap. He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, tilting his head up toward the sky a little and taking in a deep breath of fresh, crisp autumn air before opening his eyes again.

Caleb likes this time of year in Florida because it's about the only time the humidity child the fuck out for a little while and, not only are his curls a little more manageable, but he doesn't feel like his balls are sweating from the second he walks out the door until the second he goes back into an air-conditioned space. Needless to say, wearing the velour and a pair of briefs to hide the lines of boxer shorts beneath the tight pants does not afford him the same luxury, so he's also periodically grabbing at the crotch of the pants and tugging repeatedly on it in an attempt to fan his groin beneath the fabric.

wildcard

(( Or hit him up with your own starter! ))

Steve knows that Caleb doesn't want to be coddled, but he figures he's put in enough time being social to let him off the hook if he wants to go. He lets Sally know he's going to go find him after the song ends and slips through the crowd towards the exit. He can't help but chuckle at the sight of Caleb half in drag pulling at his crotch in the evening breeze.

Steve whistles, flipping his Billie Eilish wig over his shoulder. He's actually slightly disappointed his colorful costume doesn't glow in the dark. "Hey, sexy. Want some company?" He leans against the wall, looking down at Caleb. "No, but seriously. You're keeping the pants, right?"

Edited 2022-11-09 01:05 (UTC)

The sound of the whistle has Caleb looking up and he huffs out a laugh when he sees that the origin is Steve. "I wouldn't hate it," he says with a coy grin, making a show of checking Steve out.

A laugh escapes him and he lifts an eyebrow. "Maybe. You're keeping the wig, right?" he volleys back, reaching an arm up and a hand out to his boyfriend. It's an invitation not only for Steve to take his hand, but for Steve to let Caleb draw him closer and then, eventually, down to sit beside him.

Steve huffs out a laugh and takes Caleb's hand, letting himself be led to sit down beside him. He presses his shoulder against Caleb's, squeezing his hand gently. He makes a show of shaking out his wig. "This has nothing on my real hair."

He gives Caleb a look as if he's daring him to argue with him, but there's a smile at the corner of his lips. "How you holding up? Feeling okay?"

Laughing a little at the way Steve shakes out the wig, Caleb shakes his own head, almost wishing he'd kept his wig on because, in his opinion, he could potentially have rivaled that hair toss if he had.

He leans his head over to touch it to Steve's in a gesture that would've been a more gentle nuzzle and less a head bump if he were a little more sober. "Yeah, I just needed a second to let the fresh air flush out all the booze I didn't actually drink," he says dryly. "I was gonna come back in, in a few minutes. What, did you miss me already?" he teases in addition as he laces his fingers between Steve's.

Fuck, it's nice to finally be allowed to do that. It's nice to be allowed to do it with Sally, too. Caleb has never felt luckier in his life than he has in the past few weeks.

Steve grins at the slightly clumsy head bump. Even if Caleb hasn't had a drop of alcohol, he can see the effects of his abilities. He presses his head against Caleb's affectionately. "Yeah, what if I did?"

He reaches up with his free hand to run a hand through Caleb's hair. "If you get sick, I'll hold your wig while you puke," he jokes, bumping his knee against Caleb's.

"No, but I know it can be a lot. Whenever you're ready to go, just let us know." Caleb's put in his two hours and then some.

"I haven't been gone that long," Caleb laughs.

The grin on his face softens into something more neutral as he looks up at Steve when the other man runs his hand through Caleb's sweaty hair. His eyes wander down to Steve's mouth and dart back up again when Steve speaks.

Caleb has always had this sort of warm, green feeling around Steve, and he'd tried really hard for years not to think about it; not to compare it to the way Adam used to keep him green. But when it started happening with Sally, too, it was harder to deny. He gaslit himself for what felt like forever, but he knows now that the whole time, he's kind of been in love with Steve, even from the start.

It might be the moment or the realization or maybe just the contact buzz from everyone else's liquor intake, but before he can stop himself, his response to Steve's offer manifests itself as he leans in and catches Steve's bottom lip between his own, kissing him with gentle purpose, before raking his teeth over Steve's lip as he pulls back suddenly. "Shit, I'm sorry," he breathes, sobering quite a lot more almost instantaneously, eyes wide like a damn deer in headlights.

They're a thing, sure. They're affectionate like this back home, sure. But this is in public and they've not discussed whether that's comfortable for Steve, yet. Caleb's face goes pink and he looks sincerely sorry for springing that on him out here in the open. "I mean, you know, for...while we're out here in the open like that, without making sure that's cool..."

Steve's breath catches a little in surprise at the sudden kiss, though the small jolt of electricity that moves through him just has time to register before Caleb's pulled back and is apologizing.

Steve cuts him off by pulling him in for another kiss. He curls his fingers against Caleb's scalp, tugging at his hair playfully. "It's okay," he says, pulling back enough to look back at him.

And he's surprised that it is okay. He doesn't know if he's ready to be open just anywhere, but out here with just the two of them and the occasional passerby, it's more than okay. It's good. "Must be the pants. So juicy."

It surprises Caleb when Steve cuts him off by returning the kiss with one of his own. His eyes flutter shut and an unexpected, succinct and quiet moan of appreciation slips out at the sensation of Steve tugging on his mop of curls.

His eyes open again as Steve pulls back and he's searching his partner's eyes for confirmation that it really is okay and he's not just trying to assuage Caleb's concerns.

"Yeah? You're sure?" he asks, mainly to give Steve a chance to lay out conditions or retract the statement altogether. But then Steve makes a comment about the pants and Caleb snorts out a surprised laugh. "No wonder bitches wore these back then if it was bagging 'em hotties like you to make out with."

Steve snorts and shakes his head slightly, pulling back a little more to look at him. "Promise never to call me a hottie again and maybe I'll kiss you again."

Part of it is because it sounds strange coming from Caleb, but the other part of it is that it feels so far from the way Caleb actually talks that he kind of hates it.

"And yeah, I'm sure," Steve says, a little more serious as he lets out a small breath. "This isn't Hawkins. I shouldn't have to hide how I feel if I don't have to."

Caleb barks out a surprised laugh. "Yeah, don't worry, I fucking feel dirty after saying it. Being a millennial girl is ass," he replies, grinning, and reaching to take Steve's hand.

His grin softens into something a little more fond and he gives Steve's hand a squeeze. "You don't have to here," he says, practically a whisper. "Besides, between the two of us, I think anybody who wanted to be a homophobic piece of shit would probably think twice and, if they didn't, we'd kick their asses." That's mostly a joke because he wants to inject a little bit of levity back in.

Caleb's eyes scan Steve's face and he smiles a little bit. "I'm so fucking lucky to have you in my life. You two make me happier than I've ever been."

"Yeah, being a Gen Z girl isn't that much fun either," he says, brushing his wig back over his shoulder. "I can't wait to go home and get into my regular clothes. And you know that moustache of Sally's has to itch."

Steve's expression melts into a smile when Caleb says he's happy. He thinks back to that night he'd gotten fired and how miserable he'd looked. A part of Steve had worried that he might decide being there wasn't enough and would go back home. The possibility, even at the back of his mind, had kept him up that night.

"Same, my guy," he says, squeezing his hand. "I always thought I knew what I wanted. But you two are so much more." He takes a deep breath. "I'm not good with saying how I feel, but I do know I've never felt this way before about anyone. Not even Nancy and I fought a demigorgon for her." He grins. "So yeah, let someone say something. I dare them."

Caleb smiles again, his head ducking a little by reflex. Then, he leans in for another kiss, this one soft and slow, before pulling away a little bit. "I love you. We should probably get back in there before some douchey bachelor tries to steal our girl."

He leans back again, grinning a little smugly and nodding toward the door. He's feeling better, he's ready.

May has put a lot of time and effort into this fundraiser, having pitched it to the Director of the Food Bank and promising that it would be successful enough to help them double the size of their pantry. She's poured a lot of her own money into the supplies and decorations because she knows that as a displaced person, she's more fortunate than most when it comes to income. She's also asked those displaced supers she knows to volunteer and help boost their support.

She spends most of the night moving from table to table, group to group, activity to activity, making sure that everything is going smoothly, that people are having fun and tallying up the number of funds raised. She's dressed as Rosie the Riveter with bright red lipstick. By the end of the night her feet are killing her, her mouth is sore from smiling and she's ecstatic to know that they've surpassed their goal by 15%.

She can be found sitting at one of the party tables, sipping a deserved glass of wine barefoot with her red heels beside her on the floor.

Edited 2022-11-05 16:18 (UTC)

Even if Laura hadn't volunteered him without asking him, Derek was already planning to help. It was important to May and she's his roommate and, over time, she's become his friend; she's important to him, too. He also had to squeeze in his registration-obligated appearances so he can rest on his laurels for the holidays instead of having to do those stupid parades.

So it's not until well into the evening that he's free to do what he wants to be doing and what he wants is to sit the hell down and take a breath. Spotting May sitting alone, Derek makes his way to her, still donning his "costume" if only because that's sort of the point of this party. He might as well enjoy the fact that he's not worried about being hunted.

He drops down into the seat beside her, sets his bottle of beer down, and casually reaches over to touch her arm, drawing the sting out of her sore feet without asking. She must be uncomfortable, after all, if she's kicked them off. "You knocked this out of the park, you know," he tells her with a smile, taking his hand back when the inky color drains out of his veins, having drawn the pain out. Then, he reaches for his drink, taking a quick pull.

May smiles at him as he pulls out a chair and takes a seat beside her. She's seen him putting in his hours as a celebrity as she's made the rounds. She's actually really grateful that the supers can kill two birds with one stone by helping her out and also fulfilling their obligations.

He touches her arm and the pain in the heels of her feet disappear. She sighs with relief and gives him a small, grateful nod. "Thank you." She watches the inky darkness disappear into his skin, reaching out to touch the spot it was a moment ago lightly with her fingertips. "Do you take it on or do you break it down somehow?"

Derek nods back, a small smile on his face in response. "You're welcome," he replies sincerely, taking another drink. His eyes move to her fingers on his arm briefly before he looks back up at her. There's question in his eyes, but she answers the unspoken one by asking a question of her own. Ah, she's touching because she's curious and wants to know more.

"Both, actually," Derek replies. "I take it on, but since it's not an actual injury, my body can sort of diffuse it faster than a human body can. For something like that, it's almost instantaneous. For a more severe or fatal wound, I could take it on to a point where it might take me days to heal from it, if I'm not careful."

Clearing his throat, he looks around briefly before his eyes settle back on his roommate. "You did great with this. It looks amazing and you managed a hell of a turnout, May."

May swallows at his answer, her eyes moving to meet his. "Have you done that for someone before?"

She already knows he must have, that he's the kind of person that would, but the thought of him suffering for someone else makes her stomach ache.

She smiles at him but shakes her head. "I had a lot of help. The displaced supers really stepped up to help me pull this off. I think it's really great that so many of them are so young but still so willing to help out."

Derek looks down and nods before looking up again. "Somebody poisoned my baby sister with mistletoe and she nearly died. Damn near killed myself trying to sap the suffering out of her. I don't do it very often, if I can help it, unless it's for pack."

In spite of himself, he finds himself looking out into the semi-familiar sea of faces, mostly youthful ones, and Derek smiles fondly at them. It's strange to feel endeared to a bunch of strangers and acquaintances the way he does, but the kids in this place are amazing. They take so much in stride, but they're not maladjusted or angry; they help others. They laugh. They love. They're living their lives, not just surviving. He can't not appreciate the beauty in that.

Looking back at her, Derek takes a drink from his beer bottle again. "They're really good kids, yeah. When I was their age, I was nowhere near as good as that. I did good things, but I was a cocky, selfish little shit most of the time, and then I see these kids in this place bending over backward for each other and, sometimes, for the locals, and it just kind of blows my mind. It also solidifies my suspicion that that damn portal is more sentient than we all give it credit for. It only ever seems to pull in the cream of the crop."

She doesn't actually realize she hasn't taken her fingers off his arm until they tighten in sympathy. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry you had to go through that." She squeezes and pulls her hand back.

"Something tells me that you're not giving your younger self enough credit," May says, raising an eyebrow at him. She'd have to talk to Laura to be absolutely sure, but she'd be willing to bet money on it. "But you're right. They are really good kids. I'm glad I've gotten to know some of them."

May smiles wryly, catching a dark haired girl in a flapper costume staring at Derek. "Speaking of which, I think you might have an admirer in one of them." She flicks her eyes towards the dance floor and then back to Derek with an amused smirk.

Derek shakes his head and waves a hand with gentle dismissiveness. "May, that is one of the lesser fucked up things I've dealt with. If I told you half the shit I endured in that year alone, you'd probably have to go into therapy," he says wryly, the smile falling short of his eyes.

Huffing a little laugh, Derek shakes his head. "No, I was a little shithead when I was their age. It took me a pretty fucking traumatic event to turn that around. ...then again, I guess getting yanked into this place is pretty traumatic..." he replies, sounding thoughtfully sympathetic toward the lot of them.

Lifting his eyebrows, Derek looks over his shoulder and catches Veronica's eye, giving her a small smile when she winks and blows a kiss playfully at him. Laughing again, Derek turns back to May. "The flapper? Yeah, that's Veronica. She asked. I'm not looking to join the hookup culture, though, so she's SOL, unfortunately."

Her smile fades into something more pained and pinched at the corner of her mouth. The thing she’s learning about most of the people who have been brought here is just how much pain is in their past. Derek, for all of his amiable smiles and charm, has more than his fair share of them, it seems. She wants to know so much more about him and where he’s come from, but she also doesn’t want to make him relive those traumatic memories for her own curiosity.

May finally releases Derek’s arm when the gorgeous brunette blows him a kiss, though she raises her eyebrows in surprise when Derek turns back to her. She laughs, tilting her head towards Veronica. “Are you sure? As your roommate, friend and just an innocent bystander, I have to ask if you’re in your right mind?”

“I could be an amazing wingwoman if you wanted one,” she says, nudging Derek with her foot under the table. “Don’t you get lonely?”

In spite of himself, Derek laughs a little, shaking his head. "Yeah, no...she's cute, but she's young and I'm not really in that mindset anymore. If I was looking, it would be for someone to settle down with eventually. Maybe have some kids, I don't know. I'm a little too old to fuck around and find out, so to speak," he replies with a wry smile.

His smile starts to fade a little at her latter question and he looks down at the hand closed around his bottle. "Sometimes," he admits. "It's probably better, whether I like it or not. Safer," he adds. "For the woman, not for me. Although, with my past girlfriends, maybe also for me," he finishes with a mirthless laugh.

His eyes move back up to her face. "I appreciate the offer, though. What about you? I could be just as good a wingman," he points out.

May shakes her head, giving Derek an amused smile. "That's not the kind of answer that most guys your age would give." Or at least the guys that she's known. Though most of her thirties had been spent happily married to Ben. The thought of him still stings a little, but it's more wistful than painful. "So you're looking for forever not just a one night stand?"

She can only take that to mean that he's had bad luck in the girlfriend department, which is a shame because Derek seems like he'd be a really good boyfriend. Not that she's let herself think about that. Much.

"Me?" She chuckles and waves him off. "I feel like I've been alone for so long I wouldn't know how to be with someone else again. After Ben..." She trails off and shakes her head. "I don't see anyone else being able to give me what we had." She looks over at Derek. "But maybe it's like you said. It feels safer to be alone."

Derek laughs. "Yeah, well, most guys my age weren't raised in a matriarchal system, so...most of them are sex-hungry pigs. It's nice to not be one, I gotta say. Ladies love a feminist, what can I say?" he asks, only half-joking. Clearing his throat, Derek takes another drink, though, then nods. "But yeah. I'm looking for forever. I'm done with one-night stands. It's not just not for me."

As May brushes him off, Derek watches her thoughtfully, pausing a moment before responding. "Who said someone else is supposed to give you what you had with Ben? Only he could give you that, you're right. But maybe somebody could give you something different that you'd enjoy just as much. You never know," he points out. Is it selfish to push when she's not doing the same to him? Maybe.

Is he going to do it anyway? Almost definitely. Derek hates the idea of anyone he cares about having as miserably lonely a life as he's had.

Peter is all too happy to help with the fundraiser, though he takes the easy way out and comes in his Spiderman costume. He poses for pictures and puts in an hour or two as a celebrity before taking off the mask and walking around the party. It's still strange to have everyone know that he's Spiderman. For the most part, people don't really care here, but he still feels the need to try to hide his identity from time to time. An old habit he can't quite break.

He can be caught piling food on a plate at the snack table or eating said food at one of the tables and watching those on the dance floor. If his roommates' matchmaking attempts have done anything, he might be more open to striking up conversation with ladies, but for the most part he's willing to sit back and watch the others have fun, a small grin on his face.

Hermione usually likes to keep mostly to herself here. She's had time to adjust to the culture shock of both a new country and a new century, but she's still struggling to process everything she's been through. Remus is the only person in this place who can even begin to understand the gravity of the way Hermione came of age and it's hard to relate to people who will never be able to relate to her. Still, she is registered, so in order to retain her stipend — one she relies heavily on after the dental office she used to work in was burned down by an anti-Super arsonist — she still does the volunteer events in the community. It feels strange to be treated like a celebrity when she's a lot more used to being the sidekick to Harry being a celebrity, but now and again, it's nice.

She arrives a little late to the party after struggling to get her hairstyle just right. It also took a little doing, properly transfiguring an ugly yellow cropped vest she found at a thrift shop into the armor corset she's wearing over the flowy goddess style dress that, together, make up her Athena costume. But when she does make it, she can't help feeling the same anticipatory bubble of shy pride that she recalls from arriving at the Yule ball almost a decade ago. Remus's former tenderness upon introduction to her heinous scar has empowered her to do little more to cover it this evening than apply some foundation and powder to soften the deep pink color of the puckered skin spelling Mudblood out on the inside of her forearm. It feels weirdly liberating not to cover it completely for the first time at a public appearance like this.

Gravitating toward her are largely entranced children, little girls who marvel at her hair and dress; little boys who mistake her goddess of wisdom for a warrior princess and want to take pictures and touch her armor and ask her where her sword is. Hermione can be found most of the first half of the evening surrounded by children and parents, as well as the occasional obnoxious teenage boy who thinks he's cooler and more grown up than he actually is — from whom she certainly wouldn't mind being rescued by an adult male by whom she might actually enjoy being pursued, or by anyone at all willing to pull her away or create a distraction.

For the latter half, once her volunteer shift concludes, she can be found moving throughout the place, stealthily refilling the punch bowls with a whispered charm and a flourish of her finger — after all, it's a fundraising event for a food pantry, it seems silly to waste any funds raised on keeping refreshments refilled if she can assist with that in any way — or nibbling snacks. She probably won't be out on the dance floor on her own, but she could be persuaded to join someone else.

The fact that Number Five is here at all is nothing short of a miracle. The actual last thing he wants to be doing with his free time — which could be more productively used trying to continue tinkering with the equations behind the algorithms Peter and Tony had programmed into the portals — is attending some fucking party, but between the fact that May is the one who organized it and Peter and Prim ganged up on him, Five arrives in his old Umbrella Academy uniform — which he had to have let out a little and altered to fit him properly as the thirteen-year-old body has grown into the sixteen-year-old one he's now inhabiting and, thus, tonight will be the uniform's official last hurrah — using a cane to assist him walking. He doesn't need it, of course, but it's the closest to a costume that Prim and Peter could convince him to do.

On the whole, for most of the night, he'll be hanging back, mostly watching Prim and Peter like a hawk, half to ensure Peter doesn't try anything too bold, and half to ensure that no overzealous fans intentionally or unintentionally hurt either of the kids he's long since — mildly begrudgingly — sort of adopted as his own. He feels responsible for their well-being more than he really should and perhaps it's a projection of what he always wished Reginald had been, but in spite of the curmudgeonly outward attitude, Five does, in his own way, pour his heart and soul into those kids. Watching them grow up, especially Prim, is equal parts heartbreaking and wonderful. It's only been a few years and, sure, it's been a couple of Peters' worth, but... well. He doesn't want to dwell too much on all of that.

He can be found mostly lurking in shadows and corners, nursing a flask as surreptitiously as possible earlier in the night and, frankly, with complete and total abandon of care by the end of it. Approach at your own risk, he hopes is the vibe he's giving off.

early in the evening

Lydia's half of her couples costume is Suicide Squad Harley Quinn, complete with the wig, makeup, and temporary tattoos under her fishnet stockings. She isn't on duty for volunteer work as far as her registration status goes, but she can still be seen posing for selfies and signing autographs if asked. After the shit that happened with the anti-Supers that landed her in jail for a night while the police ironed out the details and dropped charges, Lydia needs all the positive word of mouth she can get from the locals.

She's helping out a little with some mild volunteer work she never actually signed up for officially, but since this shindig is being organized and run by Peter's aunt, she can't not help them all out in little ways, like offering to refill snack plates that get low, or picking up trash left abandoned on tables or on the floor.

She may generally mingle and snack a little when she's not playing the part of Harley and hanging on her Joker, Klaus.

later in the evening

As it gets later and the kids start being taken home for the night by their parents, Lydia may be found getting herself a drink when she's not dancing with Klaus, her roommate, or Chrissy, currently her core friend group. She and Klaus have definitely entered themselves in the couples costume contest, so she'll absolutely be watching the results announcements as they come in, not just for her contest, but for all of them. She might even be found on the dance floor alone if her group tuckers out before she does. It's quite clear that she's letting her hair down, so to speak, and having the time of her life, though, whatever it is she's doing.

wildcard

(( or hit her up with your own starter! ))

Edited 2022-11-06 19:33 (UTC)

Veronica runs into Lydia by the bar, only recognizing her from the network after giving her a double take. She smiles widely, giving a whistle as she takes her in. "Brave choice, considering you probably live in a lab jacket Monday thru Friday. Am I right?"

She doesn't give Lydia time to respond, just grins and shakes her head. "Beauty, brains and a killer bod. If I was a lesser woman, I'd hate you." She sighs and shrugs, clearly moving on. "Instead, I'll give you mad props for looking amazing."

Edited 2022-11-09 01:48 (UTC)

Turning toward the sound of the wolf whistle instinctually, Lydia's surprised to see the new girl on the other end of it, rather than one of her friends or Klaus. Lifting her eyebrow, Lydia grins and returns the whistle. "Said the newbie knocking that flapper costume out of the park," Lydia replies when Veronica finishes. "But thank you, I sure hope I do since I spent over an hour applying approximately 900 of these stupid temporary tattoos," she adds with a laugh.

Then, Lydia gestures first to the bartender to get Veronica a drink, then at Veronica herself. "Please, I have enough haters; you look fucking fabulous, sweetie. Let us not be competitors, but instead a dynamic drop-dead duo. Female solidarity and all that," she says with a wink and a smirk. "How're you managing so far? I know it's frustrating to have to wait to go back home."

"Female solidarity it is," Veronica says, grinning and giving Lydia a small nod. She takes a deep breath and glances around the party. "Actually, you were right. This place isn't half bad. I'm still waiting on my ride home, but in the meantime, I'm having a good time."

She steps forward as the bartender puts their drinks on the bar, handing Lydia hers. "I guess I needed a little perspective."

She takes a sip of her drink. "So, which lucky guy or gal are you here with?"

Edited 2022-11-13 21:42 (UTC)

"I usually am, comes with the territory of being both a genius and a woman," Lydia sighs casually before smirking and winking.

She takes her drink from Veronica and smiles. "Thanks," she replies, taking a sip of her own. "It's kind of hard to put things into perspective when you're being thrown for such a massive, unbelievable loop, though, in your defense."

Lydia glances around the room and spots Klaus, as per usual, marching to the beat of his own drum and having the time of his life dancing all by himself. She points. "See the Joker over there dancing like there's nobody watching? That's bae," she tells Veronica. "Klaus. Love of my life, apple of my eye, savior of my sanity. You have somebody like that? Back home, I mean, or anything?" she asks, lifting her eyebrows with genuine interest.

Veronica spots the Joker and laughs at his wild dancing, looking back at Lydia with a touch of surprise. He's not exactly what she'd imagined for her, but then again it's clear by Lydia's description that she's head over heels.

"No one with those moves," she admits wistfully. She sighs and shakes her head. "My boyfriend just split without a word. Needless to say, he's not the person I thought he was."

She shrugs, licking her lips. "But screw it, right? I figure I might as well have a good time while I'm here. Especially with so many good looking options around."

Lydia laughs. "Yeah, well, Klaus is his own kind of special," she says fondly. "Not my usual type, but if you saw the gorgeous locks hiding under that fugly wig, you'd understand," she adds playfully.

But then Veronica goes on and Lydia's amusement drops away. "Ewwwuhhh!" she snaps indignantly. "Has he just not looked at you lately? What a loser," she complains on Veronica's behalf. She can tell by Veronica's body language and tone that even though she'd rather not share it, she's upset by that departure.

"If it makes you feel better, my boyfriend back in high school did that, too. His family just scooped him up and ran off to London and he never called, never wrote, never even emailed or texted. Just poof, gone," she says, frowning slightly at the reminder of the way Jackson just abandoned her with not so much as a word after telling her where they were going.

Still, Veronica's right, and Lydia's well past her own pain, so she smirks a little and leans in conspiratorily. "I know practically everybody here at this point. Anybody you want me to put in a good word with? Who's catching your eye?"

Veronica, grins at Lydia's indignation on her behalf. There's a part of her that wants to make excuses for Archie, but since he's not here she can't be bothered. She also mentally increases Lydia's score for possible BFF material. At least until Betty showed up or she got back home, whichever comes first.

She shakes her head at Lydia's story and rolls her eyes. "Well, their loss, our immense gain," she says, taking a sip of her drink. When Lydia asks if she has her eye on anyone, she glances around the party and catches sight of Derek sitting at a table with an older woman. She nods in his direction, catching his eye and blowing a kiss. "What's Derek's story? I put it out there and he let me down gently, but my ego's still bruised."

"Cheers to that," Lydia agrees, taking a sip of her own. When Veronica looks around, Lydia tries to follow her glance and guess, but before she can, Veronica comes out with it.

Lydia's face scrunches a little. "Oooh...Derek..." she says, trailing off and pausing to think. Her own biases are stacked against him, obviously; he did try to kill her, after all. But he's not a bad guy, so she considers, independent of her past experiences with him.

"Derek doesn't have a great track record with women...by which I mean, they usually try to murder him," she replies, her tone flat and dry. "I don't know if he's looking or if he's just taking a break from women. If my boyfriends all pulled the shit on me that his girlfriends did to him, not kidding, I would've become a nun years ago," she adds, a sympathetic look crossing her expression as she looks back at him.

Then, she looks back at Veronica, lifting a curious eyebrow. "Aren't you, like, my age? I'm not judging, or anything, I like older men, too, but he's like almost 35... I don't know if I'm the right person to put in a good word since he and I know each other from home and we're not on great terms, but I know some people who could, if you still want."

Food Pantry Halloween Party

Chrissy Cunningham | Open & Closed Eddie M

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Hermione Granger ✨ OTA

Number Five ☂️ OTA

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