[Closed] [Backdated]

[no_ufo_ending]

Who: Scar, Lust, Envy, Heather, Henry
What: Super Backdated 4th Wall Post Prom Room Party
Where: The Academy
Warnings: PG 13 - Over consumption of Alcohol, Drunken Discussion of Sexual Themes, Mild Body Horror

Comments

PHOTOS

[no_ufo_ending]

[ It's the midst of the chaos. The Juice is in their veins. Henry has his Poke'Gear out and is ready to make some memories. ]

[officerdown]

So, yes, prom, through no fault of its own, has been a rather lackluster experience for a gaggle of ~30 year olds and one 400+ year old. This, as Scar has discovered in various ways throughout the evening, can be remedied.

The door to the dorm room opens with a bit more gusto than strictly necessary, to reveal the terrifying silhouette of the State Alchemist Killer Wrist Breaker. He's a touch red in the face. His suit jacket is long abandoned, his tie is a rumpled mass in his pocket, and he's unbuttoned his dress shirt enough that the undershirt beneath it is visible. He and buttons don't get along. The knees of his pants are noticeably scuffed, but that detail hardly stands out now that the rest of him is so thoroughly out of Fancy Party Mode.

Cradled in his big, meaty claws is a party-sized plastic jar with a label that suggests it once contained cheese balls. It has been repurposed to contain a crude cocktail of cold brew and tequila, and it's still mostly full.

"I have something."

[no_ufo_ending]

Henry glances up. He's still mostly fully dressed for Prom time, save for his shoes which have been kicked off somewhere. He was on his feet for a while taking dozens of photos for folks who couldn't cram themselves into those little booths. So many people love full party photos.

He doesn't know if any of them will stay in his camera. There were some pretty weird ones. He's too tired to care though. What he's not too tired to care about is Scar's state of unfancyness and the fucking JUG he has in his hands.

"What is that?"

[exeggutorhead]

Envy's still mostly dressed; his outfit was a transformed one to begin with, so it's not uncomfortable. Except for the heels, which he ditched as soon as they'd all gotten in the room, and the hair, which without him paying attention to maintaining the shape has definitively begun escaping from the pinned up look. He's leaning over Heather's shoulder, but Scar's grand entrance sure gets his attention!

Henry asks the most obvious question, so Envy's squinting at Scar's weird expression instead.

"Are you...buzzed?"

He noticed the pant knees. He makes the wise decision (for once) not to say anything out loud.

[officerdown]

Scar frowns down at The Jug as if he is observing it for the first time.

"I believe it is coffee and an inadvisable quantity of tequila."

And with a sideways glance in Envy's direction:

"Possibly."

He is still taking up the entire doorway.

Early Juicin'

[no_ufo_ending]

[ Henry has had one (1) cup of The Bad Soup. ]

[He sits on the little dorm sofa hunkered over his Poke'Gear, his hair falling in a curtain around it. He's holding it really...really close to his face.]

What the hell...what the hell...c'mon. Come. On.

[ He taps furiously at the screen. ]

[foolishwren]

<sub>[Heather has had one half (1/2) cup of the Bad Soup.]

[She is already feeling it.]</sub>

Whoa-- haha!

_{[Visibly swaying when she stands up too fast, she winds up flopping down next to her adopted brother instead of heading over to the sink, which is what she originally intended to do.]}

HEY BRO.

Whatcha doooin'?

[no_ufo_ending]

[ He does not look up. ]

I'm trying...to crop this picture. Someone asked me to remove one of her ex's Pokemon from their group shot but it keeps...zooming in on her face instead.

[ He is tapping the wrong thing. ]

[foolishwren]

Ohhhhh...

_{[Heather's photoshopping skills have been honed exclusively for evil. This is not a job for her. BUT SHE WILL HELP ANYWAY. Because she's a good sister.]}

Lemme see.

[officerdown]

The hour is: late.

The room is: teetering dangerously close to wasted.

Scar’s head has been draped across Lust’s lap for the better part of an hour. He has no desire to move, possibly ever. But he does, in a break of silence, pipe up.

"Envy."

He rolls over, eyes straining in the scrawny homunculus' direction.

"Did you appreciate Heather's perfume?"

[exeggutorhead]

Envy hears his name and lifts his own head from where he and Heather had gone back to being flopped in a tangle on the bed, looking at stupid pictures on her 'Gear. Several of his limbs are currently not the right length but he's not paying attention to that right now.

He blinks at the question.

"What?"

He's too drunk to even begin to try to figure out why Scar is asking him about Heather's perfume so he's just going to roll with it. But after a too long pause he turns his head and drops it straight down into the crook of her neck. To remember what the perfume had smelled like.

Then raises his head again, grinning lopsidedly. His pupils are enormous. Full kittycat eye going on here.

"Yeah!"

[foolishwren]

By this point, everybody is just straight-up goofy and Heather is no exception.

Any reservations she may (or may not) normally have about forming one half of a noodly pile of androgyny with Envy while in the presence of others are long-gone. So when he faceplants into her neck, the result is a muffled, giddy squeal without her usual follow-up of trying to headlock and/or noogie him.

She's still laughing when he pulls away again.

"Sc... Scar helped! Helped me pick it out. He'sso wise."

No sarcasm detectable in her words, but they are quite slurred.

[officerdown]

"Hm." A lazy, smug note plays on Scar's face. That's funny because Scar picked it. "I was correct, then."

Then, Envy's eyes command an attention all their own. Scar's eyebrows shoot up, his every thought process slowed to the point where logical steps which should barely be at an incline are canyons. He is more than familiar with homunculus eyes, but not in that he looks at a lot of homunculi. He looks at a homunculus a lot. One. So when he meets Envy's eyes, and his pupils are swallowing his irises, it throws Scar for some kind of loop he isn't fond to linger on.

His eyes are sure lingering on it, though, frozen with that weird intensity of his while he susses out that he is, indeed, looking at Envy.

Yup! That's Envy.

He looks up to Heather, his head still loose on his neck.

"That is kind of you."

That loose head of his flops back down.

"The phallic one was the clear choice."

[exeggutorhead]

[What had been in that jug?? Envy has literally never been drunk as a homunculus before. He didn't think it was possible to get drunk as a homunculus.]

[How long will it actually last in his system if he stops drinking? Who knows, because he actually hasn't stopped imbibing Beetlejuice's Nefarious Potion since he began and has probably had somewhere around 10 cups, maybe more.]

[There's actually a brand new special issue that's come up because of this unique set of circumstances though: as is becoming very clear, shapeshifting requires some level of ability to concentrate. He only realized the problem after he already did multiple transformations. He's so used to his preferred form that he was able to get back to it without excessive body horror...but now he's. Uh. Off-model.]

[He is currently has his arms held out in front of him, squinting very hard at them as he keeps trying to adjust them. One of them is too long. The other one is too short and has a few too many fingers.]

Ooookay...okay. THIS time I'm gonna...hm. How many bonesss was it...?

[no_ufo_ending]

[ Henry is nearby. He called it quits after four cups and feels very much like a baked potato. He stares at Envy's many fingers and squints the way he remembers squinting in the dark room at college. ]

I think...a few more than that.

[exeggutorhead]

[Envy listens to Henry's advice with rapt attention.]

[Should there be more fingers? One of the hands is different from the other...it has less.]

[His head is swimming. But Henry's a human and would surely know if he didn't have enough fingers!]

[One flash of light later, the hand that already had the correct number now has three extras. He holds it up for inspection.]

Thissmany?

FOR HEATHER

[exeggutorhead]

As the night has worn on, and once everyone's managed to coax Envy back down from perching dramatically on top of the cabinets and insisting he's a gargoyle, he's found his way back to Heather. He's way too far gone to be hanging onto his usual inhibitions about things like being sappy with other people around.

They've wound up in a tangled noodle-pile a couple of times over the night, but they were still usually pretty engaged with the room those times. This time, Envy has just got one arm loosely hooked around the back of her neck and his chin resting in the middle of her chest so that he can gaze up at her. The slit pupils of his eyes are softly rounded out again. Girlfran c:

This is so nice. They're all having so much fun. They're all happy.

Not one person in this room used to be happy but now they're all here! In this dinky little school dorm room being ridiculous! And she's here with him! He grins up at her.

"Yoooouu...are really great."

[foolishwren]

Heather is only barely sitting up on one of the beds with with her back against the windowsill, which she'd thrown open earlier to get some fresh air. The fresh air had not made anybody more sober, but it was still nice. Compared to Envy, she's been downright conservative with her alcohol intake tonight... but unlike Envy, she is not a Homunculus.

She has imbibed enough of the evil potion to be quite a bit drunker than she has at any other time in recent memory. Which is probably why she also has no reservations about letting Envy plop his head right there and gaze up at her with his googly kitty eyes.

Grinning hazily back down at him, she plants her hand right on his head like she would if he still WAS a kitty. Even the very big unfortunate kitty he'd turned into earlier.

"Ohh yeah? You think sooo? Do you liiiike me? Haha, whaaat, that's so embarrrassssiiiiing!"

[officerdown]

At this point, Scar is on the brink of checking out from the party entirely. He is in Horizontal Mode, his head resting in Lust's lap with zero inhibition for the relaxed intimacy of the gesture. He hasn't uttered a peep in several turns of the conversation. Why would he? This is nirvana.

But never let it be mistakenly thought that the Beast of Ishbal would be one to let go of a grudge.

A single syllable, muffled in the sequins adorning his beloved's thighs, about which he could most certainly speak multitudes, if he were so foolishly goaded:

"Wuss."

[no_ufo_ending]

Henry is fucking blitzed. He's gone. He has had too much of the Terrible Slop and now he is laying on the floor, on his back, with his Poke'gear resting on his face. He can hear his friends talking around him. He can hear music from somewhere else in the dorm.

And he is full of love for them.

But there is something missing, and perhaps, it is the tiniest pang of jealousy. It's a human thing to feel. And so, in a low husky voice like one might expect from a man who had been crawling through the desert for a year, Henry abruptly says,

"I haven't slept with anyone in ten years..."

[officerdown]

Scar is returning from his second pee break of the night, courtesy of The Sauce. He looms over Henry. He wants to express some sort of solidarity for the man in his plight. He wants to help. Somewhere, the wires of this earnest wish split and tangle and cross until the final product that emerges from his looming, frowning face is:

"I am very good at that. Not sleeping with anyone."

[no_ufo_ending]

Henry turns his head to the sound of his friend's voice. The Poke'Gear remains on his face. Henry croakes, "Scar..."

The Hangover (2024)

[officerdown]

It's inevitable.

When Scar wakes up the following morning day, he doesn't really wake up.

Sleep was dreamless and long. Awareness comes slowly, and when it does arrive, it's not in one piece.

"Nn..."

His head feels like it's being shoved into a vice, cranked tighter with each and every sense that regains awareness. Even the soft, steady sound of his breath is offensive in his ears, ringing the spike that must be driving straight into his skull with every inhale, every exhale. His mouth tastes like rot and feels like sand. He tries to move, and as the neurons fire to tell his muscles to sit up, so too does his stomach send back an emergency signal in violent protest.

Do not do that.

Scar obeys. Even as he becomes more aware of his surroundings, of the singular dress sock still half on his foot, the homunculus in repose on his chest, and the absolute mess of sheets and blankets, and he doesn't dare move even an inch.

[a_sin_for_him]

Lust is, of course, awake. She doesn't need sleep at the moment, it's something done out of habit. But she's been in the land of waking for a time, simply staying where she is. No need to disturb the man beneath her, let him sleep the sweet sleep of oblivion while he still can. No need to rouse him before he's ready.

It's going to be bad enough when nature forces him to wake.

When his breathing shifts, she notices. And stays still, even as he makes a small and very sad noise. His attempts at moving are feeble, and after he's settled himself back, she slips off of him.

"How are we feeling this morning?"

Her voice is soft.

She knows exactly how we're doing this morning.

[officerdown]

Let's try this again:

"Mn..."

It's ugly. He knows just how ugly it is by the fact that even the soft turn of her voice scrapes a chalkboard embedded in his brain stem. Her voice. The thought borders on heretical.

Scar feebly reaches for a handful of the sheets and draws them over his eyes, blocking out even more of the sunlight pouring in than his eyelids alone could.