Robbie Baldwin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
walkingballpit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2016-12-12 06:02 pm
walkingballpit) wrote in legionworld2016-12-12 06:02 pm
Entry tags:
So deck those halls, trim those trees, raise up cups of Valor's Cheer.
Who| Anyone and everyone
What| A miscellaneously holiday party
Where| Habitat Deck, specifically Vance's section
When| Valor's Day, afternoon
Warnings/Notes| Feel free to use this, even if the thread doesn't involve Robbie. I'd suggest putting the name of the person you're going to thread with in the title. You can contact me if you want specific starters. I will be adding some as the week goes on and editing more into the description, but I thought I would get this up so that we have time to play before the RL holiday crunch hits.
The Crashpad of the New Warriors is, quite possibly, the worst superhero home base ever. It was originally a warehouse that had been repurposed rather haphazardly by teenagers, with random bits of furniture that had been pulled in from everywhere. Outside of the training room and computers, the most expensive thing in the place had been the enormous speakers that had come up to Robbie's waist.
They're still here - in fact, just about everything Robbie remembers about the place is fairly recreated here, down to the random stacks of boxes that they never bothered getting rid of. There's a few mystery stains missing from the recreated furniture, but the feeling of "I'm home" is uncomfortably thick when you can look at a chair and remember "saving" it from the curb.
Robbie's been busy today, getting decorated at a whirlwind pace. He's purchased hundreds of feet of garland, and everything has some on it. Speakers, couches, chairs. If it stood still for more than twenty second, it's swirled in the shiny. The high ceiling is swathed in it - the flight ring came in handy. Garland's even used to hang mistletoe down low enough for it to be noticed by the partygoers.
Those speakers work, shockingly, and he's done his best to track down holiday music for everyone. The 2600s were a particularly awful time for carols, but Mariah Carey and the Waitresses have surprised him with their horrific staying power. No one will ever escape Christmas Wrapping. Ever.
The large open space already looks crowded, because there are a dozen lifesize "holihols." As far as Robbie can tell, the future has abandoned the holiday chic of blow up figures and shapes made out of lights for round pads that create a variety of ornaments. There's Valor, Santa Claus, Superman, Elvis the Music Messiah, a snowman, Bat-Santa, and more. He has them gathered around the dance floor.
Oh, it's not a real dance floor. It's a cleared space that they might've dumped about ten pounds of glitter onto the floor. Um - and hung the dreidel disco ball above it. The store had a dreidel disco ball. A dance floor was necessary. Sunglasses are also recommended. Don't worry, Robbie has a basket of tacky holiday shades that transform you into Valor or Rudolph or... things he can't identify.
There's a tree, of course, loaded down with ornaments and holo ornaments and the brief attempt he made at a popcorn strand before he said forget it and ate the popcorn. The tree is 150% environmentally friendly - he's not sure if it's a tree or something that smells like fir. It's from the Andromeda galaxy. That's why he got it.
Not a table exists that isn't having its weight limit tested by food, punch bowls, and a family of knick knacks. That's AND, not or. There isn't a piece of chintz left between here and Neptune. The foods are tiny and half are pastries, and the drinks are crazy. Fruit punches, some fizzy, vegan egg nog, and there's a table with the alcoholic versions as well. Robbie intends to keep an eye on that table.
What he doesn't need to keep an eye on is Niels. The orange tabby is stretched out on a red-and-green catnip pad by the couch, awaiting belly rubs. As for Robbie? He's dressed like your worst nightmare.
What| A miscellaneously holiday party
Where| Habitat Deck, specifically Vance's section
When| Valor's Day, afternoon
Warnings/Notes| Feel free to use this, even if the thread doesn't involve Robbie. I'd suggest putting the name of the person you're going to thread with in the title. You can contact me if you want specific starters. I will be adding some as the week goes on and editing more into the description, but I thought I would get this up so that we have time to play before the RL holiday crunch hits.
The Crashpad of the New Warriors is, quite possibly, the worst superhero home base ever. It was originally a warehouse that had been repurposed rather haphazardly by teenagers, with random bits of furniture that had been pulled in from everywhere. Outside of the training room and computers, the most expensive thing in the place had been the enormous speakers that had come up to Robbie's waist.
They're still here - in fact, just about everything Robbie remembers about the place is fairly recreated here, down to the random stacks of boxes that they never bothered getting rid of. There's a few mystery stains missing from the recreated furniture, but the feeling of "I'm home" is uncomfortably thick when you can look at a chair and remember "saving" it from the curb.
Robbie's been busy today, getting decorated at a whirlwind pace. He's purchased hundreds of feet of garland, and everything has some on it. Speakers, couches, chairs. If it stood still for more than twenty second, it's swirled in the shiny. The high ceiling is swathed in it - the flight ring came in handy. Garland's even used to hang mistletoe down low enough for it to be noticed by the partygoers.
Those speakers work, shockingly, and he's done his best to track down holiday music for everyone. The 2600s were a particularly awful time for carols, but Mariah Carey and the Waitresses have surprised him with their horrific staying power. No one will ever escape Christmas Wrapping. Ever.
The large open space already looks crowded, because there are a dozen lifesize "holihols." As far as Robbie can tell, the future has abandoned the holiday chic of blow up figures and shapes made out of lights for round pads that create a variety of ornaments. There's Valor, Santa Claus, Superman, Elvis the Music Messiah, a snowman, Bat-Santa, and more. He has them gathered around the dance floor.
Oh, it's not a real dance floor. It's a cleared space that they might've dumped about ten pounds of glitter onto the floor. Um - and hung the dreidel disco ball above it. The store had a dreidel disco ball. A dance floor was necessary. Sunglasses are also recommended. Don't worry, Robbie has a basket of tacky holiday shades that transform you into Valor or Rudolph or... things he can't identify.
There's a tree, of course, loaded down with ornaments and holo ornaments and the brief attempt he made at a popcorn strand before he said forget it and ate the popcorn. The tree is 150% environmentally friendly - he's not sure if it's a tree or something that smells like fir. It's from the Andromeda galaxy. That's why he got it.
Not a table exists that isn't having its weight limit tested by food, punch bowls, and a family of knick knacks. That's AND, not or. There isn't a piece of chintz left between here and Neptune. The foods are tiny and half are pastries, and the drinks are crazy. Fruit punches, some fizzy, vegan egg nog, and there's a table with the alcoholic versions as well. Robbie intends to keep an eye on that table.
What he doesn't need to keep an eye on is Niels. The orange tabby is stretched out on a red-and-green catnip pad by the couch, awaiting belly rubs. As for Robbie? He's dressed like your worst nightmare.
no subject
Vance...Vance can't help but stare. He'd sort of been expecting something because Robbie wasn't entirely as slick as he thought he was. But Vance hadn't said anything because it was supposed to be a surprise.
Even knowing it was going on, the shock and wide eyes are NOT being faked at all. Because he'd expected something.
"Where did you even FIND all of this?"
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He straightens his Christmas tie. "You should see what their idea of a pop-up holiday shop is here. I think you could fit Springdale in the building and not have to knock down a wall."
A wind-up monkey walks slowly by them, clashing his cymbals. Rob helps it along with a nudge of his foot. "I think we've achieved a perfectly understated New England style."
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"I didn't even realize you could fit this much stuff in here." Where 'stuff' may well be codeword for 'kitsch' or even 'crap', but...
Vance turns his face back to Robbie and it's hard to be upset about it all when Robbie's got that sort of look on his face. Not impossible, of course, but hard.
no subject
Screw that. He has the best taste.
"Maybe we did buy a lot of stuff." Where stuff means the shiny, sparkly, awe-inspiring glory around them. "But I left enough walkable space for this size party and room, according to the station's safety code. Don't read the code when you're about to throw a party. I had to listen to "Jingle Bells" six times to get the part about "What to Do When The Ship Is Lodged In..." Yeah, I'm gonna spare you the details. And the clean-up. You'll have the pad back tomorrow."
no subject
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For now, he wants to see people enjoy things. "Oh! Speaking of a lot of stuff..."
Where did he put it? It took a second to find the badly wrapped present in blue paper, half hidden under what can best be described as an alien kangaroo dressed up as Valor. "This one's yours. Chag Sameach. I think I remembered that right. Wow, it's been a long time since I lived next to Mrs. Levin."
no subject
Arnold Astrovik wanted to play at normal family. He just went about it in a very different way from the Baldwins.
Still, he blinks when Robbie holds out a package wrapped in blue paper. He looks up at his friend, then back down. "It's close enough. I mean, I know what you're saying. Robbie, you didn't have to get me anything."
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His hand crinkles the paper, and the fact that it's a wrapped frame is probably apparent. It's a sketch of the old team, in a cheesy, cartoony art style. They're grouped up as if for a photo. It's not bad, for what it is, but Robbie doesn't want to be this entwined in it. That's why he said happy holidays in Hebrew, to distract from the rest. "Okay, so I bought what it's in, but I had to keep it from bending. And it's not about having to. I wanted to, so I did. This was missing - just take it, all right? Don't make it a thing."
no subject
It's a tacky fashion disaster, in other words. And yet, she's still rocking it pretty hard. Unshakable self-confidence will get you places. They may be hideous reflective costume places, granted, but hey, she seems happy.
Given how much she helped Robbie set up--shopping and rearranging rooms are both much easier when your super-strong friend is there to do the heavy lifting--Nita sort of feels an obligation to co-host...which, again, isn't all that different from how she usually acts. She's drifting around the room, chatting, laughing, and just generally being bubbly.
"Hey! Thanks for coming!"
no subject
Ah, here's the guy who volunteered to help decorate. At least, you can probably assume as much by the fact that he's got some paper stuff rolled up under his arm and a roll of good old-fashioned duct tape looped around his wrist like a bracelet. Said guy -- kid, really -- is also dressed for the festivities, though who can say what's up with the reindeer horns shittily painted in various shades of orange. He takes a moment to appreciate the decorations that have already been put up. The shades make it hard to tell where he's looking, but it's pretty obvious when his whole head tilts up to look at the ceiling.
"Holy shit," Dave says, eyebrows arching over his shades, "Is that a dreidel disco ball?"