Stiles Stilinski (
teenyoda) wrote in
asgardmeridiem2013-08-12 12:31 pm
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A very merry undeathday to you (and me)
Who: Scott/Stiles + Everyone in this bar
What: A Wake/Undeathday party
When: 310
Where: The Roadhouse
Rating: Tentatively putting up an R merely for language and whatever else anyone might get up to.
Anyone affiliated with Scott, Stiles, or possibly more due to glitches and/or random oopsies will wake up with this in their inbox.

The back reads: Come celebrate the fact that we're not dead. Anymore. There will be food, drink, really bad stories, possible pantslessness (though I'm wearing 2 belts), and more hijinks than you can shake a stick at. The Wake will be held at the Roadhouse and should be starting around 5, but come at your own pace. Bring a story to share or some pie. Actually, screw the story, just bring pie.
Seriously though, Derek and Jackson can get lost.
{ooc: This will be an open mingle log party style post, so please feel free to start your own threads or hop around in others. Threadjacking is likely, as is ridiculousness. Enter at own risk. Party crashers are also more than welcome, so even if you don't think you got an invite, come anyway.}
What: A Wake/Undeathday party
When: 310
Where: The Roadhouse
Rating: Tentatively putting up an R merely for language and whatever else anyone might get up to.
Anyone affiliated with Scott, Stiles, or possibly more due to glitches and/or random oopsies will wake up with this in their inbox.

The back reads: Come celebrate the fact that we're not dead. Anymore. There will be food, drink, really bad stories, possible pantslessness (though I'm wearing 2 belts), and more hijinks than you can shake a stick at. The Wake will be held at the Roadhouse and should be starting around 5, but come at your own pace. Bring a story to share or some pie. Actually, screw the story, just bring pie.
Seriously though, Derek and Jackson can get lost.
{ooc: This will be an open mingle log party style post, so please feel free to start your own threads or hop around in others. Threadjacking is likely, as is ridiculousness. Enter at own risk. Party crashers are also more than welcome, so even if you don't think you got an invite, come anyway.}
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[He tossed back his own shot, face screwing up at the taste. Oh god, tequila was vile.
His answer was a shrug.]
I got a little upset. What, you never got upset before?
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He told me to protect you. By the time I got to you, you were already dead.
[And yeah, maybe it sounds like he's guilty, or there's some regret clinging to him, but- with that, he downs the glass. Best way to avoid an awkward conversation: shots, shots, shots.]
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[Have an eye roll, Isaac. But he was going to try to push him over towards the buffet again.]
Look, he died, I died, everyone died, but we're back. So just... let it go, man. I don't want this to turn into some pissing match again, okay? Scott's here, you're here, I'm here. We can all be civilized and have some pie and drinks together, right?
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[Well, he has to let it go right now because he's too busy wincing from the tequila.]
Crap- is there water- ?
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[He got a piece and slid it onto a paper plate, then held it up for Isaac.]
Look, it's cherry. Totally one of the best kind of pies. Here. This'll totally take the taste out.
[He showed by action, grabbing a piece for himself and taking an overlarge bite. God... pie.]
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[You are beyond useless and Isaac takes off in search of a glass of water. Follow him and stuff but, dude, water.]
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Jesus, Isaac. It's just a little tequila. Not gonna tekillya.
[He was hilarious.]
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At any rate, good, washing the alcohol down his throat.]
-anyway. I'm not- letting it go. What do you think it was like, seeing you there?
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Man, really? Come on, Isaac. I didn't do it out of spite to you or anything. You think I wanted to die? No, thanks. That wasn't on my list of things to accomplish in life. And I figured you wouldn't have given a rat's ass anyway since you hate me and all. Eat your pie.
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[Isaac reaches out, grabs hold of his sleeve. Stop eating and listen to him.]
He asked me to protect you, dumbass.
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[Hell, he'd been part of the shit happening before. There was no reason for Stiles to think Isaac gave more than a fart's whiff for him.]
How was I supposed to know that? Huh? I was too far away to get in on the whole last words montage and all I saw was him going down. So sorry for not knowing you were asked to be my babysitter.
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Well, I care now. [Even though that tone sounds like he's more ready to hit Stiles again than protect him.] So shut up and feel guilty.
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[Yet the pie found its way into his mouth, followed by the beer that was slid in front of him.]
So guilty. Oh, the guilt. So ashamed. Oh... I'll have to drink and eat my shame and guilt away.
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That's it, that's my entire tag.]
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[Stop being such a jackass!!!]
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[He had a beer that he slid in front of Isaac.]
Come on, man. It's a party. Not a sad one, either. Live a little.
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[He's allowed to be pissy all he wants! You just... incite that deep seated urge for violence, Stiles. It's a gift.]
And I don't feel guilty.
[He totally feels guilty.]
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[Deep philosophical thoughts from the drunk Stiles. Be impressed, Isaac.]
Sure you don't. Drink your beer.
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[At least they can agree on that.]
But you should probably avoid doing more in the future. I'm not dragging your corpse across the ice again.
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[And so was Isaac, by a hand on his shoulder as Stiles leaned a little closer.]
Asgard's changed you, man. You're changed.
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[It has not! Isaac scowls and buries himself in the beer.]
You just didn't know me.
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[Isaac struggles for the right word, but it's hard to explain.]
-circumstantial. You guys were trying to stop us.
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[Okay, so he might not be actively trying to get on her radar anymore, but that didn't mean he just stopped giving a shit about her or that he stopped defending her.]
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