revivalprojectooc | Halloween Costume Party Meme

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Halloween Costume Party Meme

HALLOWEEN COSTUME PARTY
Everybody! Time to rock your body! 

You've been invited to the social event of the season: a Halloween costume party at Hill House, the city's most storied mansion, overlooking its expansive acres of deep woods. Rumour is, the erstwhile, opulent and late owners woke up one night and walked straight into the lake in the garden, hand in hand. There's no better place to get a Halloween thrill.

1.Get trashed
This is a classic, normal party, with spiked punch and a costume contest, and all of the treats you could possibly enjoy. Dance, explore the mansion, stuff your face. 

2. Get monster mashed
This seemed like a normal party, up until someone suddenly couldn't open the doors and a grand, old clock struck a haunting midnight. Suddenly, your skin is itching, and it's like this costume just...won't...come...off. Whatever you were wearing, I hope you're ready to make a lifetime commitment.

3. Get graveyard smashed
As soon as the door closes behind you, you can hear it lock, and the whole house goes dark. There's no treats at this party, only tricks! Defeat the ghosts, survive the night, and maybe the house will let you out. 

1. Post with your character. Include their Halloween costume in your toplevel!

2. Pick a scenario and tag around!

3. HALLOWEEN

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[I am READY. I will play any of these scenarios, just tell me how weird you're feeling, but he has a few different costumes to pick from depending on the situation. This could be a vampire-Tony remix, or classic cat-ear costume to go werecat feral, or Captain America, or this Cher. idk pick your poison]

Attending this party is not something Jon is doing by choice. Jonah has insisted on his presence. And not merely that. He has also insisted Jon to be presentable.

Unfortunately that doesn't mean he would come up for any expenses that may arise for him due to having to buy a new suit. This, in turn, simply resulted in Jon wearing what he had present. It's still a suit, and tradition be damned, he refuses to put on a cape.

Jon hasn't been a vampire nearly half as long as any of Count Magnus's esteemed guests and still finds himself struggling to adapt in many areas of this existence. Though maybe that's exactly why Jonah deems it necessary to shove him right into this annual gathering of high-ranking and influential vampires while ensuring to remain scarce himself.

He is busy browsing through his messages on his phone with one hand while picking up a random, colorful cocktail and turning around with the intention of moving somewhere else. Which turns out to remain an intention the moment he turns right into another body and with a noise of surprise, his fruity and clearly sticky beverage splatters all over one of these unlucky guests. Jon's verbal reaction is about as eloquent as one would expect. "Shit!"

Meanwhile, no expense had been spared for Tony's clothes. It was months in the making, of course, started well before Jon had even been made aware that his attendance was expected, custom made, tailored impeccably, one of a kind. White, in Tony's boldness, knowing perfectly well no one at this particular event would risk the same, for the gold and red hand-stitched embroidery to stand out, and to cut a stark figure against the rich red lining of his, yes, cape. At least, until the whole perfectly pressed front of his suit was splattered with juice.

He didn't react nearly as strongly, letting the perpetrator exclaim for the both of them with raised eyebrows and a nod of assent. What he did do was freeze with both hands raised where they had come up rapidly as he was bumped, like he wasn't entirely sure where they should go now, then muttered, "Listen, I'm used to a strongly worded letter and some nasty gossip, but I supposed if this is the end of the dramatics I'm happy to take it."

Jon knows Tony Stark.

Of course he knows Tony Stark. Everyone knows Tony Stark! More accurately put, however, Jon rather knows of Tony Stark. And he has seen the man at the few gatherings he has been taken to so far. Gatherings of powerful and high-ranking vampires that somehow are behind most if not all the grand companies and institutions around the globe. Which remains a weird circle to be drawn into and one Jon finds himself stumbling across ever so often.

Stark, however, walks that world seemingly flawless and has never failed to make an impression on those he crosses. This is a man who knows exactly what he is doing and how to achieve what he has set his goals on. In many ways it's intimidating. In certain ways, agitating. And now Jon has soiled the man's expensive attire, wincing at what repercussions he may be looking ahead to.

"I- I'm sorry." He mutters through grit teeth, swapping his now near empty glass for a napkin from the table, already uncertain as of how much good a napkin will do in this situation, which results in another uttered curse, this one softer and much more directed at himself.

The curse is followed by a scowl that first goes up to meet Stark's eyes, then back down to the mess currently dying the white fabric various vibrant shades before attacking the growing stains with his napkin anyway. "Hold still."

Unfortunately, Tony hardly knew who it was who had just cost him a perfectly beautiful shirt. Keeping track of that kind of thing was difficult without Pepper ever at these types of gatherings to whisper names in his ear. At first, Tony barely even considered it, glancing around like he might find the solution to this problem elsewhere and only coming up with a myriad of blood stain removal techniques in his head. Pepper would have been good for this, too, really.

"Not nearly enough," Tony replied to the apology, which should have been a warning but sounded more like a purr with the corner of his mouth turning up in the infamous smirk that recklessly flashed his fang. His eyebrows jumped up in surprise again as the man doubled down on his attack, coming at him with a napkin now and just about making Tony stumble back this time, hands up less in confusion than surrender. That secured his attention, studying this man with a piercing intensity that Tony belatedly realized he had certainly done before; he had seen him, only occasionally, and always in very fortuitous company.

"You know this place, don't you?" Tony prompted, flicking one of his surrendering hands out to indicate Magnus' estate, then finally started waving to deter the man from rubbing the stain further into the fabric. "Come on, that's not going to work," he said, and tossed his head for Jonah's perpetually frowning friend to lead the way. Someone must have kept clothes somewhere here.

Jon backs away the moment the other man makes a different suggestion, leaving Jon with a small grimace, but also nodding. "Well... yes. I... Know this place." In much more detail than he'd like to admit, but it's the truth.

Putting the napkin back down on the table to signal that he won't try making any further use of it, he gestures for Stark to follow him. Maybe they find something that fits. Or at least more or less fits. There is a clear difference in the build of both Jonah and Tony Stark.

But Jon's frown is dedicated to a different matter as he turns it on the other vampire. "What did you mean by 'Not nearly enough'?"

While it didn't make for a much more dignified appearance, Tony pulled his cape over his shoulder to hug the tail against his chest where it covered the worst of the spill as he turned away from the relative security of the table and toward anyone else who might see him. With the other hand, he grasped for the proper words to explain with rolling eyes, "Sorry enough. You know, you should be terrified, I should have you drawn and quartered and left to suffer the sun, hiss hiss, vampire stuff. I could do all of that, if you like. The rest of this crowd would get a real kick out of it, I think most of them miss a good public execution, never really got into moving pictures." He wiggled his fingers with that, like this was mind-bending new technology, clearly amused with himself as he followed his attacker away from the gathered guests.

"It was an accident!" Jon insists sharply, his frown not wavering, yet not entirely masking that growing piece of concern. This is by far not the first time he has been told something similar in a rather similar tone.

Raising a finger in an attempt to not show any fear he might have, he further points out: "Also you can't simply do- W-well. That. Kill me. Not when realistically apologizing is the best I can do. And, well, help to fix the mess, I suppose. If you want me to pay for having your shirt cleaned, I will do that, too." It won't be cheap, unfortunately. But maybe things like these are covered by his insurance.

"First, you ruin my night, and now you're telling me what I can and can't do," Tony complained, though his tone was difficult to read as he took his chance in the first empty hall to saunter by his guide and start curiously peering at paintings and vases and not very subtly pushing at doors to see if any were open and he could 'accidentally' peek in. He was already talking again before Jon had to figure out what he meant this time, gladly divulging, "You know, I've only been into a few bathrooms and coat closets here, couldn't tell you anything about them, have to assume there's somewhere more comfortable."

[LoL lookit this guy thinking he could get off easy for a party invite and free ~~loot~~ candy by wearing a bedsheet! And sure, it worked like a charm, was all fun and games and not a few drinks- and candy!!! - until he heard people saying the doors were stuck, not that that was as weird as feeling itchy. Do Exos get itchy?

Eh. Probably just his imagination.

...unfortunately he can't quite write off the same for the fact that his hands are going straight through the things he's trying to pick up, for some reason. On the bright side, he can go through walls!!

-Boo?]

"Well, it would be rude-!" Even though he doesn't come far, thew insistence is clear in Jon's words as he at least tries to bring his point across.Surely no one would disagree that murdering him at a party he more or less has been ordered to keep an eye on would be beyond rude.

Then again, this person doesn't necessarily seem to possess such qualms. Jon ignores the man's nosiness and keeps taking them to a large set of double doors which he proceeds to push open and reveal the vast accumulation of what undoubtedly is Jonah Magnus' personal wardrobe. Several rows of shelves with neatly kept clothes in differing styles easily spanning at least a few centuries and a set of stairs in the back leading up to what clearly is an upper level filled with even more clothes make this oversized walk-in closet appear more like an undecided fashion store.

Jon gestures into the room with one hand, then sighs. Naturally, there are no mirrors around, but at least Stark's wish for some additional comfort is being addressed by the presence of several oversized armchairs and ridiculously fancy couches set up between the shelves. At least one corner even has an actual setup of a generous seating corner with a table in it.

"As long as we stay down here, it will be fine. I am certain we can find- Something."

'Rude' was not how Tony would describe a reaction as extreme as murder, and his laugh echoed down the hall until he was being shown into the wardrobe. He didn't even have the chance to regret not spying anything particularly interesting before they made it to their destination, immediate stars in his eyes for the sumptuous display. He was so enchanted, moving as though compelled into the room without needing the invitation, that he almost missed the encouraging suggestion he was clearly being given to find out why he wasn't supposed to go upstairs. He was muttering, "Oh my god, I've been doing this wrong..."

In only a few steps with one hand reached out to brush across the fabric as he passed, Tony had already made up his mind to carelessly drop his jacket, bundled with the cape, in a heap on the floor behind him, and only came to a stop in his eagerness to peel his sticky shirt off to treat his impeccably styled hair more carefully. His tongue remained between his teeth in a pout of disgust after dropping the stained shirt by his feet, tapping dainty fingers to his mildly sticky chest where the drink had soaked through, or just been pushed by the misguided napkin assault. He didn't seem to be shy, though, about stripping his clothes for this opportunity, or about the dense pattern of scars that covered him from collar to navel that looked like he had been a regular volunteer for amateur autopsy classes. Still trying to maintain his disgusted expression, he let his gaze slide very slowly toward the stairs.

Jon ignores the laugh and keeps himself occupied by looking through some of the neatly lined up pieces of clothing, though not really having an idea what actually might be to their guest's taste.

"You might want to try on a piece to give us an idea of-" Jon says and turns around to a excellent view of Tony Stark's exposed and exquisitely defined back. Needless to say he doesn't exactly finish that sentence. "M-maybe-" He starts, reaching for the first shirt within reach, but then catches the notion of Stark's head and the interest that little movement gives away for what is above. "Private rooms!" Jon is quick to point out, abandoning his attempt at picking up a random piece and instead hurries over without any such offering.

At least moving closer makes it easier to peel his eyes away from the other vampire's back. "You don't happen to see anything you wish to try?"

What Tony expected from the high strung man was rapid embarrassment and turning his back at the least, if not fully fleeing the room to give Tony privacy to definitely not go where he wasn't supposed to. Instead, he heard the rapid approach and quickly turned, convinced that he had to somehow defend himself now and was once again left with his hands up, not entirely sure what to do with them. So far, his experience with this new friend had been very intense, and hopefully he was starting to learn what to expect.

"Listen, you didn't have to do the whole show if you just wanted to get me to some private rooms," Tony smirked with a gesture to the stained shirt on the floor and eyebrows raised at what exactly he was supposed to be trying now, "This is a very expensive proposition you're making." With a gentle tug to the man's jacket lapel like he was still testing the fabric in the wardrobe, he teased, "I don't usually stop at a taste."

"Wha- no-- wait. What? No!" Jon gradually stammers out before resolutely landing on the negative, taking a step back at the same time and swiping the hand away with one brisk motion. Which may not be the grandest idea on his part. More powerful vampires do know their way around various kinds of magic and theoretically Jon knows better than to antagonize them.

Theoretically.

Practically, his temper tends to not care about potential danger.

"That's not what I meant!" Jon starts, snapping into a much fiercer tone than necessary. "I merely informed you that upstairs are Count Magnus' private rooms. Which are, as their name suggests, off limit. We are here to find you something suitable to wear, so please take a look around for something that appeals to you!" Is he likely to get in trouble for using such a tone on someone like Tony Stark? Most likely, indeed.

Taking his time working up to that no was about as convincing as running up to Tony as he took his clothes off, and Tony watched the whole process as intently as a tennis game with a growing grin, and was drawn magnetically closer that step as the man tried to draw back. The swipe at least worked, apparently, making Tony fan his fingers in the air with a flourish before drumming them restlessly on his own chest. The tone was a more delightful surprise, making Tony's eyebrows jump and nose wrinkle briefly as he suppressed a laugh, and he glanced toward the stairs again with more open intrigue for all of the insistence.

"Ah, you know, sweetheart..." he purred as his gaze slid back to the stubbornly severe man, intent as he started crowding him forward again, "I think I've found just the thing." He was still grinning, eyes locked on that glaring face, and guided him slowly back on his heels if he didn't want Tony falling onto his neck. It was about when they ran out of room, a tickle of clothes at Jon's back, that Tony started to raise his arms again then announced, "I haven't worn something like this in ages." He plucked a surprisingly well preserved, full sleeved linen shirt from the rack at Jon's back and easily pulled the loosely fitted garment on. The cuffs and collar were gently ruffled, a clearly distinctly antique style that Tony admired gleefully before adding, "At least since the '80s."

Where the hell had Cayde gone? This was not a great time to have to hunt down the hunter. If anyone could knock down a door, it was him, and it seemed as though he had snuck off to check the catering while everyone else was preoccupied. There was a thread of anxiety winding its way through the room as more people were told about the awkward situation with the locks, and occasionally Tony could hear a yelp or panicked clatter of spilled cups in the crowd, some pitcher sounds making him wince and his ears sting enough to scratch idly at the soft hair behind one. It was when he finally tried to shout, "Cayde!" and it came out more like a yowl that he stopped stalking the perimeter of the party and made to clasp a hand over his mouth, only to leap away from the hand itself when it looked swollen and...furry. He certainly hadn't put paws on with this costume, it was just an elegant suit and a tasteful set of ears that he could take off at the earliest possible convenience. Only, when he tried to fumble with them now, he found that strangely soft hair hadn't been hair at all, and those black cat ears were flicking in their irritation.

The next time he yelled for Cayde, the name came a little clearer, more prepared to speak around the strange feel of his sharp teeth, but it was much smaller, too. He was much smaller. And the crowd was starting to swarm in panic, making Tony dart under a table, scampering on all fours with his tail puffed. "Caa-AYDE!" he howled. "I hate magic!"

Jon sure does his best to maintain the eye contact he has established with the taller man, but doing so becomes harder once Tony steps closer again, forcing Jon backwards and his head back.

"My name is Jonathan." He nearly growls in response to the unwelcome nickname, but his words clip off into a little shudder at the sudden soft touch to the back of his beck, the unexpectedness breaching the tension that has been building in his entire body notably. He blinks in an attempt to catch himself and only finds himself staring straight at that still bare chest, his eyes taking the chance to take in the present scars - And the next moment Tony has put on the selected piece of clothing, leaving Jon flustered and trying to find something else to glare at.

His choice falls on an empty armchair. "R-right. You are similar in size..." He mumbles with a nod. Jonah and this man certainly are similar in height. Not quite in build, however. Jonah certainly lacks this vampire's chest and shoulders- Which is not a thought Jon will admit to be having!

There were upsides to finding yourself suddenly intangible. Not having to dodge around anxious and panicky people was definitely useful, but then at the same time they didn't often appear to take much notice, save for a few cursing a sudden, freaky chill in the area. There was also no need to go searching for vacant seats to fill since he found he could now just float in the air and sit or lounge as he pleased. Cayde did so right then, one leg folded over the other as he remained suspended well over the heads of the other guests.

He'd found that with a bit of concentration he could manage to take hold of objects, although that was about the most of it. A fancy champagne glass hung in the air, vaguely clutched by a spectral hand, which was all well and good save for the fact that he realized he couldn't drink the thing.

And then he heard his name, taking a brief second to pinpoint who was speaking. He wasn't sure if the tone was meant to be accusing or simply urgent, but he caught a glimpse of something small and furry zipping for cover.

"Magic? Is that what this is? I guess that makes sense. Maybe. Kind of. Well not really." His head poked through the table where he could now peer down at the cat who'd gone into hiding. "Talking cats, definitely magic. Aren't you cute?"

[Echo doesn't get it, but it's kind of nice to kick back. He's in a wolf kigurumi/jumpsuit and he feels like he can fall asleep in it.

Until it's not a kigurumi/jumpsuit??? Let's go with all options for this who knows]

Very belatedly, once the thrill of finding this ridiculous shirt had worn off, Tony finally greeted, "Jonathan, pleasure," and offered a hand to shake like they weren't thoroughly beyond that already, "Tony." With the other hand, he risked giving another tug to Jon's lapel, this time more delicately with just two fingers like he might get away with it if he was more subtle and said, "Maybe we have the same taste, too."

Tony heard the hiss of surprise before he realized it was him making that sound, hair standing one end and backing away from the spectral head appearing through the table until he was pressed up against the wall. Even as he processed that what he was looking at was Cayde, or part of him, Tony's ears remained flattened and he growled, "I think I'm in a higher tax bracket than 'cute'. What happened to the rest of you?"

Said specter pointed at him. "You sound like Tony. Are you Tony? I think I should be asking the what happened but all things considered, I guess that's fair." Cayde glanced at himself before shrugging. "I have no idea, by the way. One moment I heard people saying something about the front door being locked and the next moment my hand was going through the library shelf." Because of course he'd gone off snooping around their fancy venue.

In a dizzying motion he flipped upside-down, pulling the rest of his transparent, greenish self through the table top to sit cross-legged beneath it, his hands clasped over his knees. He stared at Tony long and hard before spouting gleefully as though he'd had to confirm it somehow:

"...you're a kitty!"

Cayde made it sound like he had left the hand in the shelf so Tony was still wondering, "What...?" when he came tumbling down to join Tony on the ground. That embarrassing spitting sound happened again, feeling quite out of Tony's control, and he want scampering along the wall to get away from the thing coming through the table, only to have to stop before running out into the stomping feet of the frantic party. In a defensive crouch and sniffing at the air, which was overwhelming with far too much information and none of it helping him discern what was going on with Cayde, Tony grumbled, "Let's keep that between us."

Easing himself reluctantly forward to better investigate Cayde's spectral problem, still sniffing like he might hunt down the source, he reported, "All of the doors are blocked. I was hoping you'd be able to make a new one for us, you know, if it came to that, but maybe you can just let us know what's on the other side." Which sounded fairly straightforward, until several people started shrieking and running in a thunder of feet that made Tony's whiskers vibrate. The stampede hardly compared to the rumbling stomp and a loud, warning growl from across the room. Not everyone at this party had chosen to dress like something as elegant as a cat.

The ghostly Exo held a hand out, wiggling fingers at the cat, still grinning as he listened to the report. "Oh. Yeah, that wouldn't have been a problem but then..." He looked down at himself again. Would he even be able to get out? What good would it do if he were still stuck as he was, unless all this weirdness somehow wore off once you were outside.

"Got it-!" Cayde said, abruptly standing up through the table, which made for a fresh wave of screams in their near vicinity. Meanwhile he also got a clear glimpse of just what was doing all that stomping around out there.

"-hey Tony, 'member that guy with the dinosaur costume we were laughing at?"

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