Santa Claus is coming to town

[afallenstar]

Who: Secret Santa participants, but also EVERYONE!
Where: Town Hall
When: Evening of day 24
What: Present giving! The Secret Santa reveal, and anyone who wants to have a christmas party is welcome to join too!
Notess: Party style thread guys, so go nuts. No order, everything is chaos, tag to your hearts content, feel free to break off into separate threads, and no spiking the punch! Also I think she's sort of mentioned it to a bunch of people but want to do me some lovely favours and handwave the actual name drawing? I will backtag if people want but it seems a little pointless to thread that out.


There's another message on the network that morning from Anna, just audio again. It's about as garbled as her first one regarding the Secret Santa idea, but for anyone who is listening closely enough they'll make out a few details. Namely this evening, town hall, and bring your presents before she shuts it off.

She's spent the rest of the day trying to do what she can to make the place look nicer. She's hardly got Christmas decorations on tap, but she's done what she can with what she has all the same. There's paper snow flakes up around the place, some of the food from her house placed in bowls to make it more party-appropriate, and it's no fir but she has relocated a small tree from the edge of the woods and placed it in the hall. Barely decorated, not even the right kind of tree, it's the best she can do with the resources she's been given.

Now all there is to do is wait for people to come.

Comments

[gloryisbullshit]

"Why would I give you a fake name?"

[pursuitofcappiness]

He writes down, "If you think it's more interesting, I also go by Captain America."

[gloryisbullshit]

His eyes widen, and he bounces. "No shit? Not a joke? You're not. That's not. That's awesome. Did you pick it? If you didn't pick it, I'm gonna be real disappointed in you, Captain."

[pursuitofcappiness]

"Can't say I did," he scrawls. "They gave it to me for propaganda purposes during the war and it stuck." He's not going to assume Mr. Poison knows what war he's talking about, but that's alright. "Did you choose Party Poison?"

[gloryisbullshit]

He'll tell you in a second, but first, fervently: "What war?"

[pursuitofcappiness]

Doesn't even need to think about it.

"World War II," he writes.

SO LATE just got home from traveling i c i feel free to ignore if you want!

[gloryisbullshit]

"Don't shit me! For real, you mean it? World War Two, no joke?"

WELCOME BACK

[pursuitofcappiness]

He circles World War II. "Why would I joke about that?" he adds to the bottom, giving Party Poison a very no-nonsense face.

OH TY TY ; c ;

[gloryisbullshit]

"For lookin cool, duh!" And it's obvious that this guy thinks WWII is the shit, because he's all but glowing. "So what, you a dancer? Cuz Captain America is a great stripper name, let's not joke."

[pursuitofcappiness]

"Commissioned Captain of the US Army," he writes. "I'm," he pauses. "retired now."

"What do you do?"

[gloryisbullshit]

He doesn't do anything that sounds cool next to "commissioned captain of the u.s. army", so Party just shifts and smirks and kind of looks away. "Eh, heckle mostly. Ain'chu a little, uh." He bites his lip and makes no secret of giving Steve a full once-over. "A little young to be in the easy chair?"

[pursuitofcappiness]

He doesn't question his line of profession. At least Party's honest about it. "How's the heckling business?" He just can't see how that'd actually be worth his time... Steve Rogers never forgets the world is less than his picture of ideal, but he likes to hope.

He also arches a brow, scrawls down "95 in July," and leaves it at that. He usually doesn't throw these things around lightly, but there's no room for serious conversation with this guy and he's in a playful mood for once.

[gloryisbullshit]

"Ninety-five." He snorts, putting a hand on the paper and tilting it closer to himself, squinting judgmentally. "Harr harr, cute cute, but seriously: what's your fuck-up, you gotta be injured or something. Discharged. Honorable discharge! Or dishonorable...?" A slow bow of his head that should pretty readily indicate how desperately he hopes for a dishonor story.

[pursuitofcappiness]

He takes the pad and draws on it. A picture's worth a thousand words, right?

The first panel is a drawing of a plane over some sort of water.

And then the second panel is Steve in the cockpit. He looks scared.

The third panel is a section of the plane, where the missiles are attached.

And then it zooms out to a couple shots of the plane, a small dot, nosediving into the ocean below.

He writes below it, "they found me 70 years later."

[gloryisbullshit]

That's a couple thousand words at least. Party actually watches quietly, eyes wide, tongue pricking at the corner of his mouth. He reads the last little bit, and his eyes flicker up to Steve's. He wants to grin. He's barely stopping it. Quietly, carefully: "For real? No shit now?"

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve shakes his head.

True story.

What's the point in hiding it while they're on death and destruction cape?

[gloryisbullshit]

A swallow, and he lets that grin go. "Cool. Fuckiiin. Fuckin shiny. Can I have this?" He points to the explanatory drawing. High art.

[pursuitofcappiness]

Steve signs it, writes "Merry Christmas, Party Poison," and hands it to him without a second thought.

[gloryisbullshit]

He's just glowing as he takes it. So cool. Party folds up the sheet carefully, grabs for the pad. "Lemme see, I'll make you one. C'mere, here."

[pursuitofcappiness]

He grins because in all due Christmas spirit, that's very sweet. And he hands Party his colored pens and his sketchbook.

[gloryisbullshit]

Say hello to your Christmas drawing, Steve: It's a crude drawing of a robot eating a car. It has a very dashing cap and a big stylized "S" on it's chest. "When in July?" Party asks around a smile. "Your birthday, I mean."

[pursuitofcappiness]

He draws an American flag. When do you think it is, son?

"When's yours?" he writes.

[gloryisbullshit]

Party scowls at the flag. "...July fourth?" Then a glance up, and he grins. "Nah, nah, see--that's my birthday."

[pursuitofcappiness]

He smiles. This kid can't be serious, they can share a birthday.

He writes, "1918?"

[gloryisbullshit]

A click of his tongue. "1980. Sounds the same though, right?"