[open party post] Sharky's Weed-tacular Birthday!

[broshaw]

Who: Anyone who wants to join, + Sharky
What: Sharky's 2nd birthday on the ship is a lowkey kickback instead of a blowout bash, for good reason
When: October 3rd???-ish??? IDK man whatever
Where: Bobby B's
Warnings: Drinking, weed, probably some talk of PTSD scattered throughout because that's the word of the month
Notes: While only Sharky's close CR will get a formal invite via text, nobody will be turned away so long as their vibes are chill and they aren't going to start a fight. IF fights are had, Sharky will make them stop. Trust me when I say you don't want him to do that (it'll make him sad :( )
Two prompts are generalized enough that your character doesn't even need to know there's a party going on, and one prompt is designed to engage with Sharky directly. Seriously do whatever weed-related posts you want, this is a safe space 🙏

[CLOSE CR] text invitation
[Friends of Sharky -- AKA anybody he's either made out with, hung out naked with, or talked about life with -- get a text on his birthday that reads something like this:]

🎉🎈🎂ITS MY BIRTHDAY ILL GET HIGH IF I WANT 2🎂🎈🎉
hey not doin a big thing 4 my bday this yr LOL but i got sum magic weed frum aden
adiden
AIDEN
n now that theres weed in bobby bs i figure its kickback time
com eon over 2 bbs tomorrow n smoke w me
gonna watch some movies n eat waaaay 2 much food
n get real fuckin blazed
💺🌿😶‍🌫️🌫️📺🍿🧀🍰🥔
u cn tell ur friends if u wanna bring em but 🚫NO BAD VIBES ALLOUD🚫
allowed
W/E YKWIM

[THE SPREAD] must be full of reefer
[The bar of Bobby B's has been converted into a mini buffet, with a limited selection of garbage food from Windjammer and a decent spread of various cheeses from the cheese shop. It's the kind of food you'd expect stoned people to eat: mini corn dogs, chips and salsa, a half-full pot of chili, and of course, at least three different potato dishes for our boy Pratt!! There's also a selection of mini desserts from the coffee shop for those with a sweet tooth.

While alcohol is still easily accessible (via ordering or simply going around the bar to self-serve), Sharky's prioritized non-alcoholic drinks for front and center. Soda, water, juice, that kinda stuff. There's even a basic coffee brewer with hot coffee on hand. Yeah motherfucker, there's literally no reason to leave the bar! Sharky doesn't want to risk going near stairs for the foreseeable future, OK??

Most importantly, there's a tray of joints, freshly taken from the vending machines, as well as the last of Sharky's super-heavy edible brownie, which is cut into tiny, single-serving squares. There's a handwritten sign next to all of this that says: WAIT 45 MIN B4 TAKING ANOTHER. Just to make sure nobody gets so zooted that they need to be carried to bed.]

[TV TIME] you mean that cat's high?!
[The TV(s?) in Bobby B are set up with DVD players, and Klaus has loaned Sharky a couple of movies to put on. Good vibes only means that there's a rotation of the following movies: Spice World, The Emperor's New Groove, Peter Pan, Aladdin, Lilo & Stitch, Stonehenge Apocalypse, Lavalantula, Velocipastor, Red: Werewolf Hunter, Triassic Attack, and Megapython vs. Gatoroid. When one movie ends, another gets put in, even if it's already played today!

There are a bunch of plush chairs arranged to make for a better viewing experience, the tables in between them all having at least one ashtray and a little bowl of bar peanuts on them.]

[FAE WEED] i believe he's losing his mind
[There's one batch of weed that you have to ask Sharky for access to, and that's because 1) it isn't in infinite supply and 2) it has some hella weird effects on people. That's right, Sharky's open to sharing his fae weed, a gift from Aiden that Sharky's only tried once on his own before deciding to pass it around. He'll gladly sprinkle some liberally into a cigarette for anyone who asks; for those who don't want a tobacco-based experience, he has a few of the smallest tobacco pipes available instead!

Anyone who smokes some of this very special weed will find the effects quite a bit stronger... and different... from regular weed. On top of it being super potent and fucking your shit up faster than any regular weed might, there are the occasional side effects -- like the sensation of being on fire, wild hallucinations, being flipped upside-down Dinnerbone-style, floating a few feet off the ground, getting turned into a lizard, etc etc etc. Pretty sure you can make up whatever effect you want and nobody's gonna call you out on it.

As such, Sharky will make sure to warn anyone who wants to try that this shit "is super intense, bro, you gotta be careful with it!" People who have never smoked before will get directed to the regular stuff, but I'm sure you can convince him if you try!!!]

Comments

[abhorrently]

The sheer delight in this dog reminds her of the joy of the intellect devourer when she opened its cage. Both heartwarming moments, one just with more fur than the other.

"Gone in a blink has never felt like a more appropriate phrase."

But the plate is empty, and so she'll remove it so the poor thing doesn't accidentally swallow a piece in his frenzy. Better to get patted instead.

"I don't think dogs are supposed to smoke, but you're welcome to remain regardless. There's no rule against it."

[theotherright]

The plate disappears, and there's time for a brief and forlorn "noooo..." before he's getting patted some more and is in heaven all over again. His legs go out from under him out of sheer relaxation, and he flops onto his side, with his tail still wagging lazily and his head pushed up comfortably against Fever's leg. He only just stops short of rolling onto his back, legs half-crooked like a cat who's not sure if his own belly is a trap or not.

"Hmm, hang the rules; I smoke if I want to smoke," says the dog who has extremely obviously smoked. Which from Arthur could be a concerning statement, but like, Fever doesn't know his medical history, so whatever. "I... oh, I have to tell Max he was right about being pet behind the ears. He was so... ha, he was so right about being pet, I... wow."

[abhorrently]

"Who's Max? Friend of yours?"

As she says this, she'll still pet him behind the ears, lazy and at ease. Her new friend, she'll have to start musing on names for him. Maybe something about the texture of his fur...or his ears...

[theotherright]

He lets out a long doggy sigh of contentment. The fey drugs have skipped him straight over any anxious spirals or magnified sadnesses and sent him into the most delicious relaxation, and all he's capable of concentrating on is Fever going at that spot behind his ears, and maybe the last part of the conversation if he's lucky.

"Oh yes," he says fondly, "Max, my friend. Tall and firm as an oak, kind and gentle as a... as a..." The simile is drifting away from him. "Is there a tree that, that... hmm... kind as, as a summer."

[abhorrently]

"Fruit trees," she replies, considering them the kindest for all they provide to people and the flowers in spring. "So he's an oak and a fruit tree at the same time. He sounds nice - maybe one day I'll meet him. Or you'll point him out to me."

Because even if Max is another dog, she'll treat him with the same care as she can treat this darling one. This conversation is enough to keep the desire to turn him inside out on the backburner.

[theotherright]

"I will," Arthur mumbles. "A fruit tree."

There are a couple of seconds where it could be reasonably guessed that he's actually going to sleep, but then a really terrific idea strikes him, and he shares it delightedly: "Or he could come to us!"

[abhorrently]

"How're we going to get that to happen?"

She's open to the idea, but the plan of how to make it happen isn't flowing through her head.

[theotherright]

"By, er... drat, I had it a second ago..."

He thinks so hard that his ears get to twitching.

"Phones!" he remembers at last. "The bloody things can't, can't make calls, can you believe it? - but you can... you can type to him. You do it. You have eyes and, and thumbs and everything, and I am all out."

[abhorrently]

"Oh! The box things!"

Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls it out, opening the app.

"It's asking for a room number, though....I don't want to text everyone hoping that they're Max. You tell me what to write, and I'll write it."

[theotherright]

Sorry Arthur's laughing now.

"The boxes! They really... they really are just boxes! Finally someone understands. Whatever happened to, to talking and... putting your finger in the curly wire..."

[abhorrently]

"Is that some kind of magic?"

She laughs with him, not seeing the joke but in a good mood regardless. Boxes and curly wire and a talking dog. What doesn't this day hold?

"No, but you want Max. Not magic. What do I say to him?"

They can bother with the room number after the message.

[theotherright]

"To Max?" He blinks. Then blinks again. His eyes are... itchy. "Oh- to Max! Tell him, er..."

A deep breath, the better to dictate a truly excellent text message.

"Tell- tell him that I said to come here at once, or at his earliest convenience. To the... the... where are we... the venue formerly known as Tauva. To make a new friend. And-- oh, tell him, yes, tell him if he has anything he's made lying around -- he bakes, he's a, a wonderful baker, christ, you've got to try it. He should show it off here." Arthur sounds very pleased with his brilliant idea.

[abhorrently]

For a moment, there's the sound of furious tapping, as she fills out the message dutifully.

"Okay. And cabin number. Where does he live?"

[theotherright]

"One hundred and nineteen," says Arthur, after taking a moment to remember.

The emotion that would usually go into grinning ear-to-ear seems instead to be headed straight to his tail, so he wags it industriously and delightedly.

[abhorrently]

"Got it."

The text message is sent off with that information, and she sets the phone down.

"And now we wait. Either he responds, he shows up, or he's busy. Three options. Three different fates to ponder."

[theotherright]

"Three forks in the road ahead of us."

Three options in the Patreon poll.

[abhorrently]

"Ideally, he'll show, but we'll see about that. I did tell him you were saying nice things, to encourage him that direction."

People love to hear that about themselves. Unless Max is shy, but if he's shy, all the more reason to come out in general. It's safe here - no one's being loud, or trying to fight, or doing anything other than hanging out with other friends.

[theotherright]

"Oh good," Arthur enthuses. "He ought to know how highly he's thought of."

He lapses into silence, then, reminded of another situation much like this one, and summoning another friend into it with perhaps too many words of texts. Someone he's trying not to dwell on, which is honestly half the reason for the weed.

A decisive mumble: "Yes, I should... I should make sure I tell him that. Yes, I'll tell him that."

[abhorrently]

"Yes. People you care about...should know."

Maybe she hadn't said it enough. Maybe she should say it more. She hopes those she thinks of know. It brings a note of somberness to her voice, and she lays a hand on the dog, letting his warmth try and chase the new gloom away.

[theotherright]

"They should," agrees Arthur softly.

But he doesn't want to bring the tone down. He doesn't want to make the wonderful bringer of cheeses sad. Weed-addled, he's having trouble grasping the appropriate words to lighten her mood, but luckily his new dog instincts know exactly what to do: he twists his head around in that way dogs can and licks Fever's hand reassuringly.




And then bursts out, from the three-way intersection between surprised and embarrassed and laughing: "Oh jesus, did I-- just--"

[abhorrently]

She laughs openly, brightly, startled from her thoughts by that - it'd be sweet, if he wasn't so taken aback by his own actions. Instinct's a powerful thing.

"You did. It's cute."

You can't be a dignified dog when she watched you inhale a cheese plate, buddy. You're getting scooped again, this time to cuddle with her. She's not mad.

[maximumcake]

Fever's phone will go off to indicate she has a new message.

Then, a short while after, Max arrives at the place formerly known as Tauva holding a plate of macarons in every color of the rainbow, looking really, really confused about what's going on in here. Jeez. It smells terrible. Even worse than usual.

He arrives just in time to see a woman he doesn't recognize having her hand licked by a dog he... also doesn't recognize. What?

"Did someone here text me...?"

[theotherright]

Once Fever starts laughing, the dog starts laughing too, extremely scooped and extremely okay with it. The dog is getting cuddled. The dog has the look of a dog living its best life.

Then its long fuzzy ears prick up at Max's voice, and its wooly tail -- already wagging lazily -- starts going at twice the speed.

"Maaaax! Maaax, is that you!"

[abhorrently]

At the name, she half sits up, still holding the dog, expression bright and a little surprised. Oh, he wasn't kidding. Definitely tall enough to be a tree, but the fruit part remains to be seen. He looks unfairly baffled, but it's fine - they'll straighten it all out soon enough.

"Is this your Max, then?" That's directed at the dog, who she still has in her arms. "If that's the case, then I'm the one who wrote the message." And that's for Max himself, who she greets with a smile.

[maximumcake]

"A-Arthur?" The confusion only multiplies. "When did you get a dog form? Are you a poodle?" God, he's really cute like that, especially with the tail going.

"Sorry," he says, realizing Fever spoke to him and he's still standing here with his mouth hanging open. "Yes, I'm Max. Max Maximum. It's nice to meet you. Would you like a macaron?" He offers out the plate.