[OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

[fuckingcool]

Who| Oceana Gunn and all you party people
What| Oceana's throwing the craziest party of the year to celebrate the end of the Arena, and you're invited. Feel free to mingle, post open starters, and tag around to your heart's content!
Where| Her bachelor(ette) pad in the Capitol
When| Post-Arena, pre-Crowning
Warnings/Notes| Uhhh. Drugs, alcohol, sex, language, etc are all possibilities within!



It's high time that someone threw a really great party in this town.

Oceana's been laying low, working on costumes for the upcoming Crowning and watching her babies kick ass in the Arena, but after a while she gets an itch. An itch to invite hundreds of strangers to her penthouse apartment, dress up in her most sickening clothes, and let the booze pour. So that's exactly what she does. Invitations are sent out, crates of liquor are ordered, food is catered in, and the lights are dimmed way down low.

Her apartment is spacious, minimally decorated because it looks fucking cool and she's barely around anyway, and full of dark corners. The living room has a huge table full of finger foods along one wall, a champagne fountain, and a full bar with virtually endless liquor. The music is loud as hell, and the drag queen has even gone to the trouble of paying people to come early and dance, so that the dance floor is never empty.

The hostess herself will be mingling all evening; the glass of vodka in her hand is never empty, and always garnished with at least six olives. She may not be the classiest bitch in the capitol, but it's apparent by looking around that she knows how to throw a killer soirée.

Comments

[fuckingcool]

Oceana gives an exaggerated eyeroll, the strobe lights from the dance floor catching the rhinestones she's placed under her eyes to look like teardrops, but cringes and squawks when Jolie flicks her ear.

"Ow, bitch, that fucking hurt," she whines. "You act like your nose isn't eight inches up everyone's ass hounding for gossip." In lieu of licking her wounds, she nurses at her glass of vodka. "Can it be? Does Très Jolie finally look in the mirror every morning and whisper 'That boy is a bottom'?"

[reallynow]

"Of course it fucking did." Jolie points out coolly, no regret for her actions despite Oceana's over dramatic whining. She's been swatted worse for less, but Jolie's accuracy is compromised.

"It ain't like I'm asking you where Bastien is stuffing it." Because she knows Bastien is stuffing the turkey, mostly. Yet, that comment inspires deadly accuracy. Jolie's hand swats out again, smacking Oceana back and forth across the arm quickly before she drops it back to her lap. "Ever heard of switching, twink?" The amount of venom in her voice is incredible.

[fuckingcool]

"That's--" She'd been about to say 'personal,' or maybe 'obvious' but she's cut off by Jolie, smacking her yet again. "Cut that shit out," she whines, reaching out to slug the other queen in her foam-padded tit. She sniffs, sipping at her vodka.

"For your information, I've topped before." Like twice. "I'm just not overly fond of it, alright bitch?" Because she's fonder of the other way. Much fonder.

[reallynow]

To say it's personal would be hugely hypocritical, so it's a good thing she doesn't open herself up to that material or Jolie would flay you alive. Actually, she just might try it for that tit smack. That earns Oceana the mother of all dangerous looks, but it breaks when Oceana shares that nugget of wisdom. Jolie cackles loudly, so loud that it almost breaks through the loud music. So much so that she needs to throw her head back to do it.

"And you're calling me a bottom? Really? She narrows her eyes at the other queen. "Seriously, though. You set my tits askew again and I will spank you in front of all your friends."

[fuckingcool]

Oceana can't help but grin at that cackle. One of her favorite sounds on Earth, honestly. "Shut up," she drawls, knocking back the rest of her drink and holding up the glass over the back of the couch. Almost instantly, a waiter is replacing it with a fresh glass, complete with olives. If you're wondering, yes, her diet does consist mostly of vodka and olives. The two main food groups. How you think a bitch stays so skinny?

"Love you too, mom," she croons affectionately, leaning her head on Jolie's shoulder.

[reallynow]

"You don't want to hear it, don't make yourself a target." She gives Oceana a withering look, because she should know better than to come for her. However, it would be boring if she never tried and she never had a good reason to take her down with one hit.

"I know you do." She retorts, leaning her head back on Oceana's when she cuddles up. "I love you too, jerk." Couldn't say it without the accoutrement of course. "How's all your shit been lately? All your babies behaving?"

[fuckingcool]

"Of course you fucking do," she snipes back, making herself comfortable against the sofa. "My shit's been fine. They're doing as good as you can expect, but at least they all look fresh to fucking death."

She lights up a little bit. "You see Elsa's hair? God, you should have seen her face when she saw it. There were tears and everything."

[reallynow]

"I dunno what to expect anymore. Everyone is bitching, my only problem is that I'm only just getting ladies into my stupid sausage fest and that they need to stop bringing people in from the past. Caught some fucker trying to set himself on fire with a toaster, I swear to god."

She snorts. "Was it that bad, huh? Good thing you of all people don't need to touch up her roots."

[fuckingcool]

"Fuck off, bitch, she loved it," Oceana shoots right back. "She looks so damn cute with her little pixie cut, and I gave her a little splash of color to match her sister's weirdo dye-job. Super cute."

Not to toot her own horn, or anything, but she's pretty damn proud of the whole transformation. There's nothing more gratifying than her Tributes actually being happy about the changes she makes.

[reallynow]

"At least you can get yours to sit down for that shit. My babies are great, don't get me wrong, but the hair. The hair, bitch. I want to see their pretty faces, but they're all so goddamn attached to their ugly fuzz." She casts a suspicious glance toward Oceana. "Do you drug them or something? Slip it in their tea? Or do you just warm them up with cocktails? You can be honest, I'm your mother."

[fuckingcool]

Oceana just cackles. "You poor thing." Her shoulders shift playfully. "But no, it does not involve roofies in any way, shape, or form."

The queen extends one long, smooth leg out in front of them. "All it takes is a little leg, a little ass, a little fake titty, and I can get those fuckers to do anything. Intimidation by sexuality. That shit's my jam."

[reallynow]

If Jolie looked incredulous before, it's nothing compared to her expression right now. Her face goes flat, brows lowered as she gives Oceana a deadpan look. It's one of those faces where she doesn't even need to say anything to express how she feels about that.

"How's Bastien, anyway?" She asks, seemingly out of the blue. Where she picked up that thought from the context is known only to her and it totally has nothing to do with the fact that Oceana is Oceana.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana, for her part, just smiles back blandly. She's used to looks like that from Jolie. Besides, it's not like the bitch can talk. Oceana's not the one fucking around with Tributes, okay?

"Bastien? He's Bastien. He's cute as hell, optimistic to a fault...he's been quiet lately, but I think he's on an upswing." Oceana squishes her own cheeks, clearly still incredibly taken by her ladyboyfriend. "I think him and me getting back together has been really good for both of us, y'know?"

[reallynow]

Jolie holds no judgement for being a promiscuous tart, she only holds doubt in her heart for Oceana's ability to sexually intimidate anyone. Maybe the sixteen year old, if she's lucky, but he is related to Bro Strider and that guy is something else.

Part of Jolie is just using Bastien as a subject change, but for the most part she's sincerely curious. Ever since the blackout, he hasn't really been as chirpy or eager to be around her. She understands why, but it still hurts a little, and it sucks that she couldn't be there for her when she needed her because she was busy being distracted by Steve Rogers of all things.

"You don't need to tell me twice. Girl took a tail spin for a second there." She reaches over to give Oceana's hand a squeeze, followed by a sincere smile. "I'm glad you're both sorting your shit out. It's fucking cute." Cute enough to make her a little jealous.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana heaves a little sigh. "Don't I know it." But she squeezes Jolie's hand back, giving her probably the most genuine smile she's cracked all night.

"Thanks, ma. Hope you'll walk me down the aisle at our wedding, girl." She's joking. Mostly. Okay, she's kind of serious. It's been running through her mind more than a little lately, especially with shit getting sort of...serious. And if a wedding ever were to happen, well, who better to escort the blushing bride down the aisle than her favorite person on Earth?

[reallynow]

There's a very brief and bitter thought in the back of Jolie's mind as to whether she'd get an invite at this rate, but she keeps her personal drama to herself in lieu of feeling happy for Oceana. It warms her heart to see her this happy over anything that isn't olives and partying, at least something isn't crap on crap.

"Only if I get to make the dress. Nothing latex, nothing above the knee." She gives her a mock warning look, but a smile pulls at her lips. "Is it that serious? You aren't pregnant, are you?" She narrows her eyes, glancing downward.

[fuckingcool]

"I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it," she laughs, but rolls her eyes at that last comment. "No, mom. But--I don't know. Not right now, but maybe someday. If shit doesn't get too...shitty." She's pointedly not being very specific about what she means by that. Jolie knows.

"Don't think I'm waiting around for your blessing or some shit, though."

[reallynow]

"Shit'll be fine." She sounds almost dismissive, just because it's a hard topic to get into at a party, let alone ever. She wishes she could talk to Oceana about it, about everything, because she knows she'd feel so much better for it. Alas, the walls have eyes. And ears. And high tech software.

"You wouldn't be you if you weren't being a little shit, so colour me surprised. If you elope I'm not letting you in my apartment or my booze cabinet again." She reaches out and pinches Oceana's cheek with no amount of gentleness. "You are too fucking cute, you know that?"

[fuckingcool]

Oceana squawks. "Ow, bitch. Ever think about being a little less heavy-handed?" Of course not. If she weren't, she wouldn't be the Jolie that Oceana knows and loves. She's happy to move past the rather sticky spot in their conversation, though.

"Don't fucking worry, where are we gonna elope to? The moon? You'll be the first one we tell, mama."

She rolls her eyes heavily.

"Mermaids aren't cute, we're ethereal." Says the bitch in the leather dress and lucite heels.

[reallynow]

Since Oceana very likely knows the answer to that one, Jolie doesn't deign it with anything more that one of her quick, pointed looks before she finds more amusement in what Oceana proceeds to say.

"You could have it in the Districts? Shabby chic is your aesthetic, after all." She smiles knowingly, as if she just praised her and didn't read her. "Yeah, nothing says ethereal like hooker heels and a snatch showcase skirt. At least it's fish, right?"

[fuckingcool]

Oceana wrinkles her nose. "Gross. Not at all my style. I'm, like, offended you'd even suggest it." Seriously. Her wedding is going to be really stylish, and really, really gay. Like, she will probably ride in on a horse dressed as a unicorn. Fuck yes.

"Fish as fuck," she replies proudly. "Fresh off the boat, et cetera et cetera."