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| Welcome To The Night You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality. This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories. Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness. Create Your Account! If you're already a member, please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| Sawyer Flint's Christmas Spectacular; Closed party thread; no post order! | |
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| Topic Started: Sunday, 22. December 2013, 10:11 (6,189 Views) | |
| Sawyer | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 06:29 Post #101 |
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Friendly Neighborhood Vampire
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Sawyer grinned. "You anybody's I know? I didn't show up 'til the summer, but hell, it's been quite a year since then. And if you're ever goin' out with those boys, I'd definitely recommend gettin' Mr. Klein over there up on stage to sing karao- hey!" The young Malkavian was slinking towards the door as furtively as he could. Nimbly, one clawed hand grabbed Moshe's collar and pulled him back. "Wait up there, darlin', what are you doin' sneakin' off? We haven't even opened presents yet! Speakin' of which..." Sawyer whistled sharply, grabbing the attention of the crowd. "Y'all ready for presents? Hey, Agu, Pigeon, y'all come over here and help me distribute gifts, 'kay?" He sent the boys scrambling off and picked out the gifts he'd made out from under the tree. Each of the guests had received a hand-knitted sweater, though the measurements were perhaps not exact, as Sawyer had eyeballed most of them. Mac's sweater was black, with a pale gold collar and cuffs. On the chest was a snarling badger in gray, black, and white, with just the slightest bit of blood on its fangs. In its mouth was a human hand, similarly blood-covered and gory. Not quite seasonal, maybe, but he figured she wouldn't mind. Church's, similarly, was gold with black cuffs and collar and had another badger emblazoned on its chest. His looked quite a bit friendlier, however, with a needle and thread dangling from its jaws. Moshe's was not strictly Christmasy; it seemed that Sawyer had gone a bit overboard in an attempt to be culturally sensitive. Lines of dreidels, menorahs, and (for some inexplicable reason) dinosaurs covered the blue and yellow sweater. Agustín's sweater was similarly dinosaur-covered, though its little lines of white-stitched reptiles were accompanied by red and green patterns that recalled the tartan plaid that he was so found of. It was especially warm and thick, and the knitting was solid enough to not tear when confronted with stubborn tree branches. Jhael's sweater was a pale gray-lavender, silky-soft to the touch, with an embroidered ring of tiny gray birds encircling the collar and sleeves. He also received a second package marked 'For Your Boss'- inside was a solid navy cashmere sweater, slim-fit and quite dignified. Dove's sweater was the fuzziest of any of them, made of supremely soft angora rabbit wool. It was a cheerful light blue with rows of white snowflakes; in the center two embroidered pigeons nestled together to form a heart. Lucy and Toran's sweaters were mirror images of each other- hers was a bright vibrant pink covered with black stars and snowflakes, while his was solid black with pink gears and (yet again) dinosaurs. Or were those dinosaurs? Upon closer examination, they turned out to be alligators, albeit ones that were a little lopsided. His was also by far the largest of any of the sweaters, positively dwarfing Moshe's. Cadence's sweater was a little hurried- Sawyer had only days to knit it, since he'd only just met the kid. All the same, he hoped the Gangrel would be pleased with the cheerful mountain peaks and puffy clouds. Finally, Aguirre's featured a not-so-cheerful decapitated snowman, a bit of symbolism that he felt like epitomized her feelings towards the holidays. It was only part of the present he had planned for her, and he sincerely hoped the rest would be squee-worthy. Edited by Sawyer, Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 06:30.
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| Toran | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 16:51 Post #102 |
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The Formerly Hated
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Toran regarded the black and pink sweater and swallowed a sigh. It clearly meant a lot to Sawyer. The muscular man slipped out of his coat and slid the sweater on. It stretched a bit in the shoulders but managed to fit well enough he supposed. He left his coat on the floor and walked over to his gifts under the tree. Picking them up he grinned and thanked Sawyer before handing out his own presents. "Sawyer's Gift" "Lucy's Gift" "Aguirre's Gift" He managed not to bump into anyone as he moved through the room. He handed Aguirre and Lucy's presents to them and then ducked into the kitchen to look for Mac. He found her... snuggling. Ooooookkkaaaaaayyyyyyy. Without a word he set her presents down on the table, turned around and walked out. Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope. He was NOT going to comment on slut-santa snuggling with the gangsta grinch. Lucy would not forgive him if he got stabbed at the Christmas party. "Mac's Gift" Mac's second gift That task done he walked back to Lucy and picked up his coat, but didn't put it on so Sawyer could SEE the proof that he was wearing it and liked it. Yeah... that was the word. "liked it." it was cute, sorta. He had a feeling Lucy might end up wearing it more often than him, given how much she loved running about naked under his sweaters at home. |
![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Dove | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 20:04 Post #103 |
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Tramp
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Dove rushed through the rest of his Doro wat when the time for presents arrived, hiccuping his way back to the tree to join in with the fun and assuring anyone who gave him the side-eye that no, he wasn't drunk. It was the spicy food. He hadn't been drinking, really, but Dove felt great. It must be the party atmosphere. So thick in there he could soak it up. "Presents, presents! PRESENTS!" Dove squealed quietly with excitement. Best Christmas. EVER. The beautiful sweater Mr. Sawyer presented him with left him breathless, it was the cutest and fluffiest thing he'd ever owned and a top layer pf clothing was quickly discarded to make room for him to wear it. "Mr. Sawyer, it's gorgeous! Thank you so much!" Dove gushed at the big Nosferatu and plucked out one of the presents he had brought along so he could shove it at the festive-minded vampire. When unwrapped, the resulting 'painting' was revealed to be a mainly pink thing with a some detail in black. "It's called Dawn's Crack," Dove offered with a big smile. "You can probably remember dawn doesn't really look like that, but once I got into the pink it was kinda hard to get out again. I hope you like it! Your own special dawn you can enjoy anytime." Altogether too late, it occurred to Dove that this might be the worst painting he ever could have given a vampire. The smile faltered a little, but Dove's intentions were good. He just hoped he hadn't upset Mr. Sawyer by being thoughtless. Quickly moving on, he picked up another painting to go shove at Aguirre. "This one is for you, Aggy-Gary. I called it Sea Sore, because look... It's a sea of blooood. All dark and mysterious. I thought about calling it Sore Sea, but then I figured people would misunderstand the name and think it was meant to be porny or something. It's... Not. Not at all saucy." With two of his three presents down, there was just Jhael to go. Dove would have painted more of his masterpieces for people if he'd known they would be there. Maybe he could knock out a few Easter pieces or something? Yes, that would be a good idea. Jhael's gift might at first be mistaken for a simple, but bad, attempt at scenery. Then one or two seconds pass, and it becomes more obvious what Dove has attempted with the piece. "It's called Butt Hill. Like Boot Hill, but... Not. Less boots, more butts. I may have been, ah, inspired by something I once saw." He smiled. "I'd have gone with snow-capped, but boooring. It needed some colour!" They say that giving presents is better than receiving, but Dove thought that was horsecrap. While his lucky present-receivers tried to wrap their heads around his 'art', Dove ran off to admire his new sweater in the mirror. Man, Mr. Sawyer has such neat sewing! Dove stroked a pigeon gently. So adorbs! |
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We don't have to wait till the morning, the Sun will never go down. And we will be this way forever. Dove stuff! | |
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| Tzippy | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 21:26 Post #104 |
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Ancilla
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Moshe let out a grunt of displeasure as he was dragged back, having to stand on his tiptoes a little as the much taller Sawyer took hold of the back of his jumper like he was holding onto an errant puppy. There was another sharp noise at being called darling before he seemed to accept his fate, shoulders slumping, arms crossing, and lip sticking out a little as he sulked. Only to cringe bare seconds later at the loud whistle that lanced through his brain. He shot a yearning look back to the door before slinking around to hide in Sawyer's shadow, disinterested in the presents. He hadn't thought to bring anything beyond the food Dove was happily devouring. Nor did he expect anything in return. So it was with a jolt of surprise that he accepted the gift thrust at him, taking it slowly for study while sparing Sawyer a quick look. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say. He decided to put it aside. Wait until he actually opened the present, cheery wrapping paper pulled away from the bundle neatly. When the jumper was revealed, he was even more unsure, stumbling awkwardly as he examined the patterns in bemusement. But he still managed a bit of a smile again despite anxieties that were creeping back in even with the mushy moment of earlier. "... Thank you, Sawyer. It is very nice." Edited by Tzippy, Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 21:28.
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| Lucy Fehrer | Wednesday, 8. January 2014, 23:21 Post #105 |
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Art in Ink
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Lucy had, despite not knowing everyone there, taken the time to make presents for everyone. whether or not they'd like them was another matter, as the tattoo artist had gone with what she did best and made each and everyone an individual painting. Each painting had been done on a 30c,x30cm canvas, and the motifs, while all different leaned towards the kind of style one might expect would eventually have made it onto skin as a tattoo. And as such, they ranged from traditional Japanese koi, to a new school pin up girl to modern graffiti style and classic realistic. They'd all been done in acrylics by someone who obviously loved their work and who cared enough to put both effort and time into their work, with Lucy's name being signed in the lower right corner of each of them. What they all had in common, regardless of motif and style, was they they all had that playful touch that Lucy's work tended to have. As for the gifts she received? Well, she grinned and happily thanked Toran with a kiss for the ring with a kiss before being given the sweater which well, she thought was absolutely adorable as she let out a small squeak and sort of cuddled it to her chest.Though, there was something far more important that she needed to thank Sawyer for. Which meant she got up and made her way over to him to, whether he liked it or not, wrap his arms around him and hug him. "Thank you.... For everything" |
Swedish -German - Russian - English | Tattoo Description
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| Cid | Thursday, 9. January 2014, 01:52 Post #106 |
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Raise the retirement age?
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Well, there was the call to action! A sharp whistle and Sawyer's pet name for Agustin. 'Agu'. That had been new to his ears. Better than 'Gus', that's for sure. Though still, he wasn't totally positive about it. Maybe he would tell Sawyer to call him 'Layo, later? That's what he called himself, anyway. The not-youngest-anymore Lunatic helped to the best of his ability to pass out the presents. And his own was appreciated, once it came around to it. Tartan Dinosaur Christmas Sweater. He giggled as he beheld it, flashing a knowing grin to his newest clan-mate, Moshe. He wasn't sure what exactly Dinosaurs and them both being Malkavian had to do with eachother, but it was pretty friggin' awesome. Toran had crocodiles, apparently. Close, but no dino, ya big ol' dork... Tossing off his flannel with surprising grace, revealing for just a brief moment his shirt underneath, which landed back under the tree, like some sort of professional shirt-changer; the kind magicians employed to impress dim-witted people; Agustin slipped on the sweater with great enthusiasm. It felt suitably durable and comfy, which was perfect for his needs. How thoughtful. He threw his hands up with aplomb to show his gratitude. "Thanks, Boss!" Now he just hoped his own offerings would be appreciated as much. Agustin reflexively swallowed as his anxiety began to build. Yet there was still a growing confidence and grace about him. This was his moment to shine! He whirled around, still clutching the grey backpack. Opening the front pocket, he pulled out two small black boxes. One was a longer rectangle and the other was even smaller, wrapped with silver bows each of them. He presented Sawyer and Aguirre their gifts first. "Here ya go, Boss! And, um... Mrs. Boss..." Sawyer and Aguirre's gifts He shot around the room like a demon possessed (by the Spirit of Christmas!), delivering his gifts, newfound dexterity in this endeavour... And maybe a bit of blood expended... He just about appeared in front of Moshe next, backpack upen, book in hand (The Legends of the Jews - volume 1, by Louis Ginzberg) as he presented it to his fellow Malkavian. "Oi, Happy Hanukkah, Brother. Cousin? 'Mate? Something, I don't know. Hope ya like it, though!" Said with plenty of enthusiasm and grinning. Next was dear Pigeon as he rummaged through the sack again, exclaiming, "Ooh! Perfect." He presented a colorful crochet hat to the boy in question. With a real bird-feather stuck in it! Crowned it straight on the smaller kid's head, really. And another boop on the nose. Better have forgotten that little bout of sexually charged teen-angst business, hopefully. He spun back around to meet Cadence, regarding him with curiosity. "Are you Aguirre's little brother? Er, nevermind. Here..." Was quickly said as he handed the confused looking Gangrel the silver guitar pick with etched musical notes. Then onto the Harry Potter villain! Another piece of headgear (vintage pickelhaube) for the other ghoul! "For you, Jail! I think it matches your hair quite well..." And then turning quickly, again, he met Dawid with a blank expression. "Um, do you smoke?" He asked rhetorically as he handed over to him a nice looking old cigarette holder. "Fancy!" Smiley face reappeared in an instant. Then to the more intimidating fuckers in the kitchen. For Mac, an ornate ivory dagger. Looked French, maybe. Certainly not some genuine antique, but a beautiful replica, nonetheless. "Peace... Please don't stab me agin..." *meep* Immediately around to the guy who was looming over Dove earlier, scary looking mofo. "Uh, you seem the Nordic type. May Thor guide you..." Almost a heartfelt blessing as the Malkavian set down the Mjolnir pendant directly next to Church and moved away with a silent bow. Then on to the last, but not least. Agustin tossed over to Tauren Cray an adorable Wolf Plushie as he exclaimed, "Premium plush, yo!" Then turning to Lucy, sweet Lucy. "And for you, my dear..." He handed her two gifts. One more of a gag... The little ball & chain, and the other, more elegant miniature portrait of Vlad 'The Impaler' Tepes, in a simple wooden frame. Lookin' friggin' epic, of course. "A beautiful portrait, don't you think?" Poem accompanying Toran's gift (unbeknownst to Agustin) And with that, hands in the air again, Agustin whirled back and forth... "Am I forgetting someone? Something, anything?" Until he tripped and fell over his own self, shoelaces having come untied, *CRASH* Right into... The Gods Damned Christmas Tree... Sending Hammy the skull-thing flying through the air to *plop* land in the blood-punch bowl... Edited by Cid, Thursday, 9. January 2014, 17:36.
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| Jhael | Thursday, 9. January 2014, 20:49 Post #107 |
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Prince Blucher's Dinner (still not quite house trained)
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Jhael loitered around the tree with a refilled glass of scotch. With Tonight's Reasons to Angst dissolved, he became a mellow sort of drunk, leaning on various shoulders with his eyes hooded like a content cat. "Did you knit all this?" he asked in a slurred voice when Sawyer presented him with a sweater. "You are so June Cleaver. That's fucking amazing." He couldn't elaborate on what was so amazing about that, besides that he was drunk. "Wow, that's like... soft. Thank you so much!" Peeking into the one for his boss, he broke into a wide, flush faced grin. "He'll love it! Here, these are from both of us. He says Merry Christmas and... he loves you... all!" Setting aside the sweaters, he pulled out the gifts for Sawguirre. Gifts tagged for Sawyer "Heeeere," he thrust a package to Aguirre. "I didn't know what kind of stuff you like! Soooo, I'm thinking, like... maybe you can use these if someone tries to get fresh with you. I don't know," he chuckled. Gifts tagged for Aguirre When he drifted to Dove... or Dove drifted to him. Either way, they drifted together and he ended up with Dove's present. "Oh, my god!" he exclaimed a bit loudly, then covered his mouth to muffle a burp. "That is sooo funny. You painted this? Oh, my god. Leo will be so proud... I think? BUT! Butt," he snickered and poked his finger into Dove's chest, maybe a little harder than he intended. So mature! "I'm sorry," he lowered his slurred voice. "Mine looks so much better, but you did this too, so it's still, like... your art." Ass exchanged, Jhael pulled Dove close before the other guy could open the gift, his drink sloshing in his glass. The kiss he gave under the other ghoul's earlobe was far beyond chaste. "... love you, man," he whispered. Gifts tagged for Dove At some point in the merry swirl of gift giving under the skull, the eccentric Mexican approached. Much to his bemusement, the guy had a present for him and... Jhael blinked, turning it over in his hand. "That's actually pretty cool..." he muttered, squinting at the interior to see if it's clean before adjusting it on his head... because where else is he going to put it? "Your name is Agustin, right? Agustin," he continued, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "I feel pretty fucking lame because I didn't get you anything, so I guess I'll need to improv." Slipping a hand over the back of Agustin's neck, he tilted his head so the helmet wouldn't bump the other guy's head while he slipped a kiss to his lips. Before he could 'no homo!" Jhael pulled away with a friendly pat to his shoulder. "Thanks, man. Merry Christmas." Dawid was already wearing his gift, but Jhael still wanted to give him something around the tree, so the eldest ghoul was the third to receive a sloppy, enthusiastic kiss of inebriation under that skull tonight. "You look so fucking sexy tonight. I'm so glad that all fit. When I saw this coat, I was like... I immediately thought of you." He swayed a bit, the helmet tilted on his head with his bangs flopping out askew. "Merry Christmas, Uncle Praz!" Aside from strangers, that left Moshe. Watching the tuft of an untamed 'fro peeking over the small, tight crowd, he sipped his drink and settled on his gift to his former co-worker. For whatever reasons, Moshe had wanted to hide here. Change of career, new boss, whatever. For Christmas, he wouldn't ask and if Mr. Blucher found out about it, it wouldn't be from him. He had never seen him here. They were never at this party at the same time. If he saw him elsewhere, he wouldn't recognize him or try to contact him again. Good luck, Moshe, he thought, sending best holiday wishes before averting his eyes to make his way to the food table. He could have that doro wat for the last time. It's not bad. |
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| Dove | Friday, 10. January 2014, 15:17 Post #108 |
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Tramp
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Still admiring the sweater in the mirror when the bird hat was pulled down across his vision. Dove caught a glimpse of knitted awesome in the mirror before his sight was obscured. He liked what he saw. Turning around to thank Mr. Agustin for his present, he was treated to another boop on the nose - but at least without the dreaded C word, this time. "I love it!" Dove stroked the single feather after arranging the head-wear so he could see properly again. "It's so me, thank you!" He would have given Agustin a hug at that point, but the young vampire shot off to distribute more presents. Jhael came next, and Dove tore the wrapping off the bigger of the presents excitedly. A poster? That much was obvious before he started to unroll it so that he could hold it open for the full effect. As soon as he realised just what he was looking at, Dove exploded into giggles that probably drew a lot of attention to the enlarged, glossy rendition of Jhael's held in his hands. After rolling it back up carefully, it was set aside so that the second present could be tackled. ...A night lamp? Dove turned the box this way and that, looking uncertain. A lamp for little kids?! He wasn't sure what to make of this one. First reaction was to be angry at Jhael for getting him something so childish - he wasn't a kid! But it wasn't all that way, Dove could also see that the lamp was purple, his favourite colour, and that it made a butterfly pattern. Jhael called him butterfly. Jhael also knew he had a slight... Problem, with the dark, but... People were looking. "...Dickhead! I'm not a kid." Dove raised his voice enough for those paying attention to hear and then flung his arms around Jhael, moving in close so that he might press his cheek to that of the other ghoul and whisper quietly into his ear. "Thank you." Dove clung until he was certain Jhael would understand he wasn't really angry at him, that Dove understood the gift. That he meant what he said. |
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We don't have to wait till the morning, the Sun will never go down. And we will be this way forever. Dove stuff! | |
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| Church | Friday, 10. January 2014, 23:10 Post #109 |
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Putting the 'fun' in 'dysfunctional'
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Great minds think alike. So too do they freak the fuck out in the face of this horror; seriously, who the fuck? "We could." I half-heartedly agree with her way of thinking. Though who exactly do you call a bomb threat into? The supe? The owners? Can I just go out there now and shout 'Sabbat's coming, get the fuck outta here!' Would probably cause more problems in the long run, and while I am not as sentimental as some, I would rather not go haven hunting again. "But I'd rather not. Can't punish Flint and 'Guirre just for knowing these weirdo's...but they're a lot better making friends than you or I, y'know." I mean, surely they are. And it's strange to think that, cause these other people here creep me out in a way that my roomies never have. Well, maybe that sick fucking show I walked in on one time, but apart from that, their goody-two-shoes-ness hasn't quite struck a chord the way that trying to comprehend a person's name can be "Dove." "An' like you said...s'been a while for me to celebrate...anythin' really. Christmas has been pretty non-existent to me for sixty-five years." Fuck that's a long time. A life time without any real celebration, certainly no mortal holiday. Maybe me and Jess did after making it to Atlanta, but that was something different. That was a general celebration of life, having no fucking money or hope but god damn dude were we just happy to be together. Wonder how the kids are doing? Maybe even the grandkids? I suddenly become aware at how my face is creased in serious contemplation of how best to get my apartment free from the children. Aware that my eyes are absently staring at her wrack with no actual appreciation going on. I catch her grinning at my doziness, which in turn makes me snigger at myself. But now that I am back to thinking straight, man, if those tits don't look good enough to eat... "I'll just do my best to keep your mind on other matters." I mutter quietly, ignorant of the noises from the front room as I get lost in her eyes. I'm not slurring am I? If I am, I'll make it somewhat irrelevant by pulling her into me even more, fingers pressing into her skin as the hands wander around her waist. I don't exactly want a mouth full of cookie, but I haven't tasted those lips in a few days. Anticipation be damned in this snake pit. I press my lips to hers, parting them and letting my cool tongue slither inside. Maybe it's the added pressure of facing reality that pushes it from passionate to damn near violent as I became more lax with the placement of my teeth, and find them all too soon catching her bottom lip with them. I still so freaking hungry, and while the boozy stuff was good, I left space enough to nibble on my Princess for the next few hours. Then I hear...footsteps? "Wha'sa?" I turn and look, frowning at the room that is still empty save us. Paranoia starting to creep back up? I thought I crushed that with the addictions...Though, what's that on the table? Oh good. No time to check, cause in wanders one of the nutbags from earlier. The one who isn't Dove or the pretty one. Still no idea who exactly, but his request for Mac to NOT stab him again has been noted. Girl already got me beat with knowing who's-who here, and I give her an accusing look. As if to say 'You sure you don't wanna go out there and play with your friends?' They brought her presents after all. Good thing I didn't say it, cause the weirdo gives me some shit about Thor and lays down I dunno what the fuck. He bowed for christ sake, what is going on? "Friend of yours?" I ask with a grin, not relinquishing my hold on her. Call me rude but, fuck the presents. "Like I fuckin' care. Fuck Christmas. Fuck these people. And most importantly-" I growl, or at least to start with, just to convey my displeasure with all things. But as for the important part, I lean in a little closer, just so I can whisper it into her ear. "Fuck you." Oh am I ever gonna do that. Before Slut-a Clause can answer, react, threaten me with a night of agonising paradise, I have her off her feet. She may be a big mean bitch to mortals, and throwing weight around with her is not a good idea, but it's yet to be an issue for me. Whatever she weighs means nothing, her lankiness just means I gotta go through doors sideways. Her arm flailing and desperation not to be seen like this, means nothing. I hoist her up like a fireman, wrapping an strong arm around her thigh and attempt to grasp an arm, while the other will make damn sure I grab at least something of her upper body. I ignore her protests, feeling that she's not particularly bothered by how much ass she is showing off now. Especially now that she's been put up for all to see. And super-duper especially that I have to weave through the crowded, noisy, horrid living room of souls more menacing than our own. In fact, I actually wanna give them a goodbye. Well, Sawyer at least, but I can't help feel a little cheery to show off the gorgeous creature I have upon my shoulders. I hope she gets that. If not, she's just gonna get pissed. And that's good too! "Me an' Mrs. Clause here got some naughty lists to go through. An I'ma hope God don't feel compelled to magic some spunk into me and we end the night with a 'Jesus two.' So if you freaks could somehow channel all that divine intervention somewhere else for us that'd be much apprecia- What the fuck happened to Hammy!?" My eyes had wandered away from Sawyer to the blood stains that drench the walls and floor. A skull, the skull, half submersed with empty eye sockets trying to vaporise the room. Even Mac seems to stop wiggling when she notices what I just said. Have these people no respect for their- oh yeah, that's kind of hush-hush. Best stop talking about it. Best get the way from it all. "I'd appreciate having an apartment to come back to. And by that I mean I'll find out who each and everyone of you are and break your fucking legs if something happens to that TV. Starting with you Flint." I give everyone a once over, shaking my head as I do so before carrying Mac towards my room. "Happy holidays, fuckers! Don't let the door hit your ass on your way out." |
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| Toran | Friday, 10. January 2014, 23:32 Post #110 |
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The Formerly Hated
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Toran was pinching the bridge of his nose when he received the plush wolf. He blinked his frost-blue eyes at Agustin, then thanked him solemnly in his deep resonant voice. He watched the skull fly through the air and slam into the blood filled punch bowl, splashing the blood across the wall, across the ceiling... and on his pants. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "I think that enough has quite possibly become enough." He regarded Lucy as she handed out presents, trying to keep track of her while wiping blood from his pants with paper napkins. Kissing teens and flailing maniacs in pajamas had sort of quashed the remainder of his Christmas cheer. He had taken out his phone to send a text to Sawyer to pay his respects while he ran outside to hide from the madness, when Church burst out of the kitchen with Mac over his shoulder and announced his intention to violate her in a number of sinful ways. Like a dutiful friend, he took a number of pictures of her flailing form and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Best friend blackmail material gathered. Pants soaked in blood. Imminent awkward sex screaming about to commence. This was starting to look like a Craig family reunion. Only it'd be Mac screaming not grandpa Chalmer. Which, actually was a bit of a relief. Last time he'd ended up with an aunt 8 years younger than him. Still, he started rubbing his temples with thick calloused hands and regarded Lucy, then made a clear motion to indicate he was going to slip outside and wait for her to join him. He'd have to get in touch with Mac, Sawyer & Aguirre later and make sure they'd received their presents. Because this was a bit too much for him to handle. Still, it was with a warm grin and a roll of his frost-blue eyes as he walked down the stairs. It had been a decent Christmas really. He'd been to much worse. He was sure Lucy would be down soon to join him in the truck, so he'd just get it warm for her so he could head him and give her some much needed TLC. Edited by Toran, Friday, 10. January 2014, 23:32.
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![]() Toran's Voice Can't leave... can't leave... can't leave the girls will eat me.... | |
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| Dawid Prazmowski | Saturday, 11. January 2014, 00:47 Post #111 |
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Ancilla
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Dawid would've been happy to continue chatting with Sawyer, had the little Nosferatu not slunk off to go fetch Moshe before he could sling off. Instead, he settled in near the Christmas tree while gifts were being exchanged. Not quite on-board with the particulars of the Anglo-Saxon tradition, he hadn't brought any gifts of his own, nor had he expected to get any. He thus stayed back and munched on the occasional 'stolen' cookie, eyes glazing a bit as he admired the intricate patterns of everyone's knitted sweaters, as well as all the other gifts. When presented with a nice-looking old cigarette holder by a man he didn't even knew, he thus blushed. "You shame me Sir. This is very fancy indeed for a smoker such as I", he told the young Malkavian. Not sure what else to say before settling on "Thank you kindly. Merry Christmas" and shaking his hand. And then there was Jhael, popping out of nowhere to give him a sloppy, enthusiastic kiss. The white-haired ghoul gushed with enthusiasm: "You look so fucking sexy tonight. I'm so glad that all fit. When I saw this coat, I was like... I immediately thought of you. Merry Christmas, Uncle Praz!" Dawid smiled sadly, and for a moment he feared that he might cry from the gushing of warm, fluffy emotions that filled his chest. His left hand reached out so that he could steady the vintage pickelhaube that sat on the younger man's head. "Merry Christmas, dear, dear Jhael. And may there be many more Christmasses to come." His hand dropped so that he might pat the man's cheek: "I still have mine. The helmet, I should say. Pity I didn't bring it with me to London, for we might've marched together." He stepped back so that Dove could thank Jhael for his presents, pinching away a soggy tear. |
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| Mac | Sunday, 12. January 2014, 00:24 Post #112 |
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Goddess of Fuck and War
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"I'm not sure I like what Care bear couple are doing to us Doc, we're gettin old... Learning to -behave-." Her brows shot up, illustrating the absurdity that they were hiding in a kitchen from a bunch of teenagers instead of partying and getting drunk as shit. They could do that, but something about the happy cheer and compact space was making her freak out. She just couldn't take so much at once, and Aguirre and Sawyer were hoping for them to -behave- like -normal- people. She couldn't do normal if that giggle pile out there had been normal, the only way she touched most folk was violently with fists and blunt teeth. The only real exception to that was standing In front of her, green eyed and gorgeous in all the right ways. Promising to keep her mind on better things than the creepy kids in the other room. Her face pulled into a grin, his hands searching in around her waist causing her knee's to auto part to slide around his hips. It was just pure response now, awkwardness of having to judge and ponder each movement lost in the months that passed since they first met. Some things were plain and simply learned, expected... Wanted and welcome. The capturing of her mouth made her roll out a soft moan, nothing ever soft and gentle between them, it was all demanding and dangerous. Passion to violence as she snaked her arms around him, fingers digging deeply into the muscle of his back as their tongues wrestled for supremacy, his teeth catching her bottom lip with a tearing of the flesh, soft bloody welling offered from the tender skin for his enjoyment. She was pretty much stocked full, a recent feed and time apart left her a bursting little juice box for his enjoyment. Merry Christmas. She caught the edge of Toran slipping out of the kitchen, easy to recognize his giant frame as Church noted the presents he'd left on the counter. Luckily before she had to talk about her giant friend, Church was declaring everyone could go duck themsleves... And that he would fuck her. She was all puppy eyes for him then, hazel eyes expectant with subtle joy, such a declaration so fucking welcome that she was already warm and ready to strip him down right there. If only the kitchen door locked. Suddenly she was no longer on the kitchen counter, or, as she thought it about, the operating counter. Suddenly she was in the air and being tossed up and over his shoulder in a Firemans carry. Rare for her to be lifted and plied about so easily, but church's strength was always somewhat more dominating than even her own. It was her dexterity that usually came to the table to beat him, not her brute and monsterous Amazon strength. "OH! Doc, you put me down this instant!" She would struggle and flail, legs kicking out to half hearted try and grip the door frame as he carried her out. No!!! She'd already been caught making out with a fanger, as if that wasn't street cred ruining enough! Being carried off by a caveman was totally embarrassing. She was laughing, her ability to digest and metabolize rather super human... Several cookies already beginning to effect her. "Noooo.... Church, stop! Put me down you fucking.... Fucker..." What else could she call him? Especially when she was half laughing and half mortified. She saw Toran as Church cleared a path, the fucker was taking pictures on his phone. She was sure to stick the middle finger up at him as she attempted to bend and knee church really good and hard in the ribs. He didn't even react much, barely a grunt. Then he was declaring dirty intentions with Mrs. Claus, and for the first time in maybe her life, her face was red as a lobster and she wanted to crawl in a hole a hide. She actually then hung her face and tried to hide, as much as someone with so much ass being displayed over church's shoulder could hide. She bit him, hard and through his shirt on his upper back, teeth grinding hard to bruise until he mentioned Hammy. She looked up then, face still rather pink, eyes scanning to find the head in the punch bowl. Then she was a useless sack of laughter, trying to cover her face as church carried her away to slam the bedroom door. She would never leave the room again, she could never look at any of them ever again, she would have to carve out their eyeballs with a spoon. Carried off helplessly? Oh he was going to pay. Edited by Mac, Sunday, 12. January 2014, 04:21.
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![]() "You are so fucking Camarilla. All hope and optimism. Maybe we can mount a rescue mission, and everyone can have a cupcake party, and fly around on Pegasus unicorns pooping rainbows." | |
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3:18 PM Jul 11