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LATE SUMMER FAIR (NSFW DESSERTS)
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: The slow transition from summer leads to a fair, complete with whacky treats and activities from other holidays and festivals from around the Multiverse.
Date(s): August 26-September 2
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
Welcome to Xistentia's first fair, F.A.T.E.S.' excuse to mingle. The setup appears overnight on the edge of town, a nonsensical mash of themes and places from the multiverse. Haunted house and circus tent, facepainting, ferris wheel and carousel, game stands that seem to self-operate, dozens of empty shopfronts, self-regenerating popcorn stands. Pretty soon, however, the people start to come, bringing their own goods and wares. The population of Xistentia is 333, which is more than enough people to fill a fair.
As far as fair food goes, there are penis-shaped waffles[NSFW] in various flavors, two-sticked popsicles for sharing with a partner, turkey legs, fried dough, cookies as big as your head, fried fish, fried lizards, glutinous fruits, and lembas.
And let's not forget, there is an abundance of alcohol everywhere. Beer, wine, you name it.
But of course, let's not forget the games. Many of them are low-key and prizes vary from the ability to change your daemon's color to any other natural hue, to free food, horrible writing pens, and stuffed animals. Games vary from whack-a-mole to bobbing for apples. Everything is free to eat, drink, and play, barring some excuses for barter with some of your friendly neighborhood natives.
Some games, however, are less casual if not necessarily more costly. The contests of finesse and strength come with special prizes from F.A.T.E.S. and...
Note that the "prizes" do not stack. Runner-up winners will not get multiple of the same type of prize, and those who experience a critical failure won't suffer particularly severe consequences. If your character receives a dream or a "unique item," you will receive a reply to your comment on the mod announcement with more information.
See also detailed dice roll information for: darts, ring toss, arm wrestling, high strike, and archery.
And what would a fair be, without a kissing booth?
Just like the rest of the fair, the odd thing is that there is of course no payment required.
Instead, a large and lovely lantern hangs behind the booth. It seems to glow a little brighter every time a kiss is transacted. It's hard to know exactly what this means, but considering that emotional intimacy lights the streets of the city, one might guess that F.A.T.E.S. is saving up this particular energy for something special.
But until then, it's a good excuse to make out.
Summary: The slow transition from summer leads to a fair, complete with whacky treats and activities from other holidays and festivals from around the Multiverse.
Date(s): August 26-September 2
Warnings/Notes: None, please mark your subject headers with content.
Late Summer Fair
I play my part and you play your game
Welcome to Xistentia's first fair, F.A.T.E.S.' excuse to mingle. The setup appears overnight on the edge of town, a nonsensical mash of themes and places from the multiverse. Haunted house and circus tent, facepainting, ferris wheel and carousel, game stands that seem to self-operate, dozens of empty shopfronts, self-regenerating popcorn stands. Pretty soon, however, the people start to come, bringing their own goods and wares. The population of Xistentia is 333, which is more than enough people to fill a fair.As far as fair food goes, there are penis-shaped waffles[NSFW] in various flavors, two-sticked popsicles for sharing with a partner, turkey legs, fried dough, cookies as big as your head, fried fish, fried lizards, glutinous fruits, and lembas.
And let's not forget, there is an abundance of alcohol everywhere. Beer, wine, you name it.
But of course, let's not forget the games. Many of them are low-key and prizes vary from the ability to change your daemon's color to any other natural hue, to free food, horrible writing pens, and stuffed animals. Games vary from whack-a-mole to bobbing for apples. Everything is free to eat, drink, and play, barring some excuses for barter with some of your friendly neighborhood natives.
Some games, however, are less casual if not necessarily more costly. The contests of finesse and strength come with special prizes from F.A.T.E.S. and...
THE WINNERS ARE
Note that the "prizes" do not stack. Runner-up winners will not get multiple of the same type of prize, and those who experience a critical failure won't suffer particularly severe consequences. If your character receives a dream or a "unique item," you will receive a reply to your comment on the mod announcement with more information.
Contests of Finesse
| First Place | Vanyel Greyjoy | The ability to "say just the right thing" once this week |
| Still Good | Era, Alec, Nico, Vex, Rosie, Aymeric, Jace, Amanda, Zeke, Kavinsky, Janus | Emotional intuition boost |
| Yikes | Magnus, Barclay | Daemons totally lose filter and start saying the most awkward shit |
| First Place | Jace Wayland and Magnus Lightwood-Bane | The ability to "say just the right thing" once this week |
| Still Good | Era, Alec, Nico, Vex, Rosie, Vanyel, Rafaello, Amanda, Zeke, Barclay, and Janus | Emotional intuition boost |
| Yikes | Aymeric and Kavinsky | Daemons totally lose filter and start saying the most awkward shit |
| First Place | Alec Lightwood-Bane | The ability to "say just the right thing" once this week |
| Still Good | Nico, Vex, Aymeric, Zeke, Magnus, Kavinsky, and Janus | Unique items |
| Yikes | Rosie and Barclay | Uncooperative powers (very minor, non-dangerous incidents) and accurate memory of silly dreams |
| First Place | Kavinsky | The ability to "say just the right thing" once this week |
| Still Good | Era, Nico, Vex, Rosie, Aymeric, Rafaello, Zeke, Barclay and Janus | Emotional intuition boost |
| Yikes | Alec, Vanyel, Jace, and Magnus | Daemons totally lose filter and start saying the most awkward shit |
Contests of Strength
| First Place | Ezekiel | Precognitive dream later that night |
| Still Good | Era, Alec, Nico, Rosie, Aymeric, Vanyel, Rafaello, Magnus, Kavinsky and Janus | Unique items |
| Yikes | Vex and Jace | Uncooperative powers (very minor, non-dangerous incidents) and accurate memory of silly dreams |
| First Place | Era | Precognitive dream later that night |
| Still Good | Alec, Nico, Vex, Jace, Zeke, Magnus, Kavinsky and Janus | Unique items |
| Yikes | Rosie and Aymeric | Uncooperative powers (very minor, non-dangerous incidents) and accurate memory of silly dreams |
Kissing Booth
And what would a fair be, without a kissing booth?
Just like the rest of the fair, the odd thing is that there is of course no payment required.
Instead, a large and lovely lantern hangs behind the booth. It seems to glow a little brighter every time a kiss is transacted. It's hard to know exactly what this means, but considering that emotional intimacy lights the streets of the city, one might guess that F.A.T.E.S. is saving up this particular energy for something special.
But until then, it's a good excuse to make out.
no subject
'hey, baby boy', he says, and murphy's pretty sure he would die of mortification if clarke or bellamy ever bore witness to moments like this, but kavinsky has that dumb kind of charm that makes murphy kind of like it. his skin does seem a little cool, but murphy doesn't think much of it. they're outside, outside gets cold.]
Because cannibalism is a lot less sexy when you actually see it happen.
[ okay, well, he didn't really see the reapers actually eat someone, but he say them jump on people like they were going to, and all the blood on their mouths and beards and crazy looking eyes. it was close enough. ]
Thought you were still on your sabbatical with your best friend Tequila.
no subject
well he feels a little upstaged sometimes. because he's an asshole. but he also tightens his arms around murphy and turns his assholery into something familiarly flirtatious, like,] Why, you jealous of Tequila? [tighter and tighter, til murphy can feel the low pinch of tension in the bottom of his ribcage and his tummy, an affectionate bearhug. there's no way for the boy to know that this is but a fraction of kavinsky's strength.] You wanna be my best friend, Smurfy? We could live in mushrooms right next to each other.
And I got an opening.
[mostly, he wants to feel murphy struggle a little. fight his way free. he's always thought that was fun, but it's better now that he can smell the heat pounding under the boy's skin, percussively thickest in his neck.]
no subject
An opening, huh?
[ eyebrow waggle goes here, sir. your dumb sense of humor is apparently contagious. but k's apparently trying to crush him, so, he waits a while, until it gets to the point of near painful, and starts to squirm, shoving back at him, words interrupted here and there as he tries to worm his way out of his grip, like this is some catch me if you can game. ]
Is the mushroom thing supposed to make sense to me, or is that just your way of saying let's eat shrooms and get blitzed?
[ with a huff, murphy gives up, flinching a little, and shoves a bony elbow back into kavinsky's stomach. ] Quit, jackass, you're gonna snap something.
no subject
the elbow makes kavinsky grin at him, and he snags murphy's arm to pull him full-circle. real laughter in his face. all teeth, fangs carefully sheathed. rafa taught him well, you see.] The mushroom thing is a reference to traditional children's television programming, bitch, [he says.] Little blue fuckers living in a village where their houses is mushrooms. But you could do some shrooms and think of me. [he advances a step, shrinking the barely-there gap between them already, studying the other boy with interest.]
You want I should buy you a drink? Make up for lost time.
no subject
What, you're not gonna do the shrooms with me? That's lame, getting wasted by yourself.
[ he says, after spending like 3 months getting wasted by himself in a bunker. also, most of his life. because he has no real friends. awkward.
except for joseph fucking kavinsky, because this is the kind of person it takes to gain real approval and trust from a john murphy. miraculously, somehow. at least until some vampire fang info bomb gets dropped on his sad little head. but that's not something anywhere close to his suspicions right now. instead, he's snickering a smile back, swaying a little as he grips at the front of kavinsky's shirt. ]
You say 'buy' like there's any kind of real currency in virtual reality land. [ bitch, don't pretend like you classy, aight. a small shove, but it's made up for as he steps in a little closer. ] But yeah, get me a drink, woo me, whisper me sweet nothings.
i'm now ffwing this one. i'm assuming i was supposed to ffw this one. if i wasn't, poke me!
yeah, kavinsky thinks he's clever. of course in real life, he's dumb as fuck.
they get home. to the chic modern house he shares with amanda, all chrome and wood and exposed concrete and huge windows, some mix of minimalistic modernism and rustic bullshit that hipsters must have invented in more than one universe, probably. kavinsky's bed in this new world is still despicably huge, springy, ideal for a fuck, and the characteristic mess still rules his room, from redundant laptops to the roomba beebooing miserably on a mess of gaming gear that it got stuck on, drug paraphernalia and random pictures of asses and tits and inscrutable bulgarian rappers that are probably by now out-of-date (nobody tell him) all over, and it's as familiar as kavinsky's kisses, likely, the hungry heat of them at odds with the cool touch of his skin.
familiar, at least, right up til a fang pokes murphy in the mouth.]
yes! that was the plan i believe :B
his clothes could've been ripped off for as much as murphy cared when they got to the house, and there's something so comfortably kavinsky in the familiarity of the room, something that feels like belonging, maybe. every part of his buzzes and hums and aches, rolling around on the stupid huge bed, tossing game controls and lighters and toy dinosaurs off the comforter as he finds them poking against his spine or side. murphy has k's hair looking like a static mess, fingers curling in it and tugging, as they kiss, still all teeth and nails and pressure. but then there's that scrape, and murphy's tongue catches the metallicy taste of blood, mixed in with the sharp pain of a cut being dragged open on his lip. he jerks back more on instinct than anything else, hand to his lips, but he doesn't move from k's arms. ]
The fuck, how freaking hard did you bite? [ murphy asks him, dabbing at the wound that's already bleeding pretty freely. except, he knows, there hadn't been much pressure. there wasn't that build up of blunt pain. just sharp and cutting. eyes lifting, he looks to kavinsky's mouth, a hand on the side of his face reaching out a thumb to push up his upper lip above one canine. one... unnaturally sharp canine. what the actual fuck. ]
K. What'd you do?
tw drugs and addiction
murphy's blood tastes real good. hunger uncoils in his gut like a sudden viper. kavinsky feels his pupils swell in his fucking eyeballs, prickling his eyelashes wider, wiring energy through his jaw, his skin electric. for better or worse, it's as sexual as it is about eating another sentient being. no want for death in it, but no harm, either. the strength of it— startles him a little, maybe. like mixing coke, vodka and half a vic used to run up a powerful fucking wave inside him, shooting his senses up with static and shining light.
he wants to push murphy down and dig his thumbs into the soft tendons inside his wrists and suck kisses out of him until there's nothing left but a stain.
but he also wants to talk to murphy afterward and play with his belly button and tap around the painful places that ontari left in his memory until he either slaps away or grows callused and indifferent to the thought of her. and smell his food and mess up his hair, accuse him of snoring in the morning.
man versus animal. it's some literary shit.]
No big, sweetheart, [he says.] I become a vampire.
no subject
[ an incredulous, semi-helpless kind of laugh jerks from murphy, where he's sitting back on the bed, covers pulled into his lap and flopped over a shoulder. there's still the sting of kavinsky's fangs at the side of his lip, fingertips touching gingerly at the shallow wounds. just became a vampire. no big. fuck you, kavinsky, no big his ass. ]
You have to eat people now, K. People like me.
[ the concept that murphy is the food chain for him now is the same sort of fear that had him wanting to put distance between him and kavinsky's 'grandma'. the 'what if the blood stock runs out and you get hunger' or the 'what if you can't stop and it's not just kinky' and the entire concept of being fed off of just sends nightmares screaming through murphy's head, and all the macabre but very real material housed there. he never saw the grounders, and bellamy, hung from their ankles and drained of their blood, but he knew the reality of it just as well.
maybe he should've seen this coming, given the company kept, but he's shocked nonetheless, watching the comforter rumpled up on the mattress between them. ] Rafa, wasn't it?
no subject
but murphy isn't wrong to worry, either. rafa has been. worried— that his fledgling might lose control. the concerns had been sharper back home in eudio, the potential for backlash in a city that so powerfully mandated consent. killing, even accidentally, had greater consequences than most other worlds could imagine— and vampires start off with a bad reputation anyhow. a reputation he can see reflected in murphy's stare right now.
i doesn't hurt kavinsky's feelings. mostly because he'd been pulling a fast one. and his blood is still hot. or rather, it wants for the heat hiding in murphy's veins. he tries not to stare. he's careful not to start to creep any closer, affecting nonchalance (completely fake!! nonchalance), where he's sitting aside on the bed.]
Yeah. Raf. He wanted me to live forever nearly as much as I wanted it for myself.
no subject
No, just drain a lot of blood, which will kill someone if it's done too much too often. [ there's a reason blood drives only allow you to donate so many times a year and ask you to have a big meal and not go exercising after and a bunch of other specifics. not that murphy's aware for those, but he's been around enough medical emergencies by now to understand it. ] Do you know what those numbers are? Or how much blood to take out of someone who's 5'1" and 110 pounds verses someone who's 6'3" and 170?
[ do you have a medical degree hidden up your ass somewhere, k, because murphy's thinking not, and he tends to not want anyone who isn't a doctor near things as important as his life blood. of all the people kavinsky could've pulled this on, murphy's amazed that he does it to him. they haven't really had many (or any) talks about where murphy came from and why he's covered in scars, but they ought to talk for themselves, he thinks. ]
We're in the middle of nowhere. What if our computer caretakers malfunction and it's back to roughing it in the forest where no one's gonna be up for donating? [ you need all the blood you have to spare in case you get injured, is what's going through murphy's head. and having a wound when you have to sleep in the dirt? asking for infection. ] Were you even planning on asking at any point?
no subject
he manages somehow not to roll his eyes or anything that outright shitty, thanks to over a year of eudite interventions. violating somebody's wishes and the safety of their body is no longer as hilarious as it used to be to him, and he has an uncomfortable about of insight into why that used to be a discomfort he'd deal with by flagrantly pushing every boundary as it was laid down in front of him, justify it with the punches and kicks and curses he'd get in return. he used to think it was all the same shit, given and taken. why wouldn't you take what you could get?
less fun to think: he'd needed to be wanted to the point of delusion, and it'd made him cruel.]
I was-- [he starts. then stops.] Look, absolute worst fucking case scenario, if you drink a little blood it makes you heal anyway. I wasn't going to hurt you like that. [he's not doing well. part of him knows that. easier to minimize, to throw murphy a sidelong look of exasperation, like, why you gotta be like this baby? he scratches his blunt nails up his neck and along his arm, tells himself that there is no disquiet in his undead heart, which does not beat anyway. instinctively, he looks for an angle. some escape. some way to get off the hook.
anything is better than consequences.]
Ask you if I'm allowed to become a vampire?
[being a piece of shit has always been better than consequences.]