LATE SUMMER FAIR (NSFW DESSERTS)

[spoofer]

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.

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

DARTS
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
RING TOSS
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
ARCHERY
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
SPARRING
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

ARM WRESTLING
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
HIGH STRIKE
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

See also detailed dice roll information for: darts, ring toss, arm wrestling, high strike, and archery.

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.

Comments

[rekt]

[ murphy doesn't budge as kavinsky closes in, used to him being all up in his personal space, as he does, and immune by now to most people's attempts to creep him out. ]

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!

[pillz]

[so it happens like this. kavinsky gets murphy a drink. he whispers sweet nothings, which is more like, says a bunch of inappropriate and filthy shit about breaking a tooth on his ass and fitting a prosthetic dick along with his own up the other boy's hole, and when is murphy going to let him tie him up again, because he's gotta be over that shit with rafa by now, surely, how much of a goddamn bigot do you have to be, especially in a city where you physically can't hurt someone else because the fucketry of physics.

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

[rekt]

[ murphy's about read to mount this douchebag in the back of some stall in the middle of the fair, just after he touches on fucking him with his own dick and a prosthetic second, shivers running through him when he thinks of how k would toy with his body back in eudio. the day he'd surprise sounded him. the kind of crap he'd pull to keep murphy teetering on the edge of too much.

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

[pillz]

[it'd be funny if kavinsky were just a human boy with human teeth. it's still funny, now that he isn't. but kavinsky isn't human right now. vampire teeth come with vampire biology. vampire urges, vampire appetites.

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.

[rekt]

No big?

[ 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?

[pillz]

Hey, man. Vamps ain't like people, [kavinsky points out, though not before murphy's train of thought has already leapt ahead half a dozen stations.] We don't gotta kill what we eat. [factually, it's true.

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.

[rekt]

[ yeah, it definitely has not gone unnoticed that kavinsky was trying to sneak this in without asking or telling him. half the annoyance right now is due to that alone. the other to how nonchalant this entire thing is being looked at. ]

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?

[pillz]

[hmmmmmmmmmm. it would appear, according to kavinsky's considerable intelligence, that one john murphy is angry with him. that is not his favorite outcome to what was starting out as a brave new sexual fantasy.

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.]