The Maiden - The Mother - The Crone

Who: Cass & Soren (and whoever decides to interrupt)
What: Happy cozy snuggle time in front of a fireplace
Where: Swiss Alps cabin
When: Nowish
Warnings: Man, you never know with these guys.

Not that I'm doing much with her for obvious reasons, but someone tell me not to change Satan to Lady Gaga cause I have this bad urge to.

Who: Dresden and Murphy
Where: Somewhere in upstate New York

( Read more )

Who: Teja, Gaz, and Soren
What: Puberty day!
Where: Mordhaus
When: Thursday
Warnings: Blood, knives, sex, swearing, all in massive amounts.

( Fake cut here! )

Who: Mary Winchester and Bobby Singer
Where: Her kitchen/house
What: Having dinner, catching up again...remnincising.
When: Backdated to when they actually HAD this conversation, slow times.
Warnings: Update as needed.


( When you can't run anymore, you crawl, and when you can't do that, well-- Yeah, you know the rest.... )

Who: Anyone who's seen her post here (or any of the ones prior, or anyone who's been told by a friend or a friend of a friend or y'know, anyone.)
Where: Anne's place in Key West
What: Orphans' Thanksgiving Weekend
Warnings: Knowing this group? Probable.
When: Thursday mid-day through whenever the leftovers are gone and/or everyone goes home.

There was rain predicted later in the day, but just at the moment it was simply cloudy, which suited Anne just fine, since it meant she could leave both sides of the house open so she could see people coming and not smoke everyone out with the turkey roasting. The bird had been in the oven almost long enough, and at that particular moment she was basting again, her hair looped up in a braid to keep it from getting into anything.

(ooc:Party thread folks, food's in the kitchen, games are in the back room, music's in the front, smoking's out on the back patio. Eat, drink, be merry, talk amongst yourselves, don't make a mess and if you do, clean it up. I've got sub-threads for locations, but feel free to start your own, I'm rarely so organized.)

Who: Henry Tudor & Gabriella Montez
What: Smutty-fun-times-make-up-sex after Gabby finds out some of what Henry has been lying about.
Where: Henry & Gabby's Las Vegas Penthouse.
When: After Henry has gotten yelled at by Charles for being a jerk to Katherine thanks to the entire Halloween mess.
Warnings: Oh, it's Henry, so NC-17.

( Oh, Henry... )

I am sporadic at the best of times, usually, and I know everyone will be busy for the holidays for the most part. I will be more sporadic then usual till Sunday. My mom is coming into town today from Michigan for the holiday weekend. She won't be leaving till sometime Sunday morning, so I am going to take advantage of her visit since I haven't seen her in over a year since I moved to PA. Plus, we are both getting tattoos on Saturday. That outta be fun. At least that's the plan. I'll probably still get mine. :-D

Who: Henn & Sami & Zev & anyone else who drops by (yeah, it's an open log!)
Where: The Snake Pit Bar & Grill, New Orleans
When: Monday eveningtime
What: Stuff and things!
Warnings: There is a distinct possibility, will update as necessary

( Like rusty old nails, at the bottom of the sea )

(ooc: post, expect tags from one or all staff members, talk amongst yourselves, have fun!)

Who: Jax and Thomas Raith
What: Indecent Exposure? He's a slightly-addictive incubus, she's an impressionable young woman. Do the math.
When/where: Backdated to last night, after Jax's post/A pub in Chicago (specific, non?)
Warnings: See the what.

Jax knew, going in, this was probably not her best idea. Somewhere in the back of her mind (again, likely the part inhabited by John), she knew it was a simple matter of chemistry; endorphins plus pheromones plus.. whatever magic existed in the guy's blood equaled one strung out and very pleased woman. But how was that bad? Other than the slightly wobbly post-coital effects, it didn't hurt. In fact, it felt damn good. And so what if it took away a little bit of her soul. Most of it was going to some sort of hell when she died, anyway. Why not keep the guy alive with a few of the spare parts?

And had she mentioned how good it felt? How... sexy he was, how hot it had been. She could barely put into words what it was that had her coming back, but there she was at the bar once again, drink in hand. The top hat made a repeat appearance, but other than that the outfit was decidedly... different. The t-shirt was replaced by a stylish, tight-laced corset, ending low-slung on her hips just above barely-decent leather pants, that hugged every bit of her modest curves as she moved. Her shoes were sandals, simple and flat (no matter how sexy she was feeling, Jax was not a stilettos kind of girl) and made to be shed and forgotten about, which she expected to do. The ink along her arms and back stood out in contrast to the deep purples and blacks of her clothes, a light sheen of sweat covering the skin from the lights over the bar and the tingling warmth of the alcohol. All she was missing was the man.

She watched the door casually through the mirror hanging over the back of the bar, trying not to seem too impatient. It must not have been working, from the funny look the bartender gave her. But Jax couldn't pay attention to what she thought- Thomas had to be coming, soon.

Who: Simon Camden, Connor and Murphy MacManus
What: Celebrating Simon's Initiation
Where/When: Casa de MacManus/Last Night
Warnings: A wee bit of violence. Possibly language. Will update.

( Mafia hit man was not the life Simon Camden envisioned for himself. )

Who: Toki, Teja, Soren, Miniver
What: Panicked daddy and uncle need to see the newly resurrected Teja
Where: Casa de Wolfpack, London
When: RIGHT DE HELLS NOW
Warnings: Probably a little swearing, nothing else.

Toki had realized only a couple minutes previous to his rushed state of putting on his coat and shuffling Miniver to the car so the hippie could drive that Teja had been reborn. He was fidgeting with his collar and his sleeves. Soren said he'd picked up Teja and was looking after him, and that made Toki a little more pleased with the situation. Soren was above and beyond a kind heart.

Teja in the meanwhile, was about a year and a half old in appearance. He had a netbook nearby so he could easily communicate without his unfamiliar oral palate giving him issue. He was only slightly in pain - growing pains of aging approximately four and a half years a day - but otherwise was quite himself. He remembered everything up until the point of his death. He'd eaten, quite plentifully and morbidly, in fact, but he was constantly and had food nearby that he snacked on idly as he read a book that he'd found in the library. He finally had picked up one of Soren's books. He was thankful for Soren's hospitality and looking in on him occasionally. He wasn't yet aware that his biological father was about to show up.

Who: Aziraphale and Crowley
What: Discussions, possibly of a marriage-related social contractual nature. It is all Mary's fault!
When/Where: Backdated to yesterday evening, St. James Park, London
Warnings: Entirely possible, will update if needed.

Right after receiving the last message from Aziraphale, Crowley willed himself over to St. James park, day-old loaf of bread in tow. Mary, and her ridiculous mention of marriage, had got him to thinking. And, if that entire debacle with Satan and her human was any sort of omen, well. Excuse Crowley for wanting to to know where he and his Angel stood.

Walking over to the pond, he was trying to be quiet, so as not to disturb his lover and the fowl. But he couldn't stop the snort at the sight of the well-worn tweed blazer his lover was fond of, near-camouflage against the pine and fall leaves of the forest around them.

He moved to stand next to his lover, opening the bag of bread and ripping off a chunk to toss to the nearest waterfowl.

"Wherever did you find that coat? I thought you'd lost it," Moreover, he was almost positive he'd buried it in the foundation of his new club.

Who: Torii & Gaz
Where: Turner-Brennan household
When: Saturday evening-ish
What: Commiserations
Warnings: Language, perhaps.

( Lay your head and go to sleep my child - and I will tell you tales of yesterday )

Friendly reminder: please tag your posts. I wanted to find a certain conversation tonight and I spent forever looking because the post wasn't tagged. Obliged.

Who: Open to anyone attending Homecoming.
What: Taunton Homecoming Dance
Warning: Explosions!

( Homecoming Dance )

Who: Sophie Frost and Jon Kent (with Gar Logan)
Where: The Homecoming Dance
Warnings: Nah.

( It's my party.. )

Who: Dominic Jude and Parker Preston Whitley
What: Painting Dom's office
Where: Dom's office, Bedlam
When: Tonight
Warnings: Will update if necessary


Parker had picked up several gallons of paint, in varying colours. He wanted to have at least one shade of every colour on hand, because he couldn't ever be sure what colour Dom would want at any given moment. Chances were each wall would be painted a different colour, and other colours would likely be mixed in. Painting Dom's office was going to be an event, that much was certain.

Parker went inside to find a cart, to wheel the paints in, far easier than making several trips in and out carrying the cans. He stopped outside the office door, waiting for Dom to unlock it. Seemed only right to let Dom open the door, the first time they were going in together.

Greetings, salutations, and hello!

I'm Trudy, and I'll be playing Alistair from Dragon Age: Origins. I'm not new to the whole journal roleplaying thing, but it has been awhile. If there's anything you suspect I might need to know, please drop me a line.

Generally speaking, I'm most readily available on Gtalk as selphish. If you need me on AIM, feel free to drop me a line at selphish@gmail.com and if I'm around, I will jump on as HealingPink.

I'm happy to be aboard!

WHO: Fiona Glenanne and Riordan Byrne
WHAT: Drinks and conversation
WHERE: The Sign of the Weasel
WHEN: Soon after Fiona's arrival
WARNINGS: Language, likely.

A lovely little shop with thick walls and patrons who tend to go curiously deaf in the vicinity of private affairs, he'd said. The description reminded Fiona of certain pubs she'd known in Dublin. Pubs that catered to Provos or tolerated them. Or some other splinter group of the lads. Who was had said that the first item on any Irish agenda was "split"?

As she'd been warned in that painfully bright website, Fiona had found a wallet in her purse with a few pound notes and a British Airways American Express card. Dear God, if I've replaced a flight attendant, I'll need to buy some teeth-kicking heels, and then find someone who deserves to see the soles up close and personal, Fiona thinks. More prudently and immediately, however, she uses the spoils to buy a brimmed hat and a carefully chosen set of cosmetics, suitable for any quick disguise she might need. Just in case.

Back in the UK, only minutes away from Ireland. Her shoulders twitch as she enters the Sign of the Weasel. Another world this may be, an assertion she accepts as a working hypothesis for now, subject to proof, but she'd spent a dozen years and more running with the IRA, and she knows there are plenty of Irish "patriots" who wouldn't hesitate to blow her up if they ever learned what she'd done to Thomas O'Neill. Any excuse to go after a "traitor" to the sacred cause. All the while proclaiming their allegiance to the Republic of Ireland, indivisible, because murder was more fun if you could wrap yourself in a flag and sing century-old songs all the while.

Patriots. Ha.

Ireland should never be big enough for such men as that.

Riordan Byrne, whatever else he was, didn't seem like that sort of man. A wee gombeen, perhaps, fond of a couple of jars every evening, but better that than a terrible fella.

As her eyes adjust to the change in lighting, she looks around for Riordan Byrne.