Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

When he felt the punch to his jaw, he fell back on the bed and just groaned as he rubbed his jaw. Damn girl...you've got quite a punch there... He murmured to her as he watched her off. He now forgot all about the pain in his neck because the jaw she almost broke made him pay more attention to that rather than his neck. He shrugged and laid down in the bed, trying his best to sleep...which wasn't long. He slept soundlessly, no noise whatsoever, even with his small breathing he couldn't be heard. It would be as if he was a dead body just laying in the bed...if the person who found him didn't see his chest slightly rise up and down from him breathing however. But even then...his body was covered by a blanket to hide that. He wouldn't wake up until the next morning.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

Marlowe took a nice long bath and pointedly ignored the door at the other end of the hall once she was finished with closing up the bar and going through all of the receipts and tills for the night. She'd locked up the money in her safe and then sent her employees home with thanks. Now she was enjoying a lovely bath. When she was finished, she braided her hair and dressed in panties and a sleep shirt that came to her mid thighs before she fell asleep in her nice soft bed. She woke early the next morning to make breakfast for her guests, though some wouldn't really want much due to their hangovers. She wore a short skirt and vest over a blue tube top and a nice hat. Somehow, she still managed to look dangerous as she started making eggs benedict with bacon and juice for herself.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

As soon as the clock hit seven, Nathan was awake and already trudging downstairs...though the rate he was going, by using the wall as support, made him take about ten minutes before he actually got down the stairs to the ground floor from his room. When he smelled the food, he yawned and walked over to the counter and called out to Marlowe. Hey girl, could you get me some eggs if you don't mind? I'm starving over here... He murmured to her as he rubbed his jaw. And damn I think you almost dislocated my jaw...Odd to find a woman with such...power and beauty all hogged up in one shell.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

You're a little late if you're trying to use flattery to get on my good side. And it serves you right for making such untoward requests, she said, getting her meal ready. She had enough for two, so she made him a plate and set it down in front of him. My name is Caroline Marlowe. Pick one of those two and stick with it. You should at least call me my name. Do you want coffee or juice? she asked, taking her plate on the other side of the counter and pouring herself some juice. She wasn't much for coffee first thing in the morning, but then, she made it extra strong. She took some of her bacon for herself and watched him. He looked like he hadn't slept in ages, but she was quite sure that he'd slept. Did you enjoy your stay aside from your newly sore jaw?
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

Yeah sure you could say that. He grumbled to her when she spoke of his stay. The jaw's feeling just fine, though I might need a kiss to make it feel better. He joked as he began to eat the eggs, which were actually pretty good, though he prefered to eat his eggs with some salt on it but this would have to do. So...you never did tell me why those thugs kept on hassling you the other day. You looked ready to spill some blood until I came in. Glad I managed to save a life...no matter how punkish it was. He shrugged. Though thats just for unnecessary fighting. If it comes to it, I won't hesitate to take someone's life.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

She poured him some juice and sat it in front of him, gesturing to the salt and pepper shakers next to him. I can give you ice, but you'll have to work on that thing you call charm if you want a kiss from anyone like me. she said, taking a sip of her juice and then eating a bit of her eggs benedict. She loved the hollandais sauce she made with it, so hers had a bit more than his. It was pretty clear that she made this fairly often. At least her guest didn't seem to think it was cheap or somehow watered-down. As he asked her about last night though, she sighed. As you may or may not be able to tell about me, the one thing I simply cannot tolerate is rudeness. Especially when it comes with a side of smug entitlement. I run a respectable business. People come here to relax and forget about the people that made them mad during the day. And they were starting trouble. That group actually always starts trouble after they've had so many drinks. When I cut them off and they refused to leave I got mad. She shrugged and showed him her gun and how it was just caps. They're blanks. She said taking it back. The worst he might have got was a burn. But I was trying to scare him. It works sometimes. Others it doesn't. I wouldn't have killed them. It's too messy, she said with a smirk. Then she excused herself to make scrambled eggs and bacon for a new customer. When she came back, she started eating her own meal again. She took a drink of juice and then looked over at him. Need anything?
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

Or you could have used rubber bullets. He said simply to her. All the looks of a real bullet from afar, the sound is the same when its fired from the trigger, and the pain is just as strong if you hit bare skin...but the only difference is that they don't die. HE said snickering as he leaned back against the counter. Its interesting how you're like this. I've never met women anywhere else who were remotely like you power and beauty in one hogged up shell. You should be using that talent for something better than running a bar. Sorry for not meeting up with your post size. Internet cuts out so I have to type fast and get the point across before it cuts out.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

That's okay. I understand. She rolled her eyes at his last statement, though she was secretly flattered that he felt she was so unique. Caroline gave thought to the idea of rubber bullets, but those were sort of hard to come by in the area. She'd have to special order those, and they just weren't worth the money if you had blanks. She'd give it more thought, though, if they kept up their little antics. She leaned against the counter and ate more of her eggs and watched him. Oh? And what is it that you think I should be doing with my talents? she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was always interesting to see what someone would say about that. Especially when nobody who told her such things had a right to do so.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

Well I bet most guys here would be referring to that amazing body of yours as a 'talent', but I'm actually speaking of your intimidation skills, your ability to stay cool under pressure, and just being able to hold a gun. Most women are so...generic housewivey unless they're hookers and whatever, you know? You should be a bounty hunter...or the law of this town or something, cause apparently this town has no law whatsoever if those thugs are just roaming the streets as they please.
Thread: What it takes (Candira and Jugger)

People who want to be sheriff aren't fit for the job, she said, finishing up her breakfast. And I'm not one to invite trouble upon myself. A bounty hunter? Nah. I'm not sure I've got it in me for that kind of work. Besides, you'd never know your true friends, she said, taking her dishes to the side and drinking her juice. I'm happy making my living in a way that doesn't require me to risk life and limb, not to mention living from check to check. she shrugged and then stretched a little. Anyway, who are you to say what I'd be good at? You hardly know me.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

He burned. Pain beat at him, long after his attackers had slunk away. Leaving him to die, to choke on his own blood. On the streets like a gutter rat's spawn. He felt so helpless, so weak. He'd come here to taste blood. Just not his own. Jack had been in prison a long time. One of those horrible, cramped prisons they made for skin-changers. He never saw the moon. The cell was too small to change. His large wolfish form would be forced to curl into a ball if it didn't want to lose teeth or break limbs. He'd been in that hellish little pit thanks to one man. Stupid bitch of a man. So Jack had stolen from him. Obviously, he could have spared the money, the food. He objected to Jack's threats to keep his silence or die in horrible ways. Oh no, too proud. So he hunted Jack down. Had them beat him before they tossed him in that shithole of jail. Jack swore to get even. One night, the guards being drunken idiots, his door had been left unlocked but bolted. Full moon night. Jack burst through the door, tearing the bolt out as he did. He went to the town the fat old fool had lived in. But there was another wolf out that night. Maybe even a pack. They'd come across Jack and tore him up. Left him for dead. Eventually, he'd blacked out. His chest was stiff and burning. He had long ragged cut there. Blood crusted his face. Bruises everywhere. Easier to see now that he'd regained human form. But he wasn't on the road, anymore. Not hard concrete. A bed. An honest to goodness bed. He looked around, too weak to do much else. Who had brought him here? And why? There weren't many people who'd help a dying wolf. Especially if he'd been hit by other wolves. No one wanted to get mixed up in assumed pack fights.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

Aside from the unexpected visitor, Cacia's evening had been relatively quiet. She sat soundlessly in her chamber skimming through meaty tomes with leatherback spines and tattered, time-stained pages. Her bungalow was a haven amidst this formidable mid August heat wave which swept in from the south. Cool air permeated the silence, laying stagnant on spotless kitchen tiles and freshly waxed hardwood floor. Cacia had been patiently awaiting her patient's recovery. Every few moments she would pause and listen for some manner of disturbance originating from her quarters. During the sixth pass a muffled grunt shook through the floorboards and violently assaulted her eardrums. She reacted with serpentine agility, hoisting her curvaceous frame from the chair and silently skittering down the hall where she noticed her door purposely left ajar. Her room was simply decorated a traditional sized chamber with tangerine colored walls and a bookshelf overflowing with novels, both old and new. She sat upon the side of her bed unoccupied by the man, hearing the bedsprings cry out in protest under her weight. Each one of her elegant fingers - all of which appeared decorated in elaborate, foreign tattoos - ghosted down his chest. Surprisingly, they hadn't reacted to the sticky wet fluid erupting from the wound. She plucked a cylindrical container from her nightstand and unscrewed the lid. The tablets inside chattered lyrically as she let two fall into her palm. She took the man's jaw in her hand, fingers furled about his mandible while she eased his mouth open. The tablets, chalky and white in appearance, were effortlessly plunged into his maw. She realized earlier that evening she was baking and the likelihood of excess powdered sugar on her digits was rather high.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

Jack had only just noticed the color of the walls. Bright, orang-ish color. He didn't quite like it. But it was a damn sight better than gray stone, so he didn't have much to say about it. There was a nice big bookshelf. He hadn't read a book in a while. He wasn't too sure he remembered how, really. No cause for reading in a jail cell. Not for skin changers, the guards had said. They wouldn't know how, anyway. Sick bastards. Every human was racist, Jack had concluded. A despicable thing. And they wondered why he did the things he had. Stealing, murder. It was freeing those people from the burden of objects and life. Freeing them from their humanity. The wolf didn't know his host was in the room, being too preoccupied with the idea that he was in a neat house to bother looking or smelling around too deeply. Until a hand brushed across the ruin of chest, still covered in clotting blood. He looked up, began to say something when her hand gripped his jaw and rather gently pried it open. Two pills were tossed into his mouth, tasting slightly sweet but he couldn't figure why. He was too weak to anything but swallow. Wh-what did you just give me? He whispered, feeling an almost narcotic lethargy stealing over him.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

At his shaky inquiry, Cacia remained silent. She insured the lid was screwed on tight and placed it upon the tabletop. Admittedly, she was uninterested by his utterances. Instead she plucked a tome from the foot of the bed and began absentmindedly skimming through its pages. There was nothing of any particular importance inside, just alchemical diagrams and texts. There was a foreign, otherworldly beauty to Cacia. She was a dark and eerie presence, overbearing and dominant but in the same sense kind. She peeled her eyes from her novel and glanced back at the man lying idle upon her bed, pressing her full lips in a hard line. Don't move, she warned. There was a foreign twang to her voice if one would care to listen closely enough. And don't speak.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

Jack glared at her, used to being ignored like that. She simply went on as if he hadn't spoken at all. Maybe she was deaf. She better be otherwise Jack was going to eat her. Preferably alive. Ignoring her screams like she ignored his question. But he just felt so lazy. The pain in his chest stopped throbbing and burning. Helping a heavy lassitude spread over him. It felt good, in away. Cool and away from that drumming heat that was the existence of his wounds. He lifted a calloused hand to brush his shaggy hair from his face. And then she spoke. Ordered him to keep silent. And not to move. He froze, his hand in the middle of shoving back a tangle of charcoal hair. It was more her manner than her tone that convinced him to stay silent for now. That and the fact that he was helpless. More helpless than a newborn pup. But he did complete his last action, a little defiantly. He brushed the matted hair from over his eyes and then let his hand fall back down to the bed. He muttered in a subvocal whisper Bossy bossy. . .
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

Cacia, in a nutshell, was coined a nomad by her kin which were each of Egyptian decent. She could easily be described as a shamaness though others who practiced shamanism disregarded her she studied a more physical means of alchemy which was often fingered as taboo by other nomadic folk. If one were to look closely enough they would take note of the somewhat eerie markings wrapping around her metacarpals and skittering about her knuckles. They were alchemical markings etched into her flesh using a dangerous branding method that took years to fully heal. They did, however, amplify transmutations she had practiced. When she caught wind of his utterance, her eyes went hard and disdainful. She despised sarcasm and whimsical mannerisms. If it weren't for one particular goal she was in the process of attaining, this lycanthrope would have been left for dead where she'd discovered him. With serpentine agility she glided to the side of the bed and took the man's wrist in her palm. It was a violent but powerful gesture, one that demanded respect.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

The sudden movement caught him off guard. His 'host' took his wrist in her hand with a quick, darting movement. He understood what it meant, what she was trying to convey to him. Don't push your luck. Impertinence is stupid. The stock sort of guarantees that a gesture like that. But the wolf man decided that he could actually begin to admire this woman. But it wasn't his nature to like being strong armed in anything. He glared at her, his gold eyes hard and angry. He tugged. He felt so weak, he couldn't break her grip. Dismay shadowed his eyes. He was much too weak, right now. And the drugs. They made being angry hard. Made everything just seem so much work. But the pain was gone that was a plus. He lapsed into a silence for a moment. Then cleared his throat, Let go. . . Please. He kept his voice to a whisper, seemingly out of deference for her want of silence. Though he was bursting to bits with questions. Why did she save him? What did she want from him? Because he reasoned that no one would help anyone and expect nothing in return. She had to have some goal. And when it was over, he'd kill her. Or as soon as he could get up. Or the moon shined full.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

It was evident that what little strength this man had left was waning, and fast. She could tell that his once powerful muscles were flaccid and lax, worn from what ever battle he had fought. It had reminded her of a virtually historical duel between herself and a rival of hers. The bout lasted two days they, each, had taken turns destroying the terrain. The destruction headlined newspapers across the city for weeks, however, officials were never able to discover the culprits. As she sat adjacent to the injured man, she peered at him warily. Her eyes were probing, piercing in fact her expression was clearly mirroring her innermost distrust towards her patient. Her tone this time around, however, was much more docile despite her aggressive light eyes and somewhat scornful expression. So how is it that you managed to become so ... mangled . She balled a fist out of habit which let forth a gruesome crunch sound, the result of released nitrogen from between her joins. When she was older she would likely suffer from some manner of arthritis but she had never been one to believe the rumor.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

How? Jack narrowed his eyes. He'd already made one concession. The please had cost him something. Something important. He didn't like how he was so weak. And dependent. And how he whispered. He shook his head, thinking to refuse this question. That narcotic lethargy was playing havoc with this thinking, though. The wolf within didn't like that. Not one bit. But the man did. The man loved the sinking feeling. Didn't care about the loss of face or anything of that sort. The pain he felt was gone. And that meant a lot. Though he was not happy that she had not told him what she had given him. But Jack had never hurt this much before. I got into a dispute with another pa-group of people. They disagreed with my point of view with extreme prejudice. There, that didn't tell her much. Though, he'd almost slipped and called it a pack. He wasn't sure if she found all wolf-y or not. As much as he willing to tell her. The wolf-man glared at her with a challenging glint in his eye, That's all I'm saying until you tell me why you saved me. He gave muted bark of laughter, I know it isn't from the kindness of your heart, woman. No one was kind if they had the choice not to be. She could have stepped over his body and kept walking. She obviously had other things in mind if she was going to be saving lives.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

Let's not be too modest here, my dear. You don't have to hide secrets from me. I'm just as much a monster as you if not more . Her poised fingers squirmed around his jawline and tilted his head upward to meet her piercing, olive gaze. Her eyes were strikingly light in comparison to her shimmery bronze skin giving her the appearance of a demon. I won't force you to say anything. You're your own man, do as you wish. She smiled. It was a beautiful smile, crooked and devious a set of jagged, sharp teeth would be befitting. What I gave you is a narcotic, generally fed to the body intravenously. I acquired it during a routine trip to the hospital. What she hadn't mentioned was that her alchemical abilities allowed her to transfuse the liquid into a solid counterpart. Her other hand, equally as soft and as dominant, glided over his sternum and down over the twisted, tortured sinew that composed his abdominal muscles. It rested just below his naval where she gave him a demeaning pat, as if he were some new pet. I can cut off the doses. But fair warning - you'll be writhing on the floor like a moth in molasses come midnight.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

I don't doubt that, woman, Jack met her eyes, his canine gold gaze staring impassively at her uncanny appearance. What was she? She smelled different. Not all human. Maybe she wasn't lying about being more of a monster. Something about her seemed off. Though he attributed the strength in her grip to his weakness. She was not a wolf or any sort of skin changer. She should not be able to command his gaze so utterly. But he didn't like his tilted head, exposing his neck. Jack felt shame and anger creep in. She doesn't know, he reasoned, that's she's making you look like you've submit. Still, she'd die once he was better. Quickly, out of thanks. But she'd still be dead. Fair enough, I won't say anything, Jack replied, narrowing his gaze at the smile. Pretty smile. But sly. Even malicious. Hospital. Had she taken him to the hospital? He doubted that. He'd be arrested or worse by now if she had. She'd obviously gone while he lay unconscious. Her hand slid slowly down the torn and near shredded flesh of his torso. A little pat. How demeaning. Guess I'll keep taking it. It cost him something to say that. He had no wish to appear weak in front of his captor? Benefactor? But the pain would keep him from healing. Changing. Snapping at one's own wounds was a great way to bleed to death.
Thread: The Bad and the Uncanny

During his stay in Cacia's abode he would find that she was constantly starving for control. She went to outlandish extremes to capture and maintain. It was evident that she was pleased with hat patient's subservience. Admittedly she was slightly fatigued from the day's events and was less then willing to play I'm the boss games with him all night. You're welcome to try and kill me, if that sates your innermost desires. The statement was eerily abrupt and frightening in its stark blatancy. It was her nonchalance that made her words truly terrorizing. I'm unsure as to what it is but I can tell there's this behemoth desire welling up inside of you ... and I find it rather unpleasant. The lapse of silence seemed befitting considering the situation. A very elegant Cacia glided from the bed-side to the door frame effortlessly, insuring her footfalls went unnoticed. She was like a virtual ghost, making her existence as unknown as she possibly could. You have two options. I can cauterize the wounds closed for you, or, you can wait until they heal naturally. It's time versus pain. Take your pick.