Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: In Your Darkest Hour (Seven x Pocket)

Dan Dreiberg frequently had cause to feel clumsy and cumbersome, and the situation he presently found himself was no different in that regard as Destiny - Magdalena - scrawled her name across the margins of a notebook, he had to pause to observe the elegance of it. The more introspective part of his brain observed that she had clearly spent a long time writing and had put a great deal of thought into every stroke she made with the pen - which was more than any American could say, most of them stopped using cursive in grade school. Not to mention the tiny little heart made his own ache a little, for reasons he wasn't sure of. Maybe because it reminded him of a girl in high school, doodling in her notebook at her desk. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that she was likely quite young - but even with all of his social ineptitudes, Dreiberg knew better than to ask a lady her age - it was rude. Instead, he gently took the proferred pen and scribbled his own name down - left handed, the words all tilted to the right, written out with little flourish, the legible but untiny writing of a man who has spent years writing out painfully long papers - usually about physics or birds. Or sometimes both. He held out the notebook for her to see, feeling for all the world like Tarzan trying to communicate with Jane, Magdalena. Dan repeated, It's a beautiful name.
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

Before leaving her to the discretion of the forest's inhabitants outside of the kingdom's walls, King Modeus III stripped his most prized knight of her weapons, her chain-mail and any poultices she was toting about on her person. With a pair of leggings one were to adorn under their leg armor, a tunic and an over-sized gray cardigan, she was exposed to the coming winter. Frost had bitten every tree and every flower, and soon sought the warmth of her tastefully bronzed flesh. She realized she was lucky to survive the fall virtually unscathed - the king's men had thrown her over the 5 meter high threshold, but her fall was broken by a copse of dying blueberry bushes. Her opened wounds stung in the frigidity of the coming evening. The man that had betrayed her personally saw to her beating. Her cheeks were split, her legs bruised and a deep stab wound from a stiletto to her left oblique. Her dark lion's mane tumbled into her ginger-ale gaze as she forced herself to her tumid feet. She drew in a sharp breath, suppressing the jolts of liquid agony that tortured her curvaceous frame and forced a step forward. The forest was not in the least bit inviting. A thin, blue haze hovered lowly about the forest's ground, clouding the majority of the woman's vision. There was something eerie about this wilderness yet something equally as inviting. The peacefulness and overall quiet made her reminisce on her past. Why flee her home outside of the desert and come to this eternally damned province? Within the desert mesas she could be embracing her shamanic roots, healing or aiding her people on the line's of battle ... but the king's enticing offer lured her far outside of her comfort zone. She cursed herself for it. The woman promised herself if she were ever to escape this ordeal this forest alive, she would return to the mesa and attack the castle with thousands of her men at her side. She was once a powerful soothsayer with immense magics at her disposal, but when she had stopped praying to her personal gods, when she had stopped taking regular doses of saffron and sage, that was when her power left her. So, here she was. Alone in this forest which was riddled with ravenous, emaciated werewolves, injured and vulnerable. listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

The pack was restless. A few were pacing in the slosh, some busied themselves with polishing their armor, others settled for glaring vengefully into the murky distance, limbs occasionally twitching. It was a dangerous feeling -restlessness- among a horde of beasts. For when that urging drive in their muscles and jaws becomes too much to surpress, it unleashes a fury all to happy to sink its fangs into the next fleshy morsel that edges near. Their behavior, though controlled, made Taev very anxious. He averted his wary scan of his subordinates and leveled his gaze forward. They couldn't have found a worst place to camp. However, he hadn't much of a choice. The weather lately had been merciless. As the cold was charging in, rain was a frequent curse. It turned hardened and pact dirt to mush and sludge. Clouds loomed above like smug spectors grinning over their suffering. The grey veil above made the trees seem to melt together. All in all, the environment had now become a pain to travel in and tracking impossible. Poking the weak fires absently, he called out to the nearest. Sabion, how long till we need to hunt ? Sabion paused from his inspecting of his jerkin. Tonight, Alpha. Mavrik zoomed in on his second-in-command and narrowed his eyes. Have we spent our rations so soon? We have plenty, Alpha. Ah, Mavrik then understood. Scanning his pack briefly, he agreed that hunting would be the only thing to ensure his packs' patience through this terrible weather. They were in need of a complicated game to keep them occupied and sated. He, also, was looking forward for a worthy kill.
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

Survival was first. Her key to longevity would be, primarily, avoiding the forest's indigenous creatures - the lycanthropes. On bare feet the woman traveled through the frost until the ground grew wet and moist under her heavy footfalls. The mud was balmy and warm and gave her feet salvation from the nippy late autumn air. She pressed her full lips in a hard line and proceeded, following the rivulet of freshly churned earth to a tiny marsh near a taught collection of trees. Relieved. That was what she felt. The tall woman knelt down on her shaken knees and plunged her hands into the mud. A wave of heat enveloped her body and suddenly, she felt energized, despite being famished beyond relief and injured. She retracted her paws, wiped some of the excess clay off and tucked them underneath her arms. Just as she proceeded to travel in what she believed was the direction leading out of the forest, she noted an eerie smog hovering high above the wilds' veil. Smoke, no doubt. But who would be out here in this weather? Bandits? A band of harlots traveling into town, perhaps? Or maybe even lycans. Fuck . She hoped inwardly that the mood would cover her scent because what she was planning was rather tricky. She was not one to louse about but this situation called for desperate measured. She remained ensconced amongst the brush, using the shadows of the grand oak trees to hide her. No doubt they had food - meat. She feared they wouldn't take to her sudden appearance so lightly. An injured woman in their neck of the woods? They'd be fools not to take advantage. listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

Feral snarls ripped forth from numerous throats, sending insignificant vermin jolting across the forest floor to safety. There was danger and no place was safe for any creature with a beating heart cradled tenderly in their chest. That constant thump thump was a siren's call to these beasts. They would be all to eager to rip and tear into the source. A loud crunch followed by soaring splinters cracked the tense air as Mavrik's claws sank deep into the bark of a tree. He clung to the trunk with no amountn of effort, snout lifted in the air, sniffing delicately. Suddenly his ears went erect and his wolf gaze snapped east. At the blood-chilling howl, the pack bolted, their paws thundering against the ground. Mavrik threw himself over the many werewolves and landed silently in the lead. Already his gaze began to bleed red just as his packmates. His throat burned, desire boiling in the pit of his stomach, and the thrill of the hunt urging him to kill.
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

The ominous howl ripped through the hollow being of the wood. The woman, startled by the sound, rushed out from the bushes and sought better cover. Unfortunately her plan to louse off into the camp had failed miserably and, if she was not careful, would culminate in her rape, death and possibly being eaten. Her heart pounded in her chest like a well tuned drum, over and over, louder and louder. She stumbled while trying to flee, landing head first into a puddle of mud. A painful groan fled from her lips, forced up from the depth of her stomach. She struggled to stand. When she successfully managed to climb to her feet, she was greeted with a rather odd grunt, one a rabid dog or ox would make. Ever so slowly she raised her head, fearful of what she'd find. Even the knight, one of the king's most powerful templars, would not fair well in a match against a lycan. Perhaps if her stamina was higher and she was unscathed ... but injured, sore, fatigued, famished ... all of these elements did not forge a warrior. The beast laid down one of its gargantuan paws and skulked in, brushing its moist nose against her wound. She drew in her bottom lip just as her breath caught in her throat. The beast was allured by the scent of her freshly spilled blood and continued to please itself by rubbing its nose further and further into the ripped open flesh. The woman, silent until now, could no longer bare the agony and let forth a frightening howl of unbearable affliction. listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

His lips pulled back to reveal a row of sharp, talon-like fangs and his body shook with unrestrained glee. The human cry sent a wave of absolute blood-lust through him and his pack. Mavrik herded his pack further into the brush and they were all too eager to follow. In fact, Mavrik noticed one of his newly-turned subordinates forcing himself to keep a good distance from him, his Alpha. A short, glutteral sound emitted from the back of his throat. It was the closest thing to a chuckle in this form. To pass the Alpha in a hunt meant one thought himself superior. It would be taken as a challenge and, to this very night, Mavrik had never lost a challenge. Since he shredded the last challenger into mere strips of fur and flesh, and forced his pack to devour the remains of their fallen comrade, he'd never been challenge again. His reminiscing was cut short as a new, unfamiliar scent assaulted his senses. Though unfamiliar, the scent held qualities he recognized without doubt. The musky, bitter smell of a werewolf. To any new were, the scent of his own kind was often intolerable. But Mavrik and his pack had desensitized to one another. Understanding that this werewolf was in the same direction of their future prey, animalistic fury clawed throughout his very core and there was nothing that could stop the blood-curdling snarl rip forth. His pack practically shuddered fearfully and some even had the balls to manuever their sprint further away. Finally, Sabion caught the scent as well and, before he had the chance to let the pack in on the reason behind their Alpha's behavior, Mavrik howled once again and with a violent burst of speed, he thrust himself further ahead, kicking up mud, clay and grass. The wind braced against his muscled, canine body in a vain attempt to stop the alpha's rampage. Mavrik's eyes glowed a bright, demonic red. He would kill whatever pathetic creature who dared to steal his hunt.
Thread: a werewolf's discretion (dream/nocturn)

This particular beast, a rogue of the wilds, had no pack affiliation. It was merely a stray mutt, emaciated and lonely, looking for a half decent meal. He happened to be skulking around the kingdom walls nearby as the knights threw scraps - humans scraps - over the barricade from time to time. He just happened upon a live one this time around and she was the perfect meal ticket. But, the brute strength of a expertly trained knight akin to that of a starving lycan was nearly equal. The woman erected her hand and swatted the creature across its maw. Fire burned ardent in its goldenrod eyes. Fueled by inexplicable hunger it seen only rage and felt only the lust to feed. When the woman's furled fist had stricken the beast, its heart damn near flipped with vehemence. He placed his hand on the woman's chest, and pressed down. Her eyes went wide as she drew in the breath she believed to be her last. If the behemoth continued down this path he would easily crush her sternum and ribs, ultimately culminating in death. When the new lycan assailant made his presence known, the starving lycan jerked its head adjacent to his prey. With his maw left ajar and a row of menacingly sharp teeth left glinting in the low light, he paced forward and howled as it to say, 'I found her first'. But the finders keepers law had no meaning here. However, survival of the fittest did. After being unintentionally freed by her dull-witted assailant, the ostentatious woman fled to her feet and sought cover in the nearby brush. Her hair was all but a garbled black blur, shaded by the low light within the woods. The lycan, realizing his mistake turned furiously, torn between chasing his jaded prey or dealing with this threat to his dinner. listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: â dream's little boons,

In December, a very, very close cousin of mine - Spencer - was deported back to Haiti after being here in Canada for nearly two years. He, his little sister and his mother were forced against there will to leave. I wish them the best though deep down inside I wished there was something I could do I gave them money, clothes to go back with and a stainless steal cooking set for Spencer's mother's birthday seeing as she loved nothing more then to cook. Spencer and I had a great time together ... though he could only speak french and Creole, my being Canadian made communication no problem. I taught him English and in return, he taught me his native tongue. But still ... he left. When he arrived I got a phone call from him learning that he was living with his father who was extremely ill. He couldn't find a job to support his family and felt useless. So, he planned to move to Puerto Rico, which was still a poverty-stricken place but not nearly as bad as where he had been living - in hopes to find employment. Every weekend, he said, he'd take a boat from Puerto Rico to Haiti and drop off food, medicine and clothes for his mother, brother and father if God spared life. Over the weeks his idea panned out well until the earthquake came. His father being in his week condition was no match for the trauma and passed away during the first tremor. His mother and brother were separated nearly a week after the cataclysm his mother was found alive but extremely injured and dehydrated ... but his brother was nowhere to be found. He, himself, was also caught amongst the turmoil. He lost his leg to a piece of broken rebar from a fallen school as he was there to pick up his brother. When his wounds were treated, luckily by someone with medical expertise, he contacted me before anyone else to tell me about the horrible news. His mother was healing well but his brother ... still not a word from him. Just this morning the found the boy, shaken, dehydrated and hysterical. He called me yet again crying. I never heard a man with such abhorrence and worry in his voice. So his brother is on his way here now, I said that my family and I would watch him, and that we would give him the best until Spencer and his mother could return too.listulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: Coachella 2010.

Will anyone else be attending? My friend purchased an extra ticket for me. So it seems like I'll get to go to the USA for the first time in my life. Hyped to see Passion Pit and Phoenix. 3 listulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: Coachella 2010.

what is this event?
Thread: Coachella 2010.

It's an art display music show. listulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: Coachella 2010.

ooh, sounds nifty. where's it at?
Thread: Coachella 2010.

Indio, California, I do believe. I've seen some of the art displays ... rather stunning!!! DD !-- w --a classpostlink relnofollow href w -- listulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: Romance in the Band (me and creamylips)

Lawrence sighed as he sat backstage with his small toolbox as he was looking over some of the amps that he personally had made for the show. He was the bass player for a small band, in truth they were not that well known but they did get gigs and that was what mattered most. They would mostly play at clubs and the like and tonight was no different. So here was Lawrence working on the amps and all of the electronics alone, in truth he prefered it that way, it gave him the time to work and get everything right. Now Lawrence did not look like a rocker by any means but he was musically and technologicly gifted. Hell when he was in high school he was known as the best bass voice and player, so it was natural that he went into either classical singing or into a band, however it had been one girl's decision more than his own. Lawrence definately did not look like he belonged in a rock band, his hair was short and light brown, no dye or funky hairstyles and his soft hazel eyes were behind a pair of brown rimmed glasses, he never wore contacts, and heck he did not seem to fit the rocker feel with his body type. He was 6'4 and while his arms and legs seemed to be pretty well built he did have a bit of a gut to him. he was also a nerd by nature and he liked japanese culture a bit and he would often be caught in his spare time playing videogames or watching some anime. Truth be told Lawrence had been offered a singing job but he had decided to also try out his bass playing skills, but when he went to the audition he saw this beautiful girl there who was already part of the band, he had impressed them with his skills and he had been a bit iffy to join but it had been her asking him that made him say yes. he had the biggest crush on her, the lead singer of the group but he knew full well that she and the drummer were dating, and in truth that really made him steamed, hell just thinking about it now made his movements a bit more violent as he was hooking things up. The man was a waste of flesh in Lawrence's eyes since the man smoked, drank, and got high like it was a religious act that he needed to preform every second of every day, he did not deserve any woman yet he had the one lawrence wanted. Sighing as he set up the final amp on the stage he headed back off stage to get his Bass and tune it as well as the guitarist's guitar. He would then go on stage and preform a mike check and then everything would be done. Sighing he moved to get to work, his t-shirt that showed the game logo for Brutal Legend, his way of making a joke, and his jeans looked a bit more tattered, the way the band made him look like he belonged on stage, that and they forced him to wear converse, which he did not mind.
Thread: Romance in the Band (me and creamylips)

Why aren't you cooperating? Jen mumbled quietly. The girl was in one of the dressing rooms backstage, sitting on a chair infront of the mirror. There was no one else in the room for her to be talking to, and she was infact talking to herself. Well, not really herself, but her hair. The black mess on her head reached down to her shoulders, including very choppy layers with lots of volume and side bangs. In all honesty, her hair really wasn't that bad right now. Her bangs were just not cooperating, not swooping across her forehead the way she wanted them to. Jen sighed. She had been at this for what seemed like forever and she had only made her hair worse than before. Fine, you win. she mumbled, giving up. She looked down at the small counter infront of her, unzipping the makeup kit that lay on it. She took out her eyeliner and eyeshadow, doing a smokey eye on the lids of her piercing blue eyes. She added some mascara aftewards to complete the look. Once she was done her makeup, she changed her nose ring, putting in a small silver stud. She then put earrings in the many holes of her ear, placing studs and small hoops. She ran her fingers through the roots of her hair, voluminizing it more. She smiled at herself in the mirror when she was done, ignoring her hair that still wasn't right and concentrating on her face. She stood up from her hair, pulling up her ripped black skinny jeans. She pulled her white t-shirt with a black design down over the waist of her jeans, her belt peaking out underneath it. She had many bracelets around her wrists and a few rings on her fingers. A locket hung around her neck with a small picture of her and her best friend inside, and she never took it off. On her feet were black and white high-top converse, which were a bit rundown, though she still loved them. She took one last look at herself in the mirror before walking out of the dressing room. She walked around backstage, looking for her bed members to make sure they were ready, though she knew they probably were. She was always the one who took the longest, considering she was the only girl in the band and had to do hair, makeup, jewelry, etc. She walked out onto the stage, smiling as she looked out beyond it, picturing the people who would be crowded there later. She absoloutely adored the feeling she got when she was up there on stage, singing for the few fans the band had. She turned her head when she heard the sound of someone's voice being amiplified by a microphone. She smiled when she saw who it was, waving to him before walking up to him. Hey Lawrence.
Thread: Romance in the Band (me and creamylips)

She nodded as she took the microphone from him. Thank you, she said into the mike. She honestly didn't think she looked that amazing right now, nor did she usually look as amazing as Lawrence thought she was. He was always so nice to her. You don't look so bad yourself, she said, testing the mike as well as talking to her friend. She turned her attention away from him only when she heard the oh-so-familiar voice of her boyfriend. Sorry, I wanted to talk to Lawrence for a bit, she said into the mike again, before bringing her arm down to her side so everyone wouldn't be able to hear every word she said. She returned his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. She loved this boy so much, and even though there were things he did that pissed her off, she always ignored them. Even if he only wanted to do one thing most of the time, she knew that he loved her. If he loved her and she loved him, then that was all the mattered. Besides, she didn't really mind that activity. He was very good at it, and he made her feel so amazing. How could she ever turn him down? She pulled her lips from his, turning her head to look at Lawrence. She was a bit disappointed that he was leaving. They barely ever got a chance to talk, Jack always managing to come in just when they could have a decent conversation. Bye. See you soon, she said. She knew she would get to see him on stage, but they couldn't really talk while they were performing. She let go of Jack, turning off the microphone in her hand and putting it down. She watched as Lawrence walked off with the instruments, before turning her head to look back at Jack, walking back over to him. 'Kay, she said, knowing he wanted to go somewhere they could be alone.