Right, you miserable lot. Let's talk about succubi. That's the plural of succubus, for all of you who wanked your way through classes.

Which, while we're on the subject, is what succubi are meant to make you do. But sometimes, they don't bother with the tidy bodies and gorgeous faces. Sometimes, they're not interested in sucking your soul out through your dick. They'd rather rip it out of your chest. That's when they come at you with bloody great teeth and claws and other things you don't want to hear about. And that's when you remember they're not just tarts--they're demons.

As far as I can tell, some of the uglier ones were here, in this City. They didn't meet the best of ends, though. Something sprayed their metaphysical guts all over the City. Turns out that shit burns. In a metaphysical sense, of course. Burns in this case meaning "turns whoever and whatever it touches a little bit demonic themselves." Or more than a little bit, if you're following along at home.

The deities couldn't be arsed mopping it up. No surprise there, eh? The only surprise is that somehow we managed to do it without their help. Maybe I'm not completely surrounded by idiots. Just mostly.

[ooc: what's that? Nope, John is not admitting that he was responsible for the hellplot...that would be too easy. But those who are aware that there was a massive spiritual backlash right around his return, followed by several days of nightmares and bad feelings, followed by the hellplot, may put the pieces together and accuse him if they so wish. Mood reads as "annoyed."]

[accidental voice post]

[A split second of silence, then a loud splash, followed by more splashing--]

Fucking Christ!

[Coughing, sputtering--]

I knew the bloody deities had got something in store for me when I tried that, but this is just uncalled for. Not even very creative, either.

[More splashing, then:]

Bugger. One of these things again. Thought I'd got rid of it. Ah, I s'pose it's got its uses right now, eh?

Anyone there? Feel like rescuing a bloke from drowning?

Don't worry. Nothing more ought to be coming after you, at this point.

[OOC: John returns! (For the record, he activated a spell he'd left inside the clock, which the deities had altered so that it dumped him out in the middle of the ocean.) Psychics and other "sensitives" will notice that a couple seconds after his post starts, some kind of nasty backlash ripples through the City; if it's IC for them, they can also start having nightmares. All other effects will not show up for a few more days. See this post for more details.]

[voice post]

[static]

--'king hell, can't believe I've still got one of these things--

[violent coughing]

Right.

[sound of running; something slamming]

Did you lot really think any of that bollocks would do any good? Look--I'm trying to do you a favor here--get a dictionary. Turn to the "S" section--no, further, after "shit" but before "symbolism"--

SUBTLETY.

Jesus wept.

No, don't bother trying to tell me what I've missed. I'm a little short on time right now.

[OOC: The aftermath of the escape attempt distracted the succubi enough to let John escape their clutches, and he is now planning his final attack on them, which will lead into his return in a little over a week and this plot a few days later. He's now posting largely to distract his pursuers by deflecting them onto nosy passersby on the Network, because he's a bastard like that. Characters who respond to this post may, if their players want, later mention catching a glimpse of some horrifying, demonic-looking ethereal thing, but fortunately, they will refrain from actually attacking anyone (other than John).]

If I were a less cynical bloke, I might be asking why everyone in this City lets the deities get away with bollocks like yesterday's curse. Too bad I already know: because everyone's too bloody scared and apathetic to do shit about it. Easier to stick your brain-damaged heads in the sand, wait for the next curse, and pretend it won't be as bad.

Too bad for you I haven't got the slightest intention of following your lead. The gods here haven't learned that if you want to run a hateful, hurtful world, you'd better do it from the shadows and the sidelines so no one can come after you and make you pay.

Oh, and for the rest of you. I've heard a little something about eating souls?

You can try mine, but you'll be puking it out in the gutters after the first bite.

That shit is tainted.

[OOC: Strikes are internal monologuing. Feel free to poke him with ex-characters for the curse.]

I'd bet that tomorrow the lot of you'll have your knickers in a twist over what's going on now. And you ought to know, I win my bets.

Question is, how many of you will stop and think, "Maybe this bollocks wouldn't happen if only we didn't worry so much about playing roles and fitting into other people's moulds in the first place?"

Not very many, I think.

It's none of my concern now, is it? I'll just be over here, laughing at all of you.

Ha!

...Why is the place I go to get my cigarettes closed? It's always open. It--

Great.

I'm in the goddamn Mirror City.

This totally sucks.

[OOC: ...is American. Will deny it strenuously afterwards.]

It bloody well figures, dunnit? The one day I leave my trenchcoat at the flat, this happens. It's not that I'm not used to rain--I'm a Londoner, you know--but this is the first time I've seen it come down like this here.

The answer is forty-two, by the way.

I haven't got a dry cigarette anywhere. I checked.

I hate this fucking place.

[Edit]

...I s'pose they're not always bad.

[OOC: had to make a post today just to abuse John further ♥ I'm likely to be slow for RL-related reasons that I'd rather not get into here, but I'll try to respond to all tags. Also, link is not there ICly.]

It's been a hell of a week. And I don't use that expression lightly, you know.

All I'm going to say is that some people take my initials too seriously. And other people don't react very well, but that's only to be expected, innit?

As for today's curse. Oi, you gods--ever occurred to you that you could just ask if you wanted cake? There are enough kindly idiots here that you'd get plenty, even if most of us hate you miserable bastards.

I'm not making you any cake. Especially since you sent my mate home--who'd put out the fire, eh?

( private to Eden and Tony // warded )

( private to Nicodemus // warded )

( private to Faye // warded )

[OOC: Yeah I've been putting off posting and commenting lately even though there's a lot of stuff for John to post about--sorry! Hopefully I can handle it for a while today. Also, he's totally lying about the cake thing. He did bake one. Or try to. He was half-asleep at the time, so he's not sure what went into it other than "most of the booze in the flat," but there was a lot of fire and smoke and he's still airing out the apartment.]

[accidental voice post]

[Sound of a match being struck.]

Ah--

[Something dripping.]

Hmm.

Cor cordis veritatis sapit. Cor cordis veritatis dicit.

[Tearing, splattering--]

Ha, got you, you fu--

[end voice mode!]

Right, I've been back in the city for all of ten fucking days. So far we've had Shakespeare, war, zombies, and fuck knows what else I've missed--

Never a bleeding dull moment.

Much as I hate to be the fucking hero here...you ought to all know, if you don't already, that these zombies aren't really zombies. Not the proper voodoo kind, anyway. They're demon puppets.

And I think I ought to be able to give any of you lot who want to do something about it a clear path to the bastard controlling them. Maybe even weaken it a bit. Don't expect me to be doing any slaying, though. Not my job. I don't like risking harm to my delicate pink flesh.

This bloke seems to know more about the thing--and how to hurt it. Might want to talk to him about it if you're curious or looking to do some damage.

private to Lady // warded

Once the demon's down for the count, I ought to be able to find out if someone summoned the bugger or if it came here the way we all do. Before that? Not a chance, kid.

[OOC: As stated here, John will not be participating in any demon-slaying, but he'll be helping to organize it. I'm sure we'll come up with more details as things progress. Also, sorry sorry my Latin is awful. I should have paid more attention in high school.]

Fuck me, how the bloody hell'd I end up in this arse end of reality again, now of all sodding times?

[OOC: For this curse, John is taken from the events of the Bad Blood spinoff, which means he a) comes from a near future where Britain is on the edge of an almost farcical civil war and b) has only the fuzziest of recollections of his life before the past few months, aside from a few unimportant anecdotes. It also means that unlike in regular canon, where he supposedly looks younger than he is due to his demon blood, he completely looks his seventy-two years of age.]

Oh, for fuck's sake, Eden--

Right. Listen up, you lot.

I hope you all know that I would be a bloody awful Warden.

For one thing, I'm usually on the other side of the law. Putting me in charge of the coppers here would be a terrible conflict of interest. Not to get into any great detail here, but they don't call me Conjob just 'cos of my name, you know.

And I'm just a bit lacking in morals. I smoke, I drink, I gamble. I shag women and don't ring afterwards. I've been known to have it off with blokes, too, if I find 'em interesting enough, and not treat them any better than the birds.

Let's not forget that I'm a pretty normal human, as this place's standards go. Sure, I've got some magic. Yeah, most of my enemies are dead or worse. But so are most of my friends, and do you really want that happening to the whole fucking police department? Besides, I can take care of myself just fine, but putting the law enforcement of this entire mad City in the hands of a bloke with just a bit of magic to his name? Not the brightest of ideas.

I hate this fucking City.

[OOC: Strikes deleted. Watch John try to persuade people not to vote for him while revealing as little as possible about the exact nature of his past misdeeds--oh, and how squishy he actually is. D:]

[voice post]

[Same noises of churning gears and endless ticking as in the previous post.]

I hate this fucking City. I hate these fucking gods. I hate this fucking clock.

I want my bleeding cigarettes--

What's this?

Ha. I knew I'd find something like this eventually. Dare I pull the switch? It might mean the end of the worlds, you know--well, if it does, I'll fix it then.

[Clunk.]

Is that it--

[Swish thwack thump.]

...Ha bloody ha.

[OOC: John pulled a dramatic-looking lever in what seemed like the center of the clock...and got snagged by a mysterious rope from behind, was flipped upside down, and found himself dangling from a tree in Xanadu. I'm kind of woozy tonight so I won't be responding to that many comments before going to bed, but I'll definitely get the rest when I wake up.]

[voice post]

Ha, you bastards, I'm in. So much for the impenetrable clock of mystery and doom, eh?

[Strange metallic noises, as of gears grinding--and the ticking.]

And don't think you can scare me off with the usual door-swings-ominously-shut-behind-you bollocks. I don't want to go out that way.

I'm not leaving till I know what makes this bleeding place tick.

[OOC: mod-approved! John's biggest wish is to know the secrets of the City and its gods, so today he's been able to get past the barriers and into the clock...but no one can follow him, and now he's kind of stuck. D: I'm going to sleep now, but will pick up tags in the morning. Expect John to get progressively crankier as his cigarettes run out. ♥]

Bloody fucking hell, it feels like zombie sharks chewed through to me brains.

...And I still remember what happened last night, so obviously I didn't drink enough.

Blimey--pardon my language--but the girl is gone again! Oh, what would your mother say if she were here today?

It's times like this I almost regret giving up my wild life to settle down and raise a child with my dear departed wife. But I mustn't doubt! The girl is a good child, I know she is--she's just going through a bit of a wild stage. I only hope she realizes her error sooner than I did!

Eden, I'll have supper waiting for you if you come back by curfew. Then we can watch the telly together before I put you to sleep nice and early for the night!

[OOC: still semi-hiatused on account of trying not to burn myself out, and I have to sleep early tonight, but I'm too horrible to my characters to pass this up. :D]

Oh, I like this one. A voluntary curse. If you're a bleeding idiot, eat the waffles and have some horrible fate befall you; if you've any brains at all, stay away and be...about as safe as this place ever lets any poor sod be.

It's a bloody sight better than all that shit over Easter weekend. I'm sure there are easier ways than that to scare Jesus off, if that's what the deities here were on about. Or maybe it was their way of welcoming the spring. Who the fuck knows?

Speaking of the flowers and the birds and the bees, I'm flattered, Father, but you're not my type.

[OOC: link for OOC reference only.]

Right, so it turns out my inner child's a horrible little brat. Who's surprised? Anyone? I didn't fucking think so.

I've had enough of these bloody curses. It's time to say fuck this City and its little gods too. Fuck them all, right in their smallest and least lubricated holes.

Bleeding buggering bastard Christ. You don't get to toy with people like this, you shits!

[OOC: John isn't saying it, but he's especially angry today because he's been hit with the memory theater curse. His Network presence is warded to hell and back, so while the magically inclined can tell that something's up, it would take some heavy-duty spell-busting to get through to the memories. That, or running into him in person. And he's hiding. But you're welcome to try to lure him out.]

[voice post]

Hullo, what's this thing? Can it get us some chips? Or tell me where I am?

I've been here since yesterday and I'm still lost. This isn't any fun anymore. Adventures are meant to be done by supper.

Cheryl? You're not going to tell Dad on me, are you? I didn't mean to run away for so long. I was going to come back. I didn't mean what I said about your knickers. I don't even know what a slag is, just that a good girl shouldn't be one.

I'm hungry, and it's cold out and I slept on a bench last night and I'm still hungry. Someone help me get home.

[OOC: have tiny John, before he developed filters of flippancy and snark to cover up his dysfunction and vulnerability. He's still a morbid little brat, though. No one ever taught him better.]

[voice post]

This--

I--

...

[Voice distinctly more soprano than usual.]

All right, so this is a little funny, I'll give you bastards that.

But it's not nearly as bleeding funny as the fucking gods who set it on me must think it is.

[Pause.]

Fuck. This shirt won't button all the way.

[OOC: female and asexual for the curse...although he hasn't realized the latter yet. He will soon enough, though~]