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Cain as a Perfect Boyfriend! [20 Nov 2006|05:08am]

soubisgirl
[ mood | busy ]

Hello all! I too am new and a pro role player. I play 7 characters on Myspace alone!
Well,there is a new place on Myspace that is also coming here here called PERFECT BOYFRIEND.
The idea is to have all the bishounen anime boys in one place,where women ages 18+,can get a "perfect boyfriend".
The idea was made by three young women who love anime like myself and some of you.
I am a member of the staff,who plays the anime guys for fun.
I play as Akabane Kuroudo of Get Backers and now Earl/Count Cain C.Hargreaves!
If you are 18 and female,you can ad me as that is the rules of this "perfect boyfriend" RPG.
The profile is here: Count Cain

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Being Emmeline. [11 Dec 2005|10:14pm]

vitalquills

Hello! I absolutely adore Count Cain series, and yes, Kaori Yuki is my god. I plan to use my personal journal, which I do not update very much, in role playing Emmeline! Cain, should have chosen Emmeline; they would've been absolutely perfect; always bickering, yelling at each other, and both very arrogant... etc. vitalquills is the journal, but I don't have too much up there. Mostly Samurai Deeper Kyo stuff, and the fanfic on there are some of my earliest stuff, so they aren't very good...

Hmm.. is this good enough to introduce myself?

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Heya new here [05 Jul 2004|02:46pm]

devilofdarkness
[ mood | happy ]

Hi people, I'm new here and I joined because I'm a very big fan of count cain(earl cain) I am so glad that I found people that can write english( I'm half english and german) and know count cain! it's a pain when you alway have to write german oh almost forgot I'd be very happy if someone helped me out abit thanks!

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AGGH! [12 Apr 2004|10:30pm]

fuzzy_oscar
[ mood | not hungry ]

P.E.

I found a gigantic spider in my food! I have a feeling of whom that spider was portent, but sometimes I'm off on my feelings. Suddenly not hungry. Will either sleep for the rest of the day or go riding.

P.P.E.

I forgot to note: Holy Week (including Easter) was entirely uneventful. But then that's no suprise considering that only the servants, if anyone, in this household are highly religious. I went to confession (as I do once a year. I'm damned for sure) and confessed some things that I would put in this journal if I wasn't so sensitive about them. But they mostly included stealing things from Cain and the results of my hatred towards Riff . . pranks and such that annoy him, and the names I call him. Such as "baboon" and "Cain's burly inhumanly tall manslave."

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Ah. So that's where they went . . . [12 Apr 2004|10:16pm]

fuzzy_oscar
[ mood | hungry ]

I read that note today. I'm sure if you were as suspicious as Cain is, journal, you would be suspecting it to be from his father or one of his persistent stalkers . . something along the lines of "meet me ______. Come alone - leave your butler at the mansion" But, fortunately for me, it was not. I showed it to Merry after reading it, and she promptly screamed at me and stomped off. I recognised the seal later after opening it as being one of Cain's old ones he no longer uses. The note said (since I know if you were human you would be dying of suspense)


Dear Master Oscar and Miss Merryweather:

I and Riff have gone off to solve a mysterious crime in Brighton. Apparantly, it requires my expertise in poisons. Hopefully see you soon, I request that you and Merry not search for us, as your presence will only hinder our progress.

Sincerely,

Cain C. Hargreaves


Now, even an oaf like myself could recognise Cain's handwriting, and this was not it. And although Cain likes to keep his notes ceremonious, I don't think any torture or drug known to man would convince him to address me "Master Oscar." One can barely even convince him to call me "Oscar" instead of "that annoying man again." Obviously Cain was too busy to write a note, and gave it to Riff by dictation, or made him write it, or something.

I'm hungry, journal. I think I shall take advantage of my being the only resident here and request that the cook make something nice for me, seeing how there will be no witnesses if I enjoy myself. Hrm. Perhaps later I should do as Merry has and ignore Cain's request intirely by intruding on their mystery solving. Later meaning . . . a week later if they don't come back.

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Of romance and flinging things [24 Mar 2004|07:58pm]

michaela_judith
Dear Journal,

I’m happy to say that, beside some recent unfortunate events, things have been going quite well for me in the House of Disraeli. Shall I start my narrative from where I left off last time?

My appearance in the doorway precipitated what I can only call “cowering” on Cassian’s part; what other name is there for hiding behind the Doctor and shaking visibly? The Doctor was a different matter; he arched his eyebrows and gave me a cool look before asking, a bit icily, what I was doing there. Not the warm welcome I had hoped for. I stated my case plainly; that I was sick of living with Alexis’ rules and that I’d poison them both if they didn’t let me stay with them. Jezebel countered that he had the antidote for my spiders’ venom; I showed him that I had new spiders and informed him that Fuzzy was particularly deadly. There was snickering from Cassian’s quarter. I responded with a withering glare.

With this we had reached an impasse; silence reigned, and in my desperation I admitted that I couldn’t go back to headquarters, not after what I had put in the Cardmaster’s bed, followed by a brief description of what I had used.

To my surprise, they both began to laugh. It was then agreed that I could stay, as long as I didn’t poison anyone until an antidote was formulated. I was shown to a room, and from there I write this entry. It’s been quite pleasant so far; the spiders are allowed anywhere I go, even at the table, and as long as I leave Cassian alone, I’m looked upon rather indulgently.

It’s getting easier to not poison him too, and not only because if I do I’ll be homeless. He’s almost as terrified of me not making death threats at him as he was when I did, and I find making my spiders pop out of my hair or clothes when he’s around frightens him as well. I hate to admit it, but I even find him endearing at times; a few days ago I saw him give a flower to the Doctor, without ulterior motives and purely as a gesture of love. Of course I made a nasty comment, but it was awfully cute, as far as tiny little men caring about someone can be, and the Doctor looked rather pleased. There’s obviously something between them, something I think I’ll encourage; it gives me a non-fatal hobby, it keeps them occupied, and it will keep Jezebel away from my precious Cain.

Which leads me to a bit of bad news: my darling has vanished! He and his little male maid are nowhere to be found, and I’m terribly worried. I’ll do something about it as soon as I can figure out a way to keep Lord Gladstone out of the house. I’ve been charged with driving him away, in lieu of rent, and it’s getting harder. He keeps adopting ridiculous disguises and trying to sneak in; it’s gotten so bad that I’ve had to stop everyone approaching the house and ask them their opinion on the lower classes. If they don’t answer with a ten-minute monologue in which they compare the proletariats to worthless cattle, then it’s likely that they’re not Cassandra. The man can’t help himself, I swear; I’ve caught him four times in the last two days with that question, and chased him away by flinging buckets of indeterminate liquid on him. Jezebel made the liquid; I don’t know what it is, but apparently it’s caustic, judging from the shrieks. But not caustic enough to stop love, or in this case, a raging libido.

To Do List:
-Figure out a way to keep Cassandra away for at least a day-long period
-Fan the flames of love between the Doctor and Cassian
-Sneak into his mansion and figure out what happened to my beloved Cain!

Michaela
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[21 Mar 2004|05:30pm]

sexy_cassian
[ mood | aggravated ]

(OOC: Not sure how much Cassian knows about Cain because its never stated so I’m pretending that the doctors told him bunches of stuff even though he might have not, must read Earl Cain properly again.)

Dear Diary,

Michaela is attempting to kill me or poison me; anyway she intends to have me killed. Thank goodness the doctor doesn’t mind me hanging around with him and only parting from him when I must go send a message to Delilah or sleep (though I’d much rather sleep in his room or even in his bed).

During one of my trips to Delilah when I had to meet two of the best men ever! First when I go there that bastard of a High Priest decided to ‘attempt’ to make me trip by using his foot! Well I walked around it but that bastard seems to always like winning so he just goes and pushes me. I swear that man acts exactly like a child, except maybe smarter (I hate to write that) and a pervert. At least he can’t win the doctor and the doctor hopefully won’t pull any unusual contracts with him in which he may lose and give his body up to him where it may be used in horrid ways.

The second man I had to meet, which was basically the reason of my visit was to meet the Card Master I dislike that man and cannot understand why the doctor decided to not go in, I guess he decided to use his excuse of wanting peace and quiet as a way of managing to stay away from the place that was possibly making him go mad. Well I inform the Card Master on all of the doctors doing like I had to and he asks me the most unreasonable questions. I dislike that man.

As I was coming back I see the most pretty girl selling flowers out of a basket, they were quite beautiful with different coloured flowers of yellow, red, pink, white and some others I don’t remember, I had some money on me so I bought a red one from the girl she was awfully happy.

I arrived back at the house and the doctor was sitting in the living room reading something, he looks at me when I come back and I go over and hand him the flower. I’m not sure why I did but he smiles and says its pretty, It was unlike him but I guess that the doctor doesn’t have much to smile about, his life or his mind doesn’t seem that good.

Well I hear footsteps behind me and I run and sit beside the doctor and see Michaela with a spider frowning, I am glad my hearing isn’t bad I do not want to be bitten. Of course I hadn’t realised that I’d also been clinging to the doctors arm and only realise when Michaela makes a remark.

I have a High Priest at here as well now, well at least this one isn’t a pervert and sexually attracted to the doctor but at least that one doesn’t try to kill me! Or maybe he does but he doesn’t say anything so not to look suspicious…

Well the night is late and I have a feeling the doctor is going to drag me on a trip somewhere so he can go and adore his beloved animals and nature. Its nice to see that behind this show he seems to put on he is quite a nice man, even though he hates humans, well he doesn’t hate me so I’m fine.

I just remembered that while the doctor was doing some work I noticed how beautiful his eyes were; they are so beautiful I must have stared at him for ages considering how he had asked me if anything was the matter. Of course he goes on to talk about the bloody eyes of that bloody Earl and how he’s love to take them out and preserve them in formalin, he must have said that over a hundred times to me. I can memorise some of the speeches I hear them so frequently. I swear if that bloody Earl hates his eyes so much why doesn’t he just let the doctor cut them out? ‘Oh I’m a child created by incest, I’m cursed, I was whipped, oh my life just generally sucks!’ oh who really gives a damn? Maybe that goddamn manservant of his will make him forget everything.

Hopefully I’ll be a lot calmer tomorrow or maybe not, depends on how far away from Michaela and her deadly spiders I am.

~Cassian~

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ooc: everybody sing da motown! [17 Mar 2004|06:43pm]

fuzzy_oscar
[ mood | sick ]

To Cain and Riff, our dear mod and her abstinent riffu, I have this to say (sing along if you know it):

You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling
Oh, oh that lovin’ feeling
You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling
Now it’s gone, gone, gone, oh, oh, oh.

Ha! that was fun. But yeah . . . I'm kidnapping you guys! So there! Dark carriages where Cain is tied up and blindfolded and hooo ha! Can you say sexual tension? Alright . . . maybe not. But anyways. This thing needs some life. We must feed it starbucks!! lots and lots of starbucks . . . anyway . . . moving on to the actual entry.
/OOCness.

Riff and Cain have gone missing. I'm sick and hungry and the cook doesn't take orders from me when Cain's not around, as if the only food I could eat was food that Cain had her specially prepare for me. But, that is not the situation, because Cain doesn't care if I have nice food. In fact, most of the time, my food tastes somewhat disgusting and abnormal, so I don't see why he has any point in requesting that the cook only make food for me when he's here.

Not much else is new - it's a lovely London spring at the mansion - meaning, precisely, that it is rainy and cold and altogether dismal. Hence why I have caught a cold.

Merry is rather anxious these days. But oddly enough, she has not gone in search of Cain and Riff, which suprises me very much. It almost seems as if her spirit's drugged and nailed down to the place - seeing her so disturbed upsets me. But then again, perhaps she too is ill. It's hard for me to tell. But whenever I come downstairs in the evenings, she's there, pacing menacingly, and doesn't acknowledge me.

Merry's behavior upsets me . . and this cold upsets me. And being hungry upsets me. Damn cook! I'll . . oh, I'll probably just wait here in bed and go hungry. Bother.

A small letter with no address or return address arrived yesterday, but I have no interest in it - I vaguely recognise the seal. I have much more interest in trying to go to sleep in these blankets that somehow are warm enough to make me sweat like a pig, but not warm enough to bring sensation into my frozen feet. But I shall attempt sleep again. And later I'll beg louder for food, perhaps that new maid will bring me some.

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sorry for the long wait >_< many happens in this 2 months [07 Mar 2004|11:32pm]
mad_moon_ida
[ mood | content ]

Too much happen in this blasted week. Well, first that someone has dared to play a prankster with Cardmaster sugar cubes. And let me tell you, that wasn't a wise thing to do, considering how paranoid he'd become this days. He keeps rambling on and on about how his son (the young Count, not Death) finally manages to find our Major Arcana hideout and manages to mimicked what he'd previously done and then began start a cursing fit about uncreativity and patents or something like that. He then noticed I'm still standing there and barked an order about managing tighter security and investigate the incident immediately.

Anyway, further research run by Hermit, proves that there's no leaking in our security (which means leaves me out of it). An even further research proves that the culprit is either the Shuzette's little clone or someone who succeds in abducting her spiders while we all know that the damned things never leaves her bags (or when she wants to freaks out people, her clothes) and bit anyone who dare try to prove otherwise.

Cardmaster really upset about this news and demands to bring forth Michaela to his chamber to have what commonly called as 'quality time'. When I asked what's the meaning of it, Cardmaster explained that was a heart-to-heart conversation that a parent would do when they'd found about misbehaving of their children. I wondered about the effectiveness of this methods, knowing how all of his sons turns out but decided better than said it and goes back to my room to calculate this month expenses.
------------------------------

Just waken up roughly by some screams in the hallway and goes for check. It turns out that Death finally shows up and Cardmaster being the paranoid parent he was, goes to lecture him. I don't know why but this is reminded me to a drama about juvenile son that run from home and the likes (but since Death is 26ish, I think this was way out of the picture). Anyway, what happens next makes me suspicious that Death has been watching the same drama as he screams that he can't take it anymore and would move out from the hideout (and that's a cheer for me, as that means less freaks that I should watch over and feeds). Now if only everyone watch the drama and had the same juvenile moods, my life would be happier.
---------------------------------------

it seems Michaela has secretly watched the same drama too. I came to her room to deliver meals and she's not there. Instead there's a letter that clearly written 'Don't search for me! I hate you all!'. I would be all too happy to complied, but Cardmaster has to know this. Damn.

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[29 Feb 2004|07:20pm]

sexy_cassian
Dear diary,

I am finally away from that mansion and that perverted man who insists on hanging around with that Earl if he had touched me one more time I would have clobbered him! I must say the turn of events has quite fascinated me but I do miss the doctor in woman’s clothing, I guess you can’t have everything but now that I think about it I got to brush his hair and touch him, score! Okay well not really, I think he would have looked more beautiful with his natural hair colour though. He made a remark about losing his masculinity, which I laughed at, the doctor masculine? He may wear suits but he undeniably looks feminine, he wasn’t happy about my laughing though, must beware him.

At least the doctor is back to his normal self; the thought of him acting in such a way seems almost laughable now.

The doctor has decided to move away from the Delilah Mansion since he was treated with disrespect and abuse and lets not forget sexual harassment by that godforsaken High Priest! Oh great just great I’ve gotten the worst imagery of that bastard sexually harassing the doctor, just what I need!

Well I helped the doctor pack, still hopeless I see, I’m not his bloody servant, it seems he’s not learnt anything. The doctor was smiling though, he seems so oddly happy, I guess its because he gets to leave the loony bin that is the Delilah Mansion but still its nice when you get to see that rare smile, its quite odd. Well when we’re about to leave that bastard is standing there makes the most unlawful comment! I mean making a statement in which there is no ‘proper’ truth is completely unjustified. You don’t say people are virgins that bloody bastard! Well luckily I’m holding one of the doctors briefcases and manage to hit him with him and hear a very rewarding curse be uttered from that mans. When I saw the doctor’s expression later on I saw he was smirking, I wonder if he wished he could do that himself.

Well the doctor called a carriage and we went to the house he had managed to get hold of. It’s in quite a peaceful neighbourhood, which I feel is something the doctor tends to need. The garden was quite neat, should be fun to go there I feel the doctor shall enjoy the birds that shall fly in there, he may feed them, it would be nice to see the doctor when he is with his beloved nature also there is a park he would enjoy that I feel hardly any green spaces in London.

Later on a knock was heard and I go and open the door and a man is standing there with a letter which he informs me to give it to the doctor, of course I thank him, he gave me a weird glance, possibly wondering why such a ‘young boy’ is at the doctors house, hope he doesn’t get any wrong ideas about the doctor. I take the letter to him and decide to go and see how my room is like after asking the doctor where I’ll stay.

I’m in my room right now its not very large but I feel its the right size, it has quite basic things in it, the view is over the front of the house.

Oh damn! I see Michaela standing outside the house, I better inform the doctor. I swear if that goddamn girl is thinking about poisoning me I am not staying near this house or better yet I’m going to stick like glue to the doctor, maybe he’ll protect me considering I’m one of the people he knows whom he hasn’t tried to kill.

~Cassian~
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Valentine's Day [14 Feb 2004|11:03pm]

fuzzy_oscar
[ mood | drained ]

[ooc *ruin ruin ruin burn burn burn* ky doesn't deserve it but she's getting it. for the amount I post, my character should be more important AND more angsty. Meh, hopefully I don't fill this gap in too far, ne, otherwise forgivenessness please? oh and backdating entry three days for convenience - not like anyone cares. but anyways - some official wrecking/filling here, yes, I'm aware. thus, if entry is made unofficial, I will not complain. I leave it to our mod to delete it as she sees fit. huzaah.]

By the title, I'm sure you expect something happy. Of course, no one, until today, knew how I celebrate each Valentine's Day.

I remember it as if it were yesterday - my last Valentine's Day gift. It is the most deeply aching suffering I will ever know to remember that night . . I've tried to blot it out really, but the most memorable moments of it are the ones I'd rather not remember. I don't remember what she looked like that evening any more, when I went out into the night for some young blonde strumpet. What colour she was wearing. I think it was blue. It could have been green.

She bought me white roses. White, a symbol of faith. I had no idea, the uncultured drunkard I was. Even myself, a baron, had been so merely by title. A dozen white roses. Of course, that's what the fight was about. I screamed that she'd guilt me into getting her a gift (which she had). She said that there was no price for her love, and she raised her nose accepting my dropped jaw as a Valentine's Day gift. She frowned in her spiteful way - I could tell she was heartbroken I'd forgotten, later of course, but at the time I was furious. I stormed out, yelling profanities, and my mind reeling over whether I should return with a gift, or with another woman. I always let whiskey make such big and important decisions for me.

It's a sad thing. She loved me the way I was - the brutish, oafish, spoiled, freckled, prodigal excuse for a husband I was. I think I'll die before anyone else so much as looks at me with a genuine smile, much less loves me with all her heart. I was too dull then to realize how she cared for me, how every fight we had was sparked by an expression of her adoration for me. A similar spark ended her life - I'm sure her frail figure was hunched over the fire, quivering with wounded rage. She said to herself, "This is the night. The night I stop putting up with it. The night I bring him back in my arms, and he says, 'I love you, I'll always love you.' That's just what I'll do," and she got up to come to me, to bring her man home again. She made me cry.

I can remember more the taste of the liquor and how upset I was at the bartender for charging me extra, walking out of the last pub of the evening. I can remember the blonde tart still at my side, and her name. I remember the splashes of the carrigewheels sailing through the night, the spray hitting my face. It was raining.

I saw her, dress soaked, no umbrella and her hair down, sopping. She looked furious with me, but seeing her wet, I waved her drunkenly over, numbly aware of a swooshing sound coming toward me. She didn't stop, and I could tell by that point that she would have come had I waved her or not - her intent was clear to my intoxicated mind - she aimed to beat me to a bloody pulp, after a sound tongue lashing for all my unbecoming behaviours. With this thought in my mind, and her love-bound hate-bound determination, we both managed not to notice the approaching carriage.

I wouldn't have cared if there was one following it post. I ran to her, and the last thing she did was raise her hand to slap me. I saw her wince and I kissed her - it must have been the first time in months, I can't remember how long, I didn't keep track by that point. My wife was merely the person who cooked me dinner when I was responsible enough to come home early, and the one who yelled at me when I did something fun.

From that moment on, she was the most loyal star-crossed lover ever to have been born, the most beautiful, loving, chaste woman to ever marry a drunk like myself. I saw her for the angel she was, the gift she was to me, only when she was taken away.

She died, in my arms. No man, not even Cain, has known such suffering. Not the pain of untainted death, or the hate of a loved one. I had the guilt and agony of knowing that I had wasted her life away, my pure bride, of knowing that I had stolen her heart and squandered it. I would not let God himself stoop low enough to pity me. I deserved to lose her - I deserved to lose everything. But I gained the last of her inheritance. I couldn't bring myself to do anything with it - I gave it to her family, and told my parents I was giving up my title inheritance and lands - all of us knew I hadn't deserved it for years. I quit drinking altogether - it was hard, but I didn't care. I didn't want the easy way out anymore.

I can remember the taste of the whiskey more than I can the taste of her lips. I wish it had been me. That the alcohol and my stupidity did not combine that moment to ask her to servilely come to me, but moved my body in front of that carriage. I wish it had taken me out of my life so she could have mourned for a month or two, maybe a few years, and then been swept off her feet by a real man. Someone who would care for her as she cared for me.

I damn this "holiday" to the deepest pit of hell. It is not worthy of the name. Cupid hunted her down and killed her the day he caught her with his loveshot. He made her purity game for his sport.

But, for its part, and hers, I have one tradition on this day. Each year, on this day, I buy one white rose, take the long journey to the cemetary on foot, and lay it on my wife's grave. I could do it a thousand years and never return the sentiment with which her roses were given to me. But, hopefully, angel that she is, she sees now that I know every gesture she ever made towards my life was out of her undying love. It will be a dozen roses in three years . . just eight-teen, barely a man. She died just six-teen, already as loyal to me as if she'd spent years heckling me.

Suprisingly, this year, I was not alone in my gesture. I saw a carriage arive outside the gate, and a familiar figure (how hard to recognise - he was taller than the carriage) helping Master Cain from his seat. The Earl had a dozen red roses with him, and placed them on a grave that I can only assume to belong to his late valentine. He paused (in reflection or mourning I'm sure) and turned to see me. I smiled because just then, it started to rain, and in the first few drops I had the strange premonition that Cain would not die alone and unloved, as she did. He smiled back candidly, and even (though reluctantly) offered me a ride with him back to the estate. I turned the offer down, figuring it would ruin the day's moment of unakwardness (my, that was akward) to spend a full ten minutes alone with Cain in a space as small as a carriage.

Just before they left, after Cain was lifted again to his seat, Riff quickly (only in terms of speed - not grace - how touching) placed his own red rose next to Cain's roses, off the grave. His lovely (albeit womanly) grey suit and cape was soaked in that small interim, however, so he rushed as quickly back to the shelter of the driver's seat so as not to get more wet than he was already - he was, sadly enough, in too much of a hurry to notice I had observed him run off. No matter.

Another year, another rose, another pang of the deepest regret I will ever experience. Somehow, that image of Cain smiling at me, as if in presage of his happiness, lingers in my thoughts. It did brighten my day, and having hopes for his content is always a pleasant thought to go to sleep to. Goodnight, Journal.

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Departures and Arrivals [11 Feb 2004|09:22pm]

michaela_judith
Dear Journal,
I have moved out of Delilah’s headquarters, and into Dr. Jezebel’s townhouse! Well, actually, I’m standing outside of the aforementioned townhouse, and Jezebel doesn’t know that I’m moving in quite yet, but that’s really a trifling detail.

As for the events that led up to this… It all began when someone allegedly put alleged poison that allegedly came from an alleged spider in the Cardmaster’s alleged sugar cubes. Okay, the sugar cubes really were sugar cubes. The amount was only enough to give him minor redness, cramping, and a little projectile vomiting for a few days, but he was still pretty upset.

After this brilliant plan to render Alexis slightly ill was foiled (through no virtue of his own, but simply by the hereto unknown fact that arachnid venom tends to turn sugar cubes purple after a few hours of exposure to air), he called me into his chamber, took me on his knee, and proceeded to tell me a little story.

The story was about a small demon named Cain who had a handsome, charming, and smart father named Alexis. Cain’s continual bad behavior forced Alexis to whip him nightly, until Cain unexpectedly snapped and tried to poison him. The not-at-all-caught-unaware Alexis decided to leap into the ocean to teach Cain a lesson, but when that didn’t work, he was forced to pretend he drowned and spend seven years amassing power, magic, wealth, and technological advances through his father’s secret society, which used to be a breakfast club. Then Alexis struck Cain down and they all lived happily ever after, and the point is, he had the medical advantages to create me, and if I poison his good sugar again, he has the medical advantages to either accelerate my growth and give me to Justice, or turn me into a boy, and give me to Lord Gladstone. But for now, he’ll simply take my spiders away for two weeks and give them to Dr. Zenopia, and if they haven’t mutated horribly due to any experiments he might perform on them in that time, I can have them back. He then made me round up all five, put them in a little mesh cage, and go to my room to think about what I had done.

As soon as I got there I flopped down on my bed and sobbed, mostly for the loss of my spiders, and partly because Cassandra has been stealing my dresses again. (I later saw what he did with them; he simply cuts a buttonable hole in the bustle. I don’t understand why he would need a flap in the seat of the dress, particularly as I know he doesn’t wear them. It’s bizarre.) It was at this point I knew I had to get revenge on both Alexis and Cassandra, and I began to plan how to do it.

First I sneaked down to Dr. Zenopia’s lab and took back my spiders; he was up to his elbows (literally) in corpse, so it wasn’t hard. When I came back upstairs, the Doctor had come back and was having some sort of row with Alexis. Knowing that Gladstone’s Jezebel sense was tingling and he was probably dashing back here to see him as quick as he could, I had to act fast.

Sending my spiders in ahead to unlock the doors for me, I broke into Cassandra’s room. It was devoid of any personal objects I could steal in retribution, but I knew where I could find them: the Closet. The Closet of Doom. The Closet of Horrible Death and If-You-Ever-Go-In-There-Michaela-Harpies-Will-Eat-Out-Your-Eyes. With my arachnoid lock-pickers it was easy enough to get in. I opened the door, a bit expecting a wave of fiery pain to be rained down upon me. Nothing of the sort happened. The closet had some unusual objects in it, admittedly. There were the women’s toiletries, many more dresses with the flap in the back, the pictures of Jezebel. The rest were mostly whips, chains, and one very strange object. It looked a bit like a bridle, only done in black leather and bigger, and there were spikes all over the outside, and what looked like little shorts directly in the middle of all the straps. It was terribly sharp, so I took it with me, closed the room up again, and put it in Alexis’ bed.

The argument between the Cardmaster and the Doctor was still going strong when I passed by again, except Cassandra had his ear glued to the door and was quietly rooting for Jezebel. It flung open suddenly, smacking Cassandra squarely in the face and sending him sprawling, when Jezebel stormed out, yelling over his shoulder “That’s it! I’m moving out! Don’t try to look for me!” and stamping off.

Then it hit me: I could move in with the Doctor. No more punishments, no more restrictions, no more “Michaela, spiders are not considered dinner guests and certainly do not deserve a seat to themselves, now kindly get them off the table, they’re gross and you’re freaking out potential members”. Not only is he the only one with the medical expertise to keep me living, no one else can get my bandages quite right, or come up with an antidote to my arachnids’ venom, and besides, he doesn’t care what I do. He probably wouldn’t even care if I used Cassian to find out how much spider poison is too much! It would be perfect!

So I helped Lord Gladstone to his feet and told him I wouldn’t tell anyone about him stealing all my dresses and cutting holes in them, but in return he had to tell me where Jezebel was moving. He thought for a moment, then told me he already had people on it. 12 hours later I had an address in my hands. Blackmail is truly a wonderful thing.

So I’m standing outside the door, with a cage full of spiders and a suitcase that holds the dresses that the High Priest didn’t touch, as well as (of course) my little black hats. I can see Jezebel through the window; he’s engaged in conversation with the Tiniest Circus Freak. How will they react to me? Will they welcome me with open arms? Or will they send me back to Delilah? I hope it’s not the latter; if so, I’m going to have to poison them both and take the flat for myself. That’s a thought in itself, but I really don’t fancy paying rent alone.

Wish me luck, I’m going in.

Michaela
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I am Free [08 Feb 2004|06:05pm]

unicorn_san
[ mood | accomplished ]

(OOC: Ok I have ran out of ideas to continue the story line. Time for others to add their own 2 cents in...)

Dear Diary,

Some changing events had passed by since I last wrote. I am now happily living in a town house away from that mad house of the Delilah hideout. 'Tis wonderful to live alone with just Cashian to converse with now. No more perverts, spiteful women yelling, Card Master barging in babbling about matching socks, nudist walking around, and beautiful golden-green eyes tormenting me. There is nothing, but peace, tranquility, and my medical experiments. Such bliss here in my flat.

Let me reminisce on the events that had transpired when I left Cain's home.

Some days ago, I had came back from doing embroidery work with Miss Merryweather and was to putting my hair back in place. I noticed my roots where starting to show. This reminded me how long I had been in Cain's home serving Mr. Cle. I looked closer at my reflection and was startled how much more I looked like a woman than I had started out as. I had learned to use makeup, hair ribbons, and perfume. Even my fingernails were very long. I could not believe it that I had given up all my manly charms to be very feminine. I quickly used my hair dye remover and cleaned off all the womanly stuff off me. I shucked off my lacey dress and liberated myself from the evil corset. Oddly, I had this overwhelming urge to burn my corset... Anyway, I put on my normal clothes that had secretly hidden in my trunk. At last I trimmed my nails down.

It felt grand to be my old self once again. Then I got this horrified thought if I did not change that Justice would hit on me when I returned to headquarters.
Continuing, I packed up my things and made special bundle of useful feminine items for Cashian to be taken to Miss Merryweather's room. Mr. Cle roared in French of his displeasure of my mutiny. I told him to stuff it and be kinder to his servants from now on or else something unpleasant shall befall him. Saying that, I stormed out of the room. In the hallway I saw the lazy bum, Oscar. I stumped up to him and clocked in the face with my fist for all the times he stalked or touched me.

I was in luck when I made to the foyer. Cain, Riff and Merryweather were in some kind of important discussion. Cain saw me first and yelled out, "Ah hah, I know it was you all along Dr. Jezebel!" My reply was, "That is very well Sherlock let's pin a rose on your nose for such grand deduction!" Cain made the cutest angry face I ever did see.

I got down on my knees to say adieu to Miss Merryweather and thanked her for her kindness to me. I promised to write letters to her to keep her from feeling lonely. Then stalked up to Cain, which Riff stood between us. I told Cain I still have my obsession for him and he should be more like his sister. Then I said to Riff as I passed by to go out the door that I loathed him and if I ever caught him in my closet, I would give him to Lord Gladstone.

So, that is how I left the Cain's manor. When I returned to the hideout, I had the rotten luck to be greeted and groped by Lord Pervert. I threaten him with my trusty scalpel to LEAVE ME ALONE!!! @ *Broke pen* Then Alexis came flying out of his office and started yelling me for disappearing without his permission. We got into a big row that had members running away to find cover and it ended as a draw. My wicked wench of a neighbor sneered a greeting to me as I went into my room.

After I slammed the door shut, I ordered Cashian to help me pack all of belongings. I had enough of this preposterous abuse and disrespect. I decided to leave and get my own flat. A town house would be perfect to be far enough away from the Delilah loony bin and close to my darling Cain.

Now, I can stalk Cain with ease and perform my duties to Alexis as Death. By the way, I heard that Mr. Cle left soon after me on another spirit chasing commission, and Cain was torturing Oscar.

I shall end here since Cashian has brought me a letter.

~Jezebel

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Rather Eventful Month. [28 Jan 2004|12:19am]

fuzzy_oscar
[ mood | drained ]

[ooc: seemingly there are some weirdnesses about the plot. I'm just going to try and piece it together ^^;;]

Dear Journal,

I know it's been a long time since I've addressed you as such, but you are an ever so tolerable logbook that I believe such missteps on my part are unnoticed, and if noticed, easily forgiven.

Let's see . . we left off about . . . well a month ago really. Hmm. It seems such an eventful period, the time just rushed by. And thinking back, I'm feeling a lot less in pain. Hmm. I lost this for a while, in the whole row that went around after my rather misconceived idea of getting Cain drunk on New Year's Eve. Well, obviously, that was fun the first night. But of course, the next day, were Cain not repressed by his nursemaid of abnormal stature, he would have killed me, and not daintily as usual with poison. I'm sure there would have been a very violent attack, his weakened state not in question.

I forgot one of my notes to self New Year's: Don't Drink. And it paid off well, for myself and Cain equally. Suprisingly enough, out of the three of us, Riff has an amazing tolerance for alcohol. If we had studied at the same university, there's no way I could have become as popular as I did in London Nightlife. Ah, those were the days. Back then I had a stomach. Now . . I just have a tin can. You know, it's amazingly difficult to open cans. Someone should invent a can opener. Then we wouldn't have to use carving knives to open them [ooc ha ha. yeah this is fact: the can opener was not invented until a good deal of years after the can was invented XD] but I'm getting off track.

The next day, apart from Cain trying to kill me, these were the goings on. Cle's female partner, and the little girl, whom I assume to be her sister, and Merry, being the only fully sober members of the household, took upon themselves the task of taking care of Cain, though Riff was already nursing him in his queasy state (I must admire his determination. If I didn't despize him, it would be enough to warm my cold dead heart to his impudence. But, I despize him, so, he'll just stay the oafish gigantist freak that escaped the circus to work here and steal Cain from me). So, of course, the moments when Riff left the room to attend to himself, or take care of his own post-drunken affairs, the three ladies took their chance to enter Cain's room and torture him. I can't really remember now exactly what happened, as I had a horrible hangover at the time (who knew? I didn't feel drunk the night before) I don't really recall any sharp details, except that at one point in time, Cain screamed at the woman (whose name I never asked. Pity.) that she was trying to poison him, whereupon Riff quickly dashed back to the room to settle the catfight. He shoved the girls out of the room, and then glared at me in his slightly-less-than-condescending way when he saw me snickering. Of course, the ladies went to go growl to each other about how horrible Cain's tolerance of help was, while Merry commented to me that they were too stuck up, and realized that trying to help Cain while Riff was around was a bad idea. Then she said she was actually glad for my advice. She said that upon seeing my condition along with her brother's made her glad to know that I had sent her to bed before she had a nip at the bottle along with us. I started to laugh, but felt a grumble in my stomach and rushed for my chamberpot.

But, enough about that day (which was realitively quiet after that, Cain's door having been closed and locked, and Riff the only one with a key). Merry, as before, had become quite good friends with Cle's partner, and I thought that perhaps she was going to become, like me, a permanent member of the household. However, she, her sister, and Cle suddenly left at receiving a note addressed to Cle sent to the Haregreaves household. Most likely some other ex . . erm most likely some other ghost hunt. Cle left so shockingly fast that he didn't even ask Cain for more money. Something pressed him elsewhere I suppose. Anyways.

But on to me. Oh, what a wonderful month this has been (but since you're a journal, you can't sense sarcasm. That's sarcasm). Cain, once he was fully recovered, made it his mission for the next two weeks to make my life a living hell. I remember the first night he declared himself recovered and healthy (well by his standards - Cain is never what I would call "healthy") he burst into my room and said "Any time you eat. Any time you drink. Any time you breathe, or touch any object in this house, you will be TASTING THE HELL I WENT THROUGH FOR THE PAST WEEK!!! You will have to STARVE and SUFFOCATE and LIVE IN YOUR OWN EXCRAMENT to escape my WRATH!!!!!" and with that he slammed my door. If I had not regretted my decision until then, I regretted it more deeply than I have regretted anything, save one painful event, which I may one day have the frame of mind to write in this journal.

Of course, the two weeks afterward, Cain took a glee in ressurecting his oldest simple chemical formulas for bringing me poisoned misery. At first I tried not to eat and such, but I became hungry, so I risked it. For that week, along with daily gaseous doses of fear-striking hallucionagens, I had horrible diarreah, and for the last two days of that week I could not sleep. After that week was over, I had chills and feaver for two days and then the next day a rash that itched like hell. The next two days, my legs burned when I tried to walk, and the next day, a certain poison brought on all the symptoms of a bladder infection (i.e. burning, frequent urination, the like). The next and last day, Cain used his final dose of poison, combining small doses of each of the ones he had used on me the entire two weeks into a milligram-less-than-lethal dose of absolute horror. And, something that made me vomit. He reduced me to a shivering suffering barely human thing, and I think it was the moment that could have changed my hate for Riff into love when he suggested to Cain that perhaps two weeks of torment was enough, whereupon Cain responded that he didn't have any more poisons anyway, and it would go down and get less entertaining from that point.

Well, that brings us up to date. And I feel happy to be alive, to say the least. Glad to have found this journal too.

Note to self: DO NOT DRINK!!
More importantly: DO NOT MAKE CAIN DRINK ANYTHING resembling one that contains alcohol!!!!

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Sorry! [26 Jan 2004|07:22pm]

michaela_judith
Ooc: Sorry! I got these out of order. My name is Laura and I'd like to play as Michaela, having already gotten approval to do so. I'll be posting from michaela_judith, which I doubt I'll use much, as I simply got it to join this group. Who knows? Anyway, hello, and contact me, if you'd like, at lshaffner@hotmail.com.
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Spiders and other soft cuddlies [26 Jan 2004|07:07pm]

michaela_judith
(Ooc: Hello to everyone!)

Dearest Diary,
Alexis finally bought me new pet spiders, to compensate for the ones my beloved (but INFURIATING!) Cain killed. There's five of them and they're oh so cute! I've named them Fuzzy, Muffin, Mephistopheles, Sprinkles, and Haggis, the third being named after the devil in "Faust", the fifth being named after my favorite dish, and the first being named so because he's awfully fuzzy. As for the second and fourth... Let's just say they escaped onto a food tray at a breakfast Delilah was holding for its new members. Consequently, there are less new members than there were, but it was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
My only fear is that they're not as poisonous as my old ones. I would test them out, but Cassian has been laying low. Perhaps there's an expendable grunt Alexis would be willing to "lend" me.
More later,
Michaela
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where is everyone? [24 Jan 2004|01:44pm]

rose_of_pain
OOC Mod Post:

Uh, well, people...don't seem to be posting much. ^^; Kinda dead in here. *pokes everyone*

Um, I think by now Cle, Jez, and Cassian should consider leaving the mansion now? Since I doubt that the job would take as long as it has been. I might have Cain kick them out if they don't leave soon since I can't imagine him being very happy about it. ^^; Since I think at least someone in the house would have figured out that its Jez and Cassian by now.

And also, I have a correction to make on your last 2 posts, Unicorn. Riff did not get drunk so he would not be suffering a hangover right now. At least, not one as big as Cain. The whole point was that Cain has a low tolerance to alcohol, so that's why he's suffering so much from it.

And I can't really imagine Jezebel taking care of them either. ^^; I imagined it would be Riff taking care of Cain, even if Riff wasn't feeling that great since it's just something Riff would do.

~Lyn
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Days pass by like falling leaves [23 Jan 2004|11:15am]

unicorn_san
[ mood | bored ]

(OOC: Oi, Jez-chan is still alive >P)

Dear Diary,

Nothing much has happen here. The gloomy weather has made it so that no one wants to go outside. I notice that my lovely Cain sleeps in more often. Cashian's help has lessen the hard work. I wish Mister Cle would finish his ghost hunting soon, and Oscar looking at me with lust. Hum, I wonder what Alexis and Ida doing without me? It would god sent if the drapes were change in my absence.

Backing up a few days ago. Cain was suffering from a hangover. Miss Merryweather and I came to nurse them back to health. Cain was quite suborn and did not want our attentions. I made some willow tea for his aches anyway. Tis fascinating how Americans came up with this new pain relief remedy. Just use clean bark of a willow tree and distill the bark in boiling water. Better than using leaches as a cure. Riff was weary of me making the willow tea and watched me closely. About an inch next to me in fact...

I gave the tea to Cain after Miss Merryweather demanded that he take it. Cain swallowed the willow tea and made a bitter face. He tossed the cup back at me, yelling that the tea was the worst he ever tasted and that I was trying to poison him. ME POISON HIM!! @ *Broke pen* I promptly yelled back that medicine is not suppose to taste good! And, be thankful that I did not give him castor oil as it is a fashion to give for all ills! Riff stepped in between our shouting match and suggested that honey would have sweetened the tea's taste, and it was not poison. I simply stomped out of his room and locked myself in my room to fume.

A few days later, I spent some time with Miss Merryweather. We talked about art and books. Miss Merryweather showed me how to take better care of my nails. I must say, I had been soo busy as a slave to that charlatan that my nails had grown very long. In the evening, Miss Merryweather and I read poetry to Cain. Riff enjoyed the poetry as well.

Maybe tonight I shall read some more poetry or recite parts from a play with Merryweather again.

~ Dr. Jezebel

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Tis a goodly reason to be a Dr. [10 Jan 2004|01:41pm]

unicorn_san
[ mood | hopeful ]

Dear diary,

Tis another eventful day at the house of Hargreaves. Earlier dreariness was the cause of my lack of my mind's mood to muse in this book. I miss my medical books and journals, and my experiments. Dare I even say that I even miss my verbal fights with Justice as well? I am a DOCTOR!! Not a scullery MAID!!!! @ *Broke pen* Bloody hell! I keep on breaking pens while I write. What happen to good quality pens?! All my pens have been cheaply made. You think the Industrial Revolution would improve our lives more, but we are stuck with blooming poor pens to write with!

Continuing on to my eventful life with Cain. Riff came back and I felt even more possessive for Cain attentions. Oscar is still lurking about and sometimes acting quite queerly around me, which makes me think of Lord Gladstone. What a horrid thought for my mind to remember That Man?

Tis nice to have Cashian again. I feel better when he is in the mood to brush my hair. But, I wish he would stop snickering at me when I talk to him...

Christmas day started out very plain. I did not have time for shopping and the like. Tho I did get something special for Miss Merryweather for her affections toward me. Mr. Cle read a book by the fire and slowly dank a glass of red wine. Miss Merryweather received another teddy bear and was displeased. I cannot fault her, for she has a whole room filled with teddy bears. Oscar tried to get me under some mistletoe to steal a kiss. Cashian foiled Oscar's attentions as well when he had no luck with me.

New Years was a bit disastrous. Oscar brought some wine to celebrate with. Cain and Oscar became roaring drunk. Riff and Miss Merryweather were not pleased one bit. Cle cared less what went on. Later, A giggly Cain came onto Riff and stumbled off together. I felt my jealous rage flare up at the sight. Then Oscar passed out onto the floor. I was ignored in such way that I might well not have been there when they got drunk.

Now Cain and Oscar are suffering from hangovers. Finally, my skills are needed! I shall join Miss Merryweather and Riff in taking care of Cain.

~Dr. Jezebel

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[07 Jan 2004|07:47pm]

cain_hargreaves
[ mood | sick ]

Nn. Hangover.

This is why I don't drink.

But no, just had to let Oscar convince me into touching the vile stuff.

My head feels like its going to explode and my stomach does not feel much better.

I am going to kill Oscar later for this.

(Note: Yay for late extremly short post. lol I've never had a hangover though so I don't know what its like really. Blah, you people need to remember to post!)

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