Jul. 20th, 2016

OTA

Jul. 20th, 2016 03:13 pm
akatawitch: (Have to go through me)
[personal profile] akatawitch
The best part of summer was reading things because you wanted to and not because you had an assignment, and Sunny had a lot of catching up to do. Oh, she read a few trashy romance novels during the school year, but that was about all her brain could take. Now she had the time and space for things that required quite a bit more concentration as Greer Gilman's work did.

Even so, it was too easy to lock yourself indoors when it came to books, so she made a point of reading out in public whenever possible. Which was nice. She claimed a spot reading under a tree in the park and let the utter contrast of winter tales carry her away into flights of fancy. So it was too bad when she overheard a piece of conversation between two elderly women shuffling by along the nearby path. She hadn't been trying to listen or anything, it had just floated into awareness.

"The only people I do have problems with are Negros. And I don't know why."

Huh. Usually people were more subtly awful than that. They must be really good friends to say that kind of thing without fear of judgment.

Sunny slipped a hand into her purse and gave her knife a surreptitious twist. "Bring music of my heart," she murmured.

Her heart at the moment seemed to be full of California love. Positively blaring "California Love."

The song seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Sunny watched as people looked around for a source that they would not find. Anybody with magic would know at once that no such source would be found, and probably wouldn't have to work that hard to discern that it was her doing.

Sunny however only raised an eyebrow at the proceedings ­­and went back to her book. No one was going to die from five minutes of rap.

Though those women appeared to be trying to shuffle away as fast as they could, and that was a thing of beauty.

OTA

Jul. 20th, 2016 08:53 pm
finlay_flynn: (tilted right)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He'd packed two suitcases, then prompted Winter to do the same. The promise of a pool and pizza for dinner had been enough to stop the pixie from sulking, at least for now. 

Two days later and the pair were very much settled into their two bedroom, penthouse suite at the Mandarin, and Fin was down in the bar, knocking back his third drink and ignoring the millions of texts that had his phone flashing at him almost constantly. Texts from his agent, texts from Hex, texts from Will as well, he imagined. ...He didn't want to deal with any of them, and when a woman discarded her glass of water beside him, he dropped his phone right into it.

Fuck them all.

"Can I get another?" he asked the barman, nodding at his empty glass. "This time make it a double, cheers."

At a table nearby a man was flipping through today's paper, and Fin could see his face on the front. It was a small photo, tucked into the corner, partnered with a headline that read, "Flynn Flies Off The Handle"

Yesterday hadn't been a good day. He'd begged Stanley to cancel his appearance on that bloody late night show, The man had refused, he always refused. Always pushed too hard. They'd cut to a break, and Stanley was telling him he had another show right after- And Fin... Fin had lost it. It hadn't aired, but he'd fired Stanley then and there, and walked right off the set, leaving the interviewer scrambling to fill time.

"Fuck them all," he muttered again.

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