finlay_flynn: (pensive and beardy)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He'd been working on the book since just after he'd lost his vision, and after a few re-writes and a lot of changes in his life, it was finally finished, and there was finally a release date and cover art.  On May 17th Fin's book, The Rough Spark would be released, with a short book tour that would follow. 

Tonight, however, was just about celebrating its completion and the impending printing, and Finlay had rented a large hall and invited all his friends, and his friends friends, to come and celebrate- And hopefully get the word out.

A large poster hung on the back wall, displaying the cover art they'd finally settled on. It wasn't flashy, but Fin felt it was a good fit, a single shattered light bulb with one tiny ember still burning inside. The party had a dark industrial feel to it's décor, but like any celebration it was also full of food, music, and drink.

(OTA. It's Fin's party, but treat it as you would any GP! Also, feel free to assume your pup received an invitation somehow, either via a friend or from fin himself.)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
As the city said goodbye to January, February rolled in quietly behind it. The weather remained mostly unchanged, though the streets seemed slightly emptier as the majority of tourists left. 

Still, there was no shortage of things to do this week, from a rare book event, to swing dance classes. There were also a few art exhibitions opening, and the usual events at the museums. Plenty of concerts and shows to see... Not to mention up and coming pubs, restaurants, and new and old cafes that seemed to always be alive.

There was no excuse to be bored in a city like this. No reason at all.

(Week long gp! Tag in, tag others, and check in daily to see who's joined in.)


Jan. 6th, 2016 06:23 pm
winter_wisp: (sing)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
Being mortal was boring. B. O. R. I. N. G. He couldn't fly, couldn't be small, couldn't talk to Philip or the cats, couldn't play in the tiny house Fin and Will had bought him. ...But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was he didn't feel like a pixie. Even in Aspid's cage, he'd been a pixie, he'd been himself. Now? Now he wasn't sure who he was.

His hair had gone white again, and though he'd spent his pocket money on hot chocolate with extra cream, he did not feel the familiar buzz. It was sweet and pleasant enough, but boring. ...The world was boring. The answer to that boredom, in his opinion, would be to buy a mortal game to play- But games cost money, and without his powers Winter had no way of convincing people to simply give it to him. ...He would have to work.

After a lot of thinking and sulking, he'd settled on busking as Fae Willy did, going home and finding his little keyboard. Fin had noticed what he was up to, and after eyeing the tiny cat shaped keyboard had offered to take him to buy a proper one- One Winter could pay him back for later. Not a gift, but a loan.

Armed with a proper keyboard and a microphone, Winter had spent the day practising. Music came quite naturally to the pixie, and with a fair amount of songs to play he'd set out to find a good spot near the park, where he'd quickly set up and started playing. An hour later and his jar was half full, and he was smiling as he played one of his favourite songs from Fin's magic little box of tiny singing mortals- The radio, Fin called it.

When he finished he was smiling, pleased that he'd made some money, and feeling a touch less miserable about the whole mortal thing. Enough so that he thought he might call it a night and go get a beer. ...Just one this time.
goodfellow: (chair)
[personal profile] goodfellow
One month ago, one of Soho's trendiest and yet least profitable dance clubs closed its doors. There were rumors for a while that the space was going to be turned into an upscaled gym, or perhaps gutted and chopped up into boutique shopping. But not much of anything seemed to be happening until just after Christmas, when the trucks were constantly parked by the service entrance and there seemed to be a flurry of activity.

Meanwhile, anyone who was anyone received a VIP invitation to the "pre-opening" of SATURNALIA, soon to be London's newest hot spot, but in the meantime hosting a huge party to ring in the new year. Togas optional but encouraged. Also receiving these invitations was anyone who even remotely knew Robin Goodfellow (or Rob Fellows), though his name wasn't on them.

The doors were also open to anyone, a line and bouncer required only because the space could only fit so many. But Robin had instructed the bouncer to be creative if not random with who he let in. As far as he was concerned, pulling in a street urchin or two over the hot starlets would not only improve the atmosphere but be good for business in the long run.

The doors opened at 9pm, and the place filled steadily as midnight approached. Inside, the club was clearly not finished, and there were many trappings from the previous space still in place - a large dance floor, several bars, private rooms, a couple of small stages for performances, an impressive elevated DJ table. For tonight, the theme was clearly one of the decadence of ancient Greek - decorations in gold and white and stone, replications (one would assume) of famous artwork of the time, including a number of statues. A copy of "David" cast in stone was a centerpiece, set up in an area that encouraged partygoers to take selfies.

The bars were not open, but prices were much cheaper than they should have been, coupled by the occasional appearance of Robin in his (somewhat skimpy) toga and gold-cast laureal wreath crown to hand out shots, mead, or wine to random partygoers. The point of the party was clearly not to make money but to build buzz, and from the length of the line outside after a couple of hours it was clearly working.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Merry Christmas!
You are invited to celebrate the season with Finlay Flynn and Willy Silver.
When: Christmas Eve (5pm – Midnight)
RSVP: By Email ( Before 19/12
Upon entry you'll be given a ticket for one free drink. All drinks after that are 5 each. There will also be a free buffet in the dining area.
Dress code: Casual, but tidy please!
Raffle: Come wearing a festive sweater and you will automatically be entered into a raffle to win a 65 inch TV.
Donate: Bring three tins of canned food to be donated to the local food bank, and receive an extra drink ticket.

Look forward to:
A live DJ, live music, an appearance by Santa, gift bags with deluxe swag, and the company of old and new friends!

(OTA! Happy holidays! If you know Fin, Willy, Phouka, or Winter, feel free to assume they gave you an invite. If not, you can say your pup got an invite through a friend of a friend, someone who knows someone, ect. It IS invite over (no gate crashing pups please, Fin's a giver and would want everyone to feel included), but the pups hosting the party are pretty active and I believe they know almost everyone in the game. And the people they don't know surely know people who do. Even if you only met them once, you got an invite somehow! This gathering post is open all week, and beyond!)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
With cold weather rolling in and taking over, it seemed as though London was as eager as it could be to embrace the seasonal traditions of sharp blades on ice and food in faces.

Many ice rinks had opened this weekend, though Canary Wharf was by far the most impressive one. Large, beautiful, and not too busy if you came at the right time of day. Music played at a pleasant volume and the ice was littered with young and old, couples and singles, novices and show-offs... Anyone bold enough to strap on some skates.

Elsewhere in the city there was food to be found at the Foodies Festival. A place where you could find not just fine food, but also live-music, carollers, photo-booths and team quizzes.

It was a quiet way to start ringing in the holiday season- Or simply just enjoy the brisk weather that had crept in and was here to stay until spring.

(Gathering post! Set over the weekend, but open all week long to new top levels and tags. Tag in now and check back in often!)


Jul. 8th, 2015 06:27 pm
willysilver: (Sex Tempting)
[personal profile] willysilver
Summer was the time when the Seelie had the most power. The sun, the heat, the air, it brought life and encouraged the crops to grow and the baby animals to get bigger. Long ago when humans were more in tune with the seasons these were the days when the bugs buzzed in the heat of the day and tired children slept in the cool dark, unaware that that was when the fae came out to frolic and play.

Fae rarely came to the mortal world so it wasn't often Willy met anyone from home. There was Phouka and there had been Winter. There were a select few Willy could name, but for the most part his summer evening frolicking was for him to do alone.

Tuesday night found him at the Alpha playing for the crowd that gathered. The air conditioning couldn't cope with the humidity of flesh and thirsty mouths downed beers upon beers. And Willy played. Played with an enthusiasm brought to fore by the summer heat and the waning moon.

Willy steped outside and looked up at the sky. Long ago nothing had blocked his view of the moon and stars but now London glowed with electricity and the night sky was a pale glow.

The fae waved his hand and it was as if he smeared the light away, leaving a swath of inky black dotted with stars for him to enjoy.

[I'm going to be slow because new job and fun stuff but do tag Willy! e's on the street, Tuesday night.]
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
 The evening was crisp as people flooded the West End for a night of fun. Restaurants and cafe's were full early and late, catering to the theater crowds that came for supper before their shows and dessert after. The theaters had various plays and musicals, many with big name stars- others with up-and-comers. The lights were bright and the atmosphere festive.
People wandered up and down the sidewalks and the traffic was thick. In the dark there were pickpockets but for the most part the crowds were safe.
It promised to be a good run for most of the shows if the atmosphere was any indication.
willysilver: (Pensive)
[personal profile] willysilver
"I no longer have need of you, my friend. You are free to go back to the palace. You can find the pixie villiange and live with Winter if you like or return to the guard. You can assume another form and run wild..."

"But my prince, what of your mortal?" The Phouka asked sensibly, knowing the prince was often given to flights of fancy and did not think of the practical implications of the world. "First, you cannot be with him at all times and he does need more helo then he lets on. His tricks and technology only get him so far. To be independent in work he needs a valet and are not cut of that cloth, highness."

Willy was quiet for a moment.

"I have the flat next to yours and Winter may always visit, and I can visit him, but for the most part I can be here in a position to help Fin." Then he paused and his expression turned grave. "And you cannot tell me he is safe on his own. Willy, the police have not caught the madman who attacked him. He needs the kind of help I can provide. There is no better guard in the realm."

"No. No, this is true," Willy sighed. "It seems I need you mind as much as the rest of you, my friend. All right. We shall continue our arrangement."

Very well," The Phouka said with a smile. "Then I believe I will do a bit of shopping to make my flat a bit more of my own. Winter's taste, while sweet, was a bit young. And I know you have the meeting with the manager of the band soon. I will bid you goodbye, good sir."

(Can't decide so have both or either. Outdoor cafe, Willy off to make a casual meeting, Phouka gone to shop for housewares, or talk tot hem both at the cafe or anywhere along their trip. Caveat- neither will talk the tube so that's an out!)
hollow_moon: (look back)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
Last night had been the full moon, which meant Valentine had spent the night locked up in his basement, howling and scratching at a heavy wooden door. The wolf didn't like being trapped. It didn't like its stupid plush bed or the leg of lamb that had been brought home from the butchers. No, it wanted something fresh, it wanted to hunt and run wild... But here in London, that simply wasn't an option.

If the wolf didn't harm someone, someone would surely harm it. That wasn't a risk Valentine was willing to take. ...And so today he ached. Sore from pacing and clawing all night long, and aching from where his bones had broken, shifted, and changed.

He sat alone at the bar at his favourite pub, picking at his lunch and nursing a pint. He never ate much the day after, but he needed something. The medium rare steak and chips would give him the energy he needed to get on with his day, and the pint would hopefully dull the ache in his bones.

"You alright, love? You don't look well," the woman behind the bar said gently. "I've noticed you get this way quite a lot..."

Valentine offered a weak, but charming smile. "I'm alright, Dana. Just had a big night out. You know how it is," he lied.

"I do know how it is, that's how I know you're full of shit," Dana replied, stern, but not unkind. "I'm not judging, I'm just sayin' you ought to get looked at. That's all. Go on, eat up and I'll top up your pint," she tutted, shaking her head and walking off with his glass.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
 It was a warmer night than one might expect in February, and there were plenty of people out and about, milling around at bars, shops, and cafes- All of which had signs offering deals and good times.

On street corners buskers posed as statues and played songs for change, filling the city with sound and life as people celebrated being a day closer to the weekend.

Tomorrow there might be rain, but tonight it was dry and pleasant enough, and it seemed as if everyone was taking advantage of the fair weather.


Jan. 12th, 2015 06:46 pm
willysilver: (Smile)
[personal profile] willysilver
Willy had agreed to fill in at the Alpha Bar tonight when the manager had called him in a panic because the act of the night had contracted the flu. Willy was a reliable standby and he agreed to play a set for the night- and tomorrow too. The truth of it was that he was dying to get on stage and lose himself in the music. He loved Fin, loved him so much, but Willy was not cut out to be a caretaker. He loved being at Fin's side but he needed to get out of the flat.

Phouka had told him he would bring Fin to the bar if that was the young mortal's wish and Willy gladly agreed to that. So long as they were out, that would be wonderful.

Willy took the small stage with his guitar and had his mate with a hand drum sit on a stool to the back to keep the time for him. He played some new music, not his own but he made it his own. He sang Someone New and From Eden and decided he'd sing Cherry Wine as well. And a few others, all soulful tunes that he felt in his core.

"And this one might be a good one to find a body to dance with," Willy suggested...the words laden with magic. It was so much more than a suggestion and people began to pull one another into warm arms to sway to the tune.

"When, my, time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her..."

When that one was done he left the stage to find a pint and chat up the crowd. He'd play the rest of the sett soon enough.


Jan. 9th, 2015 09:32 pm
raisedbycarnies: (Default)
[personal profile] raisedbycarnies
Okay. This could be worse.

Sure he’s still favoring his right leg after crashing through a window and his left hearing aid is futzing up, but he can cope with those. He’s got two knives strapped to his right thigh and left calf, alongside a padded gym bag that’s slung over his shoulder like the bow and quiver they contain. Dressed in torn jeans and a wool coat, he’s given himself an underconfident slouch, playing up his bad leg. The result is the picture of a man pushing forty who works out like he’s in his prime and suffers an injured ACL for his troubles.

His target is three meters ahead of him, window shopping with no idea that she’s being followed.

She’s got to be twenty-three, tops, cute and sweet in a wholesome way. The type you’d never figure for a spy. Hell, you’d hardly figure she has more than cotton fluff up there.

It’s why she’s a good spy. Tasha would like her.

So now just has to keep walking too. Pretend to think about buying something here. Grab a can of soda there. Keep his head down but his eyes peeled and he’ll get her pinned down.

After half an hour, his target pulls something from her pocket and it looks like a wadded up receipt. For a second, Clint almost second guesses himself as she throws it in the trash but there’s no mistaking the white chalk mark on the trash can that wasn’t there before.

So she’s signaled her handler. Now I need to follow her and find her dead drop.

[[Find Clint in any part of the tracking process! OTA!]]


Jan. 5th, 2015 09:10 pm
quartermaster_q: (sunlight chatting)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Q'd never admit it, but he quite liked riding on the tube. He liked the way strangers were forced together, each demanding their space and ignoring one another's existence- despite the fact that they were often practically in one another's lap. In fact, tonight's ride home was a fine example of that, as Q sat trapped between two fairly young men who ignore him, and one another, while riding along in silence.

On Q's left was a small man, pale as death with hair that couldn't possibly be that shade of silver blonde naturally. Small and waif-like, he seemed to tremble as the doors slid open at each stop- until finally he rose, skittering off the train like some sort of nervous dog that had spent most of its life in its master's purse.

On the right, however, sat a very different young man. Tall and lean, but fit and still a bit tan from sun he'd certainly not seen in London. He appeared to be American, and he sat with his legs slightly spread, as if he owned the whole bloody train. ...Yes, definitely American this one. This one got off only one stop before his own, and Q watched him go, finding himself curious as to who the men were and what their stories were.

...Though that was one of the perks of being Q. He could do just that as soon as he got home. he could pull up their faces on CCTV, retrace their whole day, unravel their life stories... Perhaps he would- Right after he stopped off at his favourite cafe for a piping hot cup of tea.

(OTA- Couldn't decide who to post, so catch Logan, Winter, or Q as they get off at their separate stops. Make sure to let me know who you're tagging! XD)

OTA, debut~

Jan. 5th, 2015 07:08 pm
pixiesweat: (hair behind ear)
[personal profile] pixiesweat
Days and nights didn’t matter anymore to Manuel. Before, he wouldn’t have been up before the sun started to set, unless Devin had work for him that needed to be done outside of regular fae hours. Now, it seemed like he was awake all the time. The noises of the city disrupted his sleep, when he managed to fall asleep at all. His neck was still stiff from the last awkward nap he’d had, curled up behind a dumpster. It didn’t bother him much.

The streets were the same as they’d always been. They still didn’t care for, or even notice, lost orphaned changelings living on their edges. Manuel had spent a lot of time in backstreets and alleys, sometimes hiding from the dawn, sometimes from nothing. For the most part he was ignored. Traffic and the sounds of city dwellers and tourists were more than enough to drown out the noise he made when he cried.

He didn’t know what day it was.

He used to be the cleanest, neatest looking street thug in Devin’s crew. Without even an overcrowded flophouse to call Home, that wasn’t possible anymore. He’d already collected his fair share of dirt. Locks of hair were escaping his ponytail. He had bloody scrapes on his chin and cheek that he didn’t remember getting, and his eyes were red from crying.

He did venture out, eventually. He still needed to eat. He’d ignored his stomach’s demands for long enough that it was starting to hurt. Hopefully, there would be food vendors out on the street again; they were quicker and easier to steal from. He’d only been walking for a few minutes before his mind wandered back to other things, and he forgot where he was going and why. He kept moving, though, heading nowhere, eyes focused on nothing.

((He’s not looking where he’s going, so feel free to have him walk straight into your character ^^ He’s fae but looks normal to regular humans. Things are a bit more complicated when it comes to other supernatural creatures, though, please see his wiki page for more details.))
finlay_flynn: (a mess)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
When he went out now, after dark, Fin tried to make certain he wasn't alone. Though he'd once wandered the streets alone, late into the night-Back before Willy, back before fame- He now hardly ever risked it at all. ...Not since the letters had started.

"You'll get weird ones," the man from the office had said, as he'd handed Fin his first small bag of 'fan mail'. "Usually harmless, but if you're not certain- Just let one of your people have a look, you know?"

Fin hadn't had 'people' at the time, but after the first disturbing letter from a 'fan', Fin had finally gotten himself a proper manager, instead of just having his mate Mark handle it all in his spare time.

"It's not anything to worry about," his manager had assured him, even as Fin had handed over the second and third letters. "The police can't do much for it, you know? And really, it's just empty threats and fantasies," he'd assured Fin again, as the fourth and fifth letter turned up. Still, though he'd not told Willy about it (for fear the fae would do something mental), Fin had started taking precautions. New locks on the windows and doors, and a new alarm system as well- He made a point of going out with others, and using apps that would send your mates messages if you didn't check in with it at certain times. With the exception of Christmas Eve- A night that had resulted in his drink being drugged- Fin had been terribly careful lately.

Tonight, however, he was just making a quick run to the shops, and it seemed stupid to call Mark or someone- And he was certain he'd forget to check in with his app while he was wandering Sainsbury's looking for that bread he liked. No, it was best just to get on with it, right?

He was halfway home when he realized he was being followed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he held his shopping bags tighter and picked up the pace. It wasn't too late, and there were still people here and there- and he was only a block from home now. No reason to panic. No reason to get nervous. He'd get home, lock the door, and everything would be fine.

...His heart was racing though, and in a moment of panic Fin turned down a narrow alley between two buildings to pull out his phone and call a mate. A stupid mistake. A terrible and stupid mistake.

It was all a bit of a blur after that. He could remember someone coming at him, a struggle, a fight... He remembered smacking his attacker upside the head with a heavy glass bottle of juice- and then... And then the stranger had pulled something from his pocket, he'd sprayed something, and then- And then Fin had heard someone calling to them both, and the sound of heavy footfall as his attacker had taken off. Fin had tried to open his eyes then... only to find they were already open wide, simply seeing nothing at all.

Four hours later, he was out of A&E, sitting in a hospital bed, listening to a doctor tell him that there was no way to be certain if his vision would return or not- That even if it did, it would never be perfect. Nearly thirty hours after that, he was outside, a cane in his hand as he pushed his manager away. "I don't need a bloody seeing eye dog," the young actor had snapped. "I can see shadows of things. I'm not going to walk into traffic."

His manager had sighed, the look on his face genuinely sympathetic- Not that Fin could see that. "Fin, you need help. A friend- Maybe a bloody seeing eye dog. You need something, you're not- You aren't ready to be going around on your own. For gods sake, man, ignoring the fact you can't see, you're on more painkillers than half of Hollywood right now."

Fin was tense, holding his cane tightly, and he shook his head. "I don't want to be anyone's burden ever again."

(OTA! If you think Fin would have your pup's number in his cell phone, feel free to assume his manager called your pup to let them know what had happened, since Fin doesn't really have family, and his manager would want to be sure the people in his life were informed. Also, if your pup doesn't know him well/at all, it would have made the news since Fin is a bit of a rising star. Feel free to have your pup step in either way to make sure the stubborn boy doesn't actually go walking into traffic. Late tags are very welcome!)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
It was Christmas Eve in London, and all around the city people were out and about. Enjoying various parties, grabbing last minute gifts... Enjoying the lights and décor around the city. London was always beautiful, but in December it truly sparkled.

Outside shops, people collected toys and money for charities, hoping for last minute kindness from strangers to make the holiday even brighter for those in need. However, as the night fell, many shops shut early- While many bars and clubs did quite the opposite, opening their doors earlier and inviting people in.

All around there was bustle and lights, making the city appear even more alive than usual.

(Gathering post! Timed to Christmas Eve (day or night), but open all week long! Tag in, tag others, and check back often! Happy Holidays guys!)


Oct. 22nd, 2014 08:22 pm
willysilver: (Come Hither)
[personal profile] willysilver
There was little Willy enjoyed more than playing for an audience. He'd arranged tonight to play at the Alpha and stood on the small stage with his guitar. The lighting was hot but he didn't sweat. He glistened as if doused with dew and glitter. His hair was particularly unruly, but his voice was sweet and his chords true and clear.

Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left hand man
I love you when you're singing that song
And I got a lump in my throat
'Cause you're gonna sing the words wrong...

The crowd was thick, but really not that many people. The bar was just too small for that. Willy sang some Vance Joy, some Hozier, a soulfully slowed down Ella Eyre song, that radio hit by Echosmith for some variety, and played the first few chords of an Ed Sheeran tune which he deftly changed when he was met with groans. He turned it into a composition of his own and the glamour the original music wove was more powerful than the borrowed tunes. The crowd couldn't help but be affected by the fae magic and there was joy that filled the room. Smiles. Clapping. The usual happy energy of a live performance was quadrupled, fed back to the crowd, and then amplified again. Mortals felt high from it. But the nature of his magic meant the joy was fleeting so by the time Willy had put the guitar down and had made his way to the bar to have a beer and socialize the spell had ebbed. People felt good but no one was overjoyed.

"Did you like the setlist tonight?" he asked the person he'd eased in to stand beside at the bar. "I thought I wanted to play folk, but it feels like a soul night."
winter_wisp: (Default)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
He had new clothes, which was nice. Mortal clothes were odd and a little fussy, many made from materials he had no knowledge of. However, they were also very soft and terribly warm. The shoes were a bit hard to get used to, but he was adapting quickly and had found he quite liked the feeling of cushion beneath his usually bare feet. 

Having no understanding of gender, or any identity associated with it, he had chosen a long flowing skirt to wear, along with a comfortable shirt and cardigan. The clothes, along with his shoulder-length hair and youthful looks made him unintentionally androgynous as he made his way down yet another unfamiliar street.

He'd been exploring for ages now, and he was beginning to grow more and more nervous as he felt his potion begin to ware off. He honestly wasn't certain he was going in the right direction to return to Willy's, and he felt more and more doubtful he'd make it back before his potion wore off and he reverted to his true form. His wings were still too weak to carry him very far, and at his true height it wouldn't be safe to attempt to navigate on foot.

His heart pounded, and he felt foolish for having thought he could survive anywhere on his own. Perhaps he ought to return to Aspid, the wizard who had kept him for so long. Perhaps he'd be better off back in his cage, eating cake and sipping rich cream. ...Maybe he simply wasn't built for the mortal realm.

(OTA, but make sure you read this post before tagging! :D)
winter_wisp: (winter)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
When Willy comes to collect a debt from an ageing wizard, he spots one of his kin being held captive, and chooses to use the owed debt to free him.

          HERE | ONGOING | PG-13 (mentions of off-screen abuse/assault/violence)


londoncallingrpg: (Default)
London Calling RPG

September 2017

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