goodfellow: (playful)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It was a good night at Saturnalia.

There was some b-list American rapper-slash-DJ who had shown up earlier in the day, and Robin was happy to throw someone on stage. It had gone over well right away, so he'd let him stay on. And now it was well into the evening and things were, as Robin understood the current vernacular to be, turnt.

In fact, at some point he'd thrown open all the windows so that the music blasted onto the street, and instructed the bouncers to let in whoever wanted in. He'd also instructed the bartenders to serve all the beer half price. The resulting crowd and frenzy was really something else.

OTA

Mar. 7th, 2017 03:43 pm
akatawitch: (Upset)
[personal profile] akatawitch
She'd made the right choice.

She was the one who'd dumped him.

She knew that they were better as friends, given that was all he seemed able to give her.

It still felt like her stomach was going through a paper shredder whenever she thought about it.

So Sunny's coping mechanism to ignore the shredding inside her was to throw all of her free time into researching how to help Anael. If she was thinking about magic, she didn't have to think about emotions and how much they sucked and boys and how they were no good and how much she didn't want to talk to anybody about this utter failure and--

And anyway, it made her behave. She had already pulled in Faizel on this project, and she'd be stupid to cut him out now. Anael was more important than her shredding. Felix... well, what good would making things more awkward for him do? So she continued to text Faizel about this. But not about anything else yet.

Meaning that right now she was sitting outside a cafe, researching Afro-Caribbean religions--the ones that blended the folk beliefs of West Africa with Christianity--to see if that might give her some indication of what to do with her own power. As an added layer of making it difficult for her mind to wander, she took notes in Igbo.

Of course, it also meant that anybody who got curious wouldn't have any clue what she was actually writing about, and that wasn't a bad idea either.

She'd made the right choice. So why was she trying so hard to keep from curling up and dying?

OTA

Jan. 30th, 2017 04:20 pm
whispersoflove: (otherworldly)
[personal profile] whispersoflove
Coby wasn't home, and hadn't left a note for him, so Anael was walking through the streets of London to get to Alcuin's home, enjoying the chill in the air, the way his breath fogged on the way out, the ebb and flow of love in the hearts around him. Hands in his jacket pockets, he paid no mind to the odd looks he occasionally received for wearing nothing but a denim jacket over a t-shirt in this weather.

It began as an itch in his back, a barely there scratch where his wings would be. He did not think much of it, only shifting his shoulders the way he normally did when the urge to let them out came over him. But then the itch burrowed deeper, and increasingly hotter, until it was more of a burn than anything else, and his lungs were alive with it.

He'd hurried into a side street with little foot traffic and leaned against a wall there, his breathing short and heavy. He tried to cloak himself, but he couldn't keep a hold on the miracle through the pain he was so unused to, and he collapsed to his knees as he heard words in a rough language that scraped against every fiber of his being, a language of Hell. His wings wouldn't come out and he folded to his side on the wet ground, seeing shadows on the other side of the street. They were all saying the words, out loud and right into his mind, and one of them came forward, a pair of boots stopping right in front of him. They pulled his t-shirt collar down and drew a symbol between his collarbones, their fingers red with - blood? The symbol felt like it was searing into his flesh. Anael cried out, physically as much as spiritually, praying out to God with all of his being.

The words ceased suddenly, pain abating slightly, and the dark figures dispersed as someone ran over to him.

OTA

Jan. 6th, 2017 01:10 pm
alcuin: (dark)
[personal profile] alcuin
The call had come at about 6:30 in the morning. Alcuin had been the most frequent phone number in Hannibal Lecter's phone logs, and he had no next of kin. They needed someone to identify a body. They had already established that dental records were a match, so this was really just a necessary formality, they told him once he was at the police station, sitting there numbly. There was no need to show him the body itself, someone explained kindly, as to be frank, it was burned beyond recognition. But two pieces of jewelry had been found on it.

The attendant handed Alcuin a watch and a ring. They were Hannibal's. He felt like throwing up.

They told him they were still investigating, but the house was nearly entirely gone. The rapid nature of the fire's spread suggested accelerant. Arson. In other words, though they did not say it, murder.

They had let him keep the watch and the ring, and gave him the number of a grief counselor, and a police officer told him that they would be in touch about the investigation. They'd also asked him where he had been the night before. The answer was home, alone, and Alcuin felt sick with the knowledge that he could somehow be a suspect in this. Again.

He'd said as little as possible during the entire ordeal. Tried to think as little as possible. It was nearly 9am by the time he emerged from the police station and onto the city sidewalk in what seemed like impossibly bright light. He took a couple of deep breaths and then bolted over and retched into a trash can.
goodfellow: (Default)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It was exactly one year since the pre-opening of Saturnalia, and the club had become even more successful than its proprietor had anticipated. In celebration, he opened its doors again for a blow-out of a New Year's Eve party, bringing back the theme of Greek decadence from the year before. Now, mingled against the typical industrial decor of the club (smattered with graffiti style murals of Greek myths), there were decorations of white and gold and reproductions of famous artwork, including a replica of the David statue in the middle of the floor.

Many in London had received invitations, including anyone with even the most distant connection to Robin Goodfellow, along with extra invitations as well. There was also a line outside, and the bouncers had been instructed to allow people in with some amount of randomness. After all, what fun was there in a party only filled with the rich and beautiful?

Unlike last year there was no expectation of any particular dress code, though there were many dancers and employees in the crowd in the skimpiest of togas to admire.

Alcohol was for sale, bartenders were talented, and also those employees in skimpy togas made their way through the crowd with shots and glasses of champagne on a regular basis. There were many dark corners and private rooms, and the music even made for dancing was sexy. All in all, it was clear that the theme of the night was modern hedonism.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Fin and Will had rented out the entirety of the theatre where Fin had gotten his big break, then brought in staff to deck the pace out in holiday cheer. The centrepiece was a grand looking tree that stood centre stage, with a DJ set up to the left, and Santa to the right, who was taking photos and handing out this year's goodie bags. Some of the seating had been removed to make room for dancing and food, but the balcony remained as it always was, for people to rest and get a good view of the celebrations below.

No expense had been spared, but it was, overall, a causal affair. Those who weren't competing in the ugly jumper contest were asked to dress tidy, but comfortably, so they could enjoy the festivities of the evening. From the music and food, to the affordable bar and little area set up to fill out cards and make donations for the local children's hospital.

Invites had been sent to their friends and loved ones, and inside each invite they'd tucked a few more so their friends could invite their friends also.

All and all, it was set to be a wonderful night.

OTA

Dec. 19th, 2016 03:34 pm
borgiafatale: (guileless)
[personal profile] borgiafatale
After nearly a year in Milan, Lucrezia was happy to be back in London. She'd missed it. This was her city, her family's city. Her father at least seemed to think he owned it, and perhaps he would someday, given the current gossip around the next PM elections. He'd made some very politically effective speeches lately, coming off as particularly compassionate, meaning he was plotting something.

It was probably a little too fast that she'd agreed to take the long term modeling contract that would take her away from London for so long. She hadn't asked Allan first. And when she told him, she'd pointed out that it was probably her last opportunity since she would age out of modeling soon enough. But he hadn't cared, not one bit. He was probably relieved. Glad she'd be away and he could stop hiding his mistress, whoever she was. Just as Lucrezia took the job in part to get away from him, from his cheating and drinking. Michael had seemed so certain that his drinking would lead to violence, just like her last husband. So it was only a stop gap, but there was a whole year where he didn't have the opportunity.

He'd seemed happy to see her, if the enthusiasm with which he dragged her to bed said anything. Though on the other hand, three days after Lucrezia's return five days ago, Allan had left on a business trip.

Which was why, as she walked out of a cafe holding a large cappuccino, it was a pretty big shock to see him across the street. A big enough shock that she dropped the cup, splattering hot coffee over her white tights (thankfully not bare legs). "Christ!" she gasped in surprise (he father would be appalled). And then she immediately spun around, afraid he might look over and see her, ignoring the cup rolling down the sidewalk and into someone's feet.

She probably looked like a crazy person. And she felt crazy, too, for being surprised at all.
goodfellow: (Default)
[personal profile] goodfellow
As much as Robin had enjoyed being in New York with Prometheus, he'd grown restless. And now that he was back in London, he realized how much this really did seem like his home now. He loved the city, he loved running the club. He even appreciated the friends that he had here, as much as he still attempted to keep them at arm's length.

Tonight, he made the rounds at Saturnalia dressed in an impeccable plum colored suit with a silver cashmere scarf hanging from his neck. He was already planning for a New Year's Eve party to celebrate the anniversary of that first "unofficial" opening of the club. Perhaps he could make it even better this time.

He was carrying a bottle of good champagne, still cold, and occasionally stopped those with empty glasses (of anything) and offered to refill them. Though now, he tipped his head back and poured some into his mouth before wiping it and looking pleased with himself.

Mini GP

Nov. 30th, 2016 07:41 pm
hollow_moon: (blue shade)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
It was that time of the year, a time that used to fill Valentine with joy. Christmas was so wonderful usually, after all, but not so much this year. He simply wasn't in the holiday spirit. However, he'd planned this charity event months ago, and there was no cancelling it now. 

It wasn't as flash as ones he'd held in prior years, his museum open to the public with collection buckets all over for people to give what they could to ensure a better holiday for those in need. Music filled the space, and there were performers all throughout the space. Yes, he'd had to up security for the evening to keep his many occult related items safe, but- Well, it was worth it, he supposed. If nothing else, it seemed to be enough to stop his mother from worrying so much about him for a bit.

All were welcome and admission was free. The bar was reasonably priced, and there were a few free nibbles donated by a local restaurant. All and all, not a bad night for the bored and the generously inclined.

(Use this like you'd use any GP! OTA)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The world at large seemed heavier this week, bad news from across the pond drifting over like a bad storm and raining down on the city. Still, stiff upper lip and all that. If London had stopped every time things had seemed bleak, it would have fallen long ago.

And so life went on, as it must. 

The skies were a bit grey and the streets slightly damp, but the Christmas lights were coming on early this year, and Harrods already had the streets lit up with wonder and sparkle. Cafes and bars followed suit, and twinkling lights were everywhere you looked, casting a much needed bit of whimsy and wonder over the stark looking faces that passed by. It was hard to stay grim when children and adults alike seemed so entranced by it all.

There were plenty of events going on as well. From the Lord Mayor's Show or the Dulwich Christmas Bazaar, to the usual concerts, festivities, and even bowling

London may have looked a bit foggy and miserable, but there was pleanty of joy to be found for those who went looking.

(Gathering post! Just a nice mellow post to combat those post election blues, and balance out the drama from Halloween. As always, this post will be open for at least a week, so tag in and check back often to tag others. <3)
prodigalflame: (shocked by the level of your stupid)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
The Tavern, as it was called, brought to mind images of faded Tudor quaintness: of whitewashed exterior, black beams, windows barred with cast iron, mulled mead and a fireplace in every room.

In truth, the pub was anything but. Located in one of the gentrifying suburbs, it was a modern bulwark of concrete, iron and glass. The first two stories were the pub proper, and the next ten were apartments. The owners had called it 'The Tavern' in a display of hipster pride, as if it was the only pub that mattered. Snaking through the two levels were a series of pipes, as small-scale brewing took place on site.

It was usually a lively sort of pub, populated mostly by the fussy, the well-off, the well-educated and those that aspired to be, although situated near a tube station meant it also got a lot of randoms peering in to grab a pint. The alcohol menu was diverse, the food menu was dominated by various pulled meats and a cheese board (if anyone cared) and there were probably far too many male graduate students with neckbeards who nodded enthusiastically at each other as they discussed Kant.

Still, on Saturday night it was even more bustling than usual. People stood on the stairs, beers in hand, and chatted. Every seat was taken. The wait staff had their hands full (literally), and moved with ease and grace through the throng to deliver food to tables, and collect numbers and plates.

Tonight there would be music. Tonight there would be bands. Tonight was Singles' Night, a guarantee of no sappy love songs, no heart break, no angst. Two local bands were playing: first there would be a set from The Flamethrowers, with a mix of classic rock and pop standards, and then after a break, there would be an electro-synth duo to allow for dancing well past midnight.

So at about 9pm, patrons were treated to the sight of the first band tuning up. There wasn't really a performance space, so much as a corner on the ground floor of the pub that was currently unoccupied by tables. It was a four-piece band: some shaggy-haired cross between hobo and hipster on rhythm guitar and vocals, a slightly older british caribbean guy in glasses with goatee on double bass, a short-haired woman in her mid-20s on percussion and vocals and a tendency to beat the ever-living fuck out of the drum set, and another woman, more long-haired and willowy, on keyboards and vocals. Mr Hobo-Hipster of the shaggy hair and blond tips sang lead most of the time, but he gave it up for each of the women through their eleven song set, and there were duets. The keyboard was set to produce a more honky-tonk piano sound, and combined with the double bass, most of the covers had a dirty feel to them, all loose chords and guitar slaps. Clearly they'd played together for long enough to have a good feel for each other, which just added to the looseness, the occasional digression or ad hoc solo.

And Mr Hobo-Hipster didn't so much as introduce the band members as say "Hey. We're the Flamethrowers" and then let his guitar speak for itself as they launched into a funked-up version of Money. His voice was a little rough, almost a growl, and his stage presence was contained but not muted. Even without posturing, John made it very clear that he was the driving force behind the band: he didn't preen or strut, he didn't need to, and only the hint of a smirk could be seen around his eyes. There was no grinning, not now: now he was controlled and contained and came off a little bit contemptuous of having to perform. He sang, sure, and he played, and played pretty well, but his focus were the frets of his guitar, the lyrics of the songs. That night, he was sleek and dangerous and full of pride. That night, he had no reasons to smile or grin or show how happy he was: he'd lost those along the way. He was pared back to his disdainful core. Overall, the band was good but not great, and with John being Intense, the performance probably came off somewhere between 'bluesy rock band' and 'satanic death cult'.

Grooving through the set-list for roughly 45 minutes, the Flamethrowers played a series of stripped-back, funked-up covers. Rock the Casbah. a slowed-down take on Time after Time. Versions of Dangerous and Sweet Dreams (are made of this) that were dominated by the keyboards and a sparse double bass. Everybody Wants to Rule the World. John's wry grin came out for a guitar driven, lazy run on Carole King's "It's Too Late", before he paused to finally introduce the band, have some water, and explain that the point was to avoid the melancholic and romantic: to not make anyone feel bad for being single.

Four more songs, and they then closed with Mama Told Me Not To Come, having meandered their way past some INXS, Living End and Lynyrd Skynyrd.

In the end, John thanked the band (again), thanked everyone for showing up, and hoped they passed the audition. As a nicety, he promised there would now be some 'music you can dance to' after a little break, and then disappeared to pack up his guitar and amp and find himself a drink and a quiet corner.

The night went on without him, and that was just fine.

[OOC: Saturday night at an upmarket pub and destination of note. Feel free to show up before, during or after the band. Complain about the noise, the locally brewed artisan beer, the hipster food, the even more hipster band, or just dance the night away.]

OTA

Aug. 31st, 2016 07:03 am
pippa_flynn: (Flower)
[personal profile] pippa_flynn
And so she had become the Forgotten Queen of the Trooping Fae. Her grandfather's passing had come at a price and now she was some sort of royalty she didn't quite understand and Fin had gone blind again. It was nearly too much to take but Pippa was carrying on. What else could she do? The facts were the facts and no amount of fuss would change it. And she'd tried. She had power coursing through her now, all the time she felt it, and she'd tried to restore Fin's sight. It didn't work. Of course not. Why would it?

And then the dumb twit had gone back to stay with his stupid boyfriend. Pippa was outraged about that and she'd told Fin so. And that didn't work, either. Of course not. And so on that front she bit her tongue. Fin knew how she felt. It had little to do with keeping him close and everything to do with keeping him out of the treacherous prince's arms.

Pippa sighed softly and looked at her mobile that had just chirped. He newest client wanting a progress report. She needed something more concrete and so she sat down at the cafe on one of the dwindling nice days of the London summer, and she texted her client back.

It was striking, just how much she looked like Fin. And, of course, she'd been all over the papers thanks to the paps hounding Fin about his drug use and his blindness. The gentleman at the next table actually had a copy of the daily rag and she smiled at the photo on the cover.

If only life could be as dramatic as the paper made it seem. If only being queen meant something...
jeepers_creepers: (:|)
[personal profile] jeepers_creepers
London. Wasn't it strange how they all kept ending up in London? Melissa, Wren... Well, okay, perhaps Wren belonged here, but whatever. Spencer had been here too though, and she wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Aria had been here at some point also.

Jenna was here alone though, and her cane tapped rhythmically against the pavement as she made her way down the street. Dark shades hid her eyes, serving as both a fashion statement and a shield, covering the white lines around her eyes. If she was honest, she wasn't completely sure why she'd come to London- Maybe to just get away from Rosewood, or maybe... Maybe she thought she'd uncover something here. Maybe even find closure here.

Right now, however, she was just trying to get to the bar, or the 'pub' as they called it.

Even in heels and with no way of seeing where she was going, Jenna never stumbled or tripped. So when her cane fell from her hands, it was because someone accidentally knocked it away. That was enough to make her stop in her tracks, sighing as whoever had knocked it continued walking.

"Damn it," she muttered, hating how exposed she felt as she very slowly started to crouch down to feel around for it.

ota

Jun. 29th, 2016 04:45 pm
finlay_flynn: (fair and frail)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
The first attack had been unexpected. Sure, they'd all been on guard, but it still seemed to come out of nowhere, and part of him had been hopeful that they were all being overly cautious. ...Will had been right though, and that attack had been nothing compared to what would come.

For the most part they'd taken to pairing off when they could, but it was impossible to be with one another at all times, and tonight Fin was alone- But still more prepared than before. He carried two daggers now, both made of iron, and though his magic was still weak and very new, he was slowly learning to control it and master minor spells and charms with the help of Will. So he didn't feel too concerned as he made his way home down less populated streets.

His training had made him more attune to magic around him though, and he went still for a moment as he felt that familiar shiver pass through him. Someone was coming. ...More than one someone, actually, and he ducked down the first alley he passed, trying to decide if he should run or fight. ...Or call for Will. Common sense told him that was the thing to do, but he knew deep down he had to learn to take care of himself. Will wouldn't always be there to swoop in and save him after all.

Running seemed wise as well, but given how fast Phouka could move, he knew there was a chance he wouldn't be able to outrun his attacker. No, this time fight won out over flight, and he took a calming breath as he drew one of his daggers.

That was all the time he had to prepare, in a flash magic engulfed the alley he'd ducked into, and two tall, blue green figures stood before him, one wielding a knife, the other a heavy sword- So heavy, in fact, that the creature needed two hands to lift it. They looked fae, but- Different somehow. Unseelie, perhaps?

Fin was fairly certain they weren't going to pause to answer questions though, and before either of them could step closer, he cast one of the few charms he knew- A spell that was just strong enough to freeze one of them in place for a few moments. The actor didn't have much time to think about it, and froze the one with the knife. The sword wielding one was much slower, and surely he'd be easier to fight off. 

The creature lunged at him, and Fin managed to avoid the heavy swing of his sword, before lunging with his own blade the way Will had taught him. He missed, and moved away again as the creature lifted its sword once more. His heart was pounding in his chest, and though his magic felt weakened by the first spell he'd cast, he attempted another. ...And only managed to singe himself.

"Shit," he swore softly, shaking away the pain and only barely getting out of dodge as the sword came down again. Though this time the creature had moved closer to him as it struck, and Fin knew now was the time to act. 

His blade sunk into the creature's neck, and it screamed, the sound dampened by whatever spell they'd cast to trap him in the tight space of that alley. As it fell, Fin saw someone approaching from the way he'd come, and rather than watch the creature shrivel into nothing more than bones at his feet, his gaze fell on the person heading his way, their features slightly obscured by the heavy fog that the creatures seemed to have brought with them.

He was so busy looking at the stranger, trying to asses if they were friend or foe, that he didn't notice the his spell wearing off- Not until his other attacker was right beside him, and a sharp iron blade was in his side.
lcrpg_npc: (night)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
While every week is a good week to love yourself and be proud, no week was better time to shout that pride from the rooftops than, well, London Pride. 

From Pride Ride, an epic group cycle through London, to parades, lunches, parties, massive club nights, and even comedy shows and concerts, there was no way anyone could be bored this week. There were ample opportunities to dress up in flashy clothes, reach out and meet other members of the LGBT community, and even just blow off some steam.

Some events of note to look forward to were the Natural History Museum June Lates, the already mentioned Pride RideSecret Soho Saucy Tours, and dozens of other events and fun times.

Something for everyone, and not  dull day in sight.

OTA

Jun. 11th, 2016 12:33 pm
just_hex: (Default)
[personal profile] just_hex
Danny was gone. A note saying his good bye and a mobile number out of service. Hex had checked with Sara, had tried Scotty, but Danny had simply vanished. In a city this size if you knew how it asn't hard. But that still meant Hex had lost another who he loved. Maybe he just wasn't meant to have a boyfriend. Maybe that wasn't in the cards. He'd gravitated toward Fin because he was, and always would be, his best mate. Hex felt comfortable around him. But Fin had Will and the other fairies by default. He had his family and Hex had...not a lot.

Yeah, he had Spencer's house and he had money piled up from work and the videos and he'd been writing the book Stanley had pressed him to, so he wouldn't be hurting. Not in any kind of security sense.

But he was bloody lonely. The house seemed so empty with Danny gone.

He couldn't stand it anymore tonight so he'd stepped up, done his best to dress nice, and went into a pub where there was good food, plenty of ale, games and even a small dance floor, though no one was dancing this early. He ordered a bacon sarnie and a pint and took a seat where he could watch the door. Making up stories about people sort of made him feel better.

A bloke walked in and recognized him on the spot. "Hex!" he said warmly. "How are you, you bastard?"

Hex chuckled. "I'm alright."

"I seen you've been out of A&E, what have you been doing?" the man asked, pulling out a card.

"Recovering. I get clearance to go back in two weeks," he explained, then took the card.

"Say goodbye to St. Bart's, mate. Come work for me. Better benefits, better hours, all the danger and none of the bother. Driving an ambulance is the job for you," the bloke asssured him.

Hex smiled.

"I'll give you a call when I'm cleared," he said, happy for the first time in days. A medic. An ambulance. A change.

The bloke moved on and left Hex to his meal.

[Whatever pub you like, join him for dinner, see him through a window, text him to find out where he is...open to anything]

Debut - OTA

Jun. 6th, 2016 12:31 pm
he_she_we: (Default)
[personal profile] he_she_we
They'd fallen. That was the last thing either of them could recall. Their ship had been abandoned, and the pod they'd escaped in hadn't been built for this planet's atmosphere. It hit that inner layer, and simply began to dissolve. It had vanished, and they'd fallen.

No, it burned. There was heat, she thought. I was in here, and I still felt it. You should have let me out, I'm stronger.

He closed his eyes, too sore still to get up. It had taken all his energy just to pull himself out of the water- And she was right, he should have let her out, she absolutely was stronger than him, and a better swimmer as well. However, this had been his fault, he was the one who'd made a mistake during the repairs. It was only right he be the one to fall, landing like a stone in unclean waters.

You don't always have to be the strong one, he thought, and he could feel her disapproval.

They lay there a moment longer, but eventually opened their eyes. Reaching out, he used his psychic ability to read the unguarded thoughts of those passing by. Though he was mindful as always, never invasive, never aggressive.

London, that was where they had landed. He could hear it echoing the heads of locals and tourists, filtering in with all the other little tidbits of intel.

He winced in pain as he stood, and she sighed.

We should swap. I'm safe, you're hurt. Don't be foolish, She scolded.

He sighed, the stubborn part of him wanting to go on, the sensible part aware he should offer her control.

After a long moment of discussion, they emerged on street level, still damp, but otherwise composed and calm- If not a bit lost.

(OTA! New pup, you can see their wiki here. I left it open enough so you can decide if you want to meet him or her first, just let me know which you want to speak to in your tag.)
goodfellow: (dark)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It had taken considerably longer than Robin anticipated, thanks to some building code issues that had pushed back his renovations by months, but following the thrown together "preview" on New Year's Eve (that had gone very well if he did say so himself), Saturnalia was finally officially open for business.

The inside of the club looked somewhat different than it had in January: more polished now, better decorations, furniture, lighting. There was still Greek inspiration, particularly in the murals on the walls - modern, graffiti-inspired versions of Greek art and myths, bright colors splashed amidst chrome industrial decor. Most of the employees (bartenders, dancers) were wearing togas.

The grand opening was a hot ticket, but Robin had sent out invitations generously, and instructed the bouncers at the door to let in the beautiful people as usual, yes, but to be rather random about it as well. After all, what was the fun in only the rich and beautiful?

Alcohol was free flowing, and the music was hot, spun by a DJ on a stage who seemed to have the perfect sense of the crowd. He may have even had a little help by magic. Because why leave these things to chance?

OTA

May. 26th, 2016 06:28 pm
yves: (pensive)
[personal profile] yves
For the most part, these days, Yves was less interested in what mortals labelled as 'the occult' and more what they called 'science'. Honestly, in his mind the two were somewhat interchangeable. Potions were just drugs dressed up in pretty bottles, with slightly more exotic ingredients. Operations were dark magic rituals preformed under bright lights, where swapping out and removing bits, while funnelling in fresh blood and carefully picking the right poison to keep the subject alive, was painted in a strangely pleasant light.

So he switched between the two without a care, even letting them overlap on occasion. Though mixing the dark arts mortals called medicine or progress with the more obscure potions and rituals of his own kind, could, on occasion, result in some odd occurrences.

It had been a lovely day today, not too hot, not terribly cold, with a zero chance of precipitation. ...So the sudden thunderclouds and vicious downpour that rolled over central London in the span of twenty minutes was, actually, a bit shocking. Yves had been working on something special, but was aware he'd made a misstep when he heard the crack of thunder outside.

Making his way up from his basement, he grabbed an umbrella before stepping outside and looking up.

"Curious," he said mildly. Apparently mixing olanzapine with a weather stone, and the essence of a freshly killed wraith, had interesting side effects.

OTA

May. 15th, 2016 09:15 pm
finlay_flynn: (dawn)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
Since the incident, Fin had taken to self medicating. More so than usual- Much more. Fin often seemed to have the lingering scent of high end cannabis woven into his clothes, but lately he was hitting the harder stuff again as well. though he'd always been very high functioning for a user- Enough so that anyone who didn't know him well might not even know he was high.

It was slowly taking a toll though, in subtle ways. His temper, which had already been a bit unpredictable of late, was shorter now, and his inhibitions- Which had become more and more minimal over time- were nearly non-existent.

So tonight on his way into the club when several paparazzi began harassing him, Fin didn't respond the way he'd been taught to. ...No, quite the opposite. 

They shouted questions about his sexuality, about the sex tape, about his mysterious partner- Sometimes politely, but often crude and almost taunting. Like they wanted to provoke.

Little did they know, they really didn't need to put that much effort in.

Rather than answer, Fin caught the first person to approach him around the middle, dipping them low- Not unlike he had in a recent film of his, in a scene that had been called quite 'swoon-worthy' by his dedicated tumblr fans.

"What do you think?" he asked his surprise partner. "Should I tell them about us, lover?"

(OTA Even strangers! I thought Fin could use something a bit light hearted, so here you go. If your pup tags in, he'll prolly snog them. (The only exception I can think of is Sunny, because that would be kinda incesty imo :P) Though if you'd rather he didn't, just give me a poke on slack or email me, and instead of giving them a kiss, he'll just escort them into the club or something. XD The club can be any kind you like!)

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London Calling RPG

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