so_thoughtless: (hmmm)
[personal profile] so_thoughtless
Epimetheus wasn't like Prometheus when it came to powers and magic. He had power, sure, but he'd never mastered it the way his twin had. He hadn't needed to, really. He'd never been trapped in the mortal realm after all, he came and went as he pleased- Using portals. ...Portals he generally had others open for him. However, since he was traveling alone lately, the only way to pop back home for a bit was to crack one open himself, using the only spell he knew to do so. A very blunt spell, honestly, that Prometheus had scolded him time and time again for using. 'Spells like this aren't like garage door openers, you know. They don't just open one portal, they'll open any in range,' the other titan had scolded, though all Epimetheus had said in return was 'What's a garage door?'.

That had been some time ago, but Epimetheus had used the spell many times since. He'd never noticed any ill effects personally, and didn't have the foresight to see how it might go a bit wrong. So this morning when he'd popped home to see Pandora, he'd gone on as he always did- Oblivious to any trouble he might be causing elsewhere.

(Portals are opening and closing all over london, letting things into the city from other places, times, ect. The sky is the limit here! Have anything you want slip through into the city- Or maybe let your pups go stumbling through one themselves? The choice is yours! This post will be open all next week, so tag in and then check back often! As always, we trust you guys not to go too crazy with this power, but please, no wrecking the city or doing anything that might cause gamewide issues without checking in with us first. Also, like any plot, feel free to have your pups sit out or be completely oblivious to the chaos. Assume that Torchwood and the like are keeping it out of the papers. ;) Have fun!)

OTA

Apr. 24th, 2017 09:45 pm
winter_wisp: (pink)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
Winter's potion was, for the most part, a reliable thing these days. He took it first thing in the morning, topped up around noon, and had a drip or two more before midnight if he wasn't headed home yet. Without those extra drops, however, it usually wore off just after midnight- About fifteen minutes after, to be more precise. So, when it hadn't worn off after midnight two days ago, Winter had been, understandably, concerned. Enough so that he'd not taken it since.

Two days, no potion, and he was still... Mortal size. He could make himself shrink, force himself small. All his powers seemed fine and his wings were as sharp and sure as ever, he just... Didn't seem to be pixie sized anymore. And while a younger Winter would have thought that was great, adult Winter had concerns. This just wasn't normal. ...Something inside him was changing. He was changing.

...He couldn't help but worry he was becoming that vision of himself he'd seen in his reflection. The tall and lean creature, with wild eyes and sharp bones. He knew he needed to tell someone, that doing nothing definitely wasn't a solution- He just wasn't sure who to go to anymore. Everyone seemed to have their own problems at the moment, and Winter didn't want to add his own to anyone's pile.

Sitting outside Starbucks, sipping a unicorn inspired drink that was too sweet even for the pixie, Winter looked very grown up and painfully normal in his black jumper and fitted jeans. His wild hair had curled itself into a fairly tame looking style, and was currently a very drab shade of ginger and brown. Taking another sip of his drink, he wrinkled his nose and pushed the cup away- Only to pull it back towards him a few moments later for another sip.

"Gross," he muttered, nose wrinkling again, as though he'd forgotten just how bad it was- Or, maybe, convinced himself to give it just one more go.
londoncallingmods: (spoops)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The press weren't talking about it, but there were whispers on Twitter- Chatter about strange events, odd happenings. Little pockets of London where seemingly impossible things were happening. ...Except no one seemed to be able to get photos of these 'strange occurrences', and as we all know, if there are no pictures, it didn't happen.

A girl near the Thames had tweeted about seeing what looked like tiny creatures dancing across the surface of the water. A man on the underground had reported his bag briefly floating a foot off the ground. A boy in Topshop had tweeted about his own reflection trying to have a chat with him. 

Those with magic in them could feel it. Little bubbles of playful power popping up all over the city, then vanishing again. Like a pot of water that never quite reached a boil. It was a gentle kind of magic though. Soft and playful- Not from the other side or any other part of the world, but right here in London. It was old and forgotten, and very keen to play with everyone- Magic and non-magic alike.

(Open all through next week and next weekend. Have the magic effect your character however you like, but keep in mind that this magic, whatever it is, is very pure and playful. It wouldn't cause harm- Though maybe inconvenience.)
wispofathing: (Riding the night wind)
[personal profile] wispofathing
Curnen stood on the roof of her building. She probably wasn’t supposed to be up here, but it wasn’t like anybody particularly noticed or cared and not like she couldn’t evade notice anyway. Her eyes had fallen closed and she let her body sway and swing with the whims of the night wind.

It had been hard to notice it through the heartbreak, but once Curnen had forced herself to get back to work so she could do little things like make her part of the rent, she realized that something had changed. Something in her mind had cleared and sharpened since her father died. She started stringing together a little melody, one all her own. Lyrics, too, though they may not be for this particular piece had started to come as well. There was not a song, not just yet, but when she managed to discipline her unused muscle, there would be one. A dozen. More, maybe, in time.

Now she hummed, and the sound of her humming blended perfectly with the breeze. She lifted her arms and raised her dry eyes to the sky, singing up into the black. The nearly full moon peeked through the cloud cover, and she smiled.

Oh time makes men grow sad
And rivers change their ways
But the night wind and her riders
Will ever stay the same


And the next moment she was gone from that rooftop, flying high above London on Tufa wings.

They, like her creative muscles, were not up to full strength yet. So she landed from time to time to rest, and the wings disappeared as though they’d never been.

Though she had a few deliberate stops to make tonight as well. Look, look! she wanted to tell everyone she knew I can fly!

(And Curnen's got her wings back! If your character know she's fae and she knows where they live, she's stopping by at their window because she can. If they also fly, meet her in the air! Otherwise, she can literally appear anywhere. She's not stupid, though, if you're not one of those people you're probably not catching her with her wings out.)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Lucky in love or not, London was a lovely place to find yourself on Valentine's Day. From romantic walks through various parks, to intimate dinners or shared deserts in the many restaurants and cafe's- There was something for everyone, because if wandering or dining wasn't for you, well, there were plenty of organised events to attend.

London couldn't claim to be the city of love, but it was certainly a city of possibilities.
wispofathing: (Black Eyes)
[personal profile] wispofathing
How do you bear it?

Curnen had never heard Peggy Goins sound so tired and broken in her life. Miss Peggy had always been vivacious and cheerful, but she was taking the murder of her husband on top of all the other recent mayhem in the Tufa community about as well as could be expected. Which was to say, not at all. Tragic love stories were not new to their people, but the murder of a loved one… well. Curnen was the last to face that, which was why she supposed the now widowed Mrs. Goins was calling her. She couldn’t remember much if anything of the conversation, but that question had stuck with her.

How do you bear it?

It had banged around in her dreams by night, and by morning the barriers that Curnen had consciously or unconsciously put between herself and her past were in splinters and everything in her that wasn’t nailed down was shaking loose--her father and her mother and her husband and her birth and her curse. She tried to go about her day. She tried to put it all away again where it was supposed to be, but there was too much, too much too fast.

How do you bear it?

Her legs gave out in the middle of the sidewalk and she fell to her knees screaming. Not crying. Screaming. Screaming fit to tear her throat raw. Her hands tangled in her hair and tore at it almost hard enough to rip it out by the fistful, and yet the pain of this did nothing to soothe the storm inside. If anything, it seemed all the more determined to make itself known, the air temperature around her dropping sharply into freezing cold.

And she screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

OTA

Jan. 14th, 2017 10:33 pm
wispofathing: (Pigtails)
[personal profile] wispofathing
Ostensibly they were out busking, but the Overbay sisters were singing to and for as well as with each other.

Bliss was perhaps not a great beauty as her little sister made her sound, but there was something beautiful about her when she was in motion. About thirty in appearance with smile lines, she was taller and more solid than her pixie-like sister, her presence had a quiet, nurturing, steady calm to it that balanced out Curnen’s flitting energy. Her bone straight black hair was braided back, hanging to her waist. Her eyes were green (as one might expect of a fairy), but a normal green that looked blue sometimes depending on what she was wearing.

They passed an actually nice guitar back and forth between them—Curnen’s now, Willy was letting her keep it!—and while the case was open for anyone who cared to show their appreciation, they paid it no real mind even though the crowd was very generous today. This was a reunion and a healing and a prayer. They had not sung together properly since Lyndon Johnson was president.

Which wasn't to say that pragmatism wasn't telling them to turn it into a little something more.

Less often they brought out a violin, and only Curnen played that one. Bliss had brought it with her and it was her intention to leave it here. It had been their daddy's. Curnen was nervous about that, since the man who had raised her hadn’t been her father by blood… but Bliss made the poor thing sound like a dying cat.

But it was their voices that was most important and really entranced. The younger sister had a high, ethereal soprano, the older sister lower and smokier alto, and they knew how to blend these to best effect with a certainty that came from years of experience.

Curnen could keep this up all day, but practicalities had to be tended to. Practicalities like lunch. Bliss volunteered to go in search of something while Curnen continued to play on her own. She scratched inexpertly--which was by human standards still at least passably--at her daddy's violin, remembering how he'd been able to coax goddamn light and shadow from this instrument.

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.
finlay_flynn: (coat down)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
He'd been on set most of the day, working on something that wouldn't air for several more months. It was nice to be working though, his magic and the potion Faizel had crafted for him making his vision passable and eyes clear looking. There were a lot of questions, of course, and quite a bit of gossip too- However, Fin had learned his lesson, and rather than make up lies about how he'd healed, he simply told the press and those who asked that it was personal, and that he didn't wish to dwell on it.

The aftermath of his party a few days ago still had him in a bad place though, and for all he should have been pleased to be working again, smiles were hard to come by.

Presently he was sitting outside the BBC office, perched on the steps and smoking. He was staring at his phone, aware he ought to call an uber- But struggling to focus enough to actually do so. He just felt so worn down, emotionally and physically, and he'd spent all the energy he'd had to push through it all on set. There was simply none left to aid him now.

It wasn't like him to be so down though, to let the problems of the past and present eat away at him so- And he told himself it was just a side effect of the season, rather than admit that, perhaps, the things he'd buried, the feelings he'd ignored, were just finally making their way to the surface.
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.
winter_wisp: (wicked creature)
[personal profile] winter_wisp
It was his birthday. ...Not the exact date, but the time when things had aligned in a way that had made the pixie what he was. He was Winter, and so today was his day. Sure, he shared it with plenty of others, but that didn't make it any less his.

He'd never really celebrated it though, not since he'd been terribly small. ...Smaller than usual, that is. However, this year felt like the year, this was the right time, he could feel it in his bones. He needed to celebrate, and to throw the biggest party any pixie had ever thrown. From the tree-house and through the park, there were decorations no one could explain, and music coming from a band that always seemed to be 'just a bit that way' or 'just a ways over there', impossible to find, and yet somehow everywhere..

And then there were the special guests, his friends from back home, each had been sent an invite, along with just enough potion to help them pass for mortal for the day. Though how well they passed seem to vary. Many arrived in the clothes they always wore, dresses woven from petals, shirts made of leaves... Magic was everywhere, coaxing life from sleeping trees and leaving the weather in a tizzy, from warm, to snowy, then back again. It was an only barley controlled bit of chaos, but Winter didn't mind, he was surrounded by friends and had no reason to do anything but smile. 

(OTA, use this like any GP. Feel free to assume your pup was invited or are just happening upon the chaos. Also, feel free to have the pixie magic effect your pup or the world around them as you see fit, just remember it's mischievous and lighthearted, not dark or destructive.)
lcrpg_npc: (night)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
The repurposed railway arches that housed Beagle's bar and restaurant were decked in shades of black: black christmas trees glittering with sparkly and satiny black ornaments, black wreaths with perfectly tied bows, black garlands draping along the walls and bar, ribbons edging the long banquet benches in the restaurant dining room. A gentle snow seemed to fall from the ceiling, a specially designed lighting effect much more pleasant than the cold and wet that would've accompanied real snow. Christmas music played over hidden speakers, setting the mood without interfering with conversation.

The Kraken Black Christmas feast was a different spin on the holiday than you'd find most places, and yet, a christmas feast all the same. All the flavors of the season were there, both in the bar's specialty cocktails and in the feast itself, served banquet-style to those fortunate enough to get tickets - mulled wine, egg nog, roasts and stuffing and puddings, and so much more. Yet the food and drinks all shared the same theme as the decor, shades of black augmented with squid ink, charcoal, or black sesame seeds.

Guests had been encouraged to continue the theme with black festive attire, but it wasn't required, and spots of color could be found here and there along the table or mingling in the bar. There was one thing everyone could agree on, though. No matter how black the theme, the mood was anything but dark.

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)

OTA

Nov. 28th, 2016 07:10 pm
wispofathing: (Introspective)
[personal profile] wispofathing
Curnen’s head felt tangled, and it almost seemed to her that her hair was all the harder to tame these days because of it. Ever since her disastrous phone call to Bliss where her elder sister had given her a blistering dressing down for the danger she could have brought to their people for her whimsical friendship of the Seelie prince. Curnen had assured her sister—and through her, Mandalay—that Willy meant her no harm, but by then a sister’s worry had overcome a regent’s duty and logic had left the conversation. There had been a lot of storm and stress that night.

And ever since then, Curnen had not known what to do with herself. She performed as she always had, but it rankled yet more and more that her few original songs remained lost to her, that her wings did not stir. So that day, after she finished her set she remained in the park for a long time, fiddling in the vain hope that perhaps something new might come to her fingers.

It wasn’t. It never was. She felt all too close to blowing away all over again.

And that was when she knew it was time to go see The Painting.

The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke hung in the Tate Gallery, but Curnen knew that nobody else here knew it was but a copy of a copy, a shadow of a shadow, and the Tufa destiny in paint. It showed a man, his back to the viewer, holding an axe high over his head. Around him stood myriad fae in court finery, their faces stylized and a little frightening. The original painting, known to only a very few, lay in the small town of Cricket. In the basement of the Overbay house, in Bliss’s care, the original and mirror image of this existed in tapestry, showing Rockhouse’s face, his smug and prideful face in the moment before he’d ruined them all.

And through the stylization one might discern Curnen’s own face in the painted crowd. Might. She had not been there at this moment, she had not yet been born. And yet there she was.

She stared at it for a long time in contemplative silence, wondering what it meant. For her people. For herself.

((Run into Curnen in the park or in the museum, your choice.))
drfeelbad: (Default)
[personal profile] drfeelbad
"You are American!" the barmaid exclaimed in delight when House sat down and asked for a scotch. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

House arched a brow at her enthusiasm, but then again, one of the reasons he'd come inside was that he'd seen the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade playing on the television above the bar. "Just like home," he said, nodding up at the television. "The crass commercialization designed as holiday spirit just gives me warm fuzzies."

She laughed. "I have pumpkin pie."

"You're shitting me. Really?"

She shrugged. "Used to be married to one of you. He was from Wisconsin. Liked pie."

House pulled out his wallet and took out a fifty pound bill, set it on the bar. "I'm going to sit here and watch the parade. Bring me whatever you like."

She was clearly thrilled about the challenge, because in addition to the pumpkin pie, she started whipping up experimental Thanksgiving-themed cocktails. It was amazing what could be made with cranberry and apple cider. An hour and a half later, House was drinking what she described as a cranberry orange margherita, and on his second piece of pie.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" he yelled to whoever walked in, hearing the tingling of the bells there.

Foxy - OTA

Nov. 21st, 2016 11:10 pm
finlay_flynn: (fox - srs)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
There were still no textbooks or youtube videos on how to fairy, and so Fin was still learning by doing. Sometimes he would do his best to focus on something, like reviving wilted flowers or forcing the wrinkles out of his bed sheets. Other times he'd try slightly harder things, like changing an item into another item- Something he hadn't yet mastered, but at least had a grasp on the basics now.

He played with elements, toyed with using his magic to tidy up or take notes for him. Nothing huge, nothing grand. It was a slow build after all.

Occasionally, however, he let his magic lead. It was a part of him, yes, but just as his mind was prone to wandering and building worlds for him to jot down on paper, his magic had a tendency to- Create. An extension of his imagination, he assumed, and he often let it lead as he created small items from ice, or even repainted a whole room with idle thoughts. It was remarkable, the things he could do with little more than a spare thought and a vague grasp on his powers. Will was right, he was powerful. He understood now why the other fae had feared them.

Today he was simply laying on the sofa, a pen taking notes by itself on a pad of paper nearby while he drew random patterns in the air with the tip of his finger. He was working on a pitch for a mini series, something prompted by a friend at the network, but his mind was dancing between ideas, and his magic was, for a lack of a better word, getting a bit bored it seemed. Or, perhaps he was bored and just didn't want to admit it.

The pen slowed, then stopped, and Fin closed his eyes as he sighed softly.

"Perhaps I should leave this all behind, go live in the woods on the Other Side, to be a wild thing like my kin," he mused. "You could come, if you like," he told Keats, opening one eye and looking over at the German Sheppard. The dog simply yawned though, then settled back in to finish his nap.

"No? Alright then. I'll just live alone then. Or, perhaps I'll live with Winter's pixie friends," he joked, smiling as his mind wandered to thoughts of thick forest like areas, wild flowers and strange stones. The many wonders of the world that was apparently his true home. The memories of his brief time there made his magic long for it- Or, again, perhaps it was just him. His secret desires, the needs of his blood. Whatever it was, it was powerful, and as Fin slowly got to his feet and headed for the private rooftop garden for a smoke, he felt something shift inside of him- Then outside.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, yes, he was suddenly small and a touch fluffy, but the sudden shift from human to fox had been painless- Pleasant, even. So much so that Fin had simply gone along with it. It was just more of his magic after all, harmless enough it seemed... At first.

Three hours later, and Fin was still a fluffed up white fox. He'd managed to get back inside the flat, but no matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to make himself human again. He was sure part of that was due to how worked up he'd gotten himself when his first attempt had failed, but now- Now he couldn't seem to calm down at all.

He'd gone looking for Will first, but the other fae was clearly out, and using a phone as a fox was a lost cause. Even if he could have dialled a number, he was struggling to speak. All he managed were some odd purrs and sharp sounds. Nothing intelligible. Clearly he would have to seek out help elsewhere. ...Perhaps Phouka and Winter might help, though they were quite a way away, and he really didn't think any Uber driver in their right mid would pick him up.

Well, a walk wouldn't be so bad. ...Not if he stayed hidden, right?

He'd barely made it three blocks before he'd been spotted, and he was currently cowering in an alley while a rather large and unpleasant man was attempting to whack him with the blunt end of a broom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,
he thought, unaware that anyone passing by with magic ability or sensitivities could hear him loud and clear.

(OTA. I was going to put this up on Thanksgiving since I'm off all day, but figured there was no harm in tossing it up early. ^_^ If you think your pup could hear Fin's magic telepathic chatter, be my guest. Or if you just want to save a fluffy fox, feel free! As always, late tags and slowtime are welcome.)
hollow_moon: (cheeky)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
The night had started out so calm, so normal. ...Boring. After the super moon, everything felt boring. He'd been wound up enough post his little trip to Germany, where he'd spent weeks and weeks roaming the woods in his wolf form. Stalking prey, hunting wild things, and embracing his true self. This? This unnatural itch under his skin, this fire in his bones? That was just the icing on top.

The pub was quiet for a Saturday night, glasses draining at a steady pace while all eyes seemed fixed on the telly on the far wall.  ...All but Val's, anyway. 

Dark eyes scanned the bar, and the wolf snarled softly inside of him as he finished his drink and spoke up over the low hum of chatter.

"Turn this shit off, will you? My Nan can play better than any of those tossers, and she's been buried for a good thirteen years now," he said, that ever so slightly posh and crisp voice standing out like a sore thumb the dingy little pub. Several of the usuals glanced over in anger, but only one took the bait. 

"Why don't you shut your gob, you toffee nosed prick?" the man growled

Valentine grinned, a smile that was all teeth as he got to his feet and held out his hands wide on either side. ...As though he was welcoming what he knew was about to come with open arms.

"Oh? And what if I don't, mate?" he asked. "What are you going to do? Do you fancy a go? Oh, I'm sure you do. Look at you, old, fat, scruffy. When was the last time anyone gave a shit about you, hmm? When was the last time you had eyes on you like this?" he asked, gesturing around them and grinning again. 

The man got to his feet, and though he didn't quite match Valentine in height, he was broad and strong looking, despite an ample gut. "Keep running your mouth boy. Just keep at it," the man warned.

Flashing his teeth again, Val offered the man two fingers as he grinned even wider. "Or you'll what, dear?" he asked bluntly.

The man didn't answer though, he simply swung. Heavy knuckles hit his jaw, and though it hurt, Valentine's grin only grew as he swung back hard. Stools where knocked over, tables shoved back causing glasses to spill and bottles to hit the floor, shattering at their feet and crunching under Valentine's heavy leather boots as he fought back. swinging, grunting, taking his blows with as much grace as could be hoped for. He barely wavered, and he didn't stop until it all ended with a crunch as his forehead connected with the other man's nose, sending the large man to the floor.

"Anyone else?" he asked as the barman reached for the phone, stilling the man with a look as he pulled out his wallet and dropped an impressive wad of cash onto the bar. "Come on. I'm sure one of you wants a go. Do you even know who I am? I'm Valentine fucking Collingwood, and I'll take you all on. ...Every last one of you pox ridden, red faced twats."

(OTA Stop the fight, encourage the fight, join in the fight... Whatever you like.)

ota~

Nov. 20th, 2016 12:15 pm
pixiesweat: (hair behind ear)
[personal profile] pixiesweat
The Blood Diamond was a familiar place to Manuel by now. He’d gone to see Eric again, quiet and obedient as ever. If anyone had asked, he’d have said he wasn’t scared, but every vampire in the building could hear how fast his heart was beating. He’d gotten used to the glances he got from the other vampires, and he knew exactly what they meant. They wanted to eat him, too, but as long as he was under the Sheriff’s protection, they couldn’t.

Being fed of off didn’t hurt too much. He’d had worse. He tried not to hold his breath as Eric’s fangs punched through his skin. He knew he’d only have to put up with the sting of the holes in his neck for a little while, until Eric finished drinking and healed him. When the time came to swallow that little drop of Eric’s blood, the pain suddenly didn’t seem so bad anymore. He didn’t want to take it. But he did what was expected of him, and he did it without complaining.

The vampire blood took effect instantly. The pain disappeared and the bite marks healed over, replaced with fresh, unbroken skin. His fear was gone just as quickly. His misery and loneliness melted away in a second. Eric’s blood was the only thing in nearly two years that had made him feel happy.

The world was brighter and softer all at the same time, and happy was too small a word.

Eric told him he could crash on the couch, like usual, but this time Manuel headed out of the office and back through the bar, for no reason other than he really, really wanted to. It was a really nice bar. He watched the customers drinking and dancing for a while, then headed back out onto the street. The lights and sounds of passing cars immediately caught his attention, and he stepped towards the road. They looked even better up close. He kept moving forward, over the edge of the pavement until he was standing in the road, just to the side of the flow of traffic. To any sober person it was clearly not safe, but Manuel was completely content and relaxed, convinced he’d be able to move out of the way in time if any cars got too close.

He stood there, watching the different coloured lights sailing past and disappearing into the distance.

((Come stop him from getting run over :D Oh yeah, and if you have a pup who’d be plugged into the local vampire talk, feel free for them to have heard that there’s a golden-haired changeling teenager who’s under the protection of London’s vampire Sheriff.))
londoncallingmods: (spoops)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The weather today had been fairly pleasant, a mostly sunny day wedged between fairly grey ones. It wasn't warm, but the chill was minimal for this time of year, and there wasn't a drop of rain in sight. As night crept in, however, the streets slowly faded from sun kissed and painted in autumnal colours, to foggy and damp. An odd thing, really, since the forecast had predicted a clear and pleasant night.

It wasn't normal fog either, it was denser, thicker, and it carried an distinct scent, like cinnamon sugar and chestnuts. It was so thick it seemed to drain the streets of their colour, leaving the wold desaturated and grey. More importantly, anyone with a bit of magic in them would sense, quite quickly, that it wasn't of this world. It crackled quietly with power, dark and heavy. Unfriendly.

It was around nine pm that the local police stations began to receive calls, things they assumed were pranks at first, but soon began rolling in so quickly and frequently that it seemed something more was afoot. The evening news spoke of mass hysteria, warning people to stay indoors. Conspiracy blogs were lit up with chatter of chemical warfare, and some 'airborne drug'. There were reports of people seeing everything from long dead loved ones, to killer clowns.

Though despite the nervous chattering of talking heads and twitter addicts, most people were paying the supposed danger no mind. Clubs and bars on every block were blasting music and throwing costume parties, people were out with friends, wandering the streets and looking for a fun time. It may have been Monday, but that didn't seem to be stopping many people from enjoying the holiday.  

For the most part, everything seemed fine. ...The crowds and groups remained oblivious to the danger of the fog. ...It was only those who slipped off on their own, to have a quick smoke, to get some air or head home early. They were the ones in danger, they were the ones who's darkest fears seemed to emerge from the thick fog. 

Around 10pm, reports started to come in regarding a body found in Whitechapel, cut open wide and left to bleed out. No prints at the scene, no signs that anyone else had even been there. The CCTV footage had somehow been rendered useless, glitched out and blurred. A trouble echoed by every other security camera on the street. It was enough to set twitter and the internet off all over again, with talk of how the things seen in the fog might, somehow, be real.

(Happy Halloween! The fog is bringing fears and spoops to life! You can make the creatures and fabrications of the fog as personal or general as you like. Whatever works best to spook your pup. If, for any reason, you don't want your pup to see any spooks, that's totally fine too. It's not a required plot. Unlike last year, this time around the creepy things your pup might see can harm them and do real damage. Though they will vanish in the morning. If your pup is sensitive to magic in any way, they might sense that this magic is distinctly fae. If you have questions about what you can or can't do, just ask in slack! Though really, the only limit here is your imagination. Remember to check with other players before doing anything that might seriously hurt their pup, ect, ect, and have fun!)

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London Calling RPG

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