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. 8th, 2017 12:01 pm
kersenjr: (drinking)
[personal profile] kersenjr
Time kept on passing, and Bonnie hated it. Her life was over, literally, and the more time went by, the more apparent it was that the world didn’t care and was perfectly happy to move on without her.

The people (vampires) around her didn’t seem to care either, or if they did, they didn’t understand and weren’t ever going to.

She felt like she was going to explode. Meanwhile, the sun still rose and set, the streets filled with traffic every morning, shops opened and closed and streetlights came on at night. Everything was normal and okay, except for her.

Sometimes she could sit still. It didn’t mean she was coping, but at least she could stay in one place. Tonight, she couldn’t. She felt like she wanted to start screaming or trashing the house. Kersen wasn’t home, which meant she didn’t have to bother trying to act normal, so she ran straight out the front door and slammed it shut behind her.

She took a completely unnecessary breath of cool night air. She didn’t feel better, exactly, but at least she couldn’t trash the house if she wasn’t in the house.

She started walking with no idea or care where she was going. It was coincidence that she happened upon a liquor store. A happy coincidence, in her mind. When you were in a shitty mood, what could be better than a whole building full of alcohol?

It wasn’t hard to rob the place. She didn’t even need to use her vampire powers. She just walked in, took what she wanted, and walked out. Nobody was paying attention.

It took a moment for her to get the lid off the bottle of cake-flavoured vodka (she was strong enough to lift cars now, but that didn’t mean she could open a goddamn bottle), then she kept walking, chugging the stuff as quickly as she could in hopes of getting well and truly drunk.
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.
high_voltage_magic: (pic#11015435)
[personal profile] high_voltage_magic
With Valentine's around the corner, and with Isaiah considering it one of the most depressing holidays, he'd decided it was time for his experiment. He gathered the things that he'd purchased, most of it from the curio shop with the redhead 'solo act' lady. He got out the hot plate, and sat down in his dorm an hour before noon to do his work. The first half hour was prepping the ingredients. The second was waiting, because he'd decided that noontime was the perfect time to mix it all.

Lavender and rose candle wax, finely shaved. Black salt, just a pinch. Crushed sage. Mint leaf, crushed. Ground walnut shells. Add water, heat, and chant over the mix as it comes to a boil. Remove from heat, allow to cool, and drink.

Getting the incantation correct and sitting firmly in his mind was half the challenge. It was something like a prayer. A prayer for happiness. A prayer for the end of sorrow. A prayer for love to come to him.

It didn't go down easy, but in the sanctity of his dorm room, at least nobody else could hear him choke it down. He set the glass he'd used aside, and waited for the potion to hit him in full.

-------

"Hi. I'm Izzy," he said to, well, whoever this was, his face bearing a dopey grin, his cheeks flushed. For all intents and purposes, Izzy was smashed off of his ass. He was coordinated enough to not get picked up by the cops, but he was going around and greeting anyone who so much as looked his way.

He didn't know what time it was. He didn't care. It was time to share happiness and love with everyone. He didn't know where he was. The where, who, and when didn't matter. What mattered was that he was happy. He couldn't care less about any of his past concerns. What had they been? Why had he cared?

The world was such a lovely place. And he just wanted to tell this person that he thought they were lovely, and that no matter how bad things were, that things would always, always get better. Even if you needed a little help.

((OTA; put Izzy with whoever and put him wherever you desire! The sky's the limit; he could've wandered wherever in his potion-induced state))
curio_arcanum: (Default)
[personal profile] curio_arcanum
On grey February mornings Rebecca Sullivan was glad to be watching the world through the glass, from the warm safety of her shop. Curiosities, secondhand treasures, and New Age doodads crowded the dim shop like a riotously neglected garden of junk. Amid the this-and-that Rebecca had sprinkled a bit of magic. There were the four leaf clovers meticulously pressed in plastic that she had spent one frustrating afternoon picking and then enchanting with minor luck spells. St. Anthony pendants with a minor tracking spell on them--Rebecca was particularly fond of those, as it had taken her some time to make the magic not lock on to anything until the customer needed it. Bundled sage that really cleansed the house of lingering sadness, quartz points that made the bearer seem like a no-fun target to malicious spirits, beckoning cat statues with faint money attraction spells. Major magic wasn't something to spread around willy-nilly, but Rebecca thought that she might be making the world just a slightly better, happier place.

She was perched this morning on her usual stool which was rocked back onto only two feet, leaving her leaning against the wall. The counter was huge as they often were in these old shops and made of real solid walnut to boot. It was also covered, at the moment, with ring stains from coffee cups and one ancient cash register that hadn't worked since before Rebecca inherited the shop and flew here from America. She used a newfangled square reader and a tin box for cash, both stashed on a shelf below the counter. In the back room the coffee pot was making that whining noise, which Rebecca was happy to ignore. The good machine she kept upstairs in her apartment, and running up and down to use it would have required far, far too much work. What this crappy old machine spat out was basically coffee and that was good enough for her--she just needed a steady caffeine drip to get her through her day.

The jangle of the bell over the door startled her out of her reverie, and she spilled a bit of coffee over the rim as she placed the cup on the counter. With her best Midwest smile she looked up at the newcomer. "How can I help you today?"

Debut - OTA

Feb. 1st, 2017 09:24 pm
high_voltage_magic: (pic#11015433)
[personal profile] high_voltage_magic
Isaiah was getting settled in. He was already glad that his north-midwestern accent was getting him slightly confused for a Canadian from time-to-time. But he'd settled into his dorm at the start of the semester, and now, he'd finally gotten familiar enough with maps of the city and such that he was doing what he was meaning to do for awhile now, though he'd been buried in classwork.

Right now, though, he was on the lookout for anything and everything magical in nature. Some of his research suggested that some groups in Europe, especially England, were magically inclined and hoarded secrets. Granted, the boards he'd learned it from weren't particularly credible, but things on the internet weren't particularly credible about this sort of thing in the first place.

There wasn't any harm in looking, after all.

So it was on this particular afternoon that Isaiah, dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt, dark blue jeans, and black leather boots, was walking down the street, a silver thread (okay, it wasn't real silver, but surely silver colored thread was fine, too, right?) tied to his middle finger, suspending a small pendulum made of a chunk of what was probably authentic quartz. With the spell he'd cast before leaving his apartment, it should guide him to anything, or anyone, magical.

Granted, paying attention to the pendulum meant he wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him. So when he bumped into someone, he stumbled back a few steps, surprised, and raised his gaze. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't see you there."

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