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.
finlay_flynn: (sly)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
Filming had run later than expected, and Fin was tired and hungry as he made his way home. He could have taken a car, but that just- It never felt right, it wasn't him. Instead he'd taken the tube most of the way, the carriage empty and quiet as it clacked along the tracks underground. With his headphones on, the fae closed his eyes, allowing his magic to rest. 

He only opened them when he felt an odd crackle of power sparking around him, his magic focusing as he sat up straighter and removed his headphones. The lights in the carriage were flickering, and vines and dead leaves were scattered across the floor now- Though none of that was as jarring as the creature suddenly sitting across from him. It was pitch black, so dark it seemed to swallow any light that touched it, but it's eyes... They were bright and yellow, like no animal or beast he'd ever seen. The air around them felt colder, and Fin exhaled with a shiver, about to speak when the creature raised his hand and the world went dark.

It was three hours later when Fin came around, standing in a club, wearing clothes he didn't recognise and only dimly aware that he'd been dancing with someone. His head ached, and he felt like he'd drank too much too quick, a heavy feeling sitting in his gut leaving him hungry without an appetite. Someone was pawing at him, urging him to keep dancing, but Fin pulled away, stumbling towards the restrooms. 

Leaning against the sink, Fin eyed his reflection, shocked by how pale and wild he looked. There were bruises on his neck, love bites, and he felt... He felt different, more fae than usual, his magic crackling through him, refusing to be contained. Usually that would have bothered him, but in that moment he just didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, and he felt fearless as he splashed his face with water and headed back out to the crowd.

Eventually he stumbled out onto the street, that magic of his that made some people want him still coming off him in waves as he leaned against the side of the building and lit his last cigarette.

(OTA. Fin's magic is going a bit wild on him at the moment, so if you think your pup would be effected by that, feel free. It tends to make people desire him, but can also bring out violent tendencies, and often violent and sexual desires at the same time. However, how that effects your pup, or if it would effect them at all, is up to you. He is looking extremely fae at the moment, very pale and sharp, and probably a bit wild and unkempt. Find him on the street or in the club.)

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.

OTA

Feb. 9th, 2017 08:26 pm
pecked_by_birds: (intense)
[personal profile] pecked_by_birds
The past month- Months?- Had been strange. One night he'd found himself compelled to go out, as though something was calling to him. A silent siren song that had coaxed him into his car  and out into the country.

Where had he gone? What had he done?

Those were the questions he had to ask himself when he woke up in the middle of Hyde park in a rumpled suit and a brand new body. ...Possibly brand new. Certainly new to him in that moment, since he couldn't recall much of anything from the past few weeks. His head was pounding, and he was in agony. 

A large bird sat upon him. A hawk, he thought absently- Or maybe not. He couldn't seem to focus on it. Not when his gaze was so strongly drawn to all the blood. ...His blood.

"No," he said softly, trying to chase it away with a weak wave of his hand. "I'm free, you can't- He can't," he insisted, right before the world went dark. ...Not that it mattered. It would heal, he would heal. He always did. How else could the punishment continue?
finlay_flynn: (fearful)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
His new show had finally been announced, and he'd done a small round of press this morning. Radio, mostly. Just little interviews, mostly about his return to telly and the fact that he was starring in the reboot of a classic and beloved show. Nothing taxing, nothing thrilling. Just boring media- The side of the job Fin sort of wished he could skip. He managed to be his charming self though, deflecting when the questions got too personal, all while flirting shamelessly with a few of the interviewers. The public loved that, he'd found, and he wasn't shy about playing it up. 

Mid-day found him wandering Covent Garden, two small shopping bags in one hand, Starbucks in the other. He was clean shaven, and his hair was getting a bit ridiculous again, just touching his shoulders as he walked, and occasionally getting in his face when he stopped to peek in shop windows. All and all, a dreadfully normal day. ...At least, it had been.

He'd been having little pains lately, ever since New Years. Nothing dreadful, but... Discomfort that was a bit too familiar. If felt like... It felt like his heart. Though it couldn't be, could it? Not now. not with his enchanted heart and fae blood. It had to be something mundane. Heartburn, perhaps. Something innocent.

That's what he kept telling himself- Even now when the pain returned. It was sudden and sharp, enough that he dropped his shopping and doubled over slightly, holding his chest and panicking a bit. He couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk them checking his blood... He had to do something though, and he pulled out his phone. Hand shaking, he wasn't sure which number he'd called. Wasn't even sure he'd managed to make a call.

(OTA- If you're friends with Fin, feel free to assume he called you! He's not well and could have easily called anyone in his contacts. ;) If you don't know Fin or your pup wouldn't be reachable for whatever reason, feel free to simply be in the right place at the right time. LT/ST very welcome. <3)
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.
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.
pecked_by_birds: (out)
[personal profile] pecked_by_birds
Honestly, he couldn't say why, but sometimes it wasn't the madness or the pain that drove Prometheus to travel. It was just a itch, a need he had to fulfil. Lately it had been clawing at him again, and though he'd done his best to put it off... New York was calling to him. He needed to go. He'd return to London, of course, he always did after all. Though to ensure he returned sooner rather than later this time, he'd hung a 'Help Wanted' sign in the window of his shop. With any luck he'd find someone to run it in his absence.

Soft music filled the shop, and as usual the titan was behind one of his canvases. Paint tinted the tips of his fingers and was splattered all over his jeans as he neared completion on his latest piece. He'd taken a sharp turn back into realism lately, and dark hues and clear lines presented an image of a ratty looking bookshop on a corner in New York.

(OTA! This is Prometheus' last post until he returns next year, so if you need a chat, now's the time. <3)
goodfellow: (playful)
[personal profile] goodfellow
It was early in the evening for Saturnalia, London's hottest new nightclub. Early enough that most showing up at the door were getting in, and the music was only just loud enough to be heard through the open door guarded by an incredibly attractive, well-muscled bouncer wearing a toga. Yes, it was gimmicky. Robin didn't care; it worked. He was making money hand-over-fist in this place. Not that that was why he was doing it, but it was a nice metric for success, which was something that interested him. Also he was getting laid spectacularly and as often as he liked.

He'd just arrived for the evening, and was lingering outside first, watching the line of people, watching the reactions from passersby who looked but didn't stop.

He dangled a cigarette between his lips, not because he was smoking it, but because the appearance of smoking made him look less conspicuous just standing outside on the sidewalk.

"Come on in, the water's fine," he offered with a lascivious smirk to the next person to walk by, not even paying attention to who it was. What did it matter? He wanted all of London in his club.

OTA

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

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

Fuck them all.

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

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

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

"Fuck them all," he muttered again.
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?
utterly_mysterious: (boy)
[personal profile] utterly_mysterious
Angelique hurried down the street, feeling like an alien in some low-budget production, played out in someone's dingy upper room -- one in which the wardrobe budget was particularly abysmal. Skinny blue jeans, a shirt (not even a blouse) that might have served as a cute short dress at any other time, and a loose dark cardigan over it all that covered up any shape Angelique might have had. Hair and makeup had been completely fired from the production, as well, affording only a messy queue of unruly black hair to frame a clean, not-quite-boyish face.

Angelique looked like a boy, and every step she took along the pavement felt just slightly wrong. Head down, eyes on the pavement, strangers seemed to jostle her at every turn, but she said nothing and avoided eye contact, no matter how often she stumbled.

The trouble with living one's life without labels and without limits was that even individuals who defied categorization had families, including a younger brother and sister who, at times, wanted to see the older sibling about whom their parents seemed to have forgotten. Supper in the city, perhaps every three or four months, was the most contact Angelique had with her siblings. And every time, she dressed like this, washed her face, and ignored her hair, just to keep them from asking any questions.

It wasn't long before she passed an organic makeup boutique, and came to a halt to stare in the window at the spring line of products. Surely just a lipstick would help erase this feeling of wrongness... but could she go inside, looking as she did now? Angelique watched the shop girls with their black outfits, perfect hair, and gorgeous faces, and envied how simple it all must be for them.

((OOC: Open post! Angelique looks much more masculine, and may or may not be easily recognized by people she already knows. Find her either being bumped around on the sidewalk, or staring in the window of the makeup shop, or anywhere else outdoors that makes sense!))
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.)

EP

Mar. 10th, 2016 09:45 pm
thenorthman: (Default)
[personal profile] thenorthman
When Eric had decided to take over the Blood Diamond, he hadn't been certain whether changes would have to be made. It was perfect as it stood, it turned out. The club sprawled on two floors, and the second floor was full of nooks and crannies meant for a few minutes' privacy. In another life, it might have been a sex club, and while Eric would be surprised if none of those small corners were ever used for that purpose, their main function was... blood donation.

And humans loved it. The change in owner was so smooth it hardly phased them, aside from a couple of Clark's pets, but humans as a whole came to the club as numerous as usual. Some of them knew what they were walking into, and came specifically seeking out vampires, while others simply thought it was a gothic place and came for the atmosphere. It worked perfectly, and Eric could only applaud the previous owner for his ingenuity.

Not that the previous owner would appreciate that, seeing as he would soon meet the true death at Eric's hand. An Authority-approved kill, fortunately.

That night, like most nights, found Eric anonymously having a drink at the bar, keeping an eye on the going-ons of the club. Now and then, he made a visit to the second floor, simply checking on things, or stepped outside for the same reason. And when he felt hungry, he turned to the nearest person at the bar and simply smiled at them, a charming, inviting sort of smile, with just a hint of danger thrown in.

After decades spent running that fucking video store, the Blood Diamond was the perfect reprieve.



OOC: Find him anywhere in or outside the club! I'll grab you in Slack if it starts looking like he might glamour your character, so we can talk it out.
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.

OTA

Nov. 13th, 2015 04:51 pm
goodfellow: (Default)
[personal profile] goodfellow
Robin was on a binge.

He'd had sex with a dozen or so different people in less than a week (some at the same time, of course). He'd been drinking like a fish. He'd spent an obscene amount of money on designer clothes, and a new watch. He'd even picked a few pockets just for the hell of it.

He'd known Prometheus was going to leave, of course. It was why he'd kept him at arm's length. It was why he'd ignored every sign that Prometheus had real feelings for him. Why he'd just pretended that things were like they always were, and it was fun and the sex was good and if there were feelings they weren't important. Including Robin's own. Which were certainly there.

And then he left, like Robin had known he would. At least he said goodbye this time, and he'd given Robin a way to contact him. And Robin had pretended that it was no big deal. And then he'd gone on a binge. He'd gone full puck.

Right this moment, he'd been kicked out of a bar. At least it wasn't one of his favorite bars. He stood outside, and brought a finger up to his lip, coming away with a smear of blood. Oh, the bloke who'd punched him had gotten in a good shot. Maybe Robin shouldn't have hit on his girlfriend right in front of him. He'd also said something about the man, but he couldn't remember exactly what.

He patted his pocket. He'd lost his keys. Or had he had them in the first place? Hmmmm. Maybe they were in other trousers. Had he left his trousers somewhere? Entirely possible.

In the meantime, his lip was bleeding and he should probably call a cab. Or wipe it off with a napkin in another bar, that was a lovely idea too.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Summer was coming to an end, and fall was slowly creeping in as the temperatures dropped and the store fronts down the high street started to change to muted and earthy colours.

Menus at restaurants were beginning to change, and school for many was already back in session. Though there were still people attempting to enjoy the last weeks of summer, despite the fact that the weather was already turning on them.

As always, there was plenty to do this weekend, and though tourist season was slowing down, the streets and the underground were as busy and bustling as ever.

(Though the GP takes place over the course of Sat & Sun, it is, as always, open for as long as people want to top level and tag in. Be sure to check back throughout the week to see who has tagged in!)
pecked_by_birds: (Default)
[personal profile] pecked_by_birds
He'd fallen asleep in America. In fact, he'd fallen asleep in America night after night, lost and suddenly so unsure again. Sanity was fading, and he'd fled London in search of stability.
 
He'd woken up in Spain. Skin as dark as the earth he'd been chained to replaced by milky white flesh that looked far too fragile and thin. Though when he stared in the mirror, he saw no fragility. He saw the gaze of a titan, the teeth of a survivor, and the grin of a madman. He should have been upset about that last part.
 
He wasn't.
 
The plane ride had been brief, and upon finding himself back in London, he'd headed straight for the bar.
 
“Whiskey, neat, and don't be stingy, dove,” he purred, soft pink lips spitting out each word as he flashed a little too much teeth with his smile.
 
The barman had gone from charmed to unnerved, as he well should have. Prometheus didn't react though, he only took his drink and surveyed the evening crowd. God he loved London. They were all so lost and so desperate. Love me, notice me, want me. Dull, stupid. His gifts were wasted on these fools, and had he had the strength, he might have burned this pub to the ground, just to remind them all how fragile and brief their lives could be.
 
Lucky for them, he was still a bit weak.
 
One drink became several, and soon he was on his way. He walked with feminine grace, but there was nothing soft about him. Nothing sweet. No one who looked at him would see a fragile woman. Perhaps a queen, perhaps a warrior- The truly perceptive might even see the truth. A titian ripe with madness, armed with charm, intelligence, and a dangerous smile.

OTA

Jun. 18th, 2015 08:58 pm
quartermaster_q: (Default)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
Q could be, on occasion, just a touch moody and antisocial. He'd spent the morning locked in his office at Q branch, guiding twelve through the subterranean tunnels of Paris, but with his work done he'd quietly slipped out with his laptop in search of somewhere less... Well, less like Q branch. Sometimes the sterile desks and bright lights simply got to him. It was all so clean and tidy- Terribly dull.

Which was why he'd spent the day moving from location to location. An afternoon in the park, an evening in a cheep little cafe, part of his night at a bar, tucked away at a table in the back- and the end of the night at a very dark and dingy club, tapping away on his phone as he occupied an entire booth at the back.

None of these places were approved by Six as work spaces, but that just made them all the more enjoyable as he picked apart codes, crafted new viruses and key loggers, and went about his daily tasks.

(OTA! Find Q at any of these sorts of locations throughout the day! He'll likely be taking up entire tables and tapping away on either his laptop or his phone, but feel free to make up any excuse for your pup to say hello. :D)

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