cold_blueeyes: (happy)
[personal profile] cold_blueeyes
There were some days that simply couldn't pass unremarked, uncelebrated, and for Bobby Drake, today was one of those days. He'd picked up a pizza, then added some extra decorations scribed on the box in Sharpie: a dot in the center of the top extending out to an arrow on one side with (radius=z) written below it, and a double ended arrow on the thin edge of the box bearing an 'a', making the volume of their dinner pi*z*z*a. He'd also done a little self-art with that same Sharpie, although that was hidden beneath the long sleeve of his shirt.

Now he ducked into the bakery near his bus stop to pick up dessert, scanning the items in the case before raising an eyebrow and ordering a banoffee pie when it was his turn. He'd never had it, but it sounded delicious, and would round a perfect Pi Day dinner for himself and John.

Errands complete, he headed back to the bus stop to catch the bus home, wishing that his power had the ability to heat as well as cool; the pizza wasn't going to be anywhere near piping hot by the time he got it home to John at this rate, but in his mind the last stop had been vital.

[Happy Pi Day! Feel free to run into Bobby in the pizza place, the bakery, or at the bus stop.]
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. 21st, 2016 02:25 pm
just_hex: (Default)
[personal profile] just_hex
Hex was Drunk. He'd been drunk for all of yesterday and the day before. He'd called off sick to work, claiming he had picked up norovirus- not unheard of for a medic. That allowed him time to make himself well and truly ill. He had started with pints, then pints and shots, and today he was on vodka neat. Doubles, now. He didn't sip, he gulped them down, then sipped water to help stay hydrated. He hadn't been to the gym, had barely even eaten. All he wanted to do was to be blind drunk and not think of what a selfish, awful, evil man he had been making that wish.

He had hurt his best friend in the world, a man he loved truly and deeply. How could he be so selfish? How could he be so low? He questioned himself over and over and when the questions stopped the inner accusations began. You're evil. You're filth. You'll never have anything more than lovers and they don't even care about you.

"Another," he said to the bartender.

"One more, then you go home, mate," the man replied as he poured another double for Hex.

He picked up the glass and wated how the vodka licked up the edge and clung like syrup. Then he downed it all at once. In a moment of clarity, drunken as it may be, he wrote a text to Q, then promply deleted it. The man would be so disappointed in him and he couldn't take another mate thinking he was rubbish.
offthebeatenpath: (dont forget to look up)
[personal profile] offthebeatenpath
Commissions were one thing, and Em had gotten comfortable with the process from the initial conversation about what the client wanted all the way through to delivering the final product. She did her best, one piece at a time, and only taking the work when she felt she could do what she'd be promising to do.

This wasn't any different, right? But sitting in her room, staring at her signature at the bottom of a contract to design a London-themed tarot deck, or worse the deposit check they'd given her for supplies and such, she couldn't help feeling like she was in over her head. This wasn't one piece; it was seventy-eight. Seventy-nine if she included a Happy Squirrel, and eighty if you counted a design for the card backs. But it was one piece, all seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty paintings being parts of the whole.

She had some ideas, but she needed more. She needed to see London with new eyes. Not only the parts she'd seen and remembered already. She needed to come up with something that wouldn't speak only to her, but to anyone who'd use the deck. The thought of wandering all over London alone to see what she needed to see made her stomach churn even more than the scope of the paintings she'd agreed to do. She didn't think she would be the only one who'd have a problem with that, and she couldn't ask the boys to go with her all the time. And Jag would want to, if the alternative was her going by herself.

Rather than stew (no pun intended) over the problem, she went to the kitchen for some chop vegetables, boil water meditation. By the time she put the tartiflette in the oven, she thought she'd come up with a solution.

The boys and Dutch she talked to in person, but she also sent texts or emails to pretty much everyone in her contact list, asking if they would be interested in helping her with a project. What she was looking for was people willing to show her something of London. Whether that was an iconic landmark or some hidden quirk you really had to look to see. Where they went when they had an afternoon free or a tourist trap with the queues to go with it. Prime nightlife or private retreat.

She got lucky. Not only were friends willing to help, but some introduced her to their friends to expand the circle even more. The messenger back she carried almost everywhere always had a sketchbook or two in it, but in this case, the phone's camera was more helpful. With plenty of reference photos, she could hole up in her room and paint for weeks.

~*~*~*~


"Thanks for helping," she said, not quite meeting their eyes as she smiled with her gratitude. "Everybody has such different ideas about London, I never really know what to expect."



[Open to friends or friends of friends, which should be most characters, I think. If you want to thread and there isn't an obvious connection, hit me up via email or slack and we'll figure something out.

Threads can be anywhere in London your character might take Em. If you need ideas, Visit London and Londonist are good for more obvious things, and Hidden London has more weird, wacky, trivial stuff. Just specify and/or link in your TL, so I know where they are.]
lcrpg_npc: (fog)
[personal profile] lcrpg_npc
 

(Rather than write the same vague drivel, here is a pretty gif to inspire you, a link to the weather for the week, and a link to londonist, a great resource for all things London related. As always this post is open all week. Tag in, tag others, check back often!)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods


(As always gathering posts are open for at least one week. Feel free to use the heading of your comment to let other players know what day and time your top level takes place. Tag in now and check back often to tag others!)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
With cold weather rolling in and taking over, it seemed as though London was as eager as it could be to embrace the seasonal traditions of sharp blades on ice and food in faces.

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

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

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

(Gathering post! Set over the weekend, but open all week long to new top levels and tags. Tag in now and check back in often!)
prodigalflame: (quietly pleased)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
Another step. John found himself half-way out of yet another jewellery store, foot poised to meet the pavement. He checked his phone and made sure he'd taken all the photos he wanted, noted all the prices, and geo-located the freaking place. He had a list of ten stores to hit that day, and he was barely done with three of them.

And he wasn't even the guy who made lists: a man less of habit than of reaction. It was early afternoon on Friday; he'd been a good boy and done his marking and seen the few students who turned up to office hour and basically asked him to do their first assignment for him ("The answer is no. And also no.")

He was after all, a proper grown up. He had the mortgage and boyfriend and kitchen to prove it. He'd been in London more than a year; he knew it's rhythms better, felt its beat. And holding his phone up to get a better signal, he simply entered the throng heedless of its direction, casually going where he wanted regardless of the people around him. There had always been something of the shark about John, moving at his own pace and scenting blood in the water and having exactly no fucks to give.

As the sun started setting on London, he could be found enjoying the late night shopping, ever certain, ever comfortable, in jeans and leather jacket, hunting from shop to shop to find two engagement rings to symbolise the most ridiculous decision he'd ever made in his life.

And you know, if anyone said he was ridiculous or one of the jeweller's raised their eyebrow at the notion of an engagement ring for John's boyfriend, he was more than prepared to start a little burnination. Old shops had old wiring. Happened all the time. He could feel the sparks in the walls like tingles in his spine, and all he'd have to do was give things a little push. Jeez, it would be such a shame.

Finally, after his feet were sore and his calves ached, John found himself going back to the second shop on his list. It was a salutary lesson that his instincts were almost always right. Paying on credit, he picked up a matched set of men's engagement rings: crafted in white gold, with a symbol that almost could have been an 'X' etched on the band. Blue and white diamonds for Bobby; garnets and white diamonds for John. Then, feeling like a load had been lifted from his heart, he paused again on the threshold, but now there was a spring in his step, and a giddy sort of relief. I deserve a drink, he decided, and went to go find one.

[You can meet John pounding the pavement and looking at his phone; or taking a stop at a cafe in the evening to recharge with a coffee; or heading into or tumbling out of a jewellers. He will be somewhat intensely focussed on the search for the best wedding rings of all time, so feel free to bump into him or call out if your pup knows him. Your pup can also find him after he's been successful and is celebrating with a beer and a lot of blushing astonishment on his face. Your pup can also reference some fire that might have started in a shop at some point that evening. >.>]
prodigalflame: (Default)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
Late January 2015 - Hitting a home-run [NSFW]. Their first time.

Mid February 2015 - When you don't fight, it's not a real relationship. The boys have their first fight over trivial domestic stuff, because John's a bit of a control freak.

Late February 2015 - Mutant phones home. John rings his family and tries to work out what they remember in a world without mutants and gets depressed in the process.

Early March 2015 - The reality of the situation. In which John is a control freak, but he's helping organise Bobby, so it's a good thing.

Mid March 2015 - Most awkward conversation ever [NSFW]. John's hang-ups with sex and power are obliquely addressed.

Mid March 2015 - List-making for fun and profit. Bobby works out what he needs to do to make being with John more real. And he likes lists, because he's a dork.

Mid March 2015 - Dinner is served [NSFW]. The boys have really dirty sex in the kitchen. John fails to make dinner.

Late March 2015 - Secrets and Lies. It's Bobby's turn to catch up with his folks, and John manages not to feel like his dirty little secret.

Early May 2015 - Honey, I stashed the porn collection. Bobby finds John's collection of sex toys, and one of them is completely not embarrassed.

Mid May 2015 - Is Sinatra Envy a Thing? [NSFW]. In which Bobby is a total dork and John is actually fairly attracted to dorks. [In progress]

Early August 2015 - Welcome home. Bobby arrives back in London after spending time with his family and doing what's needed for him to stay with John after his student exchange ends. [In progress]

Early September 2015 Fear and Paranoia in London. After stewing in his own juices for a bit, John goes home to tell Bobby about Em being attacked.

Late September 2015 - Because they could both really use a cold shower. Bobby pranks John for old time's sake. [In progress].
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!)
londoncallingmods: (Default)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The weather this weekend was cool and dry, perfect for the festivals that were going on outside the city, and the many events going on within the city itself. There were poetry readings and plays in the west end, an art crawl happing near one of the universities, and a free lecture series going on not far from that...

Bars had opened their outdoor seating areas, allowing people to smoke while they sipped a pint. Cafes overflowed with tourists and locals alike, sipping their teas and coffees as they enjoyed a lack of rain. snapping their selfies and texting their mates.

Shops were having side walk sales, from the high street to the small boutiques. Clothes and baubles hung on racks and displays, glittering in the sun and attracting the gaze of everyone who walked by.

There was life and colour everywhere, the grey of winter lifting and allowing London to shine for a little while.

(Gathering posts are open for several days, so be sure to check back often to see who else has tagged in. Set your top level anywhere in the city!)

OTA

Apr. 8th, 2015 12:27 pm
im_torchwood: (Soldier Blue Vortex)
[personal profile] im_torchwood
After John Hart, after Gray, Jack couldn't be in Cardiff. He was Torchwood now, not just what he did but who he was, and he had a small crisis and had to get away. Although he'd broken with London's Torchwood after the incidents at Canary Wharf (which it seemed the population had either forgotten or written off) Jack found himself in England's jewel. He was ready to make a new start. And, he reckoned, the Doctor would probably visit London before Cardiff if truth be told.

He'd settled into the subterranean Hub that Alice and Emily had worked in. It had been long forgotten in favor of the building of steel and glass that had been built atop it. Bloody Torchwood...they were supposed to be secret. He'd made his contacts and had put himself to work. But even Jack needed to eat.

He had all of the city to choose from and rather than just go to a pub Jack stood on the sidewalk looking at his mobile reading Yelp reviews. There was a place just down the block and around the corner. Yelp was good and all but he kind of wanted a real opinion so he looked up from his screen and he smiled at the first person whose eye he caught.

"Excuse me...do you know if this place is any good?" he asked, showing the screen. His American accent immediately marked him as a tourist, even though he wasn't.
prodigalflame: (Default)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
16 December 2014: Meet and uh, Greet - John opens the door to this dude called Drake who is looking at his spare room. Things don't go as planned.

19 December 2014: Movie Night - A few days later, Bobby gets a tree and decorations for Xmas and they decide to watch The Princess Bride and eat pizza. Surprising kissing is surprising.

20 December 2014: The Morning after the Night Before - Two young men take stock, and mention runs in with Em and Natasha.

25 December 2014: Christmas Morning - Mutant boyfriends exchange Christmas gifts.

31 December 2014 - 1 January 2015: New Year's Eve - The boys have an enjoyable New Year's Eve and Bobby makes a confession.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
 It was a warmer night than one might expect in February, and there were plenty of people out and about, milling around at bars, shops, and cafes- All of which had signs offering deals and good times.

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

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

Clubbing

Nov. 28th, 2014 08:04 pm
jadedjade: (Jay)
[personal profile] jadedjade
Jade's deal with Willy had ended by now. For a month he'd been in the Fae's service. He didn't remember any of it as such, but he knew he vanished every night and he came back every morning. It didn't matter, though. For these services, he had received a bottle of magic in return. Delicious magic. Magic that made him feel careless, free and good.

He'd loved it and now it was gone and he missed it.

He decided therefore to go out tonight. For that he changed into his masculine form (he could drink more in that form), dressed in a fancy suit that made people think he was well-off, and went clubbing.

He was pleasantly drunk, and the music droned in his ear like a trance. It was nothing compared to the buzz of magic through his nerves or the high of a vampire's bite through his veins, but the night was young still.

He ordered another vodka and downed it. It felt good, sure... But it still nagged at him, and he still missed that little edge that magic had caused him.

((Friday night fun. Meet him at the club of your desire ;) ))

OTA

Nov. 22nd, 2014 03:25 pm
quartermaster_q: (let me tell u a thing)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
 One of the strangest things about Q was, actually, just how painfully normal he was. From his daily commute on the tube, to his Thursday night curry from the local take out- There was nothing about the young quartermaster that really caused him to stand out in a crowd. 

For example, today he was wandering around the Boots at Covent Garden, and though his blue suede Doc Martins clashed a a bit with his tweed trousers and yellow cardigan, he didn't look any different from the various hipsters and fashionistas who were filling their baskets all around him. No one passing by would ever glance at the young man and suspect he was an expert hacker or spook. He looked more like the kind of young man with more instagram followers than real friends- You know the sort.

Presently, MI6's least threatening deadly weapon was browsing the shop's large selection of chapsticks, his fingers brushing over his painfully dry lips as he considered his options. His basket was already full of other items, from hand cream to disinfectant, and he couldn't help but smile to himself as he thought about how painfully bored Bond would be by all this. ...Q, however, enjoyed this sort of thing. As easy as it was to order everything online, there was something pleasant about going out and picking up what one needed. In fact, after this he thought he might go clothes shopping, or even out for a meal. 

Frankly, it was nice just not having to worry about bullet wounds and security flaws for a while.

(OTA! Good time to meet him if you never have before! Late tags welcome. :D)

prodigalflame: (shocked by the level of your stupid)
[personal profile] prodigalflame
John closed the front door of his house with a thunk, and the key slid to the side with a satisfying ‘chunk’ sound, the deadbolt sliding home. Taking a few steps back from under the little covered entryway, John couldn’t help but be mildly proud of himself. Sure, it was an old brick veneer thing, sure, the roof tiles rattled at times and the hot water was frequently shit, but it was all his, from the panelled front door with the unfortunate faux stained glass windows to the unfortunately plush 70s carpet to the drab cream walls. He had to squint a little in the crisp, cold London sunshine to properly appreciate the shape of his house, but it was still there.

Whistling to himself, John tossed his keys up into the air, caught them in the palm of his hand and easily transferred them to a pocket of his sweatpants, shifting the weight of his backpack as he slung it over a shoulder. Sweatpants, sneakers, t-shirt (with Smiths-lyrics, of course) and jacket, that was him. Just another student on the streets of London, too busy caring what was playing on his phone to be worth any bother. Closing the little wrought iron gate behind him with a squeak, he made a mental note to try and do some work in the feeble garden that weekend, not that it really deserved the label of 'garden'.

And no, as much as it brought a wry smile to his face, torching the rosebushes and the privet was not an option. 'Destruction' was not shorthand for 'maintenance', and that had been a lesson long in the learning. 'Pruning by firelight' wouldn't help him keep a low profile, either. He wasn't especially happy at keeping his head down, but the surreal, freakshow quality of his life over the past few months hadn't dissipated.

Nothing was the way it was; no-one was the way they were. And so he'd run off to London where at least the weirdness was to be expected. British beer, driving on the wrong side of the road and coping with the Tube: this was his life now. This was the sum of all his days, and something just about humdrum and boring enough to be just punishment for his cavalcade of stupid.

So John caught himself a red double decker in a fit of tourist whimsy and found himself a coffee shop (everything was a cafe here, really, and they had no goddamn diners or hot dog stands or anything freaking normal) and spread himself across it: open textbooks, note pad, smartphone, pens, pencils, eraser...

And a coffee, because thank fuck. Double-shot, with chocolate and whipped cream and enough sugar to taste like home.

And as the day grew longer and the coffee shop filled up, if anyone wanted to share the table they could damn well ask. He could be gracious.

[Here, have a John! Feel free to sock him knocking over his coffee cup, or droppiing some notes to the ground or whatever. He's currently scribbling on the depiction of 'the other' in modern pop culture - vampires, werewolves, wizards and other 'powered' beings.]

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