Aug. 13th, 2017 05:58 pm
kersen: (male: tattoos)
[personal profile] kersen
Kersen woke to the feeling of the skin on his fingers sizzling slightly. He blinked, and then yanked his hand towards his body, underneath the tarp that was covering him. He could see a sliver of sunlight under the edge of the tarp, and let out a string of curse words in a few different languages.

How he had gotten into this position... was not something he really wanted to think about right now. More important was how to get himself out of it. As the sun got higher, the tarp would get hotter. Waiting it out was not a good idea. He also had blood on him (some his, some not), and he was hungry. All of these things were the makings of a bad situation.

And of course, he didn't have a phone. He'd dropped it somewhere outside the tarp. His best shot was to try to... make a run for it. He wasn't even totally sure where he was, but he thought he was near a building. Alley in between some stores. He opened up the tarp enough to try to get a glimpse of the outside without letting in too much sunlight. That was a bad idea. He let out a cry of pain as his hair briefly caught on fire, and he shoved the tarp back down and patted it out, panting.

About ten minutes later, he had a semblance of a plan, and decided that he needed to just gather his courage and do it.

And five minutes after that (after crawling somewhat aimlessly across the gravel with a tarp on top of him), he felt the bottom of a door against a wall, got to his feet, found the doorknob as he felt the back of his hair starting to sizzle again as it peeked out from the tarp. Then he tumbled inside, trying to keep the tarp wrapped around him.

[OOC: Someone could wander by the outside and see him, or could be inside wherever he's ended up!]


Jul. 3rd, 2017 04:15 pm
london_spy: (soft smiles)
[personal profile] london_spy
There was a point in Danny's life where he could easily draw a line and say that was the past, and this was the future. Or maybe it was more a matter of what kind of person he was, versus who he could be if he wanted to be something more. Either way, it all boiled down to pre Alex and post Alex. Danny had gone from a life of drugs, drink, and as much debauchery as any human could handle, to a life that was almost domestic and normal. ...Then, of course, there had been post-post Alex. A strange pocket of time spent unraveling mystery after mystery, all while swimming in uncertainty and terror- Like Nancy Drew trapped in some sort of conspiracy theory filled snuff porn.
Life in a post, post Alex world was just chaos, and a sinking feeling of dread that hung about just close enough to always be felt. It had left him an even bigger mess than he'd been before they'd met. Though he supposed it would be odd if he'd somehow come out of it all as a well adjusted, functioning member of society. You don't wade that deep in the government's bullshit and come out better for it. You just didn't.
What had happened with Jack the other week, and the confession from Hex that had followed soon after, had left him on edge all over again. Danny found himself fearing a repeat of everything that had happened with Alex- And though that should have meant he was more vigilant than ever, the hopelessness that had come after learning the truth about the death of last lover lingered on even now, and rather than fight or prepare for war, Danny did what Danny did best. ...He fucked off and got fucked up.
There were certain things you couldn't take when you were on HIV meds. Technically he shouldn't have been taking anything, but if you knew how to walk the tightrope, it wasn't so bad. The blues were fine, powder was alright, but the reds were right out. They'd make him crash hard, and getting your stomach pumped on a Sunday night wasn't anyone's idea of a party. He was buzzing though, two shots of vodka, one of the blues, two lines... Pulse was a bit quick but that was alright, that was fine. Everything was fine. 
Everything was great.
He didn't know who was dancing with, but they were warm and they moved just right. They moved exactly right, and Danny was so good at this. He didn't have a single life skill you could put on a bloody resume, but he could do this. He was king of the fucking club scene, darling. He was swagger and lust, and as the bpm got higher, so did he, never missing a single beat.
"You're bloody brilliant," he told his dance partner, leaning in and speaking right in their ear. "Buy me a drink?"
(OTA, late tags and slow time super welcome! Danny is stoned out of his skull, but in a good mood. ...Yay? Feel free to kill his buzz or encourage this wicked behaviour.)


Mar. 13th, 2017 07:18 pm
vampireevolved: (Default)
[personal profile] vampireevolved
Godric had been away from Area 9 and his responsibilities there longer than originally planned, but reunited with Eric after decades apart it had been tempting to avoid thinking of going back. Skyping with Isabel and Stan shortly last night had left him unable to ignore it any longer. With the approaching dawn, he had assured Isabel he would be return to Dallas by the end of the week, not convinced he'd have two lieutenants if he left them to handle things without him longer than that.

Much of his remaining time in London would be spent with Eric, but there was time still to explore and enjoy the city and its people before he left. He had no plan, simply set out from Eric's after sunset and wandered on a whim. He rode the Tube for awhile – it really was one of the best ways to people watch, and he never knew what he was going to see. He stopped in at a few interesting looking shops, even a bar or two.

There was an openness to Godric's quiet calm, which seemed to welcome conversation from those who noticed him, and when someone approached, he greeted them with a small nod and a spark of interest in his eyes.

Find Godric pretty much anywhere he could reasonably be after dark. Don't worry; he doesn't bite. Slow/late tags welcome.


Jan. 22nd, 2017 08:03 pm
kersen: (male: wet)
[personal profile] kersen
Kersen sometimes did this thing where when he was feeling his worst, he tried to look his best. Elaborate drag when he was the most down, for example. Like maybe he could force cheerfulness with sequins and lipstick.

This time, he couldn't seem to muster up the energy for drag, though. What "look" said 'I just found out a lover is a serial killer'? Particularly coupled with 'what does this say about my taste in men'? Finally, he'd just gone with the forced cheerfulness: dark purple leather pants and a shirt (gifted to him by an employee years ago) that read OF COURSE I'M PRO-GAY, DO YOU THINK I WORK THIS HARD TO BE AN AMATEUR GAY in bright rainbow colors.

... also he'd started smoking again. Which was a little ironic since he was pretty sure that any effect they had on him was purely psychosomatic.

However, at the moment he was having a smoke break outside his bar. It was fairly early yet, just past 9pm. The streets were still full, lively with people leaving restaurants and shops, heading into bars and theaters. He liked this time of night, where the world was still alive. Wished he could experience more of it.

Some asshole walking by threw a homophobic slur at him, and he was briefly, stupidly tempted to flash his fangs as a threat. Instead he said, "The most fabulous you'll ever see, honey," and flicked the cigarette to the ground. Luckily it was the cowardly sort of asshole, and he just stuck up his middle finger and kept walking.
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.


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.
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?
finlay_flynn: (beardy profile)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
Less than three hours ago Tevaughn had come crashing into his life. He should have been reeling from it still, and yet- No, not so much. If anything, the world seemed a bit more stable now. Things that had seemed strange or unexplained now made sense. The troubles of his past had a new context, and Fin- Fin found himself feeling more like himself than he had ever had before. 

He was no longer cold, and though his heart was still filigree and enchanted, it no longer beat at random- It was steady, rhythmic and calm. The hate in his gut had been destroyed, and all seemed well. ...Everything had a price though, and this time the price had been something he was supposed to have surrendered a long time ago. Finlay Flynn was no longer mortal, undead or otherwise. Finlay Flynn was fae. Had always been fae- Only lost, then damaged, then nearly destroyed. 

His skin was warm to the touch now, though it was still ever so faintly blue in certain lights, as were the whites of his eyes. He seemed taller now too, as though his bones had been stretched out slightly, everything sharper, less delicate.

The strangest thing, however, was the buzzing feeling in his blood. Magic, Tevaughn had said. Too weak now to do anything, but something that would grow in time. It might take weeks, possibly years,  to come through, but- It was there. It was there, and it felt- It felt wonderful. It was like having something returned to him that he'd never even known he'd lost.

He knew he ought to go directly to Will, to hunt him down and tell him everything he'd missed- But for the first time in years, everything in the world just felt right, and Fin found himself sitting outside a cafe instead. No cigarette in hand, no pills or poisons, just a cup of coffee and an understanding that the world as he knew it was about to change quite drastically.
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.)
thenorthman: (Default)
[personal profile] thenorthman
Early March: A new vampire comes to town, and Kersen is off the hook about running London.
kersen: (drag: asian)
[personal profile] kersen
With some time to let it all settle, Kersen was pretty glad to not be the vampire queen of London. Though he wasn't sure exactly how things would shake out with Eric Northman in charge such as it was, for right now he was just content to try to let some things go back to normal. And back to normal meant trying not to look over his shoulder, for a while. It meant going back to just running his bar. And sometimes, it meant being a performer first and a vampire second.

He went full pinup that night, a blood red pencil dress with a black scarf knotted at his neck, fishnet stockings and red pumps, dark wig styled in careful pin curls. Red lips, dark eyes; bare, tattooed arms. He was a not-giving-a-fuck kind of girl tonight, and it gave him an idea for something to sing. Well, and having seen something from American telly online recently.

He even came out holding a stack of bar menus like they were textbooks.

"There are worse things I could do, than go with a boy or two..."

It was fun, a sitting on the piano kind of song, and he liked showing off that he actually had pipes. He didn't really lip sync anymore, unless he was at an actual drag show. It had been kind of fun in the 90s though, he'd even dressed like Cher once or twice...

"I don't steal and I don't lie, but I can feel, and I can cry..."

Rizzo, though, now there was a woman who deserved a tribute.

He had barely finished singing, handing the piano back over to the pianist who started playing some Sinatra, when he spotted something he hoped he wouldn't be seeing anymore. A vampire leaning over a human, a stare that was all too familiar. Kersen walked over calmly, grabbed the vampire by the arm, and said, "No glamours in my bar."

The vampire looked like he was about to argue, then thought better of it. Maybe partly because Kersen's grip on his arm was getting progressively harder. "My mistake." When Kersen's grip loosened, he threw some money on the bar and walked away.

Kersen smiled at the human woman, who seemed to be shaking herself out of a daze. "Bad sort," he said kindly. "Drink's on me."

Then he turned back around and looked out at the rest of the bar, hoping there wouldn't be anymore trouble tonight.
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.


Jul. 6th, 2015 08:07 pm
kersen: (male: hot)
[personal profile] kersen
It's not paranoia if there really is something to be paranoid about, right?

Case in point: There seemed to be something weird going on with the vampires in London lately. They seemed to be somewhat less... under control. Or maybe just sloppier. But in the past couple of months he'd seen reports of several bodies showing up that screamed vampire killing. Even if, thank god, not too obvious - Kersen could only imagine the chaos if bodies with fang marks drained of blood started showing up. But that combined with the sloppy attack on Michael a couple of weeks ago, and another vampire trying to glamour a customer outside Kersen's bar... the high levels of activity were unusual, and it was troubling.

But it was also why, when Kersen saw a vampire appear to be following a human on a near empty street, he followed right along after them. He couldn't see the human from the front, but could tell the difference in scent.

And yep, there it went. The vampire pulled the human into a nearby alley. Picking up speed, Kersen followed.

[OOC: Be saved from a horrifying vampire attack! :D And the vampire can either be glamouring them or biting them (or whatever you want), so there's no need for your character to even find out about vampires if you don't want.]


May. 2nd, 2015 09:11 pm
kersen: (drag: lovely)
[personal profile] kersen
CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS had read a sign on Jazzmin's front door for over a month, and it had been lifted less than a week ago. There hadn't actually been any renovations, though Kersen had had someone slap on a new coat of paint and brought in some new furniture to keep up appearances.

The real reason the bar had been closed was that Kersen had been gone. Out of the city, out of England, out of Europe. He'd been through Tibet, Japan, Korea. Following rumors like a ghost. Except a ghost with a trail of dead bodies. And in the end, he had not had any success finding Garrett. His maker had apparently reemerged in the world, and he was leaving a sporadic trail of death behind him. But he would be active for a time and then slip deep underground, and by the time Kersen had his scent, he was gone again.

He had come back to London feeling defeated and on edge and very unlike himself. And so he made an attempt to force himself back into some degree of normalcy, and even more so, the part of him that felt the farthest away from being a vampire. This was all that got him to the bar and into drag.

He wore a red hooded gown, not even bothering with a wig since for the most part the hood stayed down. And when he lowered it, his natural hair was of less interest than red lips and dark eyes anyway.

He was shorthanded, so could be found that evening behind the bar, at the door, making rounds, and at the piano. But there was a good crowd, and the music from inside was welcoming through the open door of the bar.
kersen: (real girl)
[personal profile] kersen
Kersen had recently learned a very important life lesson: Never use the words "I wish" in the company of the fae. Not even flippantly. Not even accidentally. Not even if you thought that Willy Silver was kind of a friend and not a soulless, malicious, childish jackass.

Because, what might happen is that you wake up one morning as the opposite gender.1 And then you freak out on the man who'd been sharing your bed, who luckily is a psychiatrist so pretty understanding. Except when you get turned on later and ill advisedly start making out with him but then completely freak out because you don't, you know, have the correct genitals.

And then, you of course naively assume that the fae who fucked you over so royally will have a good laugh and then change you back. Except it turns out you're totally wrong and he actually is a total sociopath who makes you bargain to get your own body back.

All of this explained how Kersen was, five days later, still in a female body. And his contact who was hunting down the damn flower or whatever that Willy wanted had apparently tracked it down in Tibet or something and was on his way back to London. He should be here tomorrow. Kersen could handle one more night like this, right? Right. Sure. As if he hadn't already been slowly going insane over the past few days.

Some people - stupid people - assumed that drag queens were all transsexual. Kersen was not. Not at all. And if this experience had taught him anything it was just how true that was. Maybe it had brought him some insight into himself as well, but he refused to be grateful to Willy for any part of it. He just wanted to be himself again. He wanted his penis back. And he'd never complain again about having to make his own clothes.

At least if he had to be a woman he was an attractive woman. And he looked a lot like himself - especially in drag, though it was very clear now that he wasn't a man in drag. He'd been pretending for the past few nights to be his own cousin. Which was really freaking weird. And he wasn't going to sing like this, so he was bartending instead.

Someone sat down at the bar but he didn't look up right away. "What can I get you?" he asked, cleaning a glass out with a cloth.

1 kind of NSFW
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
It was Christmas Eve in London, and all around the city people were out and about. Enjoying various parties, grabbing last minute gifts... Enjoying the lights and décor around the city. London was always beautiful, but in December it truly sparkled.

Outside shops, people collected toys and money for charities, hoping for last minute kindness from strangers to make the holiday even brighter for those in need. However, as the night fell, many shops shut early- While many bars and clubs did quite the opposite, opening their doors earlier and inviting people in.

All around there was bustle and lights, making the city appear even more alive than usual.

(Gathering post! Timed to Christmas Eve (day or night), but open all week long! Tag in, tag others, and check back often! Happy Holidays guys!)
anamusebouche: (posh party)
[personal profile] anamusebouche
The London Gastronomic Society organized a large indoor festival every year. Three restaurants on the top two floors in the Shard in London hosted this year’s food festival. Connected by a large atrium in the middle, they offered guests a grand setting to feast their taste buds with fine flavours and rich textures.

This year’s theme was Venice and all courses, dishes and amuses were inspired by Italy and Venice, its City of Bridges in particular. Tickets were freely sold, but a VIP lounge was set up on the restaurant of the top floor, separating the rich and famous from the ordinary people. The restaurant's large balconies offered the esteemed guests views of the atrium floor and the rest of the party on one side and London’s skyline on the other.

The theme had inspired the decorators to create a Venetian Carnival atmosphere throughout the three floors and the invitations read a Carnivalesque attire was greatly encouraged. Many people had complied and were dressed up, varying between tasteful to plainly outrageous. Everyone who hadn’t come dressed up, was given a mask at the entrance.

Waiters – dressed thematically – walked back and forth carrying large plates with the most delicious small dishes and amuses. Wine flowed freely and music inspired many to venture a dance in the atrium's dance floor.

((Gathering style, timed to Friday evening/night. Tag now, tag later, do what you like. Great way to meet new people!))
finlay_flynn: (a mess)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn
It had all started just over a few weeks ago.

"You should do it," Jaxson had said. "You'd be mad not to. This is your chance- You're young, you're still pretty... Take it. You'll regret it if you don't."

The theatre director had turned up at his flat less than an hour before, already drunk, carrying a bottle of whiskey and a manilla envelope that had been carelessly ripped open. ...An envelope that held a script for a new BBC program, and a part that had been written with the young actor and play write in mind.

"You're just saying that because you're drunk," Fin had said, moving to sit beside him on the floor as he continued to flip through the script. ...He had to admit, it was really good. A period piece, all about reporters during world war two. It wasn't dry though, it had some real flavour to it- and the part they wanted him for was interesting. A young photographer who became a spy for the Germans. Part villain, part underdog... Jaxson was right. He'd be a fool to say no. 

The audition had been the next day- More for show than anything else. By dinner he was singing a contract

Now, weeks later, there was a press release out and even publicity photos floating around. They were rushing the pilot out, and he'd found himself slightly shocked by the appearance of his face in one of the weekly rags.

"Bugger me," he said softly, only now realizing how big this thing might prove to be.

Magazine in hand, he sat down hard on a bench at the bus stop, staring at his own picture, and struggling with the reality of how fast his life was changing.
kersen: (male: bite)
[personal profile] kersen
It was a quiet night at Jazzmin. Which, actually, Kersen found kind of nice. He'd spent some time on the piano, not performing really, just playing. Jazzing up Clair de Lune. Humming along with a Cole Porter medley. He wasn't in drag, just his usual combined style of leather and silk and glitter. It was a relaxing night; he appreciated this.

He bartended for a while, too, and when he got bored and Tabitha told him he was making the drinks too strong (nice of her to keep an eye on his bottom line for him) he wandered outside for some fresh air.

Through the open door, the sound of a piano playing "Night and Day" could be heard, and Kersen sang a few lines under his breath as he patted his pockets for a packet of cigarettes. Head bent, he saw someone's feet pause on the sidewalk and without even looking up to see who it was, said, "You like Cole Porter? Come have a drink and fall in love."


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