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.


Dec. 18th, 2016 08:20 pm
kersenjr: (looking)
[personal profile] kersenjr
Bonnie was shut up in her room when she heard Kersen leave. She didn’t know if she liked being alone or not. She ventured out of her room more often when he was gone, but the empty house felt alien and dead.

She barely used the furniture in the rest of the house unless Kersen was around and she was trying to act normal. It felt wrong to sit on the couch and try to relax. It was like dragging a sofa into a cave full of monsters and pretending it was your living room. Mostly she wandered around with her arms wrapped around herself or sat in the corner with her back against the wall.

She was getting used to her newly amplified vampires senses, better at tuning out background noise, but she couldn’t stop hearing the sounds of the outside world coming in through the walls. It was louder than it should have been, but sounded reassuringly normal. Being inside the house made her want to choke.

She wasn’t thinking when she got up and went to the front door. She just went, and she didn’t know why.

She opened the door a crack and peered out. It was dark. She could see stars. The air on her skin felt colder than she had expected. The night was the same as it had always been.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to go out on her own, but she wasn’t supposed to be dead and trapped inside the house of a vampire she barely knew, either. So she slipped out and started walking, carefully at first, like someone might be watching. She didn’t know where she was going, and she knew she’d have to come back before dawn or she’d die again, for real, but she kept moving. A few metres from the house she realised she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Being outside felt almost good for a while, but the further she got from the house, the more menacing the streets became. She couldn’t stop peering into shadows. She felt like someone was following her, but whenever she looked over her shoulder, there was no one. Knowing nobody was there didn’t help. She felt like they were gaining on her, and she wanted to run, but she had nowhere to go. She didn’t want to go back to the house. She quickened her pace a little, trying to ignore the panic that was screaming at her to move. If she went running through the street, she’d look like she was crazy.

Granted, she didn’t exactly look like the picture of mental stability. She hadn’t brushed her hair in days, and she was barefoot and hurrying down the street in a state of clear panic.

[IMPORTANT NOTE!!! Bonnie is a new vampire, and she’s not very good at controlling herself yet. Any (living) pups with magical abilities will smell far too delicious and she will lose control and try to eat them. You’re still welcome to tag them in if that’s something you’d like to play, but if it’s not they’d better stay away from her for now. Oh yeah, and it would be completely plausible for her to lose control and attack a regular human too, so if you’d like to play a dramatic vampire attack just let me know :Db :Db :Db]
londoncallingmods: (spoops)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The weather today had been fairly pleasant, a mostly sunny day wedged between fairly grey ones. It wasn't warm, but the chill was minimal for this time of year, and there wasn't a drop of rain in sight. As night crept in, however, the streets slowly faded from sun kissed and painted in autumnal colours, to foggy and damp. An odd thing, really, since the forecast had predicted a clear and pleasant night.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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: (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!)


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.
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!)


Sep. 19th, 2014 06:23 pm
trustearned: (lonely)
[personal profile] trustearned
Michael liked to reward himself, after a job well done. How depended on the job in question, and the mood he was in. Sometimes it was in Soho, loud music he didn't care for and a dark backroom, anonymous moments spent with someone he wouldn't see again. But sometimes it was just by taking a small break from his life over a pint. The Bird in Hand was a small, quiet pub in a small, quiet alley. There was music playing, something with a lot of guitars, from the seventies, back when songs lasted much longer than current ones do, but it was in the background, as it always was. It was a good pub, and one he frequented on a semi-regular basis, for quiet moments such as these, for the simplicity of drinking a pint and being on his way. And if he were to overhear patrons discussing the latest political scandal, the one he'd engineered for his new master, well, that would only make the visit that much more satisfying. An MP found dead of overdose in the bed of a cabinet member last night? A dark day for the Tory party, but not for all the Tories, at the end of the day.

He greeted the bartender and ordered a bitter, then sat on one of the stools at the counter, so he could keep the door and the back in his peripheral vision.

He was just Michael here, no Micheletto, but Michael was just as naturally cautious as Micheletto. The only difference was that he wasn't a man on a mission, but just a man, and when somebody came to claim the stool beside his, they didn't sit beside a fixer, an assassin, a hitman. They sat beside a man enjoying his beer. For now, at least.
autcaesar_autnihil: (gettin hot in here)
[personal profile] autcaesar_autnihil
Lucrezia and Cesare. When he runs into Lucrezia on the street, Cesare reports that things might be getting hot, with a Cabinet reshuffle on the horizon.

Michael and Cesare - Cesare stumbles over the previously mentioned hotness in time to thwart it. Michael decides to change his alliance from Rover to Borgia.

Michael and Cesare - A day later, his first major test of loyalty completed, Michael begins a new one... with a sound and voluntary ass-kicking.

Lucrezia and Cesare - That evening, Cesare checks up on Lucrezia to see how her part of the scheme went. As it turns out, she went far above and beyond.


Sep. 7th, 2014 01:28 am
girl_upgraded: (Direct)
[personal profile] girl_upgraded
Rave had been busy hacking into an Arizona based defense contractor, some jackass working on anti tank vehicles that would be filtered into the American police force when the tours in the war zones was over. She'd just found out that was happening with this that had happened in the American south and she was outraged. A few keystrokes later and the money of the contract was bogged down under holds and casements and she felt she'd done something good. But it was a defense company and any time she went after someone like that she got edgy, looking around for some secret police or something coming after her.

She finished up and pulled out the USB that held her operating system, leaving the laptop she had clean. She'd gone through so many USB sticks. She kept her system as untraceable as she could. She bounced her signal through servers around the world. She had no standard online profile that anyone could trace, really, except some of her work. She was Rave and she was Anonymous and she was Legion.

She didn't look it as she packed up her computer in the messenger bag. She was in black jeans and a black leather jacket, heavy black boots with buckles and studs. Her shirt was white, though, and proclaimed that Well Behaved Women Rarely Made History.

Just outside she stood, plugging one earbud in and looking around. Two cops walked her way and she immediately turned, trying not to look suspicious. There was a person and she smiled at them, a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Do you know the nearest underground stop?" she asked, her posh accent giving her away as 'not from this area'.
kersen: (male: hot)
[personal profile] kersen
July 11, 2014
Kersen and Michael meet at a gay bar, and things progress quickly... except when they come to a screeching halt because oops, Kersen is afraid he's going to lose control. Poor Michael. :(


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