OTA

Aug. 17th, 2017 07:22 pm
akatawitch: (Strut)
[personal profile] akatawitch posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
Sunny came back to London from her time at home with another birthday under her belt and some money from a graduation present from her parents. For all that Sunny was not her father's favorite child, she was ostensibly treated equally to her brothers. Besides, even her father couldn't be completely disappointed for once. Completing an undergraduate program and finding gainful employment directly related to that English degree. Sunny wasn't sure how much of her getting a job had to do with her education and how much it had to do with Ms. Von Brandt remembering her and possibly finding it useful to have a witch on staff, but that wasn't a correction she was going to make any time soon.

So she had money to spend. It was for her to do whatever she wanted, her mother had insisted. A new computer maybe, or upgrading her apartment from student dwelling to a young woman's. Sunny had known the instant she'd gotten the check, though. She needed new clothes, and she needed them quite desperately.

Put simply, while her student apartment wouldn't rankle her for some time yet, her student wardrobe would only get her taken so seriously. And she didn't need new tech either. She needed better than what she could get away with wearing to class.

She didn't get much chance to go all out, and she found she was enjoying herself. Over the course of the day--stopping once or twice to rest or get something to eat--she bought skirts, blouses, trousers, dresses, shoes. In her life she had lamented from time to time that she was too flat-chested, too skinny, but today was one of those days she saw hers was a body that was made for clothes and for once... well. She felt sexy.

Maybe she could even afford to get some proper makeup? And she really should get a half-way decent coat.

(Encounter Sunny in a department store, on the street, at lunch, whatever)
logan_echolls: (okay)
[personal profile] logan_echolls posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
Logan and Jack are reunited. (ongoing)

Years ago, on a strange little island (in perhaps a very different time line) Logan Echolls and Jack Harkness made a really big mess together. Now, years later, they find themselves reunited in Jack's creepy underground lair. 

It's, you know, epic.

OTA

Aug. 13th, 2017 05:58 pm
kersen: (male: tattoos)
[personal profile] kersen posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
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!]

OTA - Pixie Problems

Aug. 11th, 2017 11:08 am
winter_wisp: (XD)
[personal profile] winter_wisp posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
Winter had taken to sleeping late, curled up on a pile of pillows in the sun room and wishing fall would come a little faster. Summer was so hard sometimes, it wasn't his season, and he missed the cold. He still shared a bed with Phouka most nights, but when sleep failed him in the middle of the night, he crept up to the top floor of the tree house, built a little nest, and sat reading books by the soft glow of fairy lights. Then, when sleep did finally come for him, he just curled up in his nest of glittery and pretty pillows and let it wash over him.
 
It was nearly noon by the time he woke, and the pixie staggered about in a groggy haze as he set about his morning routine. Teeth polished nice and shiny, to keep the tooth fairy well away (What kind of fairy collected teeth after all? Not one you'd want under your pillow, that's for certain), face scrubbed and fresh, even though a moment later there was always, always, glitter on his cheeks again anyway. ...Not applied, simply there. Then it was time to do battle with his hair. Today his hair was shock white, the curls soft and short. Winter never wondered why it was or wasn't this, he simply accepted that his hair would be as it wished to be, and dressed accordingly.  Lately he'd been dressing quite plainly, but today he found himself digging a bit deeper into his closet, emerging in a bright and unusual jumper, along with a pair of colourful trainers.
 
He was just headed down to the kitchen when he heard a strange noise, and he went still on the steps as he tried to work out what it was.
 
"Shh! You're making too much noise!" a voice whispered.
 
"No, you are!" came another. "Besides, we have to make noise or he'll never wake up!"
 
There was a loud clatter, like a wooden spoon hitting the floor, then the sound of laughter, like tinkling bells. "Who won't wake up?" the first voice asked.
 
"Winter! Remember? We're visiting Winter, Soot, that's the whole reason we came!" 
 
Wandering down the last few stairs, Winter peeked around the corner just in time to see two pixies on his counter attempting to open the five-pound bag of gummy bears he'd not yet broken into. Soot, an almost rosy and dusty skinned pixie with short and silky black hair, and eyes like tiny chips of obsidian, was currently attempting to drag the bag across the counter, while Moss, a very pointy looking pixie with wild grey hair and eyes to match, was currently attempting to remove a knife from the butcher's block.
 
"Oh, shit!" Winter gasped, rushing over and removing the other pixie from the knife and putting him down on the table. "You're gonna slice yourself in half, you twit!" he scolded, though that only prompted more giggles from the pair. "Winter!" they squeaked, launching themselves into the air and circling the pixie. "We're here! We're visiting!" they chirped.
 
"I know, I can see that," Winter replied, yelping when Soot pulled his hair.
 
"Make us big! Make us big! Let's play!" the pair chanted.
 
Winter hesitated a moment, then sighed. If his friends were here, there was no point in keeping them tiny. They'd only make more mischief that way. 
 
"Alright, alright, stay right here. I'll be right back," he said, opening the bag of gummies to ensure his energetic house guests didn't wander. Moss swiftly swooped down to steal one, snatching it from the bag and then tumbling down onto the counter with the plump green bear.
 
Suddenly Winter understood all too well why Finlay had, at one point, always looked like he had a headache in the morning. ...He almost felt sorry about it too. ...Almost. Winter hadn't quite mastered guilt yet.
 
He returned a moment later with some of his potion, and he lifted the pair off the counter before offering them each a dose. This, of course, only prompted more excitement and chaos, but eventually, Winter had them settled down and dressed in much more mortal friendly garb. It would have been ideal to keep the pair tucked away in his tree, but his kin were having none of that, and soon they were all settled in at a table outside Starbucks. 
 
"Ow!" Winter yelped, as Soot pulled his hair for the seventh time that morning. "Stop it. You're just trouble!" he scowled.
 
"You're trouble!" the dusty skinned pixie squeaked happily. 
 
"I'm pretty sure Trouble lives in that village near the wizard school," Moss supplied helpfully. "She's pink now you know, wings and all."
 
Winter couldn't help himself, and he smiled a little at the thought. "It would be very nice to be pink, I think," he admitted.
 
"Or lavender," Soot said wistfully. "With pretty pearl wings..."
 
"I like your wings," Winter said, shaking his head. "They're like cobwebs. No one has wings like yours."
 
Soot perked up a bit at that, looking very pleased. "I am very unique."
 
"Hey! I have good wings too!" Moss insisted, forgetting the potion had vanished them temporarily, and trying to show them off. This was enough to send the pixies back into a pile of giggles, and the sound of pure joy filled the air with a hint of magic and sweetness all around them.

OTA

Aug. 8th, 2017 08:18 am
finlay_flynn: (grump)
[personal profile] finlay_flynn posting in [community profile] londoncallingrpg
Since returning to London so much in Fin's life had changed. Will had left the flat, leaving Fin alone, but with some new freedom. The young fae had still been a bit timid about taking charge at first, but he'd decided to gut the place. The once sterile series of white boxes connected by doors had been opened up to something more inviting, with rich wood floors and a more bohemian aesthetic. It was a writer's dream, with plenty of space for the fox to roam and play when being fae grew too exhausting. It was a tad lonely, yes, especially with Keats off living with Winter and Phouka, but it was better this way.
 
Control was an odd thing though, and after having a small taste of it, Fin found himself a bit addicted. He'd renewed his contract with the BBC, but not before insisting they give him more time to pursue theatre work. He'd agreed to do a short revival of his play, Reap, but on his terms. The theatre had wanted a huge production, but Finlay had put his foot down, insisting it needed to be simple- After all, in his mind, it was the simplicity that made it what it was. He dismissed scripts he didn't like, he turned down press he didn't want to do- And for the first time in a long while, he felt good. He felt sure of himself.
 
He was still looking too thin from his stay in New York City, but his appetite was returning bit by bit, and he was picking at a robust looking salad as he sat outside his favoured cafe with his notebook on his knee. His gaze combed slowly over what he'd already written, and now and then he'd put down his fork and pick up his pen, scratching things out and re-writing them. Under the table his foot tapped anxiously, going still when the fae paused and pushed his hair back out of his eyes, then beginning to tap again. He paid no mind to the occasional onlooker, thankful that in London, much like New York, most people were 'too cool' to ask for a selfie. He wasn't ready for all that. He was in control, and he was more focused than he'd been in a long time, but he was still recovering. Recovering from what had happened with Will, from everything that he'd been through over the last few years, and recovering from losing his sense of self.
 
He was getting there, but like all things, it would take time.
 
Putting his pen down again he picked his fork back up and poked at his salad a little, looking lost in thought as he skewered a bit of cucumber. These past few days he'd been keeping to himself. Honestly, he'd barely spoken to anyone who wasn't one of his managers or a business contact since he'd returned. He'd seen Pip, spent time with Greg, but he was isolating himself a little. Or maybe it was more he didn't know who to reach out to anymore. ...Either way, Finlay Finn was painfully alone.

(OTA. Late and slow tags all welcome.)

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