Lilah, you're my only home, and I can't make it on my own.
WHO: meaculpable & wrongmagician
WHERE: the Lux
WHEN: TODAY *thunderclap*
WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Tattoo removal 101. Also, deal making 101, Tim, you poor dumbass.
FORMAT: para!
It is entirely justifiable, Tim decides, to be nervous. Rubbing his chest through his shirt right below the collar bones, he watches the streets and buildings go by, people milling everywhere in a subtly different way than they had in London. Maybe it's just his oversensitive imagination, or maybe he's developing some well-needed paranoia, but he thinks the scorpion knows what's coming, and isn't pleased. That's right, he thinks, fierce only in his own head, time to get rid of your incredibly unhelpful self. Then the Lux looms in the window of the bus and he's nervous all over again.
It makes as much sense as anything that Lucifer would have a nightclub, and he worries momentarily about what it looks like, a fourteen year old hopping off the bus and making his way toward its doors. But no one's looking, he's sure. No one cares. Not for the first time in his life he finds that reassuring. Here in the City, he's nothing special, and that is worlds of relief. He might even have been able to subsist without the magic... if only he weren't so concerned that kind of attitude was going to bite him in the ass. Every other time he's tried to ignore and live without it, bad things happen. He chose magic; magic chose him. He can't run from it. He can only go forward.
As he approaches the doors of the Lux, he feels the absurd impulse to knock. But it's a nightclub. You just go in, right? Hopefully you do, anyway, because that's what he's doing and if his manners are less than exemplary, maybe Lucifer... well, maybe he won't care.
WHERE: the Lux
WHEN: TODAY *thunderclap*
WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Tattoo removal 101. Also, deal making 101, Tim, you poor dumbass.
FORMAT: para!
It is entirely justifiable, Tim decides, to be nervous. Rubbing his chest through his shirt right below the collar bones, he watches the streets and buildings go by, people milling everywhere in a subtly different way than they had in London. Maybe it's just his oversensitive imagination, or maybe he's developing some well-needed paranoia, but he thinks the scorpion knows what's coming, and isn't pleased. That's right, he thinks, fierce only in his own head, time to get rid of your incredibly unhelpful self. Then the Lux looms in the window of the bus and he's nervous all over again.
It makes as much sense as anything that Lucifer would have a nightclub, and he worries momentarily about what it looks like, a fourteen year old hopping off the bus and making his way toward its doors. But no one's looking, he's sure. No one cares. Not for the first time in his life he finds that reassuring. Here in the City, he's nothing special, and that is worlds of relief. He might even have been able to subsist without the magic... if only he weren't so concerned that kind of attitude was going to bite him in the ass. Every other time he's tried to ignore and live without it, bad things happen. He chose magic; magic chose him. He can't run from it. He can only go forward.
As he approaches the doors of the Lux, he feels the absurd impulse to knock. But it's a nightclub. You just go in, right? Hopefully you do, anyway, because that's what he's doing and if his manners are less than exemplary, maybe Lucifer... well, maybe he won't care.