Comments | posthumanslogs: [ got no salvation / got no religion ]

witchsupreme in posthumanslogs

[ got no salvation / got no religion ]

Apr 12, 2011 00:19

WHO: witchsupreme thelaughingmage
WHAT: Magic people doing magic!
WHERE: somewhere in a gutter in New York
WHEN: Evening
WARNINGS: just look at who is in this log. just. look.

( take a bite of my bad girl meat )

nico minoru | au, john constantine | ou

Comments 3

thelaughingmage April 17 2011, 05:37:19 UTC

Individuality was ripped away by the coruscating darkness of the club. It turned the crowd into a single seething, writhing shadow entity, shapes and limbs thrashing with faces and identities erased by the wild flickers of light. John had never been much for it. He'd always had too much ego to throw himself away and submerge into the beast.

On the other hand, the wild idiocy of it had its allure. After the wealth of curve balls the last two weeks had pitched at John's head, a restlessness had taken hold of him. He was tired of waiting, tired of patience, tired of playing games and bearing up silently and bleeding quietly to himself and living in a universe where everything was fucking sanitized. Masochism or sadism, it was all the same to him. Someone needed to bleed to prove to him this place was still alive.

If there was one good thing about magic, it was that you could just about count on some dildo with jumped-up dreams of god-kinghood to pop up just when you were in dire need of some heads to crack open. Which was why ( ... )

witchsupreme April 27 2011, 07:01:15 UTC

The particular brand of magic that pretty girls were born with ensured that Nico never had to buy her own drinks. When she took the time to 'goth up', she was striking. She was just the target's type---dark, dangerous, and pre-equipped with daddy issues---so she didn't have to put much effort into convincing him that he should get to know her better. A light touch at the inseam of his slacks, a knowing smirk, and a completely forced interest in his bragging about 'real' magic later, she had him eating out of her hand.

He couldn't shut up about his wonderful plans. Nico had to sip her drink and hold her tongue...because really, if you were going to summon up a Great Old One, why the hell would you choose Basatan, Master of the Crabs?Something kept tugging at her peripheral, a faint nagging feeling. She glanced to the side, trying to pick the source of it out amid the frenetic mass of sweat and leather and limbs on the floor ( ... )

thelaughingmage May 4 2011, 08:51:21 UTC

John almost laughed out loud when she melted out of the shadows to sidle up next to the idiot.

Nico matched the decor, but hell if she blended in. She was turning heads where she stood, a live wire crackling with ominous, barely leashed energy. Even mundanes felt it without knowing what it was. She drew them in like suicidal moths, and fried them just about as easily.

No surprise the arse went for her. A man who wanted blindly enough to truck with Outer Things would never have the self-preservation to keep away from that. This knob-end sat behind unscalable walls of narcissism and played with lightning while he thought he was untouchable ( ... )