magic_fratboy: (magic - houdini v2.0)
For a long while, he could only stare at the monument and wonder why he hadn’t come before now. All the years he’d stood in awe of the master, of his own soul, and he hadn’t made the journey to this place. He’d stood in the presence itself, and he hadn’t understood that violated feeling for what it was. Now he was here, with her again, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel.

Brighter laughter rang in his next to the carefree intimacy of another low chuckle. The memory of warm, luscious curves and of lean planes of skin burned under his fingers as he thought of two different loves, two different women.

He wondered about her soul…wondered if it recognized his.

When he finally gathered his courage to approach the tombstone of Wilhemina Beatrice Rahner, a bouquet of flowers in hand, so much of his fear melted away that it was hard to remember he’d been scared. He feared Bess Houdini on even her best day when he’d lived before, to be sure…but she knew his worst and still she’d mourned.

The power of goodbye... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words :760

[jp] Red

Aug. 21st, 2008 06:35 am
magic_fratboy: (dark power - shhhhhh...)
He doesn’t realize the red he’s seeing is in his eyes until he passes a store window and sees himself.

He doesn’t recognize the image before him in dark, reflective glass…worn jeans, black tank top ripped at the collar, and too-short hair making him seem thinner than usual. The sun is lightening his nearly jet black hair with streaks of caramel, his cheeks shadowed by stubble he can’t be bothered to shave.

And his dark eyes are blazing red coals, reflecting the power he feels boiling in his blood.

Moving closer to the window, transfixed, he remembers the initial surge of fury that carried magic on its back, a blast of power like he’d never felt in all the weeks since he’d entered into the Fraternity. It’s more still than that, it’s a touch of the divine…it belongs to him alone and no one else, but in spite of its intoxicating nature he feels no jealousy for it.

He remembers the rush of satisfaction that came from laying hands on Farah, blessing her with hope in its truest form…

All at once the fire in his irises dies, leaving them dark again. Dark, hollow, empty. Useless.

He understands, then, what the legends and tales about diminishing elves and faeries that fade and die with a lack of faith are really all about as he sinks to his knees on the busy city street. Hope is leaving him, bleeding through his pores and into the world around him. He can feel it working, the smiles and the deep breaths of fresh air coming off that second wind sustaining the humans surrounding him.

It leaves him and goes back to them…humanity. The thing he’s never actually been a part of.

Hope has a source, though, and faces of its own, just like the Darkness. Even now, one bares its face to him as he shuts his eyes and sinks back against the cool, slick pane pressing into the newly bared nape of his neck. He shivers and wishes for his hair back.

He wishes for Zee back.

Shutting his eyes, Tommy holds on to the vision of that face, praying it will sustain him. Bring back the fury, the white-hot rage that was keeping him on his feet. White hot rage, red hot coals where eyes should be. See the world through a veil of fire…

…the fires of the first dawn…

Bloody irises face the world again as his eyes slide open.

He ignores the chaos of a blown out six block power grid as he gets to his feet and starts moving again.

He has work to do…he has to find Zee.

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 447
magic_fratboy: (work - the artist's eye)
“Your energy’s fading.”

“Then let’s do this fast.”

“You could die.”

“If I die here, at least I’ll be back.”

He watched as Dog gave him that look...the one that meant he was going against his gut. Regardless of all the dogma he preached, however, Tommy knew that knowledge had at least a little to do with instinct. Dog didn’t know the things he did...he didn’t have the instincts.

“Then let the rite begin.”

The Trial By Fire... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 870
magic_fratboy: (emote - getting back up again)
NOTE: A recurring dream heavily inspired by this illusion, and relating to events stemming from this post.

How many miles to Babylon?
Three score and ten.
Can I get there by candlelight?
Aye, and back again.
If your feet are nimble and light,
You'll get there by candlelight.

Believe in the light... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 496
magic_fratboy: (emote - beaten down)

Your result for The Heart Test...

Heart of Gold

You are 80% Independent, 70% Idealistic, 70% Intimate, and 60% Indulgent!

The Heart of Gold

Independent, Idealistic, Intimate, Indulgent

You are the most loving of hearts, the Heart of Gold. You possess all the most loving qualities, intimacy, the desire for closeness, and an idealistic view of love. At the same time, you are not bound by love, and so stand on tall on your own. You know you will find love and aren't worried about not acquiring it - it is only a matter of time, and you are happy in the meantime waiting. You are the purest of all hearts, loving and self-assured, as complete and whole as a heart can be.

Matches for the Heart of Gold:

The Slave to Emotions

The Slave to Emotions values all your ideals of love, but is more dependent on it than you are. This if okay for you, because though you're independent, you also want to be loved and being loved so much makes you happy. The Slave will definitely appreciate you for loving them, and you will appreciate them in the same way, making for a very strong match.

The Heart on Sleeve

The Heart on Sleeve is idealistic and intimate, just as you, but desire love and is more prone to want conflict. But being the loving type that you are, you can put up with this,k as you know their true nature, and will come to respect them for not holding back their true emotions.

Your exact opposite is Soldier of Fortune.

Avoid Realists, who may not live up to your ideal standards, and perhaps Explicits if they do not live up to your ideals of love, but there are few types you don't get along well with.

Take The Heart Test at HelloQuizzy

Figure I'll be doing a lot of this shit seeing as how I'm in bed. I called in sick at the office, but I'm still working from home. Something ain't right with me...Zee's a nervous wreck, I can tell 'cause she's smoking like a chimney.

Truth is...I'm a little nervous, too. I just hope this passes. Fast.
magic_fratboy: (hope's avatar - pull you from the dark)
If you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if they can't stop you, you become something else entirely.

In the dead of night, sleep won’t take him. He can hear their souls screaming in the dark...

He wears black, with short-sleeve shirts that leave his wrist bare, wearing only a watch and a single bracelet, a silver handcuff shackle. He abandons the rest of his jewelry and binds his hair back with a bandanna.

A hypnotic suggestion keeps Zee asleep as he leaves the loft and enters the world in the night.

His steps are light as he stalks the concrete jungle, slipping through the shadows that usually hold death in some form or another for him and all his kind. The darkness doesn’t belong to Darkness alone, also comes before the dawn, and in the beginning of every happy story there is always darkness.

Walking is a quiet meditation, and that’s all the world asks of him in these hours. The screams grow quiet as he approaches with the simple desire to see a smile, feel a rush of heat and happiness in his blood. He gets, it, too...from the homeless and the hungry, from the junkies and the dealers, the thieves, whores, and shades of pale faces and silver chains that litter the best and worst of Hollywood.

The moments of action bring the largest result. Small moves, big waves he’s sure the Fraternity can feel, waves all of Pandora’s children can sense in the early hours of the day when even the sun won’t wake. A coin in a cup, a door held for another, even a smile over change at a liquor store.

Lately he’s even taken to doing magic. Pausing on a street corner to show one of the pale shades a simple effect with no real power behind it...only practice, diligence, understanding that brings the same amount of awe, and germinates as the first seeds of hope in a lonely soul.

He does nothing in those wee hours of the night just breaking into morning, save for maybe drinking a cup of coffee before he heads home and back to bed, with his current companion none the wiser. All he does is a man, as a soul, as an avatar of human hope.

He lets the lonely souls see that hope lives...and it’s all they really need to keep going one more day.

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 387
magic_fratboy: (sexy - shirtless)
What is your typical...

Typical stuff under the cut... )

In other news, got through rehearsal. Apparently I had some minor issues? But it wasn't like I got buried today, so it was cool. Worked on the twist I'm taking into this escape...I feel a little edgy, but so far things are working out.
magic_fratboy: (dark power - shhhhhh...)
Who's there knocking at my window?
The owl and the Dead Boy
This night whispers my name
All the dying children

“You’re doing far better today, son.”

Tommy dealt the new hand, frowning a little as he did. “So far, I guess. How long’s it been? I...can’t keep track here.”

Conversations With Dead People...Namely Myself... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 816
magic_fratboy: (casual - do what now?)
(continued from here.)

'You're a mess, baby. You feel like eating or you just wanna pass out?'

"Protein bar and six years of sleep." Tommy sighed, shutting his eyes as he leaned back against the furthest wall of the elevator, allowing himself to appreciate the slow, rattly grind of the car being pulled up to his floor. That was all he wanted for himself right now: to rest, to surround himself with the familiar, the comfortable. He wanted to forget the world for a little while and just soak in the quiet familiarity of his own home.

And that felt wrong, somehow, out of place in his own head. Yet it was part of his nature, a part he rarely let himself reach out and touch. Was that part of the other soul that he'd been, perhaps? Was that Eric Weiss instead of Tommy Karras?

//They're one and the same.// he reminded himself. He had to remember that...because it was true. Slowly, the reality of it was sinking in, and he knew he had to deal with it.

When the elevator rolled to a stop and the doors slid open, Tommy straightened and gestured for Ziyah to exit ahead of him. "Ladies first." he declared with a small smile.
magic_fratboy: (magic - the next houdini)
Give in. Just relax, it will be over soon.

Tommy shut his eyes against the violent, silken whisper in the dark and fought not to scream. His body was beaten, his head was pounding, and his muscles were screaming even as his insides threatened to cave in on him. He’d woken up to darkness and pain, but as the minutes, seconds, weeks wore on in his head, he realized there was more attacking him than just a head injury stemming from a Bringer’s human servant.

The cuffs weighing his wrists down were forged by the Darkness. The leg irons, too. The only pair of cuffs not mystically made were the ones that ran through the chains binding him and securing him to the length of pipe just over his head.

He’d popped those cuffs without any trouble. Still, he couldn’t move.

It’s easy. Just lay down, close your eyes. It won’t hurt.

“Shut UP!!!” The scream tore through the darkness with a wail of desperation and pain that made it almost unrecognizable as his own voice. He was starting to believe the silky slide of shadows, gliding over his psyche and burning him almost physically. He couldn’t even focus on his restraints, couldn’t get past that veneer of banality and the deadly mundane. Shaking his wrist made his shackles jingle, running his fingers over them gave him a number, but it slid away in seconds and left him at a loss as to how to get free.

The building he was in was abandoned. Empty. He was alone... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 612
magic_fratboy: (close - beaten down)
He couldn’t decide what was worse, the hot water or the cold as he stood under the shower head, letting the gentle spray fall on his bruised and beaten face. In the same thread, he still wasn’t sure which was worse: the Bringers of the Darkness that had the means to wound his soul, or the human servants that had more than enough ability to kick his ass all over the concrete.

Tonight, it had been the human servants that wanted him... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 486
magic_fratboy: (magic - the next houdini)
I got lucky. That’s all it was...right?

My first night at the Magic Castle, and I’m checking out a wing the general public never gets to see. Fraternity only, y’know? Relics of the masters humans will never get to touch, much less see, and here I am running my fingers over Dai Vernon’s favorite pack of cards. I’m leafing through volumes written on Kellar and Cardini penned by Brothers for the Fraternity.

A brush with Houdini... )

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 683
magic_fratboy: (emote - hard look)
I want to pull away when the dream dies
The pain sets it and I don't cry
I only feel gravity and I wonder why

* * * * *

She really should have been here.

I remember thinking that when I went to the Weiss family plot back in the day. I was twenty years old and just overwhelmed by the whole experience. I just sat at Houdini’s grave for a good three hours…doing nothing. The sun was on my face and I was dressed in black, but I didn’t get hot. I was warm, comfortable, almost sleepy. I was that comfortable, that content.

I left flowers for Houdini, and his whole family…I visited each grave in turn, and it was really almost a religious experience for me. That might sound kind of crazy, but how else can you explain the things I felt? There was just so much emotion, so much love there. Cecilia and Mayer Samuel were the man and woman who made Houdini great, his siblings were his compatriots, his charges…

…and Bess wasn’t there.

I was disappointed I didn’t get to see her grave, but before I left? translation: when Bela and Boney dragged me off kicking and screaming, just in case you two losers are reading this I was just overwhelmed by that. She wasn’t there, wasn’t allowed to be buried there, and thinking about it brought tears to my eyes.

It almost hurt.

She really should have been here. That’s what I remember thinking, and it’s true. She should have been there. Houdini loved his wife, almost as much as his magic. Kinda sad, but I understand it now: nothing can ever make you give up that first mistress.

Still, Bess came close, and that says a lot about the kind of woman she was, about the way her husband loved her. They set aside a plot for her, and she should have been able to use it.

She really should have been there.

Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 301


magic_fratboy: (Default)

December 2015

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