further evidence of London’s temporal integrity being secretly manipulated by unknown forces

the city swinging wildly back and forth through time like a door half off its hinges, its denizens dazed and compliant, hanging on by their fingertips, downing g&ts and howling Make The Most Of It! into the night

SPRING WHAT SPRING WTF IS SPRING HERE HAVE SOME JULY

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tfw when your local trickster god steals the hands off Big Ben, freezing time and trapping London in a parallel universe

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no vampires, no werewolves, no magical creatures, only a very slippery kind of magic, faint and dangerous and about desire, a magic certain people have or know, have learned or have instinctively understood or stumbled upon. She is young, dissatisfied, she can’t get where she wants, she can’t have what she wants, she doesn’t know what she wants, the world is expensive, doors are locked. She begins to see or understand magic as a way through that, through chinks in walls. There are some who are out for money or fame, but that’s dangerous, that has to be paid for. The most powerful ones are the ones who are the most obscure, who wanted power and anonymity. Freedom, anonymity and autonomy are the great prizes.