#* QUEUE { HOW AWFULLY BRITISH OF ME } | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

valwrite · 4 years ago

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O1 pride / shock; andre layton series

general masterlist

series masterlist

series taglist: @gollyderek @fanfic-addict-98 @lets-love-little-me

summary: hell has frozen over and, in it’s place, snowpiercer has emerged. it’s many carriages carry secrets: affairs, murders, betrayals. and that’s only mentioning andre layton’s secrets. when a serial killer appears, detective layton is called on to the case. though reluctant at first, he agrees to take on the case when he discovers the first victim is rumored to be a once Tallie, an ex-coworker, an ex-lover: Y/N L/N. what starts as a hunt for her killer quickly becomes a hunt for the truth behind her suspicious death. the tail is uprising; his ex-wife is back in his line of sight; all eyes of the train are on him; and all andre layton can focus on is finding Y/N L/N’s body.

series warnings: angst, character death, smut, infidelity.

chapter warnings: mentions of suicide, details of murder.

fic style: series.

word count: 4292.

author’s note: apologies for the delayed posting of this, i was on holiday and forgot to queue this post. the first chapter follows very closely the actual series but, the following chapters deviate and will follow their own plot, whilst still maintaining some of the show’s main plots. as always, any feedback is welcomed.

Of all the things Andre Layton had thought about when it came to life further up the train, smell was the last thing he'd ever considered.

Crouched over on the floor, he takes in a whiff of the air. There's no thickness to this air, unlike the Tail's air. There is no stench of sweat; or blood; or tears mixed in with the breath he takes. The air in the Tail tells a story of it's inhabitants struggle for survival, all the daily hardships they endure leaving behind a foul stench the Tailies had grown to find comforting. This air is clean. Perhaps a little too clean, the faintest hint of bleach is tickling at his nose. He knows from experience what the smell of bleach could be covering up but pushes those thoughts to the side, preferring to live in blissful ignorance for just this one breath.

His head is pounding, the very first headache he's had since, well, he's forgotten how long it's been, actually. There's always the thought of how maybe the headache is chronic in the Tail, never ending and, therefore, never beginning, bringing Andre to a numbness when faced with such pain. But it's been hours now since he had been forced out of his home, perhaps the quiet consumed him enough to remind him of a life without noise and headaches, only to snatch the rug out from beneath his feet and hand him the worst one he'd dealt with.

Andre's in disbelief still. He knows the Tail is in chaos. The chaos is what kept them all alive, what will continue keeping them all alive. But, uptrain? He's always assumed they were tranquil. What he's quickly discovering is that, while tranquility may have been the surface layer, if someone even begins to dig just slightly, they'd very easily stumble upon savage beasts wearing sheep's clothing. The Tail may very well be a dark and difficult place to live but all of it's travelers had learnt long ago to find empathy in each other, working together rather than just for themselves.

A murder has taken place. Well, actually, two. Possibly three, from the way Officer Till had been arguing in hushed whispers with her superior earlier on, after Andre took a few beatings from the British officer, who's name began with O and ended in asshole. The death tally isn't his main focus either way, rather the job they are attempting to enforce on him is.

It's not like he doesn't understand why or how they came to the decision of requesting - he believes they were more demanding - his services. They have a potential serial killer on the loose and they claim he's the only one on the train with experience in such a field. Of course they were going to come knocking on his door. Only, he's not technically the only one on board with familiarity of crime scenes, just the only detective. And, see, if it weren't for the fact he'd spent however many years has passed watching how the upper class men on the train came and stole food, medicine, life from the Tail, then maybe he would have been a little more giddy about stepping back into Detective Layton's shoes. Alas, they'd made their beds and it was about time they started to lay in it, because they weren't about to get any help from him.

For all he cared, the killer could have at them all till there was no one left but the Tailies. They were the only ones good for anything on Snowpiercer.

"So, you got a body?" Andre stares up at the Brakeman- Doshe? No, no, Roche! - and the voice of the train, the woman who'd introduced herself but he'd tuned out her name. He doesn't need to know the name of the woman who spoke for Mr. Wilford. It was bad enough the man had been too coward to ever properly address the Tail by making a physical appearance, never mind the fact he won't even speak to them over the announcer. He sometimes imagined Mr. Wilford, with a pot belly and a whitened beard, surrounded by nothing but lavish. "Good for you, keep it for yourself, like everything else you lot have."

"This killer is taking lives on board this train." The train's voice starts up again, staring down at him with not a wrinkle of emotion behind her callous eyes. He's met a few women like her in his life, who's eyes remained devoid and near lifeless even when faced with some of the most horrific acts a person could do. "Like it or not, you're a member of this train and-"

"That's the problem with your lot, the Tail's only part of the train when it's convenient to you."

"The tail was always part of the train, just not it's inhabitants." Roche fires out, his brows furrowed and he uncrosses his arms. "The rest of us payed to be here, as workers or as passengers."

"That means my people deserve to pay with their life?" He can feel himself becoming more riled up by the minute, the pain from his previous beating being pushed to a side as he contemplates the repercussions of brawling with the older man.

"Roche, that's enough." Melanie interrupts them, stepping in the way of Roche and giving Andre no choice but to stare back at her empty eyes. Upon further observation, he catches the first sign of humanity in her. The bags under her eyes, subtle yet there. Dark, wrinkled, pillowy. It seems that exhaustion unites them both, even if their reasons for it are worlds away from similar. "The people on this train need security, Layton. If they found out there's a serial killer on board, the classes would break out in chaos-"

"You seem awfully sure there's only one killer and not just a copycat." A serial killer requires a minimum of three bodies. They has two. Andre wonders if this Melanie woman is unaware of such a technicality and had used the term flippantly, or if there is another body, a third body, he's being kept unaware of. If so, who? And, why?

"All of this, everything Mr. Wilford has worked so hard to keep in order and working, will have been for nothing if we can't maintain the peace. I'm not going to beg for your help, Layton, but just know you'd be saving us all. Including the Tail. You're the only one on board experienced with this."

"Guess the rich didn't consider the fact they'd start killing their own."

"So, will you help?"

This was the question Andre has been asking himself from the moment they'd stripped him away from the Tail; from his people; from his family. He knew, from the second the blonde haired woman had called out his name and butchered their plans for attack, that there was something they wanted from him. It was the same for anyone else who got called up train, there was something needed from a Tailie and it was never something good.

He can perfectly picture the faces of the Tail all staring back at him as he demanded to be taken back, armed men using all the strength they could summon to pull him out of the way of the closing doorway. Some looked on in horror, fearing for his life under the watchful eyes of the rich. Others gave him nothing but betrayal and anger in their eyes, as if they seemed to believe he'd orchestrated everything to have himself rescued from the Tail. Maybe, Andre wonders, some of them believe Zarah had it planned out, especially after leaving the Tail herself. Perhaps there was someone else they thought had saved him, someone who'd only recently left the Tail.

If Andre were to choose between being rescued by Zarah or her, Zarah's name wouldn't even begin to cross his mind.

The Tail is angry with him, he knows that for sure. By pure luck, they'd seemed to elect him as their leader, even if they worked as a united force and not an army. If he wants a chance to repair any damage caused to his people, his only real hope is to find his way back home and stay there, until he can charge onward with the Tailies and claim the train for themselves. Leaving the killer out in their playground of terror may just assist him in collapsing the fragile system of the train.

"No." Finally, he has his answer and it pleases him to hear the confidence in his voice, the pride he has for his status as a Tailie shinning brighter than ever before.

"No?" The train's voice echoes as Roche simply shakes his head behind the woman, muttering some intangible curse under his breath.

"You heard me. Solve your own shit."

She pulls back from him, turning her back to now face Roche and though Andre can hear both their voices speaking in whispers, he can not make out exactly what they are saying. She'd walked out of the small room before he can even register what's happening and Roche has him standing back up onto his feet, a hand firmly grasping at his forearm whilst he carelessly shoves him back into the hall of the train.

The quiet settles in again and Andre's fleeting attention sinks into memories from life before the cold, a fairly common habit of his which seems to be happening more than usual as of late, since she'd left the Tail much like she'd left him at the park, and the sight of the mutilated body he'd been brought out to investigate which brought back every memory of every case he'd taken on.

In this current memory, Andre walked into an apartment.

The room was trashed, with smashed glass and flipped furniture scattered all over the place. Upon first look, he suspected a robbery gone wrong. All around him, officers pulled him each and every way, all sharing their tid-bits of information regarding the on-going investigation, from suspects to who'd discovered the body to begin with.

The body. God, he hadn't even seen it yet but there's already that sinking feeling settling in his gut, the feeling that arrived every time he witnessed another crime scene. It was comforting to him, though disturbing, that such a thing could still rattle his bones and disturb his soul, the overexposure to it not making it any easier to deal with. Andre enjoyed the fact he had an emotional response still, the very thing that proved he was very much human beyond his detective work.

The sinking feeling grew when he saw the victim. A young woman, probably no older than his Zarah, who he liked to think was smiling; or laughing; or simply breathing and alive as he viewed the sight of that deceased woman. There were marks all down her left arm and blood on her fingertips, suggesting a chance that the victim struggled and fought for her right to live. It' was only one bullet wound, right between her eyes, yet that one simple wound ended an entire life. Killed any future, diluted any past and destroyed any present the victim had.

But there was someone else in the room with him, another woman, though that one was breathing. Her hands were covered by medical gloves and she was crouching by the victim, a pair of tweezers in her hand as she picked at something in the victims hand.

"Who are you?" She jumped at the sound of his voice, staring up at him with a look of discontent and frustration.

"You made me drop the DNA sample, dude. Not cool." She went back to her tweezers work. "I'm the department's new forensic scientist, Y/N L/N. I take it you are detective Layton?"

"I am." He nodded his head once, taking out his notepad and pen as their task at hand came barreling to the front of his mind, reminding him of the fact there was a very clear murder victim between the two of them. "What do we know of the victim so far?"

They had made their way down a hatchet hole, with Roche in the lead and Andre a few steps behind, cuffed and with his head held high. His hair brushes gently against his back, a strangely comforting repeat of motion that accompanies his less than pleasant travels throughout the train's cabins.

"You gotta take me back to the Tail, man." He pleads after Roche announces he's not heading home but, rather, to the man's holding cell. There was a time where it was Andre Layton who would be the one dumping someone in a holding cell whilst proclaiming he would be returning home to his wife, but now he had no wife; and no cell; and no badge that mirrored his past. "The Tail's all I got in the world."

The lead Brakeman does nothing but shake his head in response and Andre sighs, tired of fighting but nowhere near ready to give up.

They're plunged into chaos suddenly, sirens echoing up the train as Andre feels himself be stripped away from Roche and slammed full force into the metal caging surrounding him. The fresh bruising on his ribs screams in pain but Andre only hisses, his teeth clenching to bite back the grunt of anger begging to escape him. A man, around the same age as Roche and the same stature as himself, stares back at him with pure hatred. He's dressed in blue armor gear and his knuckles are turning whiter as his grip on Andre's collar tightens. And when he speaks, he spits every word out: "Now we've got a hostage, too."

Even in times of utter devastation, mankind finds a way to create division between themselves. In his life before the weather changed, he was targeted for the color of his skin. Now, he's also chased after for his status on the train. A filthy Tailie.

"Commander! Let him go." The voice of the train comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and Andre is actually glad to see her when he feels the grip on him dissappear.

"The Tailies have revolted again." The small mouthed women, who Miles refers to as the Executioner but is actually named Ruth, speaks next.

"Yes. Mr. Wilford is aware."

"Look, whoever they are, I know 'em, okay?" He steps in, hoping to bargain with them. This may be his only chance to both save the Tailies and prove his loyalty to them. "I can help."

"Things are going too far with him-" Ruth's irritating voice pipes up again.

"Please." He continues nonetheless, focusing only on the voice of the train, who he'd heard be referred to as Melanie. "They'll listen to me."

The Commander is the one to lead him to the Tailies. His grip on Andre is tighter than before and it feels purposeful when he shoves his side into the wall. His Irish accent is distinct enough to remind Andre that he and this man have history, from the initial revolts started by the Tailies, where they fought to keep the very small space of the Tail. Many were lost in the war but it wasn't in vain, it helped the Tailies learn to rely on each other and be a family.

"You've got three minutes." The Commander gives him one last shove, right into a masked soldier's shoulder.

He's only in the doorway and already Andre can see just how much damage his people have done. It's what they'd been training and waiting to do for so long, he never imagined they'd fail. Bodies lay all over the place, some of Tailies but most of them soldiers. Blood splatter paints the wall in red and lights are flickering at the end of the hall. His people had fought hard. They'd now need to fight harder, once he revealed his very hazy plan to them.

"Tailies! Who's left?" He listens to his own voice echo down the train. "It's Layton."

It takes no more than a second for a familiar voice to chime in, calling back to him: "Layton, you're a coward!"

It's Pike, which doesn't really surprise him at all. The man had always questioned Andre, always been ready to point out his mistakes and share his wrongdoings.

"Pike?" He says, after a sigh and an eye roll.

Andre finally steps into the bloodied carriage, carefully placing each step on the ground as quietly as possible. So far, all he knows is that Pike is there. And there's no guarantee that man wouldn't try take Layton down given the chance, meaning he had to be subtle and careful in his approach. He steps over arms; and legs; and torsos, the stench of blood so thick in the air he can almost choke on it.

"We don't want you here!" Pike speaks again.

"I'm coming in."

"No, you're not!"

"Who's with you?" No matter what, Andre tells himself that finding out who remains is his top priority. And keeping Pike talking may just distract him long enough for Andre to disarm him in a sudden approach.

There's three of them on the other side of the cabin. Pike's at the front, blood drying on his hands and a makeshift weapon clasped in one of them. He's stewing in his own anger, on guard each step Andre takes. The other two are pretty much in the same positions, only the biggest of them all has a familiar, though terrified, woman captured in his arms: Till, one of the brakemen who'd been with Andre earlier on that day.

"How's it going?" He's trying his best to calm them down.

"Yo, Layton, where you coming from, man?" But the betrayal is already so evident in their eyes, their voices, their body language. To them, Andre is looking less like a Tailie than when he was dragged out of there.

"Uptrain, man." Honesty may be his best policy, if he plays his cards right. "Yo, they pulled me up to solve a murder. You believe that?" He sure as hell still didn't. "They're doing us a favor and killing each other up there."

"Bullshit." Pike is still angry but what's new? Andre knows he needs to redirect his anger off of himself and back onto those who are the real enemy. "You're a traitor! This will only end one way."

"Yeah." Andre's hand comes down on Pike's weapon, clasping it in his own strength and pulling it out of Pike's shaking arms. "They're gonna storm in here, and they're gonna butcher us. Everything we've fought for, everyone who's lost their life for this to even be achievable, it will all have been in vain."

"Two minutes!" The Commander's voice yells down the hall and suddenly they're all on edge again.

"I got a family, man. I can't die like this."

"Shut the fuck up, Z!" Pike's grip has returned to the weapon, widening Andre's eyes as he fears the man may strike him down in irrational anger.

"I got a wife and a kid on this train, Pike." Z fights back, enunciating each word with the passion of a devoted husband and a loving father. "Old Ivan offed himself, man. We're dong this for him. He hung himself with an electrical cord. That's what sparked this whole thing."

"Pike," Andre wants to grieve and break down, the loss of Ivan, a gentle soul in a world of unkindness, shaking him to his very core. But he can't. There's no time. "whatever happened between us, we're brothers." Pike's breathing slowly begins to deescalate. Andre loosens his grip on the spear between them both. "I think I got a way for us all to get outta this alive." At last, Pike lowers his weapon, his head shaking as he fights back his emotions. Andre seizes onward, making eye contact with the woman. "Hey. Till, It's okay. It's okay." It doesn't take long for him to convince the Tailie holding her captive to lower his weapon and, with an abrupt apology he wishes was sincere, Andre punches her in the face and watches how she falls down.

There's commotion straight away, with all three Tailies bringing their weapons back up and pointing them at Andre, the fire returning to their blood as they look at the man they would call traitor.

"What the hell, Layton!?"

"You need to surrender yourselves to the drawers!" He rushes out, before any of them can harm him.

"No way!" Pike says.

"It's like sleep! They put you to sleep!" He'd seen them himself, zombiefied in the drawers as different wires and tubes kept their bodies alive whilst their minds slept away the revolutions the train done around the frozen landscape.

"Okay. For how long?" Z seems more willing to cooperate.

"It's a goddamn coffin, Layton!"

"Listen to me! By my count, I went uptrain 130 cars today, okay? I seen shit none of us could've imagined, alright?"

"What? You seen your traitor wife!? Or your traitor girlfriend?"

"Pike, Old Ivan dreamed of this! I can piece together floor plans, maps, security details. Everything we could ever need to properly storm uptrain, all the way to the engine."

It's in utter tears that all three men throw down their weapons, Pike the most exhausted of all. "Look at the blood!" He cries, crouching on his knees. "I'm done, Layton! I'm done."

"One Tail, remember? It's only a matter of time until the day we take that engine, we're gonna need you waiting uptrain." Andre watches as the other man nods, standing up straight again and clearing his throat.

With the Tailies now in agreement, Andre finds himself stuck between the Commander, Ruth and Melanie, all demanding and fighting over what the fate of the Tailies should be. There's only one thing left for Andre to do, one last sacrifice of his pride to make.

"I'll do it." He speaks only to Melanie really, the others being drowned out in the sound of the train's wheels turning against the frozen track below. "I'll solve your murder. I will get your order back, and in exchange, you'll give mercy to the train."

"Mr. Wilford demands justice. But we can't afford to lose another life. Ruth will take an arm from a Tailie tomorrow."

Hours have passed since the agreement was made and in a small holding cell lays Andre, his muscular build uncomfortably fit onto a small cot. He misses his bed in the Tail, the bed in his house, the bed in room 322 of the Marigold hotel just down the road from the station. It was the luxury of feeling refreshed every morning; of having a cup of coffee placed on his desk, her familiar handwriting across the attached sticky note that he'd taken advantage of for years. Now, he never even sees her face outside of his own memories.

For the past half hour, he's been feigning sleep. Roche has been sat guard near his cell the whole time, though he believes the man should be on his way home soon, to his own bed and his own wife. The voice of the train interrupts this though, sneaking her way into the room so quietly Andre nearly opens his eyes and blows his cover.

"Nice work on getting him to cooperate." Roche is the first to speak. "How'd you know he would?"

"I could see it in his eyes. He'd do anything for the Tail, even if it means helping us." He hates the way Melanie speaks about him, like she understands every little thought in his head, every action he makes. Like he's a puppet and she's the puppeteer, moving him around with the strings she'd tied onto his limbs. "We'll get him started tomorrow with the proper investigation. I'll send you a list of anything and anywhere Mr. Wilford deems off limits."

"And what about the victims? Is he gonna get the full rundown or?"

"There's things he doesn't need to know about."

"Like the fact the first one was a Tailie?" Roche asks matter-of-factly and Andre swears he can see him cross his arms, that smug look across his face.

When the voice of the train speaks again, it knocks the wind out of Andre's lungs; stops the beating of his heart; freezes every thought in his head.

"The body of Y/N L/N is to be kept top secret.Detective Layton is not to even hear about her. Understood?"

He hasn't heard her name, her full name, in so long. He knows it's wrong but he loves to hear them call her by her maiden name, instead of by her married name. It's as if, on the moving life of the train, her husband doesn't exist, never existed. Perhaps reality would have been better that way, perhaps they could have survived longer to become more than dirty secrets reserved for nights of pleasure and mornings of ignorance. To even begin to fathom that she was no longer alive, on board the train, feels like more of a betrayal than when he'd last seen her walk out the doors of the Tail. He can remember it now, the anger he'd felt the next day when she'd never returned. It had stung more than when Zarah had left. To think he spent so long resenting her for abandoning them, when there's now the fact she's nothing more than a body in a serial killer case brings bile up Andre's throat.

There are secrets haunting the train. Between the murders and the politics, Andre begins to fear he's now stuck in the mess of it all, swimming blindly in a sea of lies and being expected to be an honest man. He knows his only hope is to tear the train apart, limb from limb, and peak into the darkness it's trying to cover up.

If that means uncovering Y/N L/N's fate along the way, so be it.

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fortitudina · 9 months ago

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@luposcainus requested a starter.

SHARP EYES WERE fixed on the assessment of the crime scene that was before him, still very much doing his day job of a Detective. He might be an Alpha, but he still had to keep that mundane appearance ~ luckily, there were enough whom he trusted within his pack, to keep things in check whilst he was not physically there, even though the pack bond was strong enough for him to be alerted should another attempt to step out of line.

He could feel another set of keen eyes fall upon him, causing a frown to descend upon his brow. Whilst he was more than used to watchers at crime scenes, this one felt different. The gaze felt more piercing and the wind carried with it the scent of another wolf. Cooper's eyes briefly glowed a striking green, a mere flash of assertion before he turned his head to look over in the direction the scent was coming from. That was when he saw the other man, causing him to quirk an eyebrow as he slowly stepped aside from the body and made his way over. " Is everything okay? "

#LUPOSCAINUS #* COOPER { STARTER }#* QUEUE { HOW AWFULLY BRITISH OF ME }

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fortitudina · 9 months ago

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DID SHE BELIEVE that he would be fussed if she didn't leave his home again? Koralitahl had to chuckle at that. With a shaking of his head, he made his way out of Castaelar's home and into the garden, footsteps slow as he stepped on to the garden path. He could see her among the flowers, her light golden hair shining under the sunlight. She was beautiful, Kora could not deny that.

A subtly cheeky smirk tugged on to his lips as he neared her, waiting until he was behind her before he cleared his throat and allowed his gaze to drop and then lift to meet hers. " Are you enjoying Castaelar's garden? --- I will admit, it begins to get very beautiful from now through to the end of October. " Not that it wasn't beautiful during the winter months too, all the perennials keeping the garden green and with a few spikes of colour from the winter flowering plants.

He extended out his hand to her, allowing his body to bow forward slightly as he did so, with his other hand tucked behind. " Shall we retire to my home, mi'lady? " He was being cheeky in a sense, but he also wanted to play the gentleman with her ~ could anyone blame him really?

[text; Kora] As long as I like? Don't tell me that, you'll never get rid of me [text; Kora] Okay! See you soon.

#SIORAIOCHT #* KORALITAHL { THREAD }#* KORALITAHL { INTERACTION: ALINA }#* QUEUE { HOW AWFULLY BRITISH OF ME }

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mizmahlia · 5 years ago

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My life's on the run and you know it's kinda awesome

Summary: All he wanted to do was watch the Rugby World Cup in peace.

Apparently 80 minutes of solitude was too much to ask.

TW: Some blood and a stab wound, nothing graphic.

AO3

The match was set to begin in half an hour and John weaseled his way through the crowd, his eye on the lone open seat at the bar. Two tall, muscular men swore under their breaths after he bumped into them and didn’t apologize, but went back to their conversation about the match ahead.

John slid into the chair and smiled to himself. The cloaking sigils he painted on the outsides of the pub at three a.m. that morning were doing their jobs so far, shielding him from anyone and anything he didn’t want to find him. It had been one hell of a week, bad pun intended, and all he wanted to do was have a few pints by himself, watch England play New Zealand, and get absolutely smashed if they won.

To be honest, he planned on that regardless of the outcome of that match, but pretending it was to celebrate a win made him feel like slightly less of a drunk.

He nodded when the bartender looked his way and smiled.

“Long time, no see, John. What’ll you have?”

“Same as always, mate.”

He grabbed a glass and began the pour, glancing sideways at John.

“Never took you as the superstitious type.”

John snorted.

“Me? Superstitious? Not in the slightest.” He slid a twenty-pound note across the bar. “Make that a double, Roger. Before you get too busy.”

“Too busy for you?” Roger asked, managing to hide his blush from everyone but John. He bit the inside of his cheek as he poured the second pint and slid it across the bar. “Never.”

They locked eyes for a moment and John smiled into his beer, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Good to know,” he said, wiping the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “You busy later?”

Before Roger could answer, he was called to the other end of the bar, but not before he met John’s gaze one more time.

“Depends on how the match goes. England wins, I’ll be here late.”

John sipped his beer again, dragging their exchange out as long as possible.

“Good thing I’m a bit of a night owl then, isn’t it?”

Roger laughed and nodded before heading over to wait on the other side of the bar.

If this was how his night was going to go, John had no complaints whatsoever.

---------------------------------------------------------------

England were up 10-0 at the half and John was working on beer number four when he nature called. He slid his wallet into his pocket and left his coat on the chair, nodding at Roger before he weaved his way through the sea of people toward the back. As per usual, there wasn’t a queue for the men’s toilet, so he got right in and took care of business.

He washed his hands and stared at his reflection in the mirror, nothing how absolutely knackered he looked. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement even by British standards. Between the anniversary of Astra’s death, a nasty case of possession in Argentina, and having to fight Enchantress yet again, he felt about ten years older and none the wiser for it.

Splashing cold water on his face, he reminded himself he had plans for later and that moping would do nothing but put him in a foul mood, something Roger didn’t deserve to witness.

Outside, there was still a queue for the women’s toilet, and he gestured to the next woman in line, holding the door for her.

“No line for the gents, love. Might as well take advantage.”

She blushed and darted beneath his arm.

“Of you, or the empty loo?” she asked, loudly enough that he heard it, but not so much anyone else did. Her grin was flirtatious, the sparkle in her eye proof enough she wasn’t drunk and very much meant what she said.

John grinned and shook his head, not believing his luck tonight. He waited until she held her hand to catch the door before he let go.

“Perhaps another time, but don’t think I’m not tempted.”

She blushed and closed the door, allowing him to wade back up to the bar. When he got there, two large men were in his way, one sitting in his seat and the other blocking John from even getting close.

“Excuse me, mate. That’s my seat.”

They ignored him, though he was certain they’d heard him. He counted to three before he spoke up again, carefully tapping the enormous shoulder of the man in front of him and stepping back. He turned and looked down at John, everything about him screaming that he wanted to fight.

“Oi, fuck off, will you? This seat was open.”

John shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, nodding to his coat on the chair.

“Under normal circumstances, I’d do just that. But you see, I sat there the entire first half and Roger will vouch for that.”

Large and In Charge followed John’s gaze and spotted Roger, who answered their un-asked question with a nod.

“So with as much respect as I can muster, get out of my seat. I’ll even buy you a round.”

The one in his chair turned and gave him a once-over, scoffing at John’s build.

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t move?”

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. All he wanted to do was watch the second half, have a couple more pints, and perhaps go home with a certain charming bartender, if his luck held. In no way, shape or form did he want this to come to blows.

He pulled out a fifty-pound note and waved it between them.

“This is my final offer, boys. There are two of you and only one chair. You were perfectly situated in front of the bigger screen over there,” he pointed behind him with his thumb, “so just take the cash and walk away.”

The one in his chair took the cash and stood, grabbing John by his collar.

“Outside. Now.”

John rolled his eyes and waved to get Roger’s attention, holding a finger to signal he’d be right back. Roger raised an eyebrow, but John shook his head.

“Be right back,” he hollered. “Just gotta sort something out with these blokes first.”

They both clamped down on his shoulders and steered him to the back door. The crowd had thinned out a little, making their exit faster. Once outside, they slammed John against the brick of the shop across the alley, knocking the breath from his lungs.

“You’re awfully chatty for someone who’s gonna get his arse kicked,” Large and In Charge said. He rolled up his sleeves and looked over at his buddy, grinning. “You want first go at him?”

The buddy nodded and took hold of John’s collar, bringing his arm back before he swung through. John easily dodged the blow and his fist met the brick wall with a sickening crack. He screamed in pain, falling to his knees.

“He broke my hand!”

John backed up a step and straightened his collar, though his shirt remained wrinkled.

“Nah. That was all you. You telegraph your punches something terrible.”

The other one reached into his jacket and pulled out a small switchblade, flicking it open.

“Bad idea, you tosser. You’re gonna regret that.”

He lunged at John and jabbed the blade toward his stomach. John easily grabbed his wrist and pushed it away, though it left him vulnerable. A massive fist connected with the corner of John’s mouth and he stumbled but remained standing, wiping the blood away with his thumb with a grin.

“That the best you got?”

That angered him further and he came at John again, his movement clumsy and sloppy due to the alcohol. John countered every move he made with little effort, until he was frustrated enough he came at him, wrapping his arms around John’s waist in a full-on rugby tackle.

John’s back hit the wall hard and he stumbled, scraping against the rough brick. He felt a pinch as something jabbed into the muscle above his right hip, but it was the least of his worries at the moment. The man’s arms still wrapped around his waist, John repeatedly brought his elbow down on the back of his neck, striking until he found the right spot and the guy hit the ground, wheezing as he tried to catch his breath.

“Now if you two bell ends will excuse me, I have a match to watch,” John said, tugging on the hem of his shirt and swiping at the drop of blood on his lip again. He left them in a heap in the alley and went back inside, but not before he crouched and swiped his money from the guy’s pocket.

He found a full pint at his spot on the bar, perched on a coaster with a washcloth full of ice next to it. With a grin, he held the ice against his lip and took a sip of his beer, savoring the taste as he took a seat. Roger appeared a moment later and raised an eyebrow all the while watching John curiously.

“What was that about?”

John shrugged and pulled the washcloth away to see if his lip was still bleeding. It wasn’t and he took another pull of his beer.

“They wanted my seat.”

Roger rolled his eyes and turned to check on other customers when his eyes moved down John’s chest to his waist line. He leaned over the bar and his eyes widened.

“Uh, John? You might wanna check that out.”

John plopped the soggy washcloth on the bar and looked down as he lifted the hem of his shirt. Sure enough, blood was seeping into his waistband from a small puncture wound. He probed around it with his finger and decided it wasn’t deep enough for stitches.

“Bollocks. This was my favorite shirt.” Before he could ask, Roger handed him a clean washcloth and he held it over the wound, pressing until it stung a little.

“You alright?”

He waved a hand and drained half of his beer as the place went crazy with another England penalty. They were up 16-7 in the 63rd minute and John held up his glass.

“Never better, Rog. Never better.”

Roger smiled and rolled his eyes before walking away.

---------------------------------------------------------------

There was a monstrous roar when Nigel Owens, the head referee, called time on the match with England taking down New Zealand, 19-7. John drained his glass and leaned back in his chair with a stunned laugh, his cheeks flushed from excitement.

“England back in the final,” he muttered. “What are the odds?”

He made himself comfortable at the end of the bar, watching as the crowd began to thin out around eight p.m. Throughout the evening Roger stopped by and chatted when he could, carrying on with their easy banter from earlier.

John caught him staring at the red stain on his shirt and leaned forward.

“I promise, I’m fine. I’ve had worse, trust me.”

Roger blinked and shook his head.

“Somehow, I believe that.” He waved at someone leaving before his eyes met John’s once more. “The owner is coming in to close the place down- he’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

John toyed with the coaster, enjoying how shy Roger had become all of a sudden.

“Are you saying you won’t be here as late as you thought?”

Roger shrugged one shoulder and dunked several empty glasses into a sink full of cleaning solution.

“And if I am?”

“Does your offer still stand?”

The glasses in his hands went into plain water before he set them on a mat to dry and he leaned his forearms on the bar.

“Are you feeling up to it, after your little skirmish earlier?”

John leaned in a little closer, a sly smirk working its way across his lips.

“Are you going to answer my questions with questions all night?”

Roger laughed and hung his head for a moment to compose himself.

“Just one more, then.”

The statement hung in the air for a moment and Roger appeared to savor making John wait for it. When he looked up again, his brown eyes bored into John’s blue ones.

“Do you drink tea or coffee in the morning?”

John threw his head back and laughed, slapping his hand down on the bar.

“I’ll take whatever you offer,” he said, draining the last of his pint and handing the glass to Roger. "Makes no difference to me."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A bit later as they wound their way through the side streets back to Roger’s flat, talking and laughing, John realized the universe had a way of giving him exactly what he needed, when he needed it.

He just wished it didn't include getting stabbed.

#Whumptober 2019 #Whumptober Day 8 #John Constantine #MizMahlia's Fanfiction #Whumptober prompt #DC Comics #Constantine

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loveandphasers-blog · 7 years ago

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Netflix Queue Countdown

So I’ve been trying something new, a little neurotic, where I take my 394 queue of Netflix and put it through a random number generator to help me plow through things I might otherwise write off or hesitate towards. So far this is what has happened:

1. Rounders --- a movie about gambling. A movie I figured out the big “mystery” (I guess) within the first 5-10 minutes. A movie where John Malkovich plays off a Russian stereotype pretty well. A movie that taught us never to vouche for a friend nicknamed Worm. It was a decent film, a little long, but an interesting story.

2. Dog Eat Dog--- A brutal film with no point. Mindless violence with what seems like bits of inster 3D glasses here? I enjoyed to a certain degree but the plot just didn’t add up and just felt like it was that boy who tries to act like a badass when everyone around sees through it.

3. Black Books--- An enjoyable cynical, sarcastic British ride. Dan Howell in 20-30 years if he owned a book shop… It reminded me of why I enjoy British “sitcoms”? so much although they take a certain humor.: “Why do people keep coming in here” “To buy books…?” “Yes yes but why do they come to ME?” “… because you sell books?”

4. Skins--- Degrassi on meth. Also British. Degrassi if it only focused on what kids were up to outside of school versus within it’s walls. The problems are much more extreme… although the group is much more one big group of friends while Degrassi often splits and comes back etc. Watched the saddest episode mistakeably during the small sit down. Naturally.

5. Girl Asleep--- A quaint film about an Australian teen going through adolescent growth/changes in a new school making new friends and finding her place in the world. However artistic uniqueness and oddities towards the last third capture the most attention. Satisfying end to a lavish party that I jokingly wished for but so desperately wanted… thank you. Watched with my best friend, regret nothing.

6. Gruffalo’s Child--- why child imagination manipulation ruins trust for generations. Yet enjoyable, relatable and brought out my inner child. Gruffalo is much better but Gruffalo’s child was a nice break between the rest of the queue.

7. Too Young to Die--- learned about Sharon Tate more (focused on her life prior to death, not just her murder) and relationship with Roman Polansky, also learned about Natalie Wood which was the real trip. Boils down to the entertainment scene has always been cray, and go with your gut. It’s awfully telling that allegedly some of Natalie’s last words: “It’s better to be with the death you know, than the one you don’t”à speaking to sister about remarriage to Robert Wagner.

8. The Falling--- Salem Witch Trials behavior. Very interesting but bizarre film centered around a girl (TOTES IN LOVE WITH FRIEND TO THE POINT SHE “FORGOT HE IS MY BROTHER” AND GETS PORKED) =______=; while this movie was right up my alley on the strange and school life and coming of age, the main learns nothing but to get away with being obsessive, mostly being written off as nuts because her mom is who writes her off in a way because she’s a rape baby. I normally don’t like spoilers but there’s so many weird aspects all the hipsters willhave a grand time picking it apart for more meaning than was actually present.

9. To the Bone--- I broke my queue rule in a way to watch this as I had been watitign a few weeks for it. I was utterly excited and then cringed fested. No worries the movie was fine, I enjoyed the fact the parents dynamic and how it impacted and discussing thoughts not usually associated with anorexia throughout the group etc. That recovery is a life struggle and you need certain aspects of support etc. BUT the main male looked too much like THE ex and everything there was a heavy emotional seen between them or intimate I wanted to cry and felt so disgusted in a way. It hurt to watch but that’s my own personal issues fault not the film. I would recommend anyone unaware of eating disorders its not nearly as dramatic as some of the Lifetime ones of old.

10. Californication--- Apprehensive yet hopeful. David Dechovny is a hoot. While the show is raunchy AF there were some good moral sprigs and awkward yet gut giggling moments. Maybe my humor has “matured” to where I wasn’t on a moral high horse.

11. Prison Break--- A show I was looking forward to going back to. My boyfriend might not usually enjoy such things but he seemed actually intrigued. There were chases, fucked up government boogiemen, prison rats, and sass. I can never get over how unbelievable the main is though, sorry not sorry.

12. The Flash--- went in apprehensive… another super hero crap shoot (what I thought). Extremely happily surprised. A joy from beginning to bedtime. Would love to finish this series and so glad I don’t have to avoid a genre I once enjoyed so much. “Good they got rid of Weather Wizard’s stupid wand”àBoyfriend

13. Damages--- Boring AF. I enjoy crime drama. I enjoy law shows. This felt like a mess with too much jargon, no humor, no likeable characters. Maybe it’s my mood but so confused and bored. Subjected my friend to this… this time all the regrets.

Tomorrow I’ve already drawn and it seems I will be going back to Sword Art Online and anime I have extremely mixed feelings about….joy. Maybe it won’t be filler and I will be impressed? Fingers Crossed.

#netflixqueue #movies #tv

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myownmotif · 7 years ago

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London - The City

The omnipresent gloominess, smoky gray walls, grungy looking streets, cringy corners that can intimidate even the most strong-willed person and yet it is all very poetic - London is charmingly old, alarmingly big and it is simply beautiful. All of its vastness is filled with grandeur, art, history, diversity and cute red buses. It’s not at all hard to imagine how this place has produced some of the greatest minds over the centuries.

The city has a beating heart that grows on you and we felt it the moment we stepped on to the train. Everything was compact yet sophisticated, crafted with a lot of attention to detail - A very British way if so to speak. Our stay for the next three days was in east London, the district of Shoreditch.

East London has the more artsy boroughs, like Shoreditch. It is cheaper, may be a tad bit dirty than you would like but it is also less pretentious. Shoreditch is the newly anointed hipster capital of the city. A perfect place for visitors, close to central London with the tube on Old Street station, trying to compete with the west end of the city. The place has got some eclectic dive bars, restaurants and a handful of museums. So we begin our journey right after dropping our stuff at an Airbnb.

They say London has the best Indian food - I’ve had better but it came pretty close. “Dishoom” (The name is an Indian interpretation of ‘whammy’’), a hipster place, was our first stop. The place has transformed Indian street food giving it a really good makeover. The crispy fried okra was perfect. After a few more mouth-watering, satisfying dishes and strong “kadak” chai, we started to explore the neighborhood.

Not so far was The Leadenhall market. My memories of the scene at the market are vivid mostly because it was pretty much the same at every single pub throughout the city. Londoners, after a hard working day, love to go to their pub, get a drink, carry it outside, light a cigarette and start chirping away on the streets. This was very different from the American drinking culture. Something that we noticed that was common in most of the pubs throughout the country is that they don’t have televisions!. This partly could be the reason why people tend to interact more with their fellow beings and not be stuck to something superfluous. My theory is that the human interaction eventually becomes an addiction and beings look forward to that time. Also, they have great beers so what more can you ask for?

We started to walk towards South London and quickly ran into what is widely showcased as one of the best views your eyes can devour as we walked across the pedestrian only Millennium Bridge. It was The River Thames and the city that floats on it. We stopped and took a moment to breathe in one of the best sights. The Thames runs along some of the best attractions and views of London, one of the greatest rivers in the world with all its magnificence.

We got on the Millennium bridge to go across the river. The river was dull, brownish and awfully dirty but the backdrop with one of the largest and iconic looking St.Paul’s Cathedral compensates for it. Panoramic views of the city on the river that stretches from the London bridge to the far end on the east side of the city were incredible. A history geek probably has a better answer but in short, the ugliness has to do something with the sewage systems’ fiasco a hundred years ago.

Once we got to the south side we felt there was not much to it and took an Uber right back to Shoreditch. For one last drink before the night we stopped at Callooh Callay. The Lewis Carroll themed bar had a really cool vibe, with dim light interiors and a secret door leading to another “Wonderland” the place was eccentric with all its quirky decorations. To add to the pleasantness the cocktails were amazing. This place was a testimony to the fact that if there are 2 things Shoreditch is good at, its Cocktails and Street Art. Their menu featured local art with QR codes that you can scan on your phone and get walking directions to the art. How about that!

Thank you jet-lag, we were up and ready early. As we walked through the empty streets of Shoreditch, we came across the Albion, recommended by a friend, a posh looking brunch place with mixed reviews. With a flip of a coin and the smell of buttery croissants pervading the air from a Pret A Manger nearby our confusion was solved. Pret is a chain of coffee and breakfast shop all over London. Everything in there tasted much better than your average Starbucks. So don’t be afraid to step in when you see one during your visit.

As a Harry Potter fan and some coffee in my system, I was all animated to run my trolley through the walls of platform 9 ¾ station. A quick ride on the tube to King’s cross and there it was. This is the moment of truth for an HP fan. Can the trolley run into the wall? Can I escape this unruly world and start a new life in the world of wizardry? One can only wish but the scene can make it closer than I thought. With the crimson red Gryffindor scarf around my neck, blood rushing, heart pounding and with a flick of the wand, I cried ‘Expecto Patronum’ as I felt transported in my head.

Back in the real world, we got some souvenirs from the nearby HP shop and began to exit to the street. Right outside is the magnificent St Pancras International station. The same station where Harry and Ron flew Arthur Weasley's ford to Hogwarts in the Chamber of secrets.

I’m already in love with London!

The Queen’s walk runs along the river. The scenic walk is about a good ten-to-fifteen minutes from the South Bank to the Westminster bridge. All the touristy and best of London's’ attractions begin here. The London Eye stands tall right before the bridge through the long queues and the gray sky averted us.

The coming panoramic view was possibly the most evangelic and majestic. The bridge’s Victorian architecture plays along with the rest of the city’s historic elements. Across the river is the iconic Palace of Westminster and UK’s Parliament. The Gothic looking building rises tall and wide. With its towering arches and windows, it is as beautiful as it is intimidating. The rightmost tower is the tallest and world famous, Big Ben. At this point, it's a sensory overload. We stood there a while trying to take it all in. Breathing the moment.

The west side of London is classic, affluent, crowded and a treat to the eyes.

Across the bridge was a bunch of towers, museums and Palaces and high profile and famous buildings like the Westminster Abbey, the Jewel Tower, Churchill war rooms and too much more to count. We quickly walked in and out of the towers and moved towards the residence of the Prime Minister of the UK also known as 10 Downing Street. The place has been the house of the Lords for more than a couple of centuries now.

Right behind the residence is the house of guards. At noon every day is when the guards change. We were right on time to watch the parade. The change of guards is performed in a ceremonial way and a sight to watch in the vast the horse guards parade ground behind the prime minister's residence as the guards' march towards the Queen's home, The Buckingham Palace.

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West of London has the prettiest parks in all of London. Hyde Park and Regent Park are the most touristy and coveted park in the city. We walked to St. James Park, a local’s favorite. The lake is one of the prominent features of the green park and it is beautiful. There are also some wildlife around, pelicans and some old cottages that add to the quaintness. The walk ends at the Victoria Memorial and right behind it stands one of the majestic palaces in all of history that houses the first royal family of the world and is currently the residence of Queen Elizabeth, Buckingham Palace. We couldn’t catch a glimpse of Lilibet but this was worth a photo.

Overwhelmed by all the extravagant architecture and historic monuments we did forget to feed ourselves and it’s now time to find something. Not far from all these attractions is one of London’s famous west-side shopping center, Piccadilly Circus and Regent Street. It is the junction connecting the Westminster district and the west-end. It’s the Times Square of London with all the flashing bill boards, shopping stores and tourists walking around. The place has got all the international brands from electronics to fashion clothing.

As we navigate all the frantic shoppers we ran into one of London’s oldest (may be even in all of United Kingdom’s) Indian restaurant - Veeraswamy. The inside of the restaurant looks like a Maharaja’s palace. The place was filled with opulence. Their menu is not complex but the three course north Indian meal is perfection, traditional and served like royalty. This place is a must visit as long as you’re ok shell out some cash.

Behind all the craziness of Piccadilly, Oxford Circus and Regent St are the secret interior market streets of Carnaby with the quaint cobblestoned streets, filled with boutique stores and music. It's almost another world that's snuck in between all the madness.

It will be blasphemy if one didn’t try the most traditional food of the place one visits. So, when in England, fish and chips is a must. We picked our bookmarks and found the Golden Hind to be nearby. The place is tiny but one of the places that don't soak the fish in burning oil until its soul gets charred. I got myself some nice beer-battered, fried cod and chunky fish.

Another fictional character, akin to this city, came to my mind as we stroll the streets. We quickly jumped on the Piccadilly circus tube and got off at the Baker Street station. Yes, the mastermind, the best detective, the master of disguises and logical reasoning, Sherlock Holmes. The address is 221B Baker street and the detective’s house has been converted into a museum with all these clothes, props used in the movies and other original artifacts. As an ardent fan, this was a must see for me.

That was quite a tiring day after a whole lot of walking, sightseeing and waiting in lines. Our local friends helped us by setting up a reservation at E&O on Notting Hill/Portobello Road. It’s always a pleasure meeting old friends during travels. We were late to Portobello road market as the owners were wrapping up for the day. It is apparently lively and overflowing during the carnival days and hours. The dinner was satisfying. With rejuvenated energy in our legs, we strolled through the roads. It was starry-eyed night in the neighborhood filled with classic vibrant colored Victorian houses. Amongst those were also some celebrity places. A Julia Roberts’ fan would probably appreciate this more. The book-store from the movie Notting hill and the house with the blue door that was filmed in the movie still remain intact.

There some places in the city for which you need to know the right people to get into or you go stand in line before anyone else. Obviously, we didn’t know anyone we can hit up to get into one of the busiest breakfast places in the city so we were there at 7 am, on the clock. Duck & Waffle at the Heron Tower has one of the striking views of the city from the 50th floor of the tower. The interiors are filled with graffiti and cocktail glasses giving the place a classy and rich look.

The food was so-so.

Our next stop that morning, Camden town, was our favorite of all.

The retro neighborhood has set apart itself from the rest of the districts. It’s been a haven for pop culture. Camden is known for its markets that attract a lot of tourists. With art, sculptures, mohawks, old-school pubs and cafes the place is flamboyant. To add more brightness to the color, the district also has a canal running along called the Regent’s canal. A short ride on one of those narrow boats from Camden will take you to another scenic place, little Venice.

Strangely we never felt subdued on this trip so far. The next place tops the one before. And that's what we felt when we came across the river again to see the iconic Tower Bridge. At this time let me make one thing clear, tower bridge is not the London Bridge. They are different. The tower bridge is much more decorated. The bascules of the bridge raised to allow ships to come through.

On the North bank of the river is the Tower of London museum. The tower has had numerous roles over time, from being a keep, an office, a residence to a palace. It is huge and might take almost a whole day to go through it completely. The tower also holds the crown jewels of the royal family. The Tower of London museum and the British museum are built lavishly and worth the visit.

Theatre is the fabric of this land. After all, it is the birthplace of Shakespeare (which by the way is a historic village not too far from here and on our list, Stratford-upon-Avon). And so we wanted to end our day at a playhouse in Covent Garden. It is the theatre district in the borough of Westminster that is flooded with grand, elegant, old but contemporary looking theatres. As we walked to towards the theatre we came across Neal’s yard, another neat place within Covent Garden. It’s a quirky, picturesque area consisting of a narrow lane leading to a small courtyard, with cafés and independent shops. It feels more like a village than the heart of London and is usually very busy. Even if you don’t eat or shop here, it’s still worth a visit, if only to soak up the atmosphere.

We had our tickets booked online at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, one of the oldest playhouse built in the 17th century. The act of the day was Queen Anne - A historical play about women, drama, politics, sex, and power. The performances were compelling and I could totally see someone spending a ton of money watching one of these every week.

By the end of our day, we were tired, happy and satiated but we were not done. The rest of the trip is going to be slow, picturesque, filled with nature, sweet smelling air and a lot of driving on the right side of the road through those notorious roundabouts. But little did we know that the English countryside is nothing short of brilliance compared to the city of London.

#eatlivetravelchill #london #travel #traveldiaries

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