drfeelbad: (pic#10341491)
[personal profile] drfeelbad
There were a lot of things that House missed about his old life, and especially his old job. And he never thought that one of those would be the clinic, but somehow this one was even worse. Or maybe the real problem was that he couldn't get out of it nearly as easily as he'd been able to with Cuddy. He'd always been good at avoiding working clinic duty on the weekends, but not so here, at least not today...

On the bright side, at least it wasn't a holiday here. Though he was tempted to wish everyone a happy Independence Day weekend anyway. Nyah nyah we beat you.

In any case, unable to entirely avoid clinic duty all together, today he sat in a chair in one of the examination rooms playing a game on his phone and hoping that maybe no one would come to him. He'd sent a woman with a UTI out ten minutes ago and given her incorrect directions for where to check out, in hopes that the nurses would think she was still in here.

But of course it wouldn't last. He heard the door open and looked up with a long-suffering expression on his face.
drfeelbad: (Default)
[personal profile] drfeelbad
As a general rule, House tried very hard to ignore his birthday, and this year was no exception. Actually, he was even less inclined to celebrate considering that he was in a country that so far he hated along with most of the people in it. To be fair, it wasn't as if he'd liked the people in New Jersey either, but at least there were a handful that he tolerated. There were probably people to tolerate here, he just hadn't met them yet.

He also hadn't quite mastered the art of ordering delivery here. Chinese food he had managed (though it really wasn't the same). Prostitutes, that was something to be more cautious about. But it was his birthday, so he decided to window shop. Worst case, he'd get plastered and take a cab home, which also seemed like a reasonable way to spend the evening.

Thus, he was in a hotel bar. Drinking whiskey and water, and eating a bowl of pistachios. Looking very much alone, and pretty unapproachable, except for the sort of approaching he was hoping for. His cane was leaning against the bar by his stool, and when some asshole kicked it over he was almost relieved because one of the problems with this country was that there weren't enough assholes. Everyone was so damned polite.

But he still grumbled as he leaned over to grab it, and nearly fell off the stool in the process.

OTA

Jan. 10th, 2016 08:57 pm
dr_spencer_reid: (in your head)
[personal profile] dr_spencer_reid
Everything had been so quiet lately. His work life, his home life, even his mind seemed unusually still lately- And it was, honestly, making Spencer uneasy. It wasn't that he was hoping for a serial killer or anything like that- Even when he was desperate for some mental stimulation and a challenge, he never got quite that dark. But something, anything, had to happen.

...And then it did, and Spencer- Spencer's heart ached, the guilt he felt for daring to wish for more work to do spilling over and weighing him down. And oh, it was always harder when it was children. Always.

Three bodies in two weeks, all between the ages of six and eight. Girls, still in their school uniforms. Dumped, without any signs of remorse from their killer. It was, honestly, the worst case he'd been assigned to since coming to London, and as he stood at the police barrier, having just spoken to the woman who'd spotted the body, he realized that this wouldn't be like it was at home. The police wanted a profile from them, but they hadn't been invited to be a part of the investigation- Leaving Spencer with nothing but photos and paperwork, and the occasional update from the field.

Sitting in a cafe he read the report on the first body for the tenth time, wondering if this was really the best use of his talents. ...Wondering if maybe it was finally time to look at his other options.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Merry Christmas!
You are invited to celebrate the season with Finlay Flynn and Willy Silver.
 
When: Christmas Eve (5pm – Midnight)
RSVP: By Email (SBMNGR@ldnmgmt893.co.uk) Before 19/12
 
Upon entry you'll be given a ticket for one free drink. All drinks after that are 5 each. There will also be a free buffet in the dining area.
 
Dress code: Casual, but tidy please!
 
Raffle: Come wearing a festive sweater and you will automatically be entered into a raffle to win a 65 inch TV.
 
Donate: Bring three tins of canned food to be donated to the local food bank, and receive an extra drink ticket.

Look forward to:
A live DJ, live music, an appearance by Santa, gift bags with deluxe swag, and the company of old and new friends!

 
(OTA! Happy holidays! If you know Fin, Willy, Phouka, or Winter, feel free to assume they gave you an invite. If not, you can say your pup got an invite through a friend of a friend, someone who knows someone, ect. It IS invite over (no gate crashing pups please, Fin's a giver and would want everyone to feel included), but the pups hosting the party are pretty active and I believe they know almost everyone in the game. And the people they don't know surely know people who do. Even if you only met them once, you got an invite somehow! This gathering post is open all week, and beyond!)
londoncallingmods: (Default)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Halloween was as spooky or dull as you needed it to be in London. From handing out treats to those who came knocking, to attending costume parties and concerts all over the city, there was something for everyone tonight.
 
Plenty of bars and clubs were offering discounts to anyone bold enough to turn up in costume, and even the underground was bursting with holiday cheer as costumed commuters came and went, breaking up the dull day to day routine one usually faced while making your way from point a to point b.
 
Even those who chose to skip the costume were indulging in treats or maybe a creepy film or two.
 
There was no excuse to be bored. Not tonight. Not on Halloween.
 
(General Halloween GP for those who aren't keen on the haunted house! Feel free to post your pup anywhere in the city, from fancy dress parties to street corners. Go wild (or, you know, stay tame. Your call) Also, because there are two GPs going up this week, both are open to new top levels for two whole weeks! And, of course, you can keep tagging long after that if you want. :D I'll post reminders daily on slack.) 

OTA

Sep. 30th, 2015 05:48 pm
dr_spencer_reid: (crimson cardigan)
[personal profile] dr_spencer_reid
It wasn't as if Spencer had never been in a violent and dangerous situation before- He had, on multiple occasions, been held at gunpoint and shot at. So it was safe to assume that wasn't what had him feeling so shaken up this evening, though it had been startling to have a gun aimed at him after so long. Gun violence just wasn't as common here, and most of the cases he'd worked on lately hadn't involved gun violence in any way.

No, what had unsettled Spencer today had been how young the attacker had been. Barely even a teenager... And yet somehow armed, and violently angry.

At the last moment the boy had turned the gun on himself, and now after stacks of paperwork, meetings, briefings, and conversations that had seemed unending, Spencer found himself at a small cafe, staring at his cold coffee and trying to make sense of everything that had happened. ...All while questioning why he kept returning to a job that only left him with too many unanswerable questions, and an uncomfortable weight on his chest.

"I'm sorry sir, but are you planning on ordering anything else? I don't mean to rush you, just we're short on tables tonight," a server said, her voice soft and painfully polite as it snapped Spencer out of his thoughts.

(OTA! Catch Spencer leaving the cafe, or join him at his table.)
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
Summer was coming to an end, and fall was slowly creeping in as the temperatures dropped and the store fronts down the high street started to change to muted and earthy colours.

Menus at restaurants were beginning to change, and school for many was already back in session. Though there were still people attempting to enjoy the last weeks of summer, despite the fact that the weather was already turning on them.

As always, there was plenty to do this weekend, and though tourist season was slowing down, the streets and the underground were as busy and bustling as ever.

(Though the GP takes place over the course of Sat & Sun, it is, as always, open for as long as people want to top level and tag in. Be sure to check back throughout the week to see who has tagged in!)
anamusebouche: (dead inside)
[personal profile] anamusebouche
Ellard Doyle was a sad little man. No doubt his youth had something to do with this. Read on behind the cut (Hannibal frames someone for the murder of Whitfordshire)... )and that was it. Ellard Doyle became Whitfordshire’s murderer.

The next day he read about it in the newspaper, over a delicious cup of coffee, in his favourite café. He hoped Alcuin would read it soon too.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
The best thing about London was that there was always something to do, no matter what your interests were. This weekend there was a jazz festival in Bloomsbury, an ale festival that would take you through a drunken train tour of the city, an African culture festival near Covent Garden, and several movie screenings, parties, and other pockets of fun.

Tourists were flooding in from all over, and many Londoners were slipping off to, or coming back from, their latest trips to Barcelona, Paris, or Ibiza. The weather was warm, and it had been fairly dry and sunny lately- Really, it was the perfect place to be right now. ...At least that's what anyone who wasn't heading off to some tropical wonderland would tell you at least.

As day faded into evening, bars came alive and shop windows lit up, inviting in tourists and locals alike. The city buzzed well into the night, calming only briefly in the morning, before bursting back into life again.

(Have your pup be anywhere in the city you like. This GP is intended to take place over the course of Sat and Sun, but will be open all week long! Remember to add your pup's tag after you tag in!)

OTA!

Jun. 22nd, 2015 02:58 pm
alcuin: (Default)
[personal profile] alcuin
When Alcuin had time in the mornings, he typically stopped at a cafe for coffee and breakfast, and sometimes read the morning paper. (Though like everyone else, he had a phone and a computer on which to get his news, but he really liked the smell and feel of a fresh newspaper.)

This morning he was running a bit late (to where he was expected at the research lab at university), so he stopped at a newsstand instead. He ordered a cup of coffee, and while he waited, he scanned the front page of the daily paper. As he read, the clerk handed him the cup of coffee.

As he brought the coffee to his lips, the bottommost headline screamed at him:

WHITFORDSHIRE MURDERED, DISCOVERED WITH COLLECTION OF CHILD PORNOGRAPHY

The coffee cup slipped from Alcuin's grasp. It fell to the ground, the lid coming off and sending the coffee spilling all around him, including splashing up onto his bare legs.

He swore loudly, feeling his eyes prick with tears from the pain of the scalding coffee, even as the clerk said, "Hey that was your fault, you still have to pay for that!"

Alcuin threw him some money, including enough for the newspaper, and stood there on the sidewalk with his calves red from coffee burns, scanning the story and looking as white as a sheet.

[OOC: ICYMI some notes about this plot here!]

Debut! OTA

May. 12th, 2015 09:08 pm
ilowell: (Default)
[personal profile] ilowell
Lowell hadn't been back in London for long, and it was still weird going back to his old haunts and seeing them with new eyes. Maybe it was experience. Maybe it was the not-quite-alive thing. Maybe it was the shifting personality thing. Yeah, it was definitely just the zombie thing.

The worst of it was the food; nothing tasted the same. In fact, nothing tasted like much of anything at all. Before coming out today he'd made an attempt to make something resembling egg salad out of brains, and it had just tasted like... brains. Though worse was that they were unknown brains, and so he figured some new and exciting personality or set of memories would kick in soon. How this had become so rote he had no idea. At least he'd laid down a track last night while he was feeling like himself.

And maybe it was this desire for normalcy that had him at his favorite cafe in the city, sitting outside in the sunshine (at least he didn't burn despite the fact that his skin was practically translucent) drinking tea. Even if the tea tasted like hot water.

He carried a bottle hot sauce around with him wherever he went, and he pulled it out of his messenger bag now and shook some of it into his earl grey before taking a drink.

Ugh. Why did he even bother.
anamusebouche: (bloody)
[personal profile] anamusebouche
The first blast came at twelve. Hannibal had just seen out a patient, when a large explosion shook Gordon Square.

Hannibal hadn't seen what had happened exactly, but shouts and screams indicated people had been harmed. He rushed inside, grabbed his doctor’s bag and ran to cross the park to the building on the other side. He took his Hippocratic oath seriously and if he could help before the ambulances came, he would.

Through the rubble and the dirt and the fire Hannibal could see the wall and windows of the first floor of this building had been blown out. Immediately, he began helping to free the people who had been caught in the rubble, giving them urgent medical attention where needed.

Misfortune would have it that a group of tourists had just been passing the building, so there were victims on the inside and the outside.

***

The second blast came at twelve thirty, blowing away the front of the building next door. Hannibal got hit by a chunk of flying debris. It hit him so hard that he fell to the floor and nearly lost consciousness.

It barely registered. He rose again and continued what he had been doing; trying to prevent a girl from bleeding to death.

***

Hannibal was still a little dizzy, but he hadn’t mentioned this to the doctors in the ER. He would live, he knew, and he had judged that their efforts should be aimed to help the internally bleeding and dying.

His suit was ruined. The jacket had been lost in the rubble and he had torn off part of his shirt to make a bandage at some point, when he needed something quick to stop the bleeding. His waistcoat was covered in other people’s blood and the knees of his trousers were ripped.

How easily a peaceful London street can turn into a warzone…

His right wrist had been broken in two places and there was a wound on his head where he had hit the pavement. The rest seemed fine enough. It wasn’t until he was out of the hospital, at the first whiff of fresh air, that the dizziness truly hit him.

He made an effort not to stumble, and took a seat on a bench in front of the hospital. He was aware how he must look, but it hardly mattered to him. He regarded his hand, cast and wrapped against his chest and wondered how long it would be before he could cut up his meat again.



((tag him at any point during this post (after first explosion, after the second, at the hospital…). At the moment this is just a gas-leak explosion. If anyone wants to make it something more, feel free :) ))

OTA!

May. 2nd, 2015 09:11 pm
kersen: (drag: lovely)
[personal profile] kersen
CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS had read a sign on Jazzmin's front door for over a month, and it had been lifted less than a week ago. There hadn't actually been any renovations, though Kersen had had someone slap on a new coat of paint and brought in some new furniture to keep up appearances.

The real reason the bar had been closed was that Kersen had been gone. Out of the city, out of England, out of Europe. He'd been through Tibet, Japan, Korea. Following rumors like a ghost. Except a ghost with a trail of dead bodies. And in the end, he had not had any success finding Garrett. His maker had apparently reemerged in the world, and he was leaving a sporadic trail of death behind him. But he would be active for a time and then slip deep underground, and by the time Kersen had his scent, he was gone again.

He had come back to London feeling defeated and on edge and very unlike himself. And so he made an attempt to force himself back into some degree of normalcy, and even more so, the part of him that felt the farthest away from being a vampire. This was all that got him to the bar and into drag.

He wore a red hooded gown, not even bothering with a wig since for the most part the hood stayed down. And when he lowered it, his natural hair was of less interest than red lips and dark eyes anyway.

He was shorthanded, so could be found that evening behind the bar, at the door, making rounds, and at the piano. But there was a good crowd, and the music from inside was welcoming through the open door of the bar.

OTA

Apr. 26th, 2015 12:17 pm
dr_spencer_reid: (a lack of colour)
[personal profile] dr_spencer_reid
"Honestly, it all happened very fast," Valentine said, his brow creased in concern as he spoke to the agent. "I didn't even recognize him until you showed me his photograph just now- But yes, it was him, that actor. He was having a cigarette and talking to a man in a dark hooded sweatshirt. I couldn't see his face, but I saw his hands- They were pale. Whiter than you or I."

"Could you tell me anything else about him?" Spencer pressed gently.

"He was much taller than the other man- The actor, he was a very petite man, but the other man was taller- Nearly my height, I think, but heavier. Not overweight, but not trim, and not muscular," Val replied, hating that he couldn't be more help. "Surely there's CCTV footage of where they went next..."

Spencer just smiled, unable to share anything more. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Collingwood. Please, don't hesitate to get in touch if you remember anything else."

Valentine nodded, still looking a bit pale and startled as he stood on the pavement, looking over to where he'd seen a young man stabbed and hauled away. There was still blood on the ground, the wolf inside could smell it. ...He only wished the wolf could do something more.

Spencer returned to the small group of officers, waiting to interview the next person, and watching as the press slowly started to gather. That was the problem with celebrity abductions and attacks. You couldn't keep them quiet. Not now that everyone seemed to document every moment of their days...

He could hear one of the officers speaking to the press, and he frowned. This wasn't how they did things back home- It was too soon to be making statements.

At seven thirty this morning, Finley Alexander Flynn was attacked and abducted by an unknown man. We're asking that anyone with any information on this man, or Mr. Flynn's whereabouts, come forward to aid our investigation...

(OTA Tag Spencer or Valentine! Also check the OOC com shortly for more information on Fin's abduction.)

OTA

Apr. 23rd, 2015 10:48 pm
alcuin: (Default)
[personal profile] alcuin
It had been a while since anyone had randomly recognized Alcuin. He credited this in part to the fading memory of the city (despite the tabloid flair-up around the holidays), and in part to his decision to cut his hair. He'd also taken to wearing glasses, which were a prescription weak enough that he'd typically gone without them in the past, but he was spending considerably more time in front of a computer these days than he had when Anafiel was alive. Maybe it was a little Clark Kent of him, but he definitely wasn't noticed as much this way. And it wasn't even just being recognized, but he also got less attention. Which caused... more conflicting emotions than he would have anticipated.

In any case, this all resulted in his looking like a rather normal young man sitting at an outdoor cafe drinking coffee and reading a copy of Jon Ronson's new book So You've Been Publicly Shamed. It struck a bit of a chord with him, to be honest. He was glad he hadn't spent much time on social media last year. He really didn't want to know what Twitter had thought of him.

The cafe was busier than usual, perhaps due to the weather being nice, and it was a Friday just late enough for people to skip out of work early. He reached over and took his bag out of the other seat at his table in case anyone wanted to join him, as there were no more empty seats around.
londoncallingmods: (calling)
[personal profile] londoncallingmods
 The evening was crisp as people flooded the West End for a night of fun. Restaurants and cafe's were full early and late, catering to the theater crowds that came for supper before their shows and dessert after. The theaters had various plays and musicals, many with big name stars- others with up-and-comers. The lights were bright and the atmosphere festive.
 
People wandered up and down the sidewalks and the traffic was thick. In the dark there were pickpockets but for the most part the crowds were safe.
 
It promised to be a good run for most of the shows if the atmosphere was any indication.

OTA

Mar. 25th, 2015 08:29 am
hollow_moon: (coat neutral)
[personal profile] hollow_moon
He liked spring. There was still a chill to the air most days at the moment, but you could see nature slowly waking from its slumber, even here in the heart of the city.  It brought the wolf inside him nothing but joy, and left him with an itch to be outside in the sunlight, roaming and exploring. He'd have to plan a trip to the country soon, somewhere he could really roam wild...

For now, however, a jog through the park would have to do.

Dressed in running shorts and a t-shirt, Valentine alternated between jogging and sprinting. Moving slower where there were crowds, then taking off at top speed along empty stretches of the path, the man didn't stop until his heart was pounding hard and he knew he needed a break. Slowing to a stop, he stretched out and caught his breath, before drinking from the water bottle that he had strapped to his hip.

"Sorry, didn't mean to stop in the centre of the path," he said, stepping out the way when he realised someone was attempting to get past him.
offthebeatenpath: (silver spoon)
[personal profile] offthebeatenpath
It wasn't that Em had forgotten. But a commissioned piece had been giving her fits for days, and she'd finally had a breakthrough that had kept her at her easel enough she hadn't been paying close attention to what day it was, or spent enough time online or around other people for someone to mention Friday the thirteenth, or the, according to many, more notable day after.

It was only the third time since she was born that March thirteenth had fallen on a Friday again, and she went and missed it. Not that it made a difference; no one in this reality had known it was her birthday, and she wasn't really one for celebrating it anyway.

As soon as she'd seen it in the New Age shop, she'd known what deck she was buying for her birthday this year - Mucha artwork, reworked to follow Rider-Waite imagery. She'd played around with similar ideas in the past in her own paintings, and she was curious to see what the deck designers had come up with.

Then, in memory of a fallen friend in another reality who loved both puns and math, and missing the bustle of a castle kitchen full of friends baking pies, and even more eating them, she stopped in at a bakery she'd passed a few times. Then she sat at a table by the window to introduce herself to her new Mucha deck, occasionally remembering to take a bite of key lime pie or wash it down with a sip of her coffee before it got cold.

It wasn't the Pi Day or belated birthday she would have had back home, but here and now, it suited her. Maybe she'd splurge, get a whole pie to take back to the boys.

[[I flaked on giving Em an EP on her Friday the 13th birthday, so have a little something for Pi Day too. Feel free to notice her (or her tarot cards) through the window, or while coming in for pie of your own. Not a bad time to meet her. Besides, pie.]]

OTA

Feb. 26th, 2015 08:13 pm
quartermaster_q: (undercover)
[personal profile] quartermaster_q
 It was rare that Q worked with anyone but Bond now, and rarer still that he worked in the field without double-o seven. However, M had requested he be on site with one of their newer double-o's, and M's 'requests' weren't things any sensible person turned down.

New double-o's were wild cards though, and the mission had been completed- But not without it's fair share of complications.

The end result was Q riding home alone on the tube, his hand beneath his coat so he could apply pressure to the small knife wound in his side. ...Well, as small as any knife wound could really be. He was concealing the blood well enough, but anyone who looked his way would easily see the young man was clearly in pain.

(Late tags welcome!)
anamusebouche: (fallen angel)
[personal profile] anamusebouche
While December had been kind to the city, January had proven to be more fickle. Winter had shown its face, and while it was hardly the roughest ever seen, dark clouds, snow and wind had still dominated the scene.

February could bring anything, but it hardly mattered today. Today, London was bathing in the sun, bringing with it a sense of freshness, clarity and renewal. Spring, while far away meteorologically, was in the air.

It pleased the men and women in the market stalls, selling their wares in the open air. Spring meant happy customers and happy customers were buying customers.


((A generic market GP; tag in, tag all, tag whatever marketplace you like))

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