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“Put PTSD on your job application, who’s going to hire you, right?” - Bodyguard s01e01

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@gracecolliers

dancing was fun, it didn't hold the same allure that it had, but it was still fun nonetheless. plus, having grace with him was a bonus. she was one of the only people that put up with him through out high school and genuinely liked talking to him. he didn't know why, but she was a comforting presence. he found himself having to remind himself to have fun and be in the moment. he wasn't going to let his memories ruin tonight. 

they were having fun dancing, and for a moment, eli turned away to see some anomaly in the crowd, but it was gone before he could even get a look at it, so he shrugged it off. he turned back to grace and saw something change over her face. he didn't know what it was, but something in the back of his mind was telling him that he did know. he knew all too well. he was still confused but he was able to herd her out of the dance floor and slip through one of the side exits to get outside to the fresh air. 

"hey, grace," he spoke softly, not sure what to say, "are you... are you okay?" he knew the answer though. the real one at least.

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lily:

“… back again, I see, Ms.” 

Lily looked up from her coin purse and smiled as the cashier regarded her with a curious head tilt. He eyed the mountain of groceries on the counter and chuckled in quiet disbelief. 

“My first pie didn’t go according to plan.” Lily explained with a small shrug. “Apparently, it is not wise to double the oven’s temperature, for it does not bake the pie faster.” It was a lesson well learned at the expense of the now very charred blackberry pie behind her house. Lily turned to the person next in line and twisted her gloves nervously. 

“I’m sorry, this might take a while…”  

Eli was grabbing some groceries, he figured it was the least he could do for his brother with his busted hand. He wasn't much use on the boat, so he could settle for some domestic work. Anyway, it wasn't that bad. His brother could catch some sleep after the early morning, and eli didn't have to wake up until later, and it was a simple task. This felt manageable. He had a small basket, but he did crack a raised eyebrow at the list of groceries. 

With a shrug, he added, "No skin off my nose, plus, i would have probably made that same mistake if I had to bake a pie." He really didn't know anything about baking or cooking except basic things.

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mikey‌:

“What do you get your wife for your anniversary?” His voice squeaked, clearly overwhelmed. “Flowers? Chocolates? Jewelry?” Despite their unconventional relationship, he genuinely cared for her, “I’m struggling real hard.”

"Sorry," he had to chuckle, "I'm not really good with keeping girls. I can sure get them, but after a month, I don't know what to tell you." He thought about it. He really wasn't too sure about this romantic scene, but he just had to guess. "Is there like something sentimental that reminds you of your relationship? Or is there something that she's been wanting?"

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ginny‌:

open

the dance hall seemed to be her only place to experience freedom these days. the music, the people, and easily being able to blend into the crowd made it easy for ginny to lose herself in the place. to pretend that she was anyone but herself. that she was just another pretty face in the crowd.  her engagement ring was tucked safely into her breast pocket while she moved her feet on the dance floor, doing the rumba with a handsome stranger. not that she was interested in men - but dancing was fun nevertheless. however, after a couple of songs, she found herself in need of a drink and stepped over towards the bar ; but clearly had some trouble trying to get the bartenders attention. “excuse me!” she tried, (and failed) with a frown. 

Eli wasn't really one for the dance hall much, he preferred more subdued environments, but sometimes he missed dancing. He used to dance a lot, and he used to be good. Sure, no formal education, but he picked things up from the dance halls. It was never enough to deter people from dancing with him. The worst part though is that, dancing just didn't have the same appeal that it used to. It was fun, but there just wasn't the same spark that was there before. He just ended up at the bar most of the night.

So, there he was, when the woman tried to flag down the bartender. He looked over and got his attention before directing it to her, "The nice lady would like a drink, sir." At least he could do that for someone.

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dot:

Dot sat on a park bench, looking at the half-frozen river, wishing for spring. 

Sometimes she wasn’t sure she believed in spring, or summer. Maybe everything was frozen wet slushy dirty winter, always and forever, and spring and summer were just a myth everyone thought they remembered but didn’t. Like it was some irrational hope for better days they all clung to.

But Dot found it hard to believe in anything, lately. 

Just as she thought that, she tried to snap herself out of it, tried to find something to be happy about, and instantly, as though she’d caused it by wishing, someone slipped and fell on the ice right in front of her.

She laughed. She shouldn’t have, she knew. But it was so funny.

“Hot damn, sugar, did you break your butt?” she laughed, running to help them up and almost slipping herself.

This was about how things were going these days. He was just trying to take the trek home as quickly as he dared with the current conditions it was a harsh time of year, but honestly he'd take this with the knowledge that he was safe over anything else. Though, winter did have a cruel prank in store of him. He didn't even see the black ice hiding on the sidewalk and he hit it hard, and hit the ground even harder. He just sort of sighed and stayed there for a moment, being winded and having no motivation to get up again. 

Of course, a girl had to see this. He looked over to her... A cute girl. Just... fantastic. "No," he managed to talk through the lack of air in his lungs, "I'm fine."

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tommy‌:

“SURE did.” Tommy bragged proudly, giving an affirmative nod of his head, “Up until I got outnumbered. Then it all stopped being fair.” At the question, he merely gave a shrug of his shoulder, he’d certainly faired through worse, “It’ll be fine. Just need a drink. Here!” The blond stood up on the stool, whipping his head to look at Eli, “Whatya be having? My treat!”

He nodded, "Nothing to be done about unfair numbers, I suppose." he had definitely had plenty of his own fights like that, that's for sure. Fairing worse, that was definitely something Eli could relate to. It was starting to feel like everyday was one knock out fight, but it was hard to complain because he had faired worse. "A drink does solved a lot of problems." Eli hated accepting offers like this, but also, it's not like he had the money to spare. "I'll take a whiskey. Something bottom self is fine with me."

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@bethperry

it was a bitter and windy day, and eli of course was walking to the store. it was times like this he wished he had a car, but it was something he'd live without, he had to guess. as he hugged his jacket closer to him, a gust of wind kicked up and ripped the hat off of someone walking in front of him. he caught, surprising even himself. he made an effort to catch up with the woman and he offered the hat back, "i caught it!" he tried to get the message over the sound of the rain and wind.

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@benoitly

eli sat down at the bar and flagged down a whiskey from rory. it was a long day, and his hand still hurt like hell, but he could ignore that for now. he thanked the irishman as he got his drink and now he took a moment to look at his surroundings and the man sitting closest to him caught his attention. "ariel," he greeted with a small nod.

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@strcnghold

it wasn’t time for his session yet, but eli didn’t have anywhere to be, and honestly? what else was there for him other than fighting? he didn't really know anymore. so, here he was, warming up. his hands were just wrapped and he was hitting the bag. some combos, just a fast enough pace to get his blood pumping, nothing too serious or strenuous. he'd save that for when graham got here.

it was fine, but then he saw that one bastard that ran that camp. it was a flash, but he felt all sorts of things  flash through him. rage so hot it nearly scaled was the main one though. he started hitting the bag harder. he saw dead faces of people he knew, of people he didn't. he heard their screams. he saw the blood. he tasted it. the bag was swinging now. that wretched face popped up again, and the rage boiled, it cascaded down the sides of the pot, and he slammed his fist into the bag.

"fuck!" he screamed in pain, frustration, shame, anger, all of it. there was a vague cracking sound and he looked over to the punching bag hanging crookedly. he looked down to his fist and saw the blood dripping from the cracked skin and his fingers didn't feel 100% right. "fuck," he cursed under his breath this time. he'd have to tell graham his, graham would see this, and he didn't know how to explain it.

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rose‌:

she raised a judgmental eyebrow at him as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’ “miss donovan will skin you, she’s especially fond of me.” the washington air was gray and brisk but it invigorated rose and leapt in small static sparks upon her skin. the walk was tense and painfully awkward, strangely enough she had nothing to insult him about, that was the very basis of their relationship. the journey to the church basement continued in silence until rose flicked on a lightbulb, illuminating the dust covered room. it was subterranean and post apocalyptic, dirt was piled thick enough to be a carpet and clutter ran to the ceilings. “dear me.” she say pursing her lips. 

"okay, maybe she wouldn't skin you, but you don't think she wouldn't give you her disappointed spiel?" it was half a joke, and half not. man, was that old lady good at getting what she wanted done, done. it was quiet, and eli's skin felt like it was riding up. he hated the silence. the silence came to be a very ominous thing for him. it was subtle and he barely even realized he was doing it, but he was scanning every bit of terrain and obstacle, determining the threat level and subconsciously mapping out escape routes in case they were interrupted on their way. he didn't even realize he relaxed once they reached the building. he coughed at the dust flying up as he descended the stairs. "jesus, we have our work cut out for us." he had literally seen bombed out buildings look better than this. "alright boss, where do you say we start?"

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Richard Madden  © photographed by Matthew Brookes for GQ UK 

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Richard Madden by Andy Gotts

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Happy Birthday, Richard Madden! (June 18, 1986)

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