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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

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Field of Poppies Part 26

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 26: Everything seems to be going in the right direction but looks can be deceiving.

“Morning Mrs. Shelby.”

It had become commonplace in the later months of 1918. When walking down the street, Amelia was greeted and addressed politely. Some people even went out of their way to avoid walking by her. Of course, she was just a young woman, a mother of two. There wasn’t much she could do to harm them. But it was her affiliation that brought her a level of notoriety.

Tommy had taken the income made during the war years and turned it into a budding empire. He’d grown so much power seemingly overnight.

People in every corner of Birmingham whispered about him and his brothers. They were afraid that if they spoke the name Shelby too loudly, they’d be struck down.

“Mummy, who’s that?” Max asked as they were walking from Polly’s flat back to the betting shop. A gentleman had just tipped his hat and greeted Amelia.

“I uh, I think he must work with daddy.” She answered although she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Daddy knows everyone,” Annie said.

Amelia laughed softly. “Well not everyone. But he knows many people. We grew up here with your aunts and uncles.”

“Where?” Max asked curiously.

“That flat down by the lamppost.” She pointed down the road to her childhood home. Over time it had become just part of the landscape for her. But when she moved back to Birmingham, she couldn’t help but feel the tear in her heart when she passed by its black door.

It was where she was born, had her birthdays, spent time with her mother and father, and felt most safe.

The knocker on the door was still the one that had been there when she was growing up. The same one that Tommy used to get her to come out and play. Sometimes Amelia’s mother would close the door on him. So, he’d go around back and throw pebbles at her window instead.

Amelia felt like her life was severed. What she once had and what she now had. She could argue that she was much better off with her children and husband. But there was still that yearning for the family she once had with her parents.

She pulled herself away from the sadness and smiled. “Your father and I would play football on this street with your aunt and uncles.”

“Did daddy love you?” Annie asked.

Amelia smiled and squeezed her hand. “I think so, poppet. I loved him very much. Almost as much as I do now.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ada was clearly upset about something. When she was angry, she made it a point not to speak to anyone and made sure they knew it.

It became very clear when she arrived home to Six Watery while Martha and Amelia were spending time chatting in the kitchen, waiting for Polly who promised to go shopping with them after she settled some work issues.

Ada came storming into the house, slamming the door behind her. She walked through the kitchen to the betting shop doors.

“Ada?” Amelia frowned when she saw the look of anger on the Shelby girl’s face.

She didn’t answer and marched into the betting shop hell-bent on getting something accomplished.

The other two women shared a glance before Amelia stood up to follow her. She wove between the men at work to follow Ada into Arthur’s office.

There, the two eldest Shelbys were speaking with one another.

“Why are you alienating your friends?” Ada demanded loudly.

“Why are you coming into an office unannounced?” Tommy shot back.

“Are you planning on cutting ties with everyone once they stop doing what you tell them?” His sister didn’t back down.

Arthur stood up from his desk to calm things down. “Alright, alright, what’s the matter then?”

“Freddie told me that he left the business and he said that you cut Danny out as well,” Ada explained her ire.

Amelia, standing in the doorway, paused. This was all news to her.

“That isn’t any of your concern.”

“Oh, so now you’re a big-shot businessman. You don’t care about anyone.” Ada snapped sarcastically.

“Why do you care so much, aye?” Tommy demanded.

There was a hesitation in Ada’s face. As if there was something right on the tip of her tongue but she knew the consequences if she let the words slip. And right then and there it dawned on Amelia what those words were.

“Because they saved your life in France. The least you could do is repay the fucking favor.” Ada spat before leaving the office, bumping into Amelia on her way out.

Tommy and Arthur watched her leave then looked to Amelia.

“Tom?” She asked quietly.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Freddie doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore.” He spoke evenly. “Said the communist party was a better use of his time, a better cause. Doesn’t approve of our methods anymore.”

“What about Danny?”

Arthur sat back down; his eyes downcast with guilt. “The war fucking got ‘im. Ain’t the same Danny he used to be.”

“We’ve done everything we possibly can,” Tommy added.

Amelia got a bad taste in her mouth. “Rosie relies on you to help. She doesn’t know what to do-”

“And I do?” Tommy replied harshly.

She swallowed and shook her head. “I guess not.” She didn’t linger much longer after that, leaving the office before she got hurt any further.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ada?” Amelia knocked on the bedroom door again. “Ada, it’s just me, please let me in.”

Only silence met her for a few moments. Then, the door opened slowly. The young woman had obviously been crying but was attempting to hide it.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing for him,” Ada muttered before going to go sit on her bed.

Amelia walked into her room and sat beside her. On the bed, there was a heap of letters. Gently, she picked some up and flipped through them. “These are from Freddie?”

Ada nodded. “I love him, Mel.” She admitted hoarsely. “And he loves me. But those bastards downstairs would never approve.”

There was no use in lying to her. Amelia was well aware that any news of Ada and Freddie being together wouldn’t go over well with the rest of the household.

“I just wish we could have what you and Tommy have. Everyone just…they just knew you’d be together. It was just something that was supposed to happen. But they’d never say that about Freddie and me.”

Amelia wrapped an arm around her sister-in-law. “I know you’re discouraged and I understand why. But no matter what they say, I say that if you truly love him, I won’t judge you. It’s about what makes you happiest.”

Ada sniffled and wiped her eyes. “They don’t want me to be happy.”

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true. They just…” She sighed. “They just think they know what’s best for you. You know they’re very headstrong.”

“I know.”

“And there may be a day when their opinion changes. Right now, the dust just needs to settle. They’re still trying to find their place in the world again. And that may take time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia began to notice that Tommy’s side of the bed was not being slept in. There were more nights in the week when he was absent than when he slept next to her. Though she was feeling neglected, her instinct was to worry about his health.

Especially with Danny’s increase in outbursts and Rosie’s panic. Amelia was more and more worried that Tommy’s mind was going too.

She decided to stay up, no matter how tired she was. The longer time passed, the more anxious she became.

Until finally, around one in the morning, she heard the door open and shut downstairs. But she never heard Tommy’s footsteps climb the stairs. So, she decided to go down herself.

A lamp in the sitting room was on and there was a scent of something burning. Although it was a strange unfamiliar scent to her.

Amelia cautiously entered the room. “Tom?”

He was sitting on the couch and placing a long pipe on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up to see his wife’s form lit up by the glow of the lamp burning in front of him. “Mel…” He slurred and began to slump down into the sofa cushions.

“Tommy.” She crossed the room quickly to see what was wrong. She knelt by him and took his face in her hands. “What’s the matter? What are you doing?”

“M’alright.” He assured her in a laxed tone. His eyelids were heavy. “It’s just…” He didn’t finish his sentence before he drifted off.

Amelia was completely unsure of what to do. It was obvious that he was breathing, but she wasn’t sure if she should be afraid, he would stop breathing. Trembling slightly, she guided his hand away from the pipe and laced her fingers with his. To calm her nerves, she counted his slow breathing as he slept.

And she sat there counting all night. Until the wee hours of the morning when Tommy began to stir and twitch in his sleep.

Exhausted, Amelia felt his hand tighten around hers. Then suddenly, he jerked awake, sitting up in a panic.

It jolted Amelia out of her tired daze as her hand was ripped out of his by his abrupt movement.

“Tommy, Tom, it’s okay.” She tried to reassure him.

Breathing heavily, he looked around the room trying to gauge where he was and if he was safe. His eyes landed on his wife and his heart rate started to steady. “Mel…” He looked slightly past her and found his pipe and opium still out in the open, making him tense up again.

Amelia wasn’t sure what to say. She wondered all night what she might ask when he awoke, but there were no words. Her chest tightened and everything came out all at once. “I stayed up all night with you.” She gasped out; the words had been stuck in her head for so many hours. “I didn’t know…I don’t understand.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t know how to make you understand.”

She tried so desperately to not cry. “Have you not been sleeping?”

He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang. “I have if I…” He sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping upstairs because I don’t want to wake you or the kids.” He explained.

“It’s nightmares then.” She concluded.

Tommy put his face in his hands. “Feels worse.” He muttered into his palms.

Amelia rested a hand on his knee. She looked to the pipe that had gone cold hours ago. The lamp near it had been snuffed out by her hours earlier. How could this be? She was jealous of a drug. Jealous of opium. Jealous that it offered her husband relief while she couldn’t.

He lifted his head when there was a sound of a slowly plodding by the flat. “Max’s birthday is on Friday.”

She nodded. “It is.”

As the sun began to rise, they stayed there for a long while until the children woke. Nothing resolved, Tommy placed the pipe back into hiding and Amelia tried to forget she ever saw him slide the box underneath the sofa.

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years

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jaliceweek20 day 1: human/vampire

Title: Against A Wall (Part 1)

Prompt 1: Human/Vampire

Word Count: 3,851

Note: I’m going into hospital tomorrow, and I’ve run out of time to get this finished (so, so close but I need sleep). So I cut it in half in the most logical place.

As long as the JaliceWeek Mods don’t have an issue, I’ll finish off Part 2 and upload the whole fic to the AO3 collection around Tuesday when I’m feeling human and have a decent Wifi connection.

Fifteen.

He crouches behind Dewey’s Bar, spitting blood onto the pavement, and trying to pretend that whatever is seeping into his jeans is just water, and not runoff from the reeking dumpster beside him.

It’s Tuesday night, and Tuesdays are always the worst. Tuesdays are his mom’s night shifts at the VA hospital. Tuesdays are pay-day. Tuesdays are the only day his father doesn’t pull his punches.

His left cheek and eye are swollen and split, like overripe fruit. He can’t see real well, and the taste of aluminium foil in the back of his mouth makes him suspect another fracture around his eye.

But was it really a Tuesday night if cerebral fluid wasn’t leaking into his mouth?

He feels bad that his mother is going to walk in at five the next morning, exhausted, to find… well, to find Hettie and Flo asleep in Ava’s bed, as Ava studies and worries. To find Jasper’s bed empty, and Lydia’s too. To find the study door locked, no matter how long she knocks.

In fact, the only thing that Louise Whitlock won’t find when she gets home from work is the god-damned strength of will to leave her fucking husband.

Last time he said that to her face, she started to cry, and that made things worse.

It’s still early, which sucks. There are hours to go until it is safe to move, to drag himself to school, to shower in the locker rooms and get some food out of the vending machine and savour the fact that another Tuesday is behind him. Sheldon isn’t big enough for the other students and the teachers not to notice the bruises on his face, but it is small enough that everyone knows Jeremiah Whitlock, and no one is going to say anything to get him in trouble.

He could go find Lydia, hide in the tree-house, tell someone who wasn’t family or a local. But he always ends up behind Dewey’s. When he was a kid, it hadn’t just been a bar; it had been been Dewey’s Bar and Grill, and his grandfather used to take him there for fried chicken and ice cream. Dewey had been his Grandpa Jed’s best friend, but even in those halcyon days it hadn’t exactly been family-friendly.

It had become a dive bar sometime around the time Jasper finished middle-school, but it didn’t matter - by then, Dewey and Grandpa were dead, and he was too busy trying to protect himself and his sisters to eat ice cream.

He spits blood again, and rests back against the brickwork. Nothing for it; Tuesdays were always hell.

—

He tries to sleep, amongst the noise of passersby, and remain unnoticed - Jasper’s learnt the hard way that his uncles still frequent Dewey’s, and they will march him straight back home for round two, no matter what he says. Even when he came up with the strength to tell them, about Lydia and Jerry and Tuesday nights, his uncles just tell him to shut up, man up, and maybe Jerry wouldn’t have to whoop his ass.

He thinks of Lydia and hopes she’s somewhere warm and clean tonight. Lydia’s smart enough to stay away on Tuesday nights. Home is never Lydia’s first port of call any night of the week, but never, ever on Tuesdays.

He remembers the last Tuesday night she was home, two summers ago, when Lydia stormed upstairs, a twelve-year-old hurricane with fire in her eyes, and called their father a coward for beating the shit out of Jasper.

Jeremiah Whitlock hadn’t liked being called a coward. Not at all.

Now she is transient, a ghost sister who vanishes at day break; one who bunks down on couches and in treehouses before coming back to her own bed. Their mom and Ava worry about where Lydia gets her money, cigar-sized rolls of dollar bills that she keeps in a tampon box, but he knows.

He knows that his sharp and pointy little sister never let anything stop her, least of all hard work, and that a lot of people in town know that Jerry Whitlock has a lot of anger and a lot of disappointment that he tries to drown in cheap beer and cheaper whiskey. It just makes him angrier. If the only thing they can do is give Lydia Whitlock some work, well, that kid’ll cut the grass, paint the garage, and walk the dog for a few bucks and a drink from a spigot.

It’s easy to say that Lydia is the best of them, making it clear that she doesn’t need their shitty father or their tired mother, but they are all strong in different ways. Ava, who smiles and simpers at their father, waiting for that day when she can buckle Hettie and Flo into her car and take them with her to college in Houston with a middle finger raised in the air. Flo stays quiet, stays alert, darting and hiding when the moment comes, but whose slight of hand belongs to a survivalist magician. And sweet little Hettie, who never lived on the ranch and knew their parents when they were happy, is sunshine and laughter and innocence. The one that reminds them why they stick together.

He’s the boy, so his role is obvious and unquestioned: he takes the punches and slaps and kicks that were meant for their mom, for Lydia, for Flo. He mutters things under his breath so that Jerry doesn’t hear what his sisters are saying, forgets that Hettie is sniffling or that Lydia hasn’t been home in ten days or that their mother has burnt dinner.

He knows his place.

—-

If you asked anyone with the surname ‘Whitlock’, they’d tell you that the family was cursed.

Had been since the Civil War; the youngest son had run off and joined up. Tried to desert two months in, crying for his momma, and ran afoul of someone - or something. He was dead a month later, but no one was exactly sure if he’d been executed for desertion, or if he’d just got in the way of a Yankee bullet. Either way, his last letter was rambling and terrified of something he never named, and his cowardice was rewarded with his bloodline’s constant suffering.

Within the Whitlock family lore, the curse was held accountable for numerous failings - from great-great grandmother Edith running off with one of the Wilkerson boys, to little Brian dropping dead as a doornail one summer day after seven years of perfect health. It was the Whitlock Curse to blame the day the bank took the ranch away from Jasper’s own father.

It was the curse that had four and a half strapping brothers (Uncle Wyatt only counted as half since he went to the war in the Middle East and got himself blown up before he was even old enough to drink, and left behind a high school sweetheart with a bouncing baby girl they all called ‘Puddin’) father fifteen girls, and only one lousy boy.

Make no mistake about it, Jasper was a lousy heir to the Whitlock name. All three of his uncles reminded him of this every holiday season. Whitlock men were supposed to live and breathe the ranch, were supposed to be football players and champions. They were meant to knock up the head cheerleader and serve eight years in the army, like their brothers, fathers, uncles, and grandfathers before them.

Not snivelling little momma’s boys, who cried themselves to sleep when Sirius Black died, and could charm the birds from the trees. Not boys who helped their sisters catch rabbits, and keep them as secret pets, or name the house cat Socrates. Not boys who sat up all night when their horse had colic, and sit in the stable with her, begging and praying for her to be okay.

He tried, goddamnit. So hard. He was the best shot in the family (something that Uncle Bo had nearly hit him over, that one Thanksgiving. But everyone knew that Bo had the worst temper in the family.) Before things went to shit, he’d been a good student. He’d been able to convince the animals on the ranch to do anything. He was popular, without having any particular friends or putting much effort into it. He took care of his sisters.

But none of it was ever good enough.

Nothing ever was.

—

It’s Roy Lester that chases him off, before six the next morning. Roy runs the grocer next to Dewey’s, and went to school with his father and uncles - still had beers with them ever so often. The way he threatened Jasper and chased him off home whenever he caught him in the alley made Jasper think that they talked about him, and none of it flattering.

So he has to slink home because he stinks and he’s starving. The security at school won’t let anyone in before seven; he’s tried before; it’s not like he has much choice.

In a town like Sheldon, everyone knew everyone. You started kindergarten with maybe twenty other five year olds - most you probably already knew - and spent the next thirteen years with those same kids. You watched Maude Montgomery transform from the aesthetic-equivalent of Danny Devito to Jennifer Lawrence in a single summer, thanks to a late brush with puberty; you were right there when Casey Atkinson was put in a wheelchair and spent seventh grade learning to walk again. You knew that Ariel Turner was diabetic, Marley Harris was asthmatic, and you’d seen thirteen years of peanut-free lunches and birthday parties because Joey Thompson was highly allergic.

The joy of small towns.

Everyone knew that Jerry Whitlock hit his kids and his wife, but no one talked about it - not to their faces, at least. The adults tended to march Jasper home, to face his father’s wrath. The kids tended to get uncomfortable, and look through him. The few people who tried to reach out were from out of town, and were usually passing through - the odd teacher, a new neighbour, a concerned face on the bus.

Better to go home until school opened up.

Louise is in the kitchen, her face pinched and pale, clutching a cup of coffee. She looks hopeful when he walks in, but seems to crumple in on herself when she sees his bloody, swollen face. She looks old as she puts down her mug, and moves to pull him into a hug. He pretends not to notice her shuddering, as she cries onto his shoulder, before pulling away.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she manages, sniffling. “Okay? You must be hungry.”

He grunts and nods, as he heads upstairs. As if scrambled eggs and burnt toast can fix another Tuesday night.

But Wednesdays are good - the longest possible time until another Tuesday night.

He just has to keep telling himself that.

—

Seventeen.

Another Tuesday behind Dewey’s, but this time he’s puking up the few mouthfuls of food he managed before his father hauled him out the back - only because it was his mom’s week off and they were having a big family dinner. Louise resented those mid-week dinners; after a long day at work, having to make dinner for twenty-three people, and somehow find enough plates and chairs was the last thing she wanted to do. It was the only time Lydia would cross their father’s sight line, skinny and defiant.

If it had been a normal dinner, Jerry wouldn’t have dragged him out of the house. He would have beat him in the kitchen, yelling over Hettie’s sobs and Flo’s screams, and Louise’s pleading. He’s had a serving platter smashed over his head before, as well as a beer bottle, and a ceramic pitcher - one that had been made by Grandma Lillian, and Louise had sobbed over those broken shards.

His head is spinning, and he can’t remember exactly what he said to incite his father’s rage, though he remembers Uncle Bo’s jeers when he tried to stand up. The previous week’s wounds have reopened, and are bleeding onto his last decent t shirt. There’s vomit and alley-juice all over his jeans, and he wonders if he should drag himself to the hospital because his world is still spinning.

He wonders what will happen if he dies tonight; if Roy Lester finds him here in the morning, cold and dead. Most of the cops in town are from old families, and they’ve taken Lydia and Jasper back home enough times to know what goes on. It’s easier to picture the cover-up, that they’ll blame him and a make-believe schoolyard fight. Just a tragic accident.

Maybe then someone will help Lydia, help all of his sisters. Maybe it’ll be the thing that makes his mom leave.

He falls asleep facedown in the alley, and wants to cry when he wakes up the next morning to the bellow of school kids heading to the bus stop.

He was so goddamned close to it all being over.

So close.

—

“Do you need some help?”

It’s another Tuesday night, one that has come with busted ribs and possibly a dislocated shoulder. He missed lunch because of an English project, and his father had been drinking early, so he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. It’s making him feel sick, and wondering if anyone will notice if he sneaks in the back door of Dewey’s and grab some food.

And then someone is there and talking to him.

Her voice is high and sweet, and he expects a high school girl, maybe a sorority sister.

She is neither.

She’s only as tall as Flo, with uneven black hair curling around her cheeks. She’s one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, with huge amber-coloured eyes that remind him of Hettie’s dolls and Lydia’s manga. She’s wearing a ragged button-up over a ruffled mini-skirt and leggings, with boots that look a size too big, a heavy man’s watch that hangs from her tiny wrist, and an ancient looking cadet’s cap - the entire effect makes him think of Oliver Twist as a female circus performer.

She walks over to him, and crouches in front of him, her head cocked to the side like a bird’s. He can only stare; other than the dark smudges under her eyes that speak of many sleepless nights, she is beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking worried.

“Yeah,” he croaks, and winches as he jars his ribs. He doubles over, and cries out. She reaches out towards him but backs off just as suddenly.

“You’re hurt,” she says, looking bewildered and frightened. “Where?”

“I-It’s okay,” he manages, trying to reclaim his dignity in front of the prettiest girl. “I’ll be fine.”

The girl huffs. “Ugh, boys,” she mutters. “Hold on a second.” She gets up and slips out of the alley before he can beg her not to get help. In reality, going to the hospital is the last thing he should do - they can’t afford the bill, and they’ll call home and… no. Just no.

His head is spinning, so he finds it hard to tell how much time has passed, but eventually she returns. She’s clutching two bags, and marches right up to him and crouches back down.

“This will help,” she says, holding out painkillers and a bottle of water. He fumbles with the lids of both, but eventually swallows the pillows down. She watches him carefully. “Don’t drink too fast,” she advises. “Now, I can put your shoulder back in now, or we can wait. It’s up to you.”

He blinks at her slowly. “Now,” he decides.

“Okay,” she looks nervous, but moves forward. It’s all blurry in his mind, but there is something cold, then hot, angry pain, and then he’s blinking up at her again. “Sorry. But trust me, the worst is over now. At least I didn’t break it worse. Hungry?”

He blinks as she reaches for the other bag - a bag of Skittles, a packaged sandwich, two oranges, and a bag of potato chips. He’s not sure if he has a concussion or it’s an odd selection, but he’s also hungry enough that he doesn’t care.

“I nearly had to call Bella, to ask what to get - Edward never let me buy her food after the chicken incident - which was entirely Emmett’s fault - but I think I figured it out okay,” the girl jabbers, taking a seat beside him, and smiles at him. “Better no one knows where I am, anyway.”

“I… thanks,” he croaked, as he reached for the sandwich. She beams at him again, and then frowns.

“Eat, then we’ll finish patching you up. I’ve come too far to watch you die in this disgusting place,” she stretches her legs out in front of her.

The sandwich is dry, but he wolfs it down - an orange too, before he takes a breath - that hurts - and takes another look at the tiny girl beside him.

“Who are you?” he finally asks, and she looks up from her watch.

“Oh! I’m Alice,” she says. “Sorry, I forgot you didn’t know. Do you want your ribs taped now, or are you going to open those?” She points to the Skittles.

“Um, I…” he looks at the bag of candy. “Do you want some?” This feels like a fever dream; maybe he’s passed out and this is just what his banged-up brain has provided him with.

“No,” she shakes her head, and the cadet’s cap tilts a little on her head. “I can’t. They just looked nice. Happy.”

“Happy,” he echoes, looking at the red package.

“I hear that sometimes little things can help,” Alice says. “Come on, cowboy, take that shirt off and let me see those ribs.”

His side is mottled black and blue and purple, and moving in basically any direction is a new adventure in pain. Alice gasps at the sight, and then coos at him in a way that is oddly comforting as her fingers trace his ribs - the coldness of her fingers is actually wonderful against the pain. Then comes the painful stage - as she, not entirely gently enough, begins layering tape over the pain, his head is spinning.

“All done,” Alice says, and her voice is soft, and when he slumps against her shoulder, she doesn’t move away. She smells like old fashioned things, like roses and linen. It reminds him of the old family homestead. He finds his eyes closing, and his side aches in time with his heart, and then Alice’s gentle fingers are running through his hair.

“Sleep, Jasper,” she murmurs, “I’ll keep watch.”

He’s asleep before he realises he never told her his name.

—

She’s gone when he wakes up, and the Skittles are in his pocket - along with the painkillers. Happy.

It’s Wednesday morning, and it’s not exactly ‘happy’ he’s feeling, but he’s got candy in his pocket and time to go home for a shower and more food, so Alice was right - the little things do help.

—

She never turns up two Tuesdays in a row, but he does see her again. She’s always more prepared than the first time, with a bag that always seems to contain exactly what they need - in his less lucid states, he is reminded of Mary Poppins’ magic carpet bag as she produces snacks and first aid kits, and even clothing.

Her attempts at first aid are, at best, rough and she accidentally breaks two of his fingers and nearly ends up in tears when he yells in pain, and hugs him so tight, weeping into his neck, that he ends up trying to comfort her.

Sometimes he sleeps. She’s so thin and tiny that her shoulder isn’t a good pillow, and he feels like a shit man, letting such a tiny girl keep watch behind a bar. It wouldn’t take much to break her, and he can’t defend anyone in this state.

But some Tuesdays, he falls asleep anyway, breathing in that scent of fresh roses and linen, and listening to her chatter away about people he doesn’t know, about places he’s never visited, about books he’s never read.

Alice sounds like she’s living a really nice life. One week, she quizzes him on his Spanish before his examine the next day, and her accent is flawless. When her phone buzzes and buzzes and buzzes, and she ignores it, she usually swears - he doesn’t know in what language, one of the Eastern Asian ones he thinks - but it’s definitely a swear.

He wishes he could see her, talk to her, out in the real world and prove to her that he’s not just a beat-up kid. But she’s always gone on Wednesday mornings, and he doesn’t even know how to contact her anyway.

All in all, he met Alice in the reeking alley behind Dewey’s with a concussion, broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, and now she’s the best friend he’s ever had in the world.

He’s getting closer to that ‘happy’ concept that she mentioned the first time they met.

—

The last time he sees her, he’s bleeding and he’s pretty sure his eye socket is fractured. He’s pissed with himself because he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, to stop his father from going after Flo. So he’d thrown a punch at his old man for the first time because Flo is his baby sister and all haunted eyes and he’ll never forget the sounds of her wailing after the belt struck her, but hitting the bastard back just fuelled him and … fuck.

Then Alice is there, in jeans with stars on the knees and a billowy purple top that is just opaque enough to obscure the skin underneath. She looks angry and frustrated, and doesn’t just sit next to him and open her bag like she usually does.

“It’s a stupid fucking decision you’re about to make,” she stamps her foot, “and I am so mad at you right now, but Carlisle and Edward have made me promise not to interfere. Carlisle says that everything I’m doing now is enough. And I’m already in enough trouble, honestly.”

He can taste foil again - definitely a fractured eye socket.

“What?” he manages, snappish and tired. He doesn’t need this. He wants sweet Alice, who helps him patch himself back together, and gets him food, and talks him to sleep. The one who makes him laugh, even when it hurts, and seems to be light-years ahead of him but that’s okay because she’s always so happy about whatever she’s telling him.

“I’m going to say this once,” she enunciates carefully, still glaring. “I will be here every Tuesday. Don’t make a dumb decision. There is always another choice.”

“You’re making less sense than normal,” he retorts. “Either help me, or go away - I’m not in the mood.”

“Happy freakin’ birthday,” she snaps, unbuckling her giant watch, and throws it at him before she storms back the way she came, leaving him behind.

#jaliceweek20 #alice cullen #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #vampire alice human jasper #my fic: against a wall #my writing: against a wall #alice is so unhelpfully helpful

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry III. Grito por dentro

HARRY’S POV

After Gemma called me, I tried to fight that longstanding negative feeling that finds a home at the pit of my stomach every time I talk to her. I’ve given up on trying to identify the nature of my own feelings, especially when they come from my sister or my past. I settle with knowing they’re not good. I really don’t want to go to Bellamond now but I can’t tell her that. I could never tell her or my mum that because they don’t deserve that. I feel like an spoiled brat every time I even think about it. I need another drink.

Danny’s been telling us about this girl he met last week for about fifteen minutes and at this point I don’t even know who he is trying to convince about the fact that he doesn’t miss his ex. We all know he does but it’s not my place to tell him that. He can try to fool as many people as he wants.

I hear him say something about how his apartment seems a lot bigger now when I think I see Sorry walking up the few stairs on our left. I frown. Am I going insane? Sorry is 21 years old and a student. I would have never made it here when I was 21 but then again I never had her face. I reckon if she wanted she could easily get inside, she just had to look at the doorman the way she sometimes looks at me and the man would even carry her inside on his shoulders. That’s the kind of eyes she has.

Danny grins at the girl who leans on the bar to order a drink and I smirk myself. He misses Cristina but he doesn’t deserve her. Danny’s my friend so I won’t say I’m happy that Cristina left him- because I’m not- but if Cristina was my sister, I’d be proud of her. That’s all I’m saying. He leans on the bar next to her and attracts his brother’s attention and only when the girl looks up at him I realize who she is. I then know that was definitely Sorry.

“What were you going to order?”

“Professor Gibbins.” Olivia smiles at him and I know my friend is smiling back even though he’s giving me his back. “Gin and lemon, please.”

Danny is very professional and I know he’d never cross that line with any of his students but Olivia is one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen and I know Danny thinks the same way. She shows Danny her perfect white teeth as she smiles before her grey eyes focus somewhere behind me and I see Indigo’s friend, Marie, holding Indigo’s hand as they both make their way towards the dance floor. I follow their route because my eyes can do nothing but follow Sorry. She wears a back fringe skirt and a matching top and even though I can’t see her fully because of the people standing between us and the fact that she’s moving, I can tell she’s showing the skin of her belly and half her back for the top ends where her ribs do. I wanna see her closer.

Next thing I know is Olivia’s disappeared from the bar because she just joined Sorry, Marie and Jason who was standing there on his own it seems. The four of them are talking and then I watch Sorry’s face contorting before her hazel eyes scan the crowd until they set on mine. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck bristling. She wears red lipstick.

INDIE’S POV

“Oh boy, you’re wasted, Indie.” Jason holds my shoulders as he makes me look into his eyes. “Do you want to get some fresh air? Maybe eat something?”

I shake my head. He has very beautiful eyes and he’s a fairly handsome man. His blond straight hair is now shorter than ever and his green eyes stare into mine.

“Jason”

This time it’s me who holds his shoulders as I make sure I have his whole attention.

“What?”

“If David hurts you, you would tell me, right?”

It’s very dark in the club, especially where we are standing now, but I can still tell he’s frowning. He takes a deep breath. We never talk about this. Every time I bring the topic up he gets defensive and we end up fighting. I know he doesn’t like to talk about it, but it’s precisely his reaction that makes me worry more. I do not want to anybody to hurt any of my friends and I reckon abusive relationships might be harder for us straight people to recognize on gay couples but God knows I know what I’m talking about and Jason does too.

“Jason, if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

I get ready for him to scold me for having insinuated that but to my surprise his lips tremble and he hugs me close to his chest. I feel his strong arms wrapping around my body and I rest my cheek on his chest but he doesn’t give me enough time before he pulls back.

“You’re tiny next to him, but I appreciate it, Indie.”

He grins at me and I smile back. My mood changes like the path of a leave falling from a tree in autumn. I might be a little drunk. I follow Jason’s moves and face my friends with a big smile but my eyes inevitable fall on Harry’s again. Danny, Mario and Harry himself joined us a while ago and both Ollie and Marie seem to be having fun with them. It surprises and pleases me on equal parts how Marie is letting go tonight and as I carefully watch her the corner of my lips turn into a smile. I still feel Harry’s eyes on me and it’s really making me nervous. I feel like I could puke but it’s not because I’m disgusted with his attention. Not at all. On the contrary, I think my entrance is somewhat slippery. I feel myself blushing.

“I’m going to order another one.”

Jason’s hand stops my arm and I glare at him. I frown and pull out of his grasp and he sighs again.

“I liked you better when you were a drunk like me and the girls.” He rolls his eyes so I go again. “David’s turning you into some boring guy without personality. It’s pathetic, really.”

I knew if I made him mad, he’d let me go. I walk towards the bar as I hear him calling Marie’s name. He thinks I need a nanny? I’m not even that drunk. Plus, I just wanted to get away from them and from my mentor’s stare. It’s embarrassing for me that he sees me like this if I’m being honest. He probably thinks I’m some pathetic girl trying to play the adult, or worse that this look is too much for me. I did tell Olivia it was.

I lean on the bar and wait for the waiter to look at me- I’m going to order a drink now, to piss of Jason and to stop overthinking- when a hand rests on my back. My head turns on a second and my eyes stop at the green of his. He looks cheerful and amused as usual as if he didn’t have one single worry on his mind.

“You’re wet.” He notices.

Great, in addition to pathetic girl who isn’t hot enough to wear skirts this short, I’m sweaty. I run my hand across the skin of my back he just touched and my mouth frowns on a grimace of disgust. The way he’s looking at me though… He seems amused but I’d swear there’s something else on his eyes, something darker, as his eyes roam my body from my shoulders to my heels.

I feel myself getting hotter and I think I just blushed again. I can feel my face and my neck on flames. I can’t understand why it affects me so much. There are handsome men everywhere but it might be the way he looks at me or his carefree attitude. I don’t know. It’s pathetic.

“You haven’t talked to me all night.” He confronts.

Is he hurt? Is he asking for an explanation? I just shrug. I don’t know how to tell him I’ve been avoiding him so as not to get soaked through my underwear. My eyes fall down to his exposed chest. The first few bottoms of his shirts are undone so I can almost see his chest and I’m surprised- and turned on- when I see some ink. I didn’t think he’d have more tattoos than the little black cross he has on his hand but I can’t control my tongue licking my own lip as I imagine how many more he might have. He looks incredible. What a body, what a face, what a mouth, what a man. I need to leave.

“Do you come around here much?”

Are we doing this?

“No. You?”

“I don’t go out much at all.” He shakes his head.

I can’t believe how of all the women I’ve seen around here. He’s giving me his time. I nod.

“What did you want to order?”

I want to tell him I don’t need him to order my own drink but the waiter shakes his hand so I choose not to mention anything. I wouldn’t have gotten his attention faster.

“Bulldog and tonic.” I tell him.

I watch mesmerized how his perfect white teeth break through his thin pink lips and I wish I could kiss them. What?

“That’s a good choice.” He compliments. “And a bottle of water for me, thank you, Sam.”

Horrified, I see him getting his wallet out from the pocket of his black pants and I stop him.

“No, no, no.” I raise my hand. “I pay for my own drinks.”

He grins.

“I don’t doubt it but let me pay for this one. Please.” He insists.

I shake my head. I will not let him pay for such a expensive drink especially when he has just ordered some water. Moreover, I’d pay for his drink too and if he wants a real one, I’ll offer too.

“Come on. You’re celebrating tonight. Your group’s formation. Take it as a birthday gift.” He smiles. He really is charming.

“But it’s not my birthday.”

He shrugs but ends up paying and I start doubting whether he just wanted me to pay for my drink for that reason or whether he is one of those idiots that now think we have some sort of deal. I can’t even believe I’m big-headed to think he’s trying to flirt with me. He hands me my drink and smiles widely.

“It’s got grapefruit.” His eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, that’s how you drink it.”

“It’s a bitter taste. Not everybody likes it.”

“I do.”

As if trying to prove a point I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip holding his gaze because I really am drunk. I shouldn’t even be drinking this but I’m really enjoying the way his eyes drop to my mouth. His breath seems to get caught on his throat and his nostrils flare if only a little. I feel a drop of gin falling from my thick upper lip to the bottom one and his eyes darken. I bring my fingertips to my lips and touch them once before I suck them inside my mouth. Am I making Harry nervous? The only thought makes me smirk and his green eyes move from my mouth up to my eyes.

“Thanks for the drink.”

I try to walk away but his hand wraps around my wrist and stops me. I feel an electric rush between my legs. He’s very close when I turn around and his musky scent makes my knees go weak.

“You’re leaving already?” His raspy voice makes me dizzy. “Indigo, do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

I don’t like the way his usual cheerfulness seems no to be on his eyes then. What sounded like a teasing question to me ended up sounding sincere and making him look even vulnerable to me. Did I make him feel left out? I feel my heart falling to the pitch of my stomach and I almost caress his cheek to reassure him that I very much like it when he’s around. Long Way 2 Go by Callum Knight sounds on the background.

“No.” I answer sincerely.

My movements are very gushy and I end up throwing some of my drink of my cleavage. Harry’s eyes widen as they set directly on my breasts and his lips part. I feel my entrance reacting to the way he’s taking me in. I don’t know whether I’m going insane or whether he really is staring at my body like that. I need to find out.

“It’s very cold.” I start and his breathing gets worked up. “But I think I didn’t stain the top, did I?”

I move closer to him showing him my cleavage. I can hear him breathing despite the loud music. I can’t take away the longing that he’d press me against the wall and press his body against mine. What’s happening to me?

“No, you didn’t.” He answers. “It looks incredible on you.”

“What? The gin?” I smile showing him my teeth.

“That too.” He chuckles. “But I meant the colour.”

“It’s black.” I frown.

“I know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

We both chuckle at that and I tack a strand of my wavy hair behind my ear in a nervous tick.

“Do you always wear your hair up to the hospital?”

I just nod.

“And down when you go out?”

“That depends.” I shrug. “But most of the time, yeah.”

“You’re stunning with your hair down.”

I blush but just like knifes, the first notes of Calling cut me deep and hurt me like it’s the first time I face this. My lips part and my drink falls to the floor breaking into tiny pieces at both our feet. My eyes fill with tears.

Can we freeze karma and surrender our rights and wrongs?

I run.

HARRY’S POV

I run after her. I have no idea what just happened, there’s no way she took my compliment that badly. But I’ve never seen a woman running faster on heels and I’m afraid she’s going to fall any minute because she drank and she’s on top of those things that make her legs look endless but could get her killed too.

“Indigo!”

I follow her outside of the club and can’t barely keep my eyes open under the rain. It’s pouring rain but she doesn’t seem to mind as she keeps running. For a moment I think she might be running from me until she stops at the roadside edge and bends her chest over, resting her hands on her knees before she’s puking.

“Shit.”

I didn’t know she was that drunk. I don’t want to intrude but we’ve spent almost 6 hours together for the last two weeks and we’ve seen all sorts of things and she knows I’m a doctor for God’s sake so I approach her and grab her hair on a ponytail with my hand, resting my other hand on the exposed part of her back as she throws out.

Fuck, she’s frozen. We left in such a hurry none of us took our jackets. Her phone is ringing on her little purse that rests against her buttocks and mine starts ringing too.

“Danny”

“It’s Olivia.” She sounds worried. “Are you with Indie?”

Indie. I like the way it sounds. I nod but she can’t see me.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“She’s with Harry.” She says but I know she’s not telling me that. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re outside. She’s… Um, I think she doesn’t feel well.”

“Oh, I see.” Olivia takes a deep breath. “But… How long have you been outside?”

“Not that long. She just… I mean I’ll let her tell you herself but she’s throwing up.”

“Oh, fuck. Mmm… But how is she?”

“Puking, Olivia.” Is she deft or just drunk as fuck?

Indigo stands up and rubs the back of her hand against her lips before she holds her other hand out silently asking for my phone. I hand it to her.

“I’m going home.” She tells her.

She presses the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she looks for something on her black purse until she takes a small package of tissues out and grabs one, cleaning her hands and her mouth.

“I don’t want to go back inside, Ollie. No, I’m good, I’m good. I had a lot of fun tonight. I don’t want to talk either. I just… I don’t feel well. I obviously had too much to drink.” She chuckles a little but I think she has been crying, even though it could also be because of the effort of throwing up. “No, Ollie, really, it’s fine. Plus, I’m with Harry… I’ll call you tomorrow. Listen, could you please grab my jacket? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

I have been so focus on her conversation, trying to understand what just happened, that I kind of forget it’s raining but as soon as she hangs up and dries my phone with another tissue before handing it back to me, I realize I have water on my shoes.

“I’m so sorry that you had to see all of that.” She gives me a broken smile. “And I’m sorry that you got all wet because of me too.”

I don’t think she knows how incredibly sexy she looks right now but between her wet skin, eaten by goose bumps because of the cold, and the way her hazel eyes look even bigger I couldn’t look away even if I tried to.

“Do you want me to go get your jacket?”

She shakes her head.

“I can’t lend you mine… Because I don’t have one.”

She chuckles.

“That’s okay.”

For a few seconds we just stand there looking at each other. I don’t know what she wants me to do. She just told her friend she was with me. Does she want me to take her home?

“Bye, Harry.”

She waves her hand goodbye in front of her face but I frown.

“Where are you going?”

Her hazel eyes investigate mine and she bites her red bottom lip. She shrugs.

“Home.”

She lives about thirty minutes by foot from here. I know because I dropped her off there a few hours before.

“Do you want to share an uber?”

Her house is not on the way to mine but I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I left her go home alone, especially looking the way she’s looking and after she threw up. She shakes her head.

“I want to walk.”

I have a look at her feet. She’s wearing high heels and it’s raining. She wants to walk on high heels for thirty minutes under the rain with no coat on and no umbrella. I frown.

“But it’s raining.” I argue.

“But I don’t want to go home.” She confesses.

“Come over to mine.”

I can tell that took her as a surprise. It honestly took me as a surprise too but I hope she doesn’t reject me.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose? I’m inviting you over.” I sound pathetic. “I don’t… It’s not… We won’t do anything.” I regret my words as soon as I hear them.

Her mouth reminds me of my mum’s homemade little donuts. I swallow.

“Are you hungry?” She asks instead.

I shrug.

“There’s a pizza place opened at Sanbad Street.”

I start walking on the direction she just said and she walks next to me. We walk in silence for the first few minutes. I’m dying to ask her what the hell is going on, whether this is her usual Friday night, why she doesn’t want to go home, why she left in such a hurry; but I don’t know where to start and I don’t know whether she would even tell me.

“Harry” I look at her “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

My eyes set on hers and I watch her cheeks turn pink. Fuck, she’s adorable. When did she find out that’s an issue for me? It must be just a coincidence.

“Because you don’t have one, do you?”

“Of course I don’t have one.”

I shrug but I catch her little smile from the corner of my eye.

“How come you don’t have a boyfriend?” I fire back.

She shrugs too. I see the small pizza place less than five meters away from us and I’m glad to realize it’s completely empty. I open the door for her and she smiles to the pizza guy who smiles and nods at her before his eyes set on me. I understand he’s jealous but he could be more subtle. I can read the question on his face. How did he end up with her?

Indigo orders a bottle of water and tells me she’s not really hungry. I chuckle and order a piece of pizza for myself even if I’m not hungry either but it’s the only way we could take a seat here without having the nasty look from the pizza guy on us. Even though I think he wouldn’t mind it if Indigo sat here even if she didn’t order anything at all so he could look at her.

“I had a fight with my mum.” Indigo tells me before I can ask anything. “That’s why I don’t want to go home.”

I nod. She still lives with her mum.

“What happened?”

I look into the hazel of her eyes and I swear I’ve never seen a prettier thing. She talks to me as I devour my pizza.

“She… My parents are divorced.” It sounded as if she just remembered that and I nod because what she just remembered is that I didn’t know that. “My dad lives in Capitol and my mum lives here in Grad with my siblings and me.”

“You have siblings?” I ask.

She nods, smiling.

“I have an older brother and a younger sister.”

That time is me who nods. I think she can tell I don’t want to talk about my family and I appreciate her respect.

“My mum has a boyfriend now and don’t take me wrong, I’m very happy for her. She deserves to be happy but… Her boyfriend has a house in Portugal and she wants us to go there for the summer holidays and I… I don’t want to go.”

Her beautiful eyes beg me not to ask more on that and I respect that just like she respected me seconds before.

“I’m not asking her not to go, you know? I’m an adult. I can stay here on my own or I could even stay with dad if she didn’t want me to stay alone. I’m just asking her to understand and I really don’t think that’s too much to ask for.”

“Maybe it’s important to her that you go there because she wants the whole family to be together.” I shrug.

“There are other places to be together.”

Her lips are set into a thin line and her eyes are harsh. I don’t want her to get mad at me. I don’t know why she doesn’t like Portugal. I’ve never been but I’m sure it’s a very nice place.

“Why don’t you like Portugal?”

Her eyes set on her thighs and I regret having asked her that. I feel like she’s closed like a shell.

“Indie!”

We both look up and I see Marie kneeling down hugging Indigo. Indigo’s face is turned to me but her eyes are shut as her cheek rests on Marie’s shoulder. A few seconds later, Olivia enters the pizza place catching her breath. She mouths a silent sorry to me and I frown.

“I told her not to come in” Olivia tells Indigo with clenched teeth.

“No, it’s alright.”

“You can sleep at our place if you want. You know that.” Marie tells her.

She nods and smiles.

“Can you girls wait outside?”

“But I want some pizza.”

“We’ll have a sandwich at home.”

Marie carries Olivia outside while the blond one pouts dramatically staring at the pizzas.

“Forgive her, she’s still drunk.” Indigo smiles. “I just wanted to thank you for being with me and for the way you’ve treated me and to apologize again. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” I smile at her.

I very much enjoyed this pizza and this conversation.

“Are you going home with them?”

Sorry nods.

“Good.”

I have a look at her friends. We can see her discussing through the glass. Indigo chuckles.

“Indigo” Her hazel eyes look into mine “Can I ask you to text me when you get home?”

Her face lights up and I can’t help but grin. The spark of her eyes has just come back after it went away inside the club before she ran outside and I followed her. She opens her purse and get her hand inside.

“Of course.”

She hands me her phone and I save my number before I grin and give it back to her. My heart is beating fast against my ribs.

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h50europe · 5 years

Photo

Hawaii Five-0 9.25 and a shocking season finale

Category: Gen

Sometimes you have ideas and you just can’t get rid of them….

Azra dropped her phone in shock. She’d just received the news that her husband Hassan had been killed in prison by a fellow inmate. That was at least the story that the police wanted her to believe. Her whole world shattered into pieces in the blink of an eye. She was glad that her son was with her sister Sabara. Nothing was there that held her back from falling to her knees and cry out loud in unspeakable pain. She couldn’t remember how much time she’d spent on her knees on the floor with her arms wrapped around her upper body. After a while, all the yelling and crying subsided into a sobbing hack until numbness was taking over and she was staring with empty eyes into one corner of the room. Again and again, shivers racked her frail body. How could they do that to him? How was something like that even possible? Azra started slowly rocking back and forth. From the back of her mind, dark, gloomy thoughts crept into her conscience. Slowly but surely, one single thought was dominating her whole existence. She knew exactly who was responsible for the death of her beloved husband. And these people would have to pay for it. But first Azra had to make sure that her sister was taking care of Khalid. Her innocent little son shouldn’t be involved in all this. Sabara’s husband was a wealthy man. Kahlid would grow up as a happy kid.

A few days later

Steve, Danny, Tani, Junior, Lou, Adam and Jerry sat in a new diner near Kalakaua Avenue and celebrated the closure of their latest case. It’s been a tough one. It involved a kidnapping and child pornography. The task-force had been able to locate the head of a pedophile and drug smuggling ring.

Danny didn’t know where it came from when he said, “Do you guys also have this eerie feeling that if you are too happy about something that there might be some sort of backlash?”

Tani was already a few Tequilas ahead of Danny as she ogled him like a ravenous harpy must have ogled men, marked by fate.

“Do me a favor, Danny,” she slurred, “stop playing Mr. Cranky Pants tonight. Overthinking isn’t what we are here for. We’ve kicked this bastard’s ass into oblivion. Get yourself another drink and start farting rainbows.” She giggled about her own joke. Junior immediately excused himself for her behavior, “Sir, I’m sorry. She’s been through some rough…”

Danny raised his hand, “Don’t worry. I’m not mad at her. And maybe she is right.”

“Beg my pardon,” Steve chimed in, “did you just say ‘maybe she is right?’ Where the hell is Danny Williams, and what have you done to him?” They broke out in laughter.

None of them saw the woman in a black hoodie who’d just entered the diner. Nothing concerning her appearance stood out. Later eyewitnesses couldn’t say anything awkward about her behavior. She was just an average woman wearing average clothes. It would’ve been too easy if the meanies had a stamp on their forehead that would’ve identified them as THE villain.

The woman watched the whole team from the corner of her eye for some time. She rehearsed her next steps in her mind to make sure to exclude any mistakes.

And while the laughter at the table grew louder, She became jealous, felt humiliated, and emotionally at the end of her tether. How could these people go on with their lives so easily? None of them seemed guilt-ridden in any way. Of course, they’d long forgotten anything about Omar Hassan and his family.

Azra had enough. She glided down from the barstool and went over to the table where the task force sat. She’d hidden the detonator of the bomb vest she wore in her right hand. She’d almost reached the table when a big guy stood in her way and didn’t move. When she looked up, there was a faint glimmer of recognition in her eyes. The man in front of her bore some resemblance with someone she’d met long ago.

The man shook his head, “I don’t think this is a good idea, Azra. Stop it here and now.” He spoke in a calm, low voice with a threatening undertone.

She just gave him a bitter smile in return before she said, “Tarek, you might be my brother in law, but you’ve no right to tell me what to do. You weren’t there when they took Omar away from, and you haven’t been there when Omar was killed in prison. You weren’t even at his funeral. Now you show up here and think I would give a fuck about you?”

Tarek made another attempt, “Azra, leave it be. We are already gaining attention. And I am sure you don’t want that. Let’s get out of here and talk.”

She shook her head, and her eyes went blank. Before any of the guests knew what was going on, she pushed the button of the detonator. None of them heard the blast that took out the double doors and half the room beyond her and showered the people with rubble and shattered glass. The exploding bomb vest had spread lethally detonated shrapnel everywhere, like omnidirectional shotgun fire comparable to the blasting of a mine.

Later survivors would describe the blast as a yellow flash followed by silver traveling through the air, which was glass. Chaos reigned. Bodies, as well as body parts, lots of blood mingled with debris littered the floor. Some people were screaming at the top of their lungs, others sat there, trying to understand what just happened.

The table where the team sat was turned over. Tani forced her eyes open. A cloud of dust billowed above her. Desperately she made a quick self-check. Junior who had been sitting next to her was also stirring. Later, he remembered tasting dust and blood in his mouth and that he didn’t feel his left leg.

He startled when a hand was grabbing his. It was Tani. Somehow she’d managed to get on all fours. Her face was partly covered in blood and dust caked. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she found out that Junior was still alive. She pushed his hand to reassure him she was okay.

Sirens were wailing from afar when she took a look around and found the rest of the team motionless on the ground. She could only guess who was who as the men’s bodies were buried under debris and settling dust. As she tried to move, she felt a sharp sting in her side. She looked down and discovered a chunk of wood embedded in her flesh. It was the last thing she remembered before the world around her went dark.

#h50 #h50 episode 9.25 #h50 season 9 #h50 season finale #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #tani rey #junior reigns #adam noshimuri #lou grover #jerry ortega #tarek hassan #azra hassan

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thelastspeecher · 6 years

Note

Hi, if it's still open 6. "Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you're warm..." for reverse portal Stanley McGucket. I feel there's a lot of potential there.

6. Congratulations! One of your dreams has finally come true. Let me give you a big hug and wow, you’re warm…

So, I took this prompt and turned it platonic, because platonic love is important and also I was struggling to think of a romantic way to use this prompt for this AU. Here, have some Stan bonding with his son, Emmett. It was really fun to write Emmett; I haven’t gotten to know him very well yet. I feel like I know him better now.

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a ficlet!

The school door opened and afamiliar boy with a mop of brown hair stepped outside. Stan immediately turned off the radio.

Too much noise upsets him. Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as Emmettapproached. Relax, Stan. He’s your own damnkid. He swallowed. Yourown damn kid that won’t call you “Dad”. And he’s scared of you, too. Emmett pulled on the backdoor handle.

“Shit,” Stan muttered. He unlocked the doors. Emmett slid into the backseat. “Hey, uh, you can sit up front if ya want,”Stan said, forcing an optimistic tone into his voice. “Y’know, next to your old man.”

“No thank you,” Emmettmumbled. “I thought Ma would pick meup.”

“She had to do some research, soI came instead.”

I hope he’s not as good at sniffin’ out lies as Danny. That girl can smell a con a mile away. Stan looked at Emmett’s reflection in therearview mirror. Well, Angie told me to lie and say she couldn’t make it, so he shouldbuy it. Right?

“Oh, okay,” Emmett said quietly.

“Buckle up.”

“Yep.” Once Stan heard the seatbelt click, he pulled away from the school.

“So, sport, how’d ya wing ahalf-day? Force yourself to puke? I did that a few times when I was your age.”

“No.”

“What happened?” Stanprobed. Emmett sighed.

“My readin’ lesson didn’t gowell, so my teacher thought I should just go home. She says I get ‘disruptive’ when I don’tfocus, and ‘cause my lessons weren’t good today, I was too upset to focus.”

“Disruptive, huh? I remember bein’ told that.”

“‘S not the same, but whatever,”Emmett muttered. Stan took a steadyingbreath.

You can turn this around. Askhim more things. Get to know him.

“…‘Reading lessons’?” Staninquired.

“Ma knows the technical term, butthat’s what I call ‘em,” Emmett said. “It’sto help me with my dyslexia. Sometimesit works, sometimes it doesn’t.” Hestared out the window.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“No, Emmett, it is,” Stan saidfirmly. Emmett looked at him.

“Huh?”

“I guess your ma didn’t tell ya,but I have dyslexia. You and Danny gotit from me.”

“…Oh.” Emmett picked at his shirt nervously. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well…” Stan trailed off. He cleared his throat. “You got those glasses when you were eight,right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s when I got mine.”

“Ma has bad eyesight, too.”

“Not as bad as you and me.”

“Oh.” Emmett suddenly grimaced. “Ma didn’t have to send you, did she?”

“What are ya talkin’ about?”

“I- I know I’m really nervous,but I’m not stupid. Ma keeps tryin’ toforce us to bond. And you do it, too.”

“Fine. Ya caught me.” Stan sighed. Look, kid, you’re my son. I justwanna get to know you. Almost everythingI know about you is stuff your ma told me.” Emmett looked out the window again.

The rest of the ride passed insilence. At the house, Stan pulled intothe driveway and turned off the car. Before he could open the door, Emmett spoke.

“You weren’t there.” Stan’s hand fell away from the handle. “When Danny and I got glasses, when we foundout Emily was colorblind, when Ma’s nightmares were so bad she stopped sleeping,we were on our own. You don’t knowanything about me ‘cause you weren’t there.” Stan looked in the backseat. Emmett immediately turned his gaze to the window, trying to hide tearstrickling from his brown eyes.

My eyes.

“Emmett, I’d give anything tohave been there,” Stan said in a low voice. Emmett shook his head. “Everyday, every minute I was gone, I thought about you, and your sisters, and yourma. I don’t think I regret anything morethan missing your birth. But I- you knowthe story.”

“You got trapped in anotherdimension ‘cause of Uncle Ford’s machine.”

“Yeah.”

“How dumb do you think I am? I don’t buy it! I never have!” Emmett shouted. Stan immediately turned around in his seat toface his son. Emmett’s face was coveredin tears. His eyes were wide in a waythat reminded Stan of comforting Ford when they were children. Despair with a streak of righteous anger. “That- that sci-fi stuff never- never- itdoesn’t check out!”

“You know what your uncleresearches, right?” Stan said, feigning calm. “All that weird, scary stuff in the woods.” Emmett nodded. “Why is the machine so hard to believe? We even showed it to ya.”

“Because- because-” A sob ripped itself from Emmett’s throat. “I needed a dad.” Stan’s heart plummeted. “I had Ma and I had my uncles, yeah, but Ineeded you, too. I’m- I’m a lot likeUncle Fidds, I get nervous and scared, and I needed my dad to protect me. Ma- Ma told us stories about you, and you-you sounded great. You punch things, andyou’re big and strong, and- and you don’t like science.”

“I mean-”

“I’m the only one that doesn’tlike science,” Emmett said. Stan blinked. “Yeah, a- another thing ya didn’t know. When I was- when I was feelin’ alone and leftout, Ma told me that if you were around, I- I wouldn’t be as much of a blacksheep. Ma tried really hard, but it wasn’tenough.” Emmett shook his head. “That’s- that’s not fair, but it’s true. She couldn’t do it all on her own. And I- I wasn’t the only one that needed you. We all did.” Emmett brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly. Stan bit his lip.

Treadlightly, Stan.

“Did anyone ever tell you aboutyour grandfather?”

“I know ‘bout Grampie Gucket.”

“No. Your other one. My dad.”

“N-no.”

“That’s prob’ly for thebest. Even before the accident, I hadn’tseen him in years. He’s on the otherside of the country, and that’s still too close for my taste. He was…he was an awful dad. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it, I’m not gonnalie. He shoulda gone to jail for the wayhe treated me and your Uncle Ford. Your UncleShermie didn’t have to deal with too much of it, but even he’s got some scars.” Emmett stared at Stan, eyes as big assaucers. “When I was a teen, I startedthinkin’ about bein’ a dad someday. Iknew some nice girls that I wouldn’t have minded settlin’ down with, and, Idunno, fatherhood appealed to me. But Ialways told myself that I wouldn’t be a dad like mine. There’s- sometimes, people with bad parentsend up bein’ bad parents too, and I didn’t want that.

“I keep pushin’ this thing ‘causeI wanna be a good dad, and I’m worried I’m not. You act scared of me all the time, like how I was scared of my dad. I don’t want that.” Stan sighed. “And- and about the not being here stuff, yeah. I wasn’t here. But I am now. You’ve got a dad, even if you don’t call me that.”

“You’ve been doing a good job,”Emmett said softly. “I’m not scared ofya anymore.”

“Wait, really?” Stan asked. Emmett shook his head. “You’re pretty good at keepin’ this stuffunder wraps.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s not a good thing, kid.” Stan cracked a half-smile at Emmett. “It is a Pines thing, though. You’re a Pines man, I shoulda expected you tohave an allergy to talkin’ about feelings.”

“Uncle Ford gets yelled at aboutthat a lot.”

“So have I. Makes sense. After all, the Pines man method of keepin’ it a secret until it explodesdoesn’t usually end well.” Stan lockedeyes with Emmett. “All right, how aboutyou and I make a deal?”

“What kinda deal?”

“I’ll stick around for the restof your life.” A cautious grin eked itsway onto Emmett’s face. “And I meanit. You won’t get rid of me. I’ll be everywhere. You’ll get sick of me.”

“No.”

“Just wait. Anyways, I’ll stick around, and you have tofight those Pines man instincts, and do what your ma’s family does: talk aboutthings.” Emmett grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t like it, either. But you gotta communicate, Emmett. Your ma doesn’t know your feelings about menot bein’ around, and I didn’t, either. Letus know what’s goin’ on. You can talk tome, or your ma, or even one of your uncles. Just keep us in the loop, okay?”

“I dunno how I’m getting anythingout of this,” Emmett said slowly. “You’dstick around even if I didn’t open up or whatever.”

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stanconceded. “How about…you talk about yourfeelings, and things that are going on, and I’ll stop the attempts atbonding. Let us do things morenaturally.”

“You hate the bonding stuff, too.”

“Yeah, but I can fight throughthe hate, if you stop talkin’ to us.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Now step outside, and we can shake on it,like men.” Emmett nodded. He and Stan got out of the car. Stan held out his hand. Emmett pushed Stan’s hand to the side andinstead wrapped his arms around Stan’s torso. Stan’s heart stopped. “Th- that’snot a handshake,” Stan managed.

“I know. It’s a hug. It’s better,” Emmett said. Stanembraced his son back. “You’re reallywarm.”

“Yeah, it, uh, it’s why your maand I get along so well. She’s chillyand I’m warm. We balance each other out,y’know.” Emmett wriggled out of the hug. “All right, sport, you better go in. Your ma’s gotta be wondering where you are,and she probably has a snack ready for you.”

“Are- are you crying?”

“What? Pfft, no. Just got somethin’ in my eye is all,” Stan mumbled, rubbing hiseyes. Emmett grinned crookedly at him.

“Uncle Ford uses that excuse,too.”

#emmett may look like a mcgucket but he's got a lotta pines in him #he doesn't necessarily look like stan's son but boy howdy does he act like it #reverse portal stanley mcgucket au #stanley mcgucket au #emmett mcgucket #stanley pines #ficlet #my writing #writing meme #ask #anonymous #Stangie Family

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heartlandhq · 6 years

Photo

❝ he is an unyielding cornerstone made of steel and he would never shatter. ❞

INFORMATION,

full name ⋯ Daniel Song age ⋯ 32 years old pronouns ⋯ He/Him/His origin ⋯ New York, New York affiliation ⋯ Bergan Mercy Hospital position ⋯ Guard

SURVIVABILITY,

advantages ⋯ courageous & vigilant disadvantages ⋯ impulsive & stubborn preferred weapon ⋯ M16A4, ka-bar knife

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warning ⋯ blood, death, violence

BEFORE DECEMBER 25th, 2017,

Born to wealth and the moderate degree of status, importance, and all the things that glittered that came with it. The whole package as it were. ‘You’ve got the luck of the devil himself, Daniel.’ Though, turns out too much of a good thing really can turn sour. He was six when his younger sister was born—Emily Song, a healthy happy babe all precious giggles and rosy cheeks. By that point, Daniel was so over the apple pie idea of a family that the TV had painted a pretty of for he and every other child in America. He was never sure his pieces quite fit, as though something was missing. But Emily? Emily was the only piece that felt right.

Maybe it was because she too was a blank slate. Or that she was the one constant in a house of rotating caregivers whilst his parents worked near constant hours away from home and country. Shouldn’t you be proud of your Momma and Papa, Danny boy? Out there sweating for the little people and saving lives? But what about me? A crushing desperate angry hunger within his child body that seemed to never know satisfaction despite the full plate of food atop the table before him. Quiet days and near dead silent nights within the seemingly impossibly huge three-story home only fueled a greater desire for something he truly had no name for.

There had always been an unspoken expectation to follow in his Father’s footsteps. A great man, strive to save lives and all that is good in life. While never cruel, never neglectful—simply absent. An expected outcome for any couple, even if their romance happened in a mere parade of snapshots. He wanted to be great, he wanted to give and give and give—if only so that someone else not feel the distinct wanting that he had. A vague hope, that if gave and gave that eventually something, however small; would be given in return. A smile, a laugh, a hug—thank you thank you.

He was fourteen when he received the new his parents had been ‘lost at sea’. Their plane suffering a catastrophic malfunction that downed them between points A and B.

Their lives signed off to next of kin, strangers moving into their family home. Faces they’d never seen. Never knew despite ‘Your parents were always so busy! Why I haven’t seen you since you were this tall.’ He didn’t know what to do with such life, such noise and colour. As if starting high school wasn’t a stressful enough situation, rumours flying of shipping him overseas to some private academy or another—a bitter laugh of what if he too gets lost at sea?

Daniel wished he had learned earlier, just how much gold can twist men into wicked creatures.

But, he did have Emily.

There wasn’t much of anything he wouldn’t do for his sister. An unhealthy relation some would say but as their home became more and more foreign she was once again the only constant in his life. His high school years, an uneventful stint. There were awards, pride in the eyes of his teachers and the ‘That’s what a good pedigree will get you!’ spoken by his peers. The moment he could, he abandoned ship, whisking Emily and himself as far away from their home as they could.

An impressive inheritance gifted to him on his eighteenth birthday provided him the funds for this upheaval a second wind would be coming on Emily’s own eighteenth year. Until then, the pair lived out of a modest apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Not wanting to squander the very limited wealth left to him, Daniel took up a series of casual jobs. Mostly construction, maintenance, and general odd jobs around the building and city for a passable buck; occasionally lucking out on shift work at a nearby bar. It was at such a bar he met Officer Brent Parker.

You’ve got the devil’s own luck indeed. The one and only night he’d been allowed to work behind the counter instead of mopping floors and cleaning sick and piss from the floors in the washroom—Officer Parker and company poured on through their doors looking to scratch an itch and Honest Steve’s cramped bar just happened to be the cheapest watering hole around. Eager to please what passed for upstanding customers in his eye he waited on their every need. Even giving them so much of a fine discount for the laugh they managed to coax out of him.

He was smitten.

With the idea of something more. Working at Honest Steve’s (and the guy wasn’t even named Steve) straightened out every skill he had, truly a jack of all trades job that demanded charisma, strength, and an agreeable sense of integrity to say the least. Daniel had manhandled his fair share of drunkards out to the curb, bore the weight of insults and derogatory words heaped on him, and was ready for the next customer with an easy grin in place.

It was a chapter of his life he yearned to keep secret from Emily, making time even after back to back shifts to attend her school events. Her classes and even showing up for several memorable parent teacher meetings whilst he tugged awkwardly at his foreign Sunday’s best. She wanted to be a nurse. She wanted to help people. Emily spent her weekends tugging him away to a volunteer event at the nearby hospital, Emily pulled him along to the animal shelter, wherever she wanted to go—he was happy to follow.

“Don’t you want anything for yourself?” she asked him one night over dinner and he didn’t know what to feel when no answer came forth.

When Officer Parker came back to his bar all charm and hot action movie stories, Daniel took a leap of faith and asked about becoming one of the boys in blue. He showed up at the next enrollment early, sitting straight in a plastic waiting room seat to fill out paperwork. Worried about his qualifications, felt an awful lot like he was applying for some prestigious university.

Keaton Harris of Honest Steve’s openly honest and fine drinking establishment wasn’t too keen on letting him go, but; like the name—he bled an awful lot of honesty for an establishment that turned a blind eye to a fair sum of illegal happenstances and gave him a glowing series of references citing impossibly overblown instances enough to make Daniel go red for a near hour every time he thought about it. But, he passed the written tests—he passed the physical. He was hardly number one, but he wasn’t no dead last either. Not only was he older than a fair few of his fellow applicants, but he lacked their considerable resume as well.

No prior combat experience outside of what passed for violence in a brawl (which, incidentally; was some truly terrible things). No post secondary degrees or certifications. Just a whole lot of heart in every breath. And sometimes, that’s enough—it’s a painful slap in the face, a breath of fresh air in finding someone so eager to serve.

A moment of celebration that was painfully short lived when he came home to Emily telling him she planned to go out of state for university.

He wasn’t her Father. He couldn’t forbid this. Though every fibre in him demanded he do so, hands desperate to clutch her close to home lest she too be stolen away from him. But, she would be turning eighteen shortly after graduation. She already had her acceptance letter. She already had a future. A taste of envy so powerful nearly overcame him but, he painted a smile on his face—nothing mattered more than Emily. And nothing would hurt him more than being robbed of her happiness. So, helped her pick out everything for her dorm. Talked with her soon to be roommate over Facebook, took a hundred photos with her about the city—made her promise to email every week and call as often as she could.

There was a very real fear of suffocating her. That when free of his presence in her life, she would forget about him. Emily would smile and laugh, and all his worries would disappear. He drove her across several states to Nebraska where he helped her set up her dorm, helped her roommate unpack as well ‘So nice having some proper muscle around, Em! Tell me, does he do personal requests too?’

It was easier then, to wake up and go to work. To not have to worry about the other body in his house even if the overwhelming emptiness of the place sometimes got to him. He moved to sunnier streets, a higher rise apartment in New York City following a requested transfer where he spent the better part of his first day staring out over the sprawling city from his apartment balcony. A housewarming party that Emily attended with her dormmate Lauren. She brought a truly awful looking plant. And then she proceeded to bring a new godawful plant every time she visited until his window ledge was decorated proper with them. He was accepted in S.W.A.T. where he could push himself harder and harder, where he could feel as though he belonged. His desk at work soon bore the overflow from his window ledge at home, a photo of him and Emily making faces at the camera sat just to the right of his desktop. Officer Parker still called him the odd time to check in on him, and he’d just caved under his co-worker’s pressure to enroll in the apparently new and hip trend of online dating especially if he wasn’t going to cave in and return the interest of the latest intern to slip into the station with big eyes and easy smiles.

It was…good. Life was good.

AFTER DECEMBER 25th, 2017,

Daniel wasn’t much of a social media guy. He liked to go online to keep in contact with people, to share stories and be a shoulder to cry on for those in need. Sometimes, he liked to join puzzle and mystery games with strangers but that was something of a dirty secret. So, it took Emily mentioning it in passing during one of their scheduled calls for the reality of things to slap him in the face. She sounded worried. She sounded scared. Bergan Mercy Hospital was showing an impossible influx of patients both paranoid and otherwise justifiably concerned.

The city slowly started to show its true colours as the station was swamped with more and more incoming calls from panicked civilians. Crime spiked to an all time high and further news and evidence flooded the internet. People started to see it as the end of days, and as such: the end of such silly things as consequences. On near constant duty, Daniel hadn’t seen the inside of his apartment in days by the time the diseased started to find their ways to their city streets. It’s supposed to be Christmas, a time to celebrate. Good will and good cheer, and all that. He hadn’t talked to Emily in days, his worry for her near eating him alive. She’s not here. She’s not in any place like New York so it’s okay Daniel. It’s okay.

Their phones went down. The network so overrun with calls that it simply collapsed into a constant loop of an automated messaging system. Officers went missing or simply never showed up. Several other emergency personnel stopped reporting in. There were civilians on their front steps seeking safety, protection—if ever there was a time to protect and serve…

Daniel didn’t know much about any other story from New York. He only knows his chapter, the fall of his station as it was overrun by the dead. The thick Kevlar and layers of his S.W.A.T. armor likely the only thing that saved his life. But even so, he’d seen too many of his brothers and sisters go down to teeth, hands ripping and tearing. There was no order. It was only chaos, everything happening in an instant as the barricades fell and the impressive population of New York City flooded their doors. A handful of survivors made it out, running blind only thinking about survival—there was no hope to contain it. To be able to circle back around and it hurts him so deeply to know there truly was nothing he could have done.

Spending the early days and weeks of the outbreak simply trying to survive Daniel tried everything he could to get word out to Emily. All he had was a series of increasingly worrying voice messages to listen to until his phone lost battery. He was limited on supplies in a dying city. It took days to simply even get out of the dead zones, passing through once thriving safe zones and choke points overrun with the dead. Key supplies lost forever as he looked through a pair of binoculars into the torn apart camps, the military transports stopped dead in crowded streets. What few survivors he did see, fled on sight; even in the apartments he broke into in passing did he find no friendly faces. Just more and more dead.

It took nearly a month of travel to get from the bowels of the city out into Omaha. A long dead cellphone in the pocket of his pants. Salvaging what he could whenever he could. Seeing far too much carnage and chaos for his mind to safely contain. Simply fixated on reaching his destination the only thing that ever pulled him from his goal was a cry for help. Some desperate human response—that often, he was told by the people he saved that they never expected anyone to come. He looked at their tears, the raw fear and gratitude mingling in their expressions and only ached.

Some remained traveling with him for a time, finding comfort in his person. In the armor he wore. The weapons he carried. They craved the direction and order he provided, some flavour of normalcy—of the world before, that they desperately wanted to hold once again. Several of these individuals broke off at the camps he stopped at along the way, parting ways with tight embraces the likes unheard of in the world before between strangers.

On nothing more than hope, he arrived at Bergan Mercy Hospital to find it overrun. Which…didn’t match with the reports other campsites at given him. There were people in there. Somewhere. Emily Emily Emily.

It was a trader heading back in that showed him the way, a sprint through the hands and teeth of the undead in the waiting area—their numbers dropped a fair sum by his own hand until he was steered away—‘Don’t bother, more always come.’

Emily wasn’t one of the remaining hospital staff inside. He hadn’t….he hadn’t seen her in the waiting room. Her car was in the parking lot outside (he checked, he obsessively checked) which meant that she was inside somewhere.

Daniel loathes sitting still, but he’s a welcome addition to the team with the firepower, information, and general experience he brings to the table. It seems no one really wants to touch upon the subject of his sister, most turning away from the picture he provides forth in desperation with pity in their eyes. He’s eager to explore the wings of the hospital, to clear them out—others call it a suicidal desire. He calls it wanting closure one way or another.

He hadn’t been present for the culling of the intensive care patients and if he had been, he’s firm in his stance that he wouldn’t have stood for it. Which, has only furthered ire against him—they were people, people like us—we go and do that, we aren’t any better than the monsters outside the door waiting for us. But…he knows, he knows he’s no different. He ran from that station despite the heaviness of his heart. Despite hearing his friends call out for him, scream for help, scream in pain, and simply scream and scream and scream.

His heart governs him more than anything else, leaves him blind to the grim reality of the situation at hand. But, it also brought him to this doorstep where he intends to be of use. For now, he’s usually seen on patrol or heading out on the odd scavenge run for extra security—Emily’s photo kept close to his heart.

CENSUS,

faceclaim ⋯ Steven Yeun played by ⋯ Bigby

#steven yeun #rp #rpg #zombie rp #town rp #{ a. }#{ m. }#{ 30. }#{ bergan mercy. }#{ guard. }#{ bigby. }#{ daniel song. }#blood tw #violence tw #death tw

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xlibbyxreaganxo · 6 years

Text

Bullet Proof Part 2

@prettyinpayne @ohnoitsthebat

Chapter 2:

Danny Reagan smirked seeing his baby sister and her partner come down the escalator talking and laughing with each other. Which he was happy to see. The last few months before she left for Chicago she had been spooked, scared of her own shadow. He knew it was to do with Paul almost killing her in the warehouse.

It had killed him every night knowing that part of the reason she ended up in the warehouse to begin with was because he sent her on a scene with Atwater, Halstead and Ruzek, he should have kept her with him at the perticint. But he trusted the Chicago Detectives to keep her safe and the second they turned their backs and sent her with a rookie, she got hurt. And he was never going to let that happen to her again.

“Hey Danny.” Libby said as they approached him, “You okay? You look all sorts of serious.” “I am fine Libs. Just thinking about a case is all.” he answered, “come on, Gramps made your favorites for dinner and Erin got cheesecake from Juniors too.” “I love coming home.” She grinned, “You think I am a good cook wait until you taste my gramps pot roast.” Carlie laughed nervously. “Relax C. They aren't scary. They are really nice.” The blonde nodded her head nervously causing the two siblings to look at each other then back at her.

“Come let's go get some food before we have to go to Nicky’s party. Work can wait until tomorrow.” he said. “I still can't believe you got us suckered in for a case Danny.” The younger Reagan complained, she had gotten the message once they had gotten off the plane and she didn't want to say anything until they were in the car about it. “Well you are his type and I trust you two more than I do most of the rookies out there.”

“You are lucky I love you Danny.’ Danny smirked before looking over Libby's shoulder at a guy wearing a leather coat and avatar sunglasses staring at them. “Go outside, the car is outside with the lights on.’ “Everything okay?” she asked concerned by his sudden demeanor change. “Everything is fine. Go now.” He answered motioning for his sister and her partner to go around him and outside.

Once they were out of his sight, he went over to the guy that had been watching them. “You got a problem man?” he asked. ‘No.’ He answered. “From the way you were looking at my sister and her friend, I think you do have a problem.’ “I don’t. Your sister and her friend are good looking that’s all.’ He answered as he shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers brushing up against the gun that was resting there. Danny scowled and shook his head, he forgot that Libby got a lot of attention from men and it bugged him, he had been glad when she had made the decision or to move to Chicago and take Erin Lindsay's place on the intelligence unit. And started the relationship or whatever it was with Jay. He didn’t worry as much when she was with him. He knew that Jay would stand in front of her and take a bullet if need be.

By the time they had arrived at the Reagan house, Carlie was at ease thanks to the easygoingness of the two siblings but deep down she knew that it bothered her that she wasn’t close to Connor like Libby aws with Jamie, Danny and then her older sister Erin who she and the rest of the intelligence team hated but they kept their distaste undercover so they wouldn’t set her off. They had all seen her lose her temper at the perp who had threatened her. It took Kevin and Adam to pull her away from the interrogation room and to calm her down. God knows what she would do if they were talking about her family. She was shaken out of her thoughts hearing the doors open and Libby calling something up to her twin brother who came out onto the front steps. Swallowing the lump that was in her throat she followed Libby out of the car. “Jamie.” She greeted with a nod of her head. “Carlie.” He returned giving his twin a look who started giggling, she thought the whole situation between the two had been funny and liked to tease them when she was around them. “Not cool.” He muttered to her as he took her bag from her.

She shrugged her shoulders as she walked up the stairs and into the house. “Hello?” She called. “Aunt Libby!” Jack and Sean called at the same time as they stood up and went over to her. “Awe no Jay?” Sean asked looking over his shorter aunt’s shoulder to see who came with her. “Not this time, he had to stay behind and do some work with the rest of the team. This is Carlie.” Carlie offered the two younger boys a smile. “Hi, I have heard alot about you from your aunt.”

The two boys nodded their heads looking at the blonde was standing there. “She is cute but is she as cool as Jay?” Sean asked. “Same level cool.’ Libby answered. Carlie laughed as Danny pulled her over to the table to introduce her to the rest of the Reagan family.

***

4 hours later

***

“Come on Libby, let's go get some fresh air.’ Carlie said hooking her friends elbow with her hand and started leading her away from her siblings and niece all of whom were laughing at Libby. “Mmkay.” She said with a laugh, Nicky wanting to try different liquors wanted to start with tequila and it seemed to be Libby's weakness, the younger Reagan sibling had been reduced to a giggling mess. Something Carlie was sure that their teammates would love to see especially Adam and Jay.

Once they were outside, Carlie let her lean against the wall as she pulled out her phone and pulled up snapchat to show them what she had to deal with. The former New York cop kept giggling as she leaned against the wall. Her eyes closed and her flushed cheeks tilted up to the cool sky in effort to cool herself down. “one I found Libby's weakness. Tequila. And two Jay, she is really really drunk right now.’ She laughed before turning the camera around and pointed it at herself, “Next time you are coming with her and babysitting her. I am pretty sure this is plot by Danny to make her sick. Hey1 Who are you!” She asked seeing a man that had dark hair and a swaggered walk.

He didn’t answer her instead he grabbed a hold of Libby and started pulling her towards him. “Hey! Lettgo!” Libby exclaimed to trying to pull her wrist free “Shut up Liddy.” the man said before hitting her hard across the face. “HEY!” Carlie exclaimed as another man came up behind her and hoisted her up in the air and spinning her around and dumping her onto the cold hard floor of the van. Libby follow seconds after her.

#libby reaganx #thin blue line short storyx

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imagekeepr · 7 years

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IN MUSIC BANNED

*** VIDEOSS A "A Day in the Life" – The Beatles (1967) ... BBC - suggestive line, "..we’d love to turn you on..” "A Pair of Brown Eyes" - The Pougues ... BBC's Top of the Pops - a music video ban "A Rose and a Baby Ruth" – George Hamilton IV (1956) ... BBC - thought to be advertising, although the candy bar Baby Ruth was not sold in the UK "A Russian Love Song" – The Goons (1957) ... BBC - ridicules the cold war "A Theme from the Threepenny Opera (Mack the Knife)" – Louis Armstrong (1956) ... banned by: NYC radio, BBC - bloodthirsty words *** "A Whiter Shade Of Pale" - Procol Harum (1967) ... Top Of The Pops - the usage of Vietnam War newsreel footage. "A Worried Man" – The Kingston Trio (1959) ... BBC - didn’t like the word “closet” being used for “cupboard”. "A-huggin' and A-chalkin'" – Johnny Mercer (1946) ... BBC /USA - offensive to fat people ** "All For You" - Janet Jackson (2001) ... Singapore - lyrics to 'Would You Mind', were too sexually explicit and not acceptable to their society "Anarchy in the UK" - Sex Pistols (1976) ... BBC - banned following their controversial appearance on the TV news programme, Today. "Annie Had A Baby" - Hank Ballard & The Midnighters (1954) ... banned for radio play by the FCC. overtly sexual lyrics "Annie's Aunt Fannie" - Hank Ballard & The Midnighters (1954) ... banned for radio play by the FCC. overtly sexual lyrics "Angels in the Sky" – The Crew-Cuts (1955) ... BBC - Thought too offensive by the head of religious broadcasting "Answer Me" – Frankie Laine (1953) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting as a "sentimental mockery of Christian prayer" "Armchair Anarchist" - Kingmaker (1992) ... BBC/others - offensive lyrics "Bomb the idiots" and "Viva Dynamite" ** "As Nasty As They Wanna Be" (1989 album) - 2 Live Crew ... USA - Southern District of Florida ruled that the album was legally obscene. B "Baby Got Back" - Sir Mix-A-Lot (1992) ... MTV - briefly banned the outrageous video about women with big butts, and men who like them. "Baby, Let Me Follow You Down" – Bob Dylan (1962) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) - Cher () ... BBC - banned during Gulf War "Baubles, Bangles and Beads" – Kirby Stone Four (1958) ... BBC - "pop" version of classical piece, Alexander Borodin's String Quartet in D "Be Prepared" – Tom Lehrer (1953) ... BBC - sexually suggestive "Beep Beep" – The Playmates (1958) ... BBC - the mention of Cadillac and Nash Rambler considered advertising, also promoted dangerous driving. "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!" - The Beatles ... BBC - the phrase "Henry the Horse", contains two common slang terms for heroin. "Big 6, Big 7,Big 8, 10 etc" - Judge Dredd (1972-75) ... BBC - sexual references and swear words. "Big Boys Bickering" - Paul McCartney ... BBC - overtly political message "Bitch" - The Rolling Stones ... many radio stations - sexual content and outrageous title. "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" – Ella Fitzgerald (1958) ... BBC - content where considered objectionable. "Be Chrool To Your Scuel" - Twisted Sister (1985) ... MTV - banned the video for excessive violence and gore "Blurred Lines" - Robin Thicke (2013) ... YouTube - banned the music video featuring nude models. (a new video was shot with clothed models) "Bobby Brown" - Frank Zappa (1979) ... USA - sexually explicit lyrics "Bring The Boys Home" - Freda Payne (1971) ... American Forces Network - fear that it would "give aid and comfort to the enemy" "Body Language" - Queen (1982) ... MTV ... music video blatantly sexy and too racey "Boom Bang-a-Bang" – Lulu (1969) ... BBC - banned during Gulf War "Burn My Candle" – Shirley Bassey (1956) ... BBC - risqué connotations C "(Celebrate) The Day After You" – The Blow Monkeys and Curtis Mayfield (1987) ... Australia, BBC Can't Stand Losing You - The Police (1978) ... BBC - morbid content (teenager who commits suicide) Cardiac Arrest - Madness (1981) ... BBC - lyrical content, "gasping for the hot air, but the chest pain it won't go" etc "Charlie Brown" – The Coasters (1959) ... BBC - the "disgusting, delinquent word" spitball "Come Together" – The Beatles (1970) ... BBC - product placement with the lyrics "He shoot Coca-Cola" "Come Again" – Au Pairs (1981) BBC ... refers to orgasms "Cop Killer" - Body Count (1992) ... USA / New Zealand - vile messages and promoting anti-police sentiment. ”Cortez The Killer” - Neil Young (1975) ... some Spanish speaking countries/stations - criticism of one of their national heroes "Cradle Song (Brahms' Lullaby)" – Frank Sinatra (1944) ... BBC - disrespectful to classical music "Croce di Oro (Cross of Gold)" – Joan Regan (1955) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting as sentimentalisation of religion "Crazy Horses" - The Osmonds (1972) ... South Africa - "horses" is a slang term for heroin there, so it was thought to be referring to drugs. "Crying in the Chapel" – Lee Lawrence (1953) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting because it was "nauseating". "Cuddle Me" – Ted Heath ft Dennis Lotis (1954) ... BBC - lewd and suggestive D "Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover" - Sophie B. Hawkins (1992) ... MTV - rejected the original version of the video on grounds of erotic content. "Danny Boy" – Conway Twitty (1959) ... BBC - Conway Twitty holds the distinction of having recorded the only version of “Danny Boy” to have been banned! "Deep in the Heart of Texas" – Bing Crosby and Woody Herman (1942) ... BBC - too infectious "Devil Woman" - Marty Robbins ... Eire - adulterous theme ** "Devils and Dust" - Bruce Springsteen (2005 album) ... Starbucks, USA - concerns about adult content and his stances on corporate politics "Diggin' My Potatoes" – Lonnie Donegan (1954) ... BBC - lyrics not suitable "Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead" - Judy Garland ... BBC - found it disrespectful when a Facebook campaign and other anti-Thatcher camps tried do make the song a No.1 hit after the sad death of former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher. "Dinner with Drac" – John Zacherle (1958) ... BBC - lyrics considered despicable "Don't Let's Be Beastly to the Germans" – Noël Coward (1943) BBC ... WWII reminder of Germany "Don't Stop (Wiggle Wiggle)" - The Outhere Brothers ... BBC / others - shockingly explicit "Disarm" - Smashing Pumpkins (1994) BBC ... banned the song from appearing on Top of the Pops, because of the lyric "cut that little child". E "Ebeneezer Goode" – The Shamen (1992) ... BBC - drug fuelled song, "Eezer Goode..." in the chorus sounds like E's are good. "Ebony Eyes" – The Everly Brothers (1961) ... BBC - death song, too morbid. "Eight Miles High - The Byrds () ... USA - drug connotations in its lyrics. ** "Electric Ladyland" - Jimi Hendrix Experience (1968 album) ... many retail stores - the cover depicted nineteen nude women lounging in front of a black background. "Eve of Destruction" – Barry McGuire (1965) ... BBC - on the restricted list, for its bombast; USA - "it was an aid to the enemy in Vietnam" F "F--k tha Police" - N.W.A (1988) ... USA / other countries - encouraged violence against, and disrespect for, law enforcement officers. "Fairytale of New York" – The Pogues ft Kirsty MacColl (1987) - BBC/UK MTV - banned the words "faggot" and "slut" "Fat Bottomed Girls" - Queen (1978) ... Shops and Stores - the cover featured a nude woman riding a bicycle; the new version was the same image with panties drawn over the woman. "Feel Good Hit Of The Summer" - Queens of the Stone Age (2000) ... many radio stations / Wal-Mart - the lyrics list drugs: nicotine, valium, vicodin, ecstasy, marijuana, alcohol and cocaine "French Kiss" – Lil Louis (1989) ... BBC - too much heavy breathing G "Gimme a Pigfoot (And a Bottle of Beer)" – Bessie Smith (1933) ... BBC - unsuitable content "Girl Don't Come" - Sandie Shaw (1964) ... Because of this song although it reached number 42 on the Billboard Hot 100, Sandy was unable to do US promotion – including a Shindig! appearance scheduled for March – due to the U.S. Federation of TV and Radio Artists refusing her a US work permit "Give Ireland Back to the Irish" – Wings (1972) ... BBC - political, references to Northern Ireland. "Glad to Be Gay" – Tom Robinson Band (1978) ... BBC - refernces to the gay community "Gloomy Sunday" – Billie Holiday (1941) ... BBC - just.. bad taste! "God Bless the Child" – Billie Holiday (1942) ... BBC - unsuitable for broadcast because of its title - prayers in popular music were not allowed. "God Only Knows" - The Beach Boys (1966) ... Some USA radio stations - deemed as blasphamy having a pop song with God in the title. Because of this, it was released as the B-side of "Wouldn't It Be Nice" in the United States. In other countries, "God Only Knows" was the single's A-side. "God Save the Queen" – Sex Pistols (1977) ... BBC - vulgar and offensive Goodbye Earl - Dixie Chicks (1999) ... Some radio stations - stirred controversy for its take on spousal abuse and banned by several male radio programmers. "Great Balls of Fire" - Jerry Lee Lewis () ... Some radio stations - sexual innuendoes "Green Jeans" – The Flee-Rekkers (1960) ... BBC - mutilation of the classics, "distortion of melody, harmony and rhythm" "Greensleeves" – The Beverley Sisters (1956) ... BBC - mutilation of the classics, "distortion of melody, harmony and rhythm" "Guess Things Happen That Way" – Johnny Cash (1958) ... BBC - objected to by head of religious broadcasting "Gypsy Roadhog - Slade (1977) ... BBC - references to drugs H "Hall Of The Mountain King" - Nero & The Gladiators (1961) ... BBC - the banning of pop versions of classical tunes policy. "Have a Whiff on Me" – Mungo Jerry (1971) ... BBC - drug references "Hard Headed Woman" – Elvis Presley (1958) ... BBC - religious theme, BUT it could be played, only with special permission "He" – Al Hibbler/Robert Earl (1955) ... BBC - objected to by the head of religious broadcasting as being solely for commercial gain. "He Bought My Soul At Calvary" - Jo Stafford (1951) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting as a 'misguided' presentation of the Gospel "Hi, Hi, Hi" – Wings (1972) ... BBC - explicit sexual lyrics "High Class Baby" – Cliff Richard and the Drifters (1958) ... BBC - considered to be advertising Cadillac cars "Hold My Hand" – Don Cornell (1954) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting, a girlfriend cannot be compared to the "kingdom of heaven" **"Holy Wood (In The Shadow Of The Valley Of Death)" - Marilyn Manson (2000 album) ... many retail stores - refused to stock the album, the cover art, depicting Manson on a crucifix "Homosapien" - Pete Shelley (1982) ... BBC - banned because of the line "Homo superior in my interior" "Honey Hush" – The Rock and Roll Trio/Johnny Burnette (1956) ... BBC - sexual lyrics and promotes violence. "Honey Love" – Dennis Lotis (1954) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting, lewd and suggestive "Honeycomb" – Jimmie Rodgers (1957) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting "Honky Tonk Angel" - Cliff Richard (1975) ... Cliff found out a "honky tonk angel" was a hooker he withdrew the record. "(How Little It Matters) How Little We Know" – Frank Sinatra (1956) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting, lewd and suggestive "House Of The Rising Sun" - Josh White ... BBC - lyrics about prostitution I "I Am the Walrus" – The Beatles (1967) "I Can't Control Myself" – The Troggs (1966) ... BBC - sexual reference "I Hear the Angels Singing" – Frankie Laine (1954) "I Leaned on a Man" – Connie Francis (1957) "I Want To Be Evil" – Eartha Kitt (1953) ... BBC - title and content where considered objectionable. "I Want You to Be My Baby" – Annie Ross (1956) "I Want Your Sex" - George Michael (1987) ... BBC - banned between the hours of 5:50am-9pm "I Went to Your Wedding" – Spike Jones and His City Slickers (1953) "I'll Be Home for Christmas" – Bing Crosby (1943) "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" – Perry Como (1949)/Ken Dodd (1963) ... BBC - "pop" version of a classical piece, Frédéric Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu. "I'm Nobody's Baby" – Frankie Howerd (1948) "Imagine" - John Lennon (1971) ... BBC - banned during the Gulf War "In the Air Tonight" – Phil Collins (1981) ... BBC - banned during the Gulf War "In the Beginning" – Frankie Laine (1955) ... BBC - objected to by the head of religious broadcasting "In the Hall of the Mountain King" – Nero and the Gladiators (1961) "Invisible Sun" – The Police (1981) ... BBC - due to the content of the song, violence and turmoil in Northern Ireland "It Is No Secret" – Jo Stafford (1954) "It Wasn't God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels" – Kitty Kallen (1962) "It Would Be So Nice" – Pink Floyd (1968) "I've Come of Age" – Billy Storm (1959) J "Jackie" – Scott Walker (1967) ... BBC - refers to "authentic queers" "Je t'aime... moi non plus" – Jane Birkin and Serge Gainsbourg (1969) ... BBC - sexual references "John and Marsha" – Stan Freberg (1950) ... BBC - sexual, too suggestive "Johnny Remember Me" – John Leyton (1961) ... BBC - death song, too morbid. "Jungle Fever" – The Chakachas (1972) ***"Justify My Love" - Madonna (1990 video) ... MTV - sexual content . K "Keep Me in Mind" – Lita Roza and Al Timothy (1955) "Killing an Arab" – The Cure (1979) ... BBC - banned during the Gulf War "Kodachrome" – Paul Simon (1973) ... BBC - would not play the trademarked name. L "La Petite Tonkenoise" – Josephine Baker (1930) "Lazy Mary" – Lou Monte (1958) ... BBC - Italian lyric deemed objectionable "Leader of the Pack" – The Shangri-Las (1964) ... BBC - death song, too morbid. "Let the People Go" – McGuinness Flint (1972) "Let's Spend the Night Together" – The Rolling Stones (1967) ... BBC - encourages promiscuity "Light a Candle in the Chapel" – Frank Sinatra (1942) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting, the song was "so nauseatingly sentimental that it debased the Christian religion". "Light My Fire" – Jose Feliciano (1968) ... BBC - banned during the Gulf War "Lili Marleen" – Lale Andersen (1939) "Little Star" – The Elegants (1958) ... BBC - objection by head of religious broadcasting to use of God in a pop song. "Louie Louie" - Kingsmen (1957) ... Indiana USA declared it pornographic "Lola" – The Kinks (1970) ... BBC - banned for advertising coca cola, until they changed the lyrics. "Louie Louie" - The Kingsmen (1963) ... USA - FBI investigation supposed obscenity of the lyrics, an investigation that ended without prosecution. "Love for Sale" – Cole Porter (1930) / Ella Fitzgerald (1956) ... BBC - sexual references, prostitution. "Love Is a Word" – Alma Cogan (1965) "Love Is Strange" – Mickey & Sylvia (1956) ... BBC - the line "love is money in the hand" would encourage prostitution "Love to Love You Baby" – Donna Summer (1975) ... BBC - too much heavy breathing, grunts and groans. ** "Lovesexy" - Prince (1988 album) ... Shops around the world - nude photo of Prince on cover "Lovin' Machine" – Wynonie Harris (1951) ... BBC - crude implications associated with a "lovin' machine" "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" – The Beatles (1967) ... BBC - drug refernces M "Mack the Knife" – Bobby Darin (1959) ... banned by: NYC radio, BBC - bloodthirsty words "Made You" – Adam Faith (1960) ... BBC - sexual references "Maggie May" – The Vipers Skiffle Group (1957) ... BBC - song is about a prostitute "Maybellene" – Chuck Berry (1955) "Mighty Mighty Man" – Bobby Darin (1958) "Minnie the Moocher" – Cab Calloway (1931) "Miss Morse" - Pearls Before Swine (1967) ... USA radio - Tom Rapp was singing F-U-C-K in Morse code "Miss You" – Bing Crosby (1942) ... BBC - The War Office felt that it too sentimental and might lower morale at home "Monster Mash" – Bobby "Boris" Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers (1962) ... BBC - it was offensive and in poor taste. "Moonlight Love" – Perry Como (1956) ... BBC - mutilation of the classics, took it’s melody from Debussy "My Christmas Prayer" – Billy Fury (1959) ... BBC - religious grounds. "My Friend" – Eddie Fisher (1954) "My Friend Jack" – The Smoke (1967) "My Generation" - The Who (1965) ... BBC - initially refused to play the song because it might offend people who stutter. "My Little Ukulele" – Joe Brown and The Bruvvers (1963) ... BBC - "too rique" N "Night of the Vampire" – The Moontrekkers (1961) "Ninety-Nine Years (Dead or Alive)" – Guy Mitchell (1961) "Nobody Loves Like an Irishman" – Lonnie Donegan (1958) ... BBC - Line about the Quran deemed to be offensive to Muslims O "(Oh) Pretty Woman" - Van Halen (1982) ... MTV aired the video very sparingly - too racey and distasteful "Old Man Atom" – The Sons of the Pioneers (1950) ... BBC - Controversial topics such as the atom bomb "One Has My Name (The Other Has My Heart)" – Jimmy Wakely (1948) ... BBC - encouraged adultery "Open Your Box" - Yoko Ono Plastic Ono Band (1970) ... BBC - banned because of the line "Open your legs" "Original Prankster" - The Offspring (2000) ... HMV stores - refused to stock the record after the band decided to give the track away as a free download on their official website, prior to it's release. P "Paper Doll" – The Mills Brothers (1943) ... BBC - theme of feminine unfaithfulness. deemed unacceptable during war time. "Peaches" – The Stranglers (1977) ... BBC - too "woman baiting" "Peaceful Street" – Ernest Butcher (1936) **"Permission To Land" - The Darkness (2003 album) ... Wal-Mart - the album sleeve featured a woman's bottom. "Plastic Jesus" - King Earl Boogie Band ... BBC - on grounds of blasphemy. "Please No Squeeza da Banana" – Louis Prima (1963) Q R "Radio Times" – The BBC Dance Orchestra (1935) "Randy Scouse Git" - The Monkees (19--) ... BBC - title was "actually somewhat taboo to the British audience" it was re-released as "Alternate Title" "Reefer Man " - Fats Waller () ... BBC - drug references "Relax" – Frankie Goes to Hollywood (1984) ... BBC - sexual references "Rock You Sinners" – Art Baxter and His Rock 'n' Roll Sinners (1958) "Rockin' Through The Rye" - Bill Haley and His Comets (1956) ... BBC - the song went against traditional British standards and used 50's hip slang. "Rum and Coca-Cola" – The Andrews Sisters (1945) ... BBC - advertising Coca -Cola ”Rumble” - Link Wray (1959) ... USA certain stations - although an instrumental the title was thought too suggestive of teen violence. S "Sad Affair" – Marxman (1993) ... BBC - contains IRA slogan "Saturday Nite at the Duckpond" – The Cougars (1963) ... BBC - "pop" versions of a classical piece "Say a Prayer for the Boys Over There" – Deanna Durbin (1943) "Send Me to the 'lectric Chair" – George Melly (1953) "Shall We Take a Trip" – Northside (1990) "She Had to Go and Lose It at the Astor" – Johnny Messner (1939) "She Was Only a Postmaster's Daughter" – Durium Dance Band (1933) **"Sheryl Crow" - Sheryl Crow (1996 album) ... Wal-Mart - The song "Love Is a Good Thing" contains the lyrics "Watch out sister, watch out brother, watch our children while they kill each other with a gun they bought at Walmart discount stores". "Sincerely" – Liberace (1955) ... BBC - "Sixty Minute Man" – The Dominoes (1951) ... BBC - sexually suggestive "Song of India" – Tommy Dorsey (1938) ... BBC - because it was based on a classical work, Rimsky-Korsakov's Sadko. "So What?" – Anti-Nowhere League (1981) ... BBC - obscene, contains the word fuck countless times, references to drugs, bestiality and STIs. "Soldier" – Harvey Andrews (1972) ... BBC - lest feelings be exacerbated in the nationalist community of Northern Ireland, or the British public be incited to attack innocent Irish people. The Ministry of Defence still advises British soldiers not to sing the song in pubs "Somebody Up There Likes Me" – Perry Como (1956) ... BBC - head of religious broadcasting objection . "Spasticus Autisticus" - Ian Dury (1981) ... BBC - deemed the lyrics offensive "Statue of Liberty" – XTC (1978) ... BBC - the lyrics "In my fantasy I sail beneath your skirt". 'Star Star' - Rolling Stones (1973) ... BBC - it contained the word "Star-fucker" in the chorus a dozen times. "St. Therese of the Roses" – Malcolm Vaughan (1956) ... BBC - head of religious broadcasting felt it was contrary to Catholic and Protestant beliefs "Stranger in Paradise" – The Four Aces (1953) ... BBC - "prohibited from broadcast due to unacceptable performance" disrespectful to the classics. "Street Fighting Man" - Rolling Stones (1968) ... several radio stations in Chicago, IL. - Authorities feared it might incite public disorder. "Such a Night" – Johnnie Ray (1954) ... BBC - lewd and suggestive "Summer Smash" – Denim (1997) ... EMI self-banned - the planned release date was in the same period when Princess Diana died by a car crash. T "Teen Angel" – Mark Dinning (1959) ... BBC - death song, too morbid. "Teenage Prayer" – Gale Storm (1955) "Tell Laura I Love Her" – Ray Peterson/Ricky Valance (1960) ... BBC - death song, too morbid. "Terry" – Twinkle (1964) ... BBC - death song, too morbid. "The Ballad Of John and Yoko" - The Beatles ... Spain/USA various radio stations - mention of crucifixion offended radio listeners. "The Battle of New Orleans" – Johnny Horton (1959) "The Blue Danube" – Spike Jones and His City Slickers (1945) ... BBC - takes liberties with a serious work of music "The Christening" – Arthur Askey (1943) "The Cover of Rolling Stone" – Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show (1973) "The Deck of Cards" – T. Texas Tyler (1948) "The Devil Is a Woman" – Herb Jeffries (1957) "The Foggy, Foggy, Dew" – Peter Pears (1950) "The Garden of Eden" – Frankie Vaughan (1957) ... BBC - song is "fairly blasphemous" "The Heel" – Eartha Kitt (1955) "The Man with the Golden Arm" – Eddie Calvert (1956) ... BBC - although it's an instrumental, the BBC objected to the sordid nature of the film!! "The Mocking Bird" – The Four Lads (1952) "The Monster Mash" - Bobby (Boris) Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers (1962) ... BBC - too morbid *** "The Next Day" - David Bowie (2013 video) ... Youtube (temporarily) - its graphic content "The Old Dope Peddler" – Tom Lehrer (1953) "The Reefer Song (If You're a Viper)" – Fats Waller (1943) "The Sabre Dance" – Woody Herman (1948) "The Shag (Is Totally Cool)" – Billy Graves (1958) ... BBC - the shag is a dance, but also it is slang for sexual intercourse "The Silver Madonna" – Kirk Stevens (1957) "The Sky" – Petula Clark (1957) "The Story of a Starry Night" – Glenn Miller (1954) ... BBC - distorted representation of the original Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony "The Story Of My Life" - Alma Cogan (1958) ... BBC - too morbid, refers to death "The Story of Three Loves" – Ray Martin (1957) "The Test of Time" – Robert Earl (1959) "The Tommy Rot Story" – Morris & Mitch (1957) "The Unbeliever" – Guy Mitchell (1957) "The Voice in My Heart" – Eydie Gormé (1958) "The Winker's Song" - Ivor Biggun (1978) ... BBC - sexual references "They're Coming to Take Me Away Ha-Haaa!" – Napoleon XIV (1966) "Three Stars" – Ruby Wright (1959) "Til the Following Night" – Screaming Lord Sutch (1961) "Till the End of Time" – Perry Como (1945) "Ting Tong Tang" – Ken Platt (1958) "To Keep My Love Alive" – Ella Fitzgerald (1956) "Toll the Bell Easy" – Les Hobeaux (1957) "Too Drunk to Fuck" – Dead Kennedys (1981) "Tribute to Buddy Holly" – Mike Berry and The Outlaws (1961) U ”Unknown Soldier” - The Doors () ... USA - political, the song’s anti-war stance. "Urban Guerrilla" – Hawkwind (1973) V W "Wake Up Little Suzie" - Everley Brothers ... USA certain stations - would influence and corrupt teenagers. "Walk Hand in Hand" – Tony Martin (1956) ... BBC - religous reasons, disrespectful to God. "We Call It Acieeed" – D-Mob (1988) "We Can't Let You Broadcast That" – Norman Long (1932) ... BBC - made fun of the BBC's policies of 'banning' recordings "(We Don't Need This) Fascist Groove Thang" – Heaven 17 (1981) ... BBC - concerns by Radio 1's legal department that it libeled Reagan. "We Have to Be So Careful" – The Beverley Sisters (1953) ... BBC - because it ridiculed BBC policy "We Will All Go Together When We Go" – Tom Lehrer (1959) "Wet Dream" – Max Romeo (1969) ... BBC - due to its lyrics which are of an explicit sexual nature "When I'm Cleaning Windows" – George Formby (1936) ... BBC - Sexual innuendo, too racy, "A disgusting little ditty" "Whoa Buck" – Lonnie Donegan (1959) "With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock" – George Formby (1937) "With My Little Ukelele in Hand" – George Formby (1933) "Woman Love" – Gene Vincent (1956) ... BBC - lyrics offensive and can't be understood. "Work With Me, Annie" - Hank Ballard & the Midnighters (1954) ... banned for radio play by the FCC. overtly sexual lyrics "Worried Man" - Kingston Trio (1959) ... BBC - didn’t like the word “closet” being used for “cupboard”. X Y "You'll Get Yours" – Frank Sinatra (1956) *** "You're All I Need" - Mötley Crüe (1987 video) ... MTV - because of the level of violence.

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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: Sinning Never Felt So Good : Chapter One : katyasbingowings

AN: a religious Matt and defiantly not religious Jason, mainly Pearlet with some cute lil Biadore and Trixya moments, hope you enjoy! :)

Matt would marry Jesus, if he had not been a male of course, or dead. Basically, Matt was your classic bible-loving, goody-two-shoes - one of the few students who attended St.Annes voluntarily, instead of being sent here to solve his delinquency. When he waved off his loving mother, Eve, and priest of a father, Adam (don’t ask), he giddily scanned his surroundings. Now, what Matt was expecting was equally thrilled peers, all ecstatic to be in such a religious and wonderful environment, cross necklaces, knee length skirts, the whole sha-bang. What Matt wasn’t expecting was an aura of pure misery, disgruntled goodbyes from both conflicted parents and children alike, at least four fellow students breathing out tar and nicotine, and defiantly not a brooding, long-haired figure examining him from afar - he could practically sense the dark-eyed gaze pierce his skin.

The skittish boy quickly focused his attention on the pebbled ground beneath him, now extremely self-aware of his actions and embarrassed that he was being watched - he could already tell that the boy was trouble (to be honest, Matt didn’t trust anyone who wore ripped jeans in the cold, it was simply illogical) and didn’t want their eye contact to be an invitation for interaction. When he glanced back up, the boy was gone, and Matt sighed in relief.

“Good arvo everyone! I’m Sister Courtney, follow me you bunch of you scamps and we’ll get you sorted out in no time!” Matt couldn’t help but giggle at the Australian slang that left everybody momentarily baffled, hearing some try to imitate - and completely butcher - the strong accent, before everyone eventually filled into the impressively large main hall. He was handed his timetable, a list of rules, and a key to his dorm. ‘BLOCK C - ROOM 4’: his new home.

Accompanied by a smile that hadn’t left Matt’s face since he arrived, the brunette practically skipped along to his new quarters, unlocking the door and bursting through with an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm. The first thing he noticed was the two single beds, quickly realising that he would be sharing the bedroom with a complete stranger, the idea somewhat worried the young one, but as a good Christian Matt would welcome his new friend with open arms. Beginning to unpack, the naive boy prayed he would be paired with someone nice, they’d say grace together each morning and night, share bread, and do whatever other religious nonsense running though the poor boy’s mind.

***

Jason wanted three things in life: a carton of cigarettes, designer clothes and a free pass at life. With a personality perfectly fit for reality TV, and a face for it too (as he would tell you), him and St.Annes didn’t seem like the ideal match. For one, he was far from religious, convinced he’d begin frothing at the mouth if he even stepped within fifty feet of a church. He wasn’t frothing yet, so at least that’s a positive. ‘Out of all the boarding schools they could have sent me to, why did it have to be one that bust a nut over the Old Testament’, Jason sighed at his thoughts and examined the endless list of rules that he was not planning on biding by.

While Matt had paid zero attention to the rule list, having already researched all the guidelines weeks in advance (his nightmare would be disrespecting the school on his first day after all), Jason viewed them in disgust:

1. No smoking  2. No drugs or other illegal substances  3. No alcohol  4. No visible piercings  5. No leaving dorms after curfew  6. No sexual activity  7. No leaving the school grounds  8. No chewing gum  9. Uniform must be worn at all times during school hours  10. No excessive makeup

Before he even finished the figurative novel of restrictions in front of him, a swamp-green haired female voiced his own thoughts, “this is bullshit.” Pretty much summed it all up.

“I second that,” Jason agreed, now fully examining the oddity beside him. She was tall, easily towering above him, the black knee-high heels probably helped that fact, but Jason knew he’d still be looking up at her even with them off. The mermaid-esque creature was also doused in various shades of glitter, as if she bathed in the shiny flakes before leaving the house. She was basically a mix between a cartoon character and doll, which both intrigued and amused Jason.

She turned towards his voice, smiling widely, joyed to discover a fellow punk-rock, party-lover who was ready to throw these rules aside and actually make their time in this shithole an enjoyable one. “I’m Adore!”

“Adore? We’re your parents high when naming you or did they just hate you?” Jason cackled, blatantly demonstrating his lack of filter, luckily Adore was too high (on life and life alone) to care about Jason’s rude demeanour.

“Well my parents named me Danny, but I thought Adore was a more suited for a mythical beauty from another world like myself,” she adjusted her shorts that had began to ride up, somehow higher than they already were, and continued bantering with her new friend. Jason introduced himself also, and the two quickly realised they had both been banished to St.Annes under the same reasoning: smoking, partying and sucking dick. The twosome were shedding tears of laughter after this realisation, earning strange looks from a silver-haired boy clutching onto a leather- bound bible with dear life, and a disgruntled demand to shush from Sister Courtney.

After a solid ten minutes the pair had calmed down, Adore pulled a cigarette from her bra, gestured to the door as an invitation, though Jason just shook his head. “I’m gonna check out my roomie, make sure he’s not a psycho bible-basher,” the dark-haired boy explained, “and to check if he’s cute,” he added with a wink. Adore dismissed him by merely stating ‘party’ and strolling off.

***

Matt was a stickler for rules, and they were specifically instructed to find their rooms and get unpacked immediately, so when his roomie was still vacant after a generous half an hour, Matt knew the pairing were not going to be compatible. He, however, had already changed into the uniform provided, reread the rules twice - just to make sure, and secured his own personal cross above his bed.

Dinner was in an hour, and just as Matt’s frustration over a lack of company grew, the door opened. Opened was a loose term, thrown would probably suit the action better, as the door slammed into the wall with such a force that Matt’s treasured cross was knocked onto the soft comforter below. Matt released an almost comical gasp, immediately rushing over to fix it back in its rightful place, all while Jason stared at the boy.

At that moment, Jason went through a spiral of emotions. His venture began with amusement, what could he say, this vulnerable religious boy cooing over a mere cross was considerably amusing. Then annoyance, realising that he was forced to room with a stuck-up freak whose kink was the bible - he brought his own cross from home, who brings more crosses to a bloody religious school, it’s not like they needed anymore. Though Jason could just about put up with all of that, as that boy was unbelievably attractive and Jason was easily won over (that’s a nicer way of phrasing that Matt’s face alone made him undeniably ‘excited’).

‘God I haven’t talked to you, like at all, maybe that one time when I broke my leg and thought I was going to die, but that’s beside the point. I want to send my most grateful thanks for creating that boy’s face, that is all. A-to-the-fuckin-men.’

Matt immediately recognised his new roommate as the boy who had stared him down earlier, the one who must have cold knees from the impractical rips in his trousers, and to be honest, the milky-skinned creature observing him again made him undeniably agitated. Though the bible preached finding the positive aspects in everybody you encounter, so he had no choice but to give the obvious delinquent the benefit of the doubt. “Hello there, I’m Matt! I guess we’ll be roommates for a while, so we best get used to each other!”

To Jason, this was a higher dose of enthusiasm than he could handle, so he merely muttered ‘Jason’ and threw himself onto the leftover, unclaimed mattress. Every time Matt’s peppy voice piped up, Jason merely grunted in reply, and eventually fell asleep to a truly fascinating tale about a pregnant choir singer.

“And so she was in the middle of the chorus, and her water broke, right there in the middle of church, and -”

***

Jason was disgusted by what this church considered food, so with a plate stacked with cross shaped tator-tots, he searched for somebody who wasn’t going to rant about Satan (or whatever religious people spent their free time discussing). He soon recognised Adore sat next to scrawny blonde woman, and joined the pair.

“Hey baby girl!” Adore welcomed as he sat opposite the other-worldly individual, “I was gonna order pizza cause the foods tastes like actual arse, but the nearest place apparently got yelled at by Courtney the last time they brought pizza here or some shit, and now they’re too scared to come back.”

“But that is not the even best part, Adoor, you offered to eat his pepperoni do you not remember,” Jason cackled along with the tale, and immediately clocked the thick Russian accent the woman sported, “I go by the name of Katya in this American land my friend, and you?”

“Jason. Are you from Russia?” He asked, pushing the so called 'food’ around his plate, pizza honestly sounded so good right now.

“No Shit Sherlock,” Adore drawled sarcastically, causing Jason to playfully kick her beneath the table, before turning his attention back to his new acquaintance.

“No, no, Adoor this is a sensible question, I could have been from many a place. But yes I am from Russia, though I much prefer the Americas, it’s not as cold so I do not have to wear so much fur of the dead animal!”

The conversation continued along that nature, Jason soon learning that Katya and Adore ended up being roommates, and Jason venting about his extremely attractive yet bible-worshipping roomie, until the one and only topic of conversation strolled past. Matt’s eyes were frantically darting around, trying to find an empty table to perch at to avoid awkward conversations with strangers, he was having no luck in the matter.

“Thats him,” Jason pointed out, and he kid you not, Adore and Katya were the least subtle people to ever walk the halls of St.Annes, case in point:

“That one?” Katya asked, arm stretched and pointed directly at the brunette, Matt and all those around him turning to towards her, curious to what spectacle was occurring in the previously lifeless dining hall.

“Jason you were right that man right there is bomb.com.org.co.uk,” Adore voiced, which - again - everyone overheard. Even the neighbouring table agreed, muttering various compliments under their breaths towards the baffled Matt.

“His bum bum is very cute,” Katya just had to add. Adore hummed in approval. And who’s kidding, Jason also hummed in approval.

Matt was completely frazzled by half the hall of students gazing his way, all apparently appreciating his arse and gawking at his physical appearance. Matt looked for the source of commotion, and of course, he made eye contact with a smirking Jason seated at a nearby table, partnered by two fairly unconventional looking women. Be a good Christsin Matt, be nice, smile, and be on your way. As he was about to saunter off as far away from the scene as he could, Jason gestured for him to take a seat. Matt swallowed, hard.

’Weird company is better than no company I guess.’ Matt thought, quietly sitting down beside his new roommate.

#pearl liaison #violet chachki #adore delano #bianca del rio #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #pearlet #biadore #trixya #au #sinning never felt so good #katyasbingowings #rpdr fanfiction #submission #m/m au

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sunaddicted · 7 years

Text

Shattering Stars (00qad)

Shattering Stars Q knew his lovers were just worried about him - understandably so since he had been hiding in the guest room for a whole week and barely spoke or ate - but their anxious glances and pleading inquiries made his nerves thrum with irrational anger, driving him progressively closer to snapping; when he felt his vocal chords itch with the need of shouting at them to shut the fuck up and leave him alone, Q gathered one of his cats in his arms and hid his face in their fluffy fur, using their possessive streaks as a shield. But cats weren't admitted at the dining table - James had been stern on that particular rule when they had all moved in together - so, he was left alone to fend for himself during breakfast. Danny attempted to card his clumsy fingers through his unruly curls but Q shied away from his tender touch: he was absolutely sure that his composure would go down the drain as soon as one of his lovers caressed him, making his impassive mask crumble to dust and leaving him defenceless against the despair eating him alive from the insides "Love, what's wrong?" Danny pleaded, eyes shining with tears and lips quivering, pain and worry etched allover his familiar features. Q let his fingers go slack around the fork and winced as its clattering against the china resonated unbelievably loud in the quietness of their kitchen "I need to get dressed" he stated coldly, eyes downcast to avoid looking at James' tired and troubled face and hiding from Alex's inquisitive gaze. On his way to the guest room, he stopped only to pick a mewling Turing up from the floor before his fussing could get on James' already thin nerves: he wouldn't hurt the cat but Q didn't want to unnerve him more than he already was. He closed the door behind his back, turning the key in the lock to silently attest his need for loneliness and to put a layer between himself and the chaos he knew was going to happen in the kitchen. Q heard a plate shatter in the sink and vividly imagined Danny shaking fingers clumsily dropping it, fingers that surely were tugging at his hair while his desperate sobs filled their silent flat; then a chair fell loudly to the floor, the beautifully carved wood no doubt splintering because of the hard impact, as if James had stood up with too much force from it - Alex would have never made such a racket, even while troubled by something; the more rational of his lovers was probably attempting to calm Danny down as he shot a reproaching glance at a maddeningly pacing James. Q curled on the messy sheets he hadn't bothered to change and blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling on his cheeks, scratching Turing behind his twitching ears to reassure the worried cat even as he quietly hyperventilated: he didn't want to hurt them - he loved them more than anyone in the world; he wished he could open up, tell them why he was hurting so much, but they couldn't know a thing about his past and his family: he couldn't tell them his mother had died asking after the son she hadn't seen in ten years. Q had had a fairly peaceful relationship with his mother, despite the fact warmth wasn't in her nature; she was supportive and open minded, even towards his homosexuality and weird interest in computers, and it was thanks to her interference that he and his father had managed to interact without screaming abuse at each other. He missed her lilting voice that sang senseless lyrics while she did the chores and her twinkling laughter that made even his stern father crack a delighted smile; he missed the clogging scent of her rose-perfumed shampoo that tenaciously clung to her clothes and the crisp fragrance of the coffee she brewed for her sisters when they came to visit; he missed the way she would inquire after what he was tinkering with even if she didn't understand a fraction of his excited explanations and the proud kisses she would bestow on his brow; he missed the calls she made every Sunday to make sure he wasn't being overworked or starving; he missed the horrible jumpers she knitted for him every Christmas. He missed having a mother - a feeling his lovers would have understood well: James barely remembered his parents, Alex's family was so twisted up that he never had a 'mother' as commonly intended and Danny had spent his childhood in an unloving home, striving to be a good son. Q shook his head and forced himself to get dressed, knowing that James was waiting for him so he could drive him to headquarters. He threw on a pair of wrinkled trousers that he was sure were Danny's and a fluffy sweater Alex had gifted him for his birthday, uncaring of how the colours and patterns clashed vividly: geek chic justified almost everything. As soon as he got out of the room, James wrapped him in a scarf, subtly scanning his torso and frowning darker as he counted the bones under his digits "So thin" he muttered mournfully as he eased Q's limbs in a heavy coat; Q itched to point out he was well past the age of needing someone to dress him up, but wisely kept his mouth shut and let James care for him. Alex patiently smiled at him from the other half of the room, respecting his wish of lack of physical contact; Q couldn't fathom why everyone assumed he was some kind of unfeeling machine: of the four of them, Alex was the only one who could easily tune on the others' moods and act accordingly. Danny gave him a small Tupperware box, blabbering something about almond biscuits covered in white chocolate "Please, eat something" Q had to recognise Danny could be sneaky when he wanted: he knew he couldn't resist eating sweets, especially those Danny himself had baked. Q clenched his fingers around the box and let James steer him out of home, his spine stiffening under the gentle touch of his calloused hand "I need to pick some tea up: we're out of Earl Grey in Q-branch" James hummed as they slipped into the car "There's a Tesco on our way to headquarters" He reached for the touchscreen of the radio "Can I turn the music on?" he asked, remembering how music tended to unnerve Q whenever he was in a mood; at his nod, James selected a piece by Rachmaninoff he knew Q was particularly fond of and tried to pretend everything was fine. *** Q wasn't particularly surprised to be picked up from work by Alex and quickly slipped into the car to warm himself, letting Dvorak's "Romance for piano and violin, op. 11" wash the hectic day away from his mind. "You know we love you and you can tell us anything, don't you?" The words rolled down Alex's tongue smoothly, startling Q who hadn't been expecting Alex to 'attack'. "My mother died last Monday" Q blurted out and bit down on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt pain mercilessly shred his heart: saying it out aloud definitely was worse than consciously thinking about it. He felt the car sensibly gain speed and Q was grateful for Alex's prompt reaction and lacking of pitying words: now that he had let the truth slip from his mouth, he wanted nothing more than to curl in bed with his lovers and cry while cocooned in their welcoming and protective warmth. When they walked in their home, Danny immediately crowded Q, fingers fluttering against his stubbled cheeks to dry the tears that kept spilling from those jade-green irises "What happened? Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?" he blabbered in a panicked voice, looking at Alex for guidance. "His mother died last Monday" "Oh, love" Danny sighed, immediately calming down and enveloping Q in a hug "You didn't need to keep it for yourself" Q hid his face in Danny's neck and breathed in the smell of the tomato soup he had been making for dinner "I-I've eaten the biscuits" he stammered while sniffling wetly. "Were they any good? I tried out a new recipe" Danny tried to make Q focus in something else as he and Alex steered him towards the couch. Q let himself be ensconced inbetween his lovers "I liked them" He sniffled some more and accepted the handkerchief Alex offered him "James?" "Out" "Where?" Alex shrugged "Who knows" The disapproval in his voice suggested that he thought James was out drinking "He's not picking up our calls" Q nodded and kissed his frowning mouth "That's how he deals with everything that emotionally troubles him" he sighed before dipping his tongue into Alex's mouth, tasting peppermint. "You should call James, he'll answer to you" Danny pointed out while getting rid of Q's scarf and rubbing his nose against the slightly sweaty skin of his neck "And possibly come home before drinking himself into oblivion" Q extracted his mobile from the pocket of his coat and dialled the number he knew by heart, counting Alex's heartbeats to keep track of how long it took James to answer. "Q, love, is something wrong?" James' voice came through crystalline and clearly still sober. "Could you come home?" he asked "I'm not hurt" he quickly added, not wanting to make James uselessly worry "I just need all my men with me" Q confessed, his voice wavering as tears threatened to spill again. "Give me ten minutes, love" *** James walked in the dark flat, not panicking only because of the music he could hear coming from the bedroom; he had never been a fan of the classical genre, but living with two men who greatly appreciated it, he had grown fonder of that type of music and even recognised his favourites - such as Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" playing in the dark. He quietly made his way towards the bedroom, shoes in hand in order to make as less noise as possible in case his lovers had fallen asleep. When he peeked in, a smile blossomed on his mouth at the sight of Q lightly snoring, curled on Alex's chest and holding hands with Danny: their bed had looked almost empty without Q sprawled in it, hogging the blankets and the pillows and whining that the middle was his rightful place. James got rid of his clothes and slipped under the covers on the other side of Alex. As if sensing his presence, Q grumbled in his sleep and wriggled in James' arms, kicking Danny in the ribs and elbowing Alex's cheekbone in the process "I'm here, love" he whispered as he gathered him closer to his chest. Q blinked owlishly "James" The younger man sniffled "James, my mother is dead" James squeezed Q harder and kissed his eyelids; he was torn between being glad Q was alright - he had started to fear he wanted do break up with them or worse, that he had discovered he had some kind of incurable sickness - and being sad for his loss "I love you, sunshine" he uttered in the end, knowing that only tune and support would chase the pain away. Gratefully, Q kissed him and fell asleep counting his heartbeats.

#my writing #my fic #00qad #00q #dannylex #007 #james bond #Q #quartermaster #danny holt #alex turner #london spy #bond verse #grief #angst #i found this #it was finished #but I never posted it

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