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densi-mber · 3 years

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Magic Deal

A/N: Kensi and Deeks build their friendship during a roadtrip on Chirstmas Eve. Set around Season 3.

Day 11: Kensi/Deeks trying to cheer up or take care of the other after a rough day.

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The outcome of their last op took them to San Francisco. Well, not the outcome but Callen and Sam’ statement, ‘we are the senior agents, we choose who gets a 382 miles drive’. After nine days working on their last case, the team recovered weapons and classified intel that were stolen in a Freemont’s precinct, which had to be delivered safely along with the NCIS agent that joined them to coordinate the operation.

Unfortunately, the military plane that took Kensi, Deeks and Special Agent Heck to San Francisco was not available for a return trip, as any other commercial flight for the next 3 days. December 24th could be a bit of a problem for making last minute reservations, being a car trip the only option to return to LA in time for Christmas. Deeks loved the idea of spending a six hours drive with Kensi, annoying her with games, questions and Christmas songs, but alone in the car he could sense that something was bothering her.

‘’Little Saint Nick’ is by far the best song for the holidays, it has nice background music, it’s cheerful and it has history. It’s really important to know Santa’s routine on his big night. What do you say?’ He had rambled about Christmas songs and their contribution to the “merry spirit” for five minutes now. She was still silent.

‘If you say so.’ Kensi said as she watched the sunset in the passenger seat. She was distracted and distant, exhaustion taking over her as they were finally alone. Their partnership didn’t begin as peaceful and joyous as Hetty expected, but they were slowly becoming comfortable with each other and learning to relax as friends during the day brakes.

‘Hey, I get that you’re tired, but you haven’t complained about my non-stopping talk yet and you look like the girl in sad movies that stares at the old house while moving out, are you okay?’

She turned to him, surprised at his worried tone. ‘Yeah, I’m just…tired, that’s all.’

‘Sure…you’re sad because everyone is having a feast at OPS while you’re stuck with protein bars and old peanuts until our next stop. Come on partner, what’s wrong?’

Kensi sighted, she hoped their long trip would make him less persistent in his eagerness to know everything that was passing through her mind. Of course he couldn’t just let it go.

‘I told you, just tired.’

‘If you tell me I’ll be quiet for the next fifteen minutes. That’s a great offer.’ He smiled, then looked at her trying to lighten her mood just a bit.

She glanced at him, ‘As if I was listening to you…’ Cocky remark, better than silence.

‘Hurtful, Kens…hey, you can’t expect me to share a long tedious ride with you like this. Besides, it’s almost Christmas, you have to spread love and happiness. Just tell me, I’ll give you a great piece of advice and all your problems will be solved, magic deal.’ She could tell he was really trying to have an honest conversation. He was willing to offer her some peace of mind, but her habit of keeping feelings to herself was solid.

‘Why do you want to know so badly?’ Once again, her voice had a different tone.

‘You’re obviously upset. I just want to cheer you up, that’s all.’ No jokes, no teasing, he meant it. ‘But you know what? It doesn’t matter, I wa-’

‘Deeks…’ She cut him, afraid that she bothered him. He was nice and friendly, and she was being harsh to him in return, great. ‘I’m sorry, I’m…I’m not used to this. I appreciate it, I really do, but talking and sharing is not my thing.’ She looked at him, wishing to express more than she could with words.

‘Okay, not sharing then. Plan B.’

‘What’s plan B?’

A wide smile appeared on his face and as he turned up the music he proudly announced his plan, ‘Bribing you with food it is, my little sad companion.’

They stopped for pizza at a service area. As they shared a large Carbonara Special he began a light chat about abandoning their life as federal agents and travelling all over the State, discovering forgotten places and rescuing every dog they would come across. They talked about the countries they would like to visit and about their favorite TV shows; after that, they bet the last piece of pizza at rock, paper, scissor. She obviously won, west coast rules could be tricky. Deeks’ carefree attitude and the food made her relax, and maybe even smile a bit when they fought like eight years old kids about their dream car and which one was better.

They returned to the car to fill up the gas before leaving when ‘Take on me’ began playing on the radio. Deeks danced and singed with great delight as if nobody was watching while she was crying from laughter at his total lack of shyness. She thought she was about to die of laughter when an old lady smiled and approached to him, dancing at the end of the song. Satisfied with his performance, he paid, congratulated Louise for her great moves and joined Kensi to continue with their trip. He was really something.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled softly at him. He made her laugh, forget and changed completely her mood. Kensi realized that no one had never put so much effort to know her. Deeks could be prying, but he was respectful and patient, making her comfortable enough to share untold stories or information that either Callen or Sam knew, she slowly opened up to him. She trusted him with her safety, sure she could trust him with her friendship.

‘Christmas is always a hard time, kind of a painful reminder that I failed my Dad and that I couldn’t fight hard enough for Jack. Since my Dad left, I’ve never really celebrated it.’ Looking shyly at her hands, she ate the last protein bar waiting for his reaction.

‘Like the Grinch but sexier?’ Her laugh filled the car once again. Deeks searched for her eyes, smiling softly, almost whispering. ‘If you want I can dance for you in the middle of a gas station as a new tradition for Christmas.’

‘Weren’t you even the slightest embarrassed?’ Kensi couldn’t believe he would share such an over-the-top performance in front of three families and an astonished cashier without even blushing.

‘It made you laugh, didn’t it?’ And for that, it was worth all the effort.

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Merry Christmas to all the NCIS: LA Familia¡ Here’s my annual contribution to Densi-mber.

@densi-mber once again thank you for planning (as every year) such an amazing month full of Densi goodness and inspiring ideas, you’re all great¡

#submission #thank you!#ncisla-westaytogether

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ncisla-westaytogether · 3 years

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Magic deal

A/N: Here comes my annual contribution to Densi-mber. Set between Seasons 3-5.

Day 11: Kensi/Deeks trying to cheer up or take care of the other after a rough day.

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‘Hey, I get that you’re tired, but you haven’t complained about my non-stopping talk yet and you look like the girl in sad movies that stares at the old house while moving out, are you okay?’

She turned to him, surprised at his worried tone. ‘Yeah, I’m just…tired, that’s all.’

‘Sure…you’re sad because everyone is having a feast at OPS while you’re stuck with protein bars and old peanuts until our next stop. Come on partner, what’s wrong?’

Kensi sighted, she hoped their long trip would make him less persistent in his eagerness to know everything that was passing through her mind. Of course he couldn’t just let it go.

‘I told you, just tired.’

‘If you tell me I’ll be quiet for the next fifteen minutes. That’s a great offer.’ He smiled, then looked at her trying to lighten her mood just a bit.

She glanced at him, ‘As if I was listening to you…’ Cocky remark, better than silence.

‘Why do you want to know so badly?’ Once again, her voice had a different tone.

‘You’re obviously upset. I just want to cheer you up, that’s all.’ No jokes, no teasing, he meant it. ‘But you know what? It doesn’t matter, I wa-’

‘Okay, not sharing then. Plan B.’

‘What’s plan B?’

A wide smile appeared on his face and as he turned up the music he proudly announced his plan, ‘Bribing you with food it is, my little sad companion.’

‘It made you laugh, didn’t it?’ And for that, it was worth all the effort.

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Merry Christmas to all the NCIS: LA Familia¡

@densi-mber thank you for planning (as every year) such an amazing month full of Densi goodness and inspiring ideas, you’re all great¡

#Densi-mber #Densi #drabble #fic #i wrote a thing #May contain real life situations #sorry for any mistakes

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ejzah · 4 years

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A/N: Here is another story about Deeks attending FLETC. A couple people had requested Deeks being somewhat known or famous for the Sidorov case. I already wrote one fic on that theme, but why not have more.

In some ways, this is highly indulgent on my part. There is mention of some vaguely graphic things given the subject matter. And some angst, as usual.

***

Request

“Marty Deeks!” Deeks paused in the middle of the hallway, turning to find Special Instructor Daniel Flores with his head sticking out of his office. Flores taught, among other things, a series of trainings dealing with mental health and the psychological aspects that came with law enforcement. Deeks already had a class on counseling victims with him the week before.

“Deeks, can I speak with you for a minute?” Flores asked, waiting expectantly.

“Uh, sure,” Deeks said, trying not to show his reluctance. He’d been hoping to grab some lunch before his next class, but he was still leery of rocking the boat too much. He was two weeks in and the last thing he needed was to piss off one of the instructors who seemed to like him.

He switched directions and jogged over to Flores, who was waiting just inside the doorway with his Sam-esque arms crossed over his chest. His gray hair was buzzed short, adding to the overall no nonsense attitude. From Deeks’ brief experience, he was tough but usually fair.

“Good afternoon, sir, what can I do for you?” Deeks asked politely. He could just imagine Kensi laughing her head off at his deference.

“Have a seat.” Flores gestured to one of the metal seats in front of his desk. He didn’t sit in the more comfortable looking desk chair, but instead stood in front of Deeks, scrutinizing him several long, uncomfortable moments. “You nervous?”

“Actually, I’m having flashbacks to being called down to the principal’s office.” Flores barked out a laugh at that, nodding in apparent appreciation.

“I like your sense of humor, Deeks,” he said. “Most of the kids in here are so tense they look like they’re about to have an aneurysm.”

“It probably helps that I’ve had some experience,” Deeks said with a shrug and Flores snorted loudly, leaning with his back against the front of his desk.

“Some? Kid, you worked on an NCIS team for what, 10-12 years? You probably could be teaching some of these classes.”

Deeks smiled a little. He tried to keep his connection with NCIS to himself as much as possible. Given the rules that were waived to get him into FLETC in the first place, it seemed in his best interest to try and keep a low profile. He never knew when someone who has a grudge against Hetty, him, or just their team in general might decide to act on those feelings. And he only had one shot at this.

“That’s right, Sir.” When Flores continued to look at him expectantly, he added, “I started out as a detective with the LAPD and then was brought in as a liaison between the two agencies.”

“That’s what I read,” Flores said, his expression speculative. “You were employed by LAPD until earlier this year when they cut your position due to restructuring.”

“You’ve been looking into my history?” Deeks asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. In his experience, it was never a good thing when people started searching without due cause.

“Don’t look so worried, I’ve only heard good things about you. Well, there were an awful lot of comments about your hair, but that’s the least of my problems.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Deeks with an expression he couldn’t identify. If he was pressed he might say it was something like respect. “I actually knew about you before you came here. It took me a minute to place you when I read your name in the lineup, but as soon as I saw you, I knew.”

“Knew what, Sir?” Instead of answering, Flores grabbed a booklet with the FLETC logo on it and flipped to a dog-eared page.

“Did you know that we use real-life cases for many of training scenarios?” he asked.

“Yes,” Deeks answered slowly not really following the non-sequitur. “I’m not sure where this is leading, Sir.” Flores handed him the book, nodding to the page he’d turned to.

“You’re featured in one of them.” Only years of practice and conditioning kept Deeks from flinching as he glanced down at the page.

There was a full color picture, in nauseating detail, of him post fun times with Sidorov and his drill. God, he’d forgotten about all the blood, how swollen his jaw was. His hand was halfway to his mouth before he caught himself and hastily dropped it to his knee.

He stared at the picture for several moments, the words surrounding the image blurring together. It must have been taken immediately after the paramedics arrived. He didn’t remember anyone having a camera. Then again, parts of that day were entirely missing from his memory, some horribly vivid and forever burned into his psyche.

His hand trembled a little as he flipped to the next page, which fortunately didn’t have any more pictures of him. Deeks caught the words “dental” and “trauma” and forced himself not to clench his jaw.

“I, uh, I had no idea I was so famous,” he muttered flatly. “Why are you showing me this?” Deeks finally glanced up at Flores, who looked sympathetic, but also strangely eager.

“I was already an instructor here when this happened. One of my buddies worked with your team on the case and I’ll never forget how he sounded when he described the torture you and Agent Hanna survived. He quit after that,” Flores explained. His tone was casual, almost conversational, and Deeks was suddenly angry.

“Well, I’m really enjoying this, but I have another class in 30 minutes and I haven’t eaten lunch yet.” Actually, he felt fairly nauseous, but he needed to leave before he embarrassed himself or said something he couldn’t take back. He tossed the booklet to Flores, not caring when it smacked against the desk and crumpled to the floor.

“Deeks, I didn’t do this to bring back bad memories for you,” Flores said, grabbing for his arm. Deeks jerked away before he made contact and he dropped his hand, seeming to realize the foolishness of the action.

“Then why did you? You had to know this wouldn’t go down well.”

“I started teaching this course about six years ago. I pushed to have this case, to have you, included as once of the studies. It is horrific. And that’s why I knew I needed to show it to incoming agents. Nothing is as effective at showing what is possible as cases like this.”

Deeks was still not happy with him, but he understood the point he was making.

“And this was the best way you could think of to break it to me?” he asked. Flores actually looked a little embarrassed at that.

“I’ve never had a student with your experience before and I wanted to make sure you weren’t thrown off guard in class,” he said.

“Yeah, you, uh, might want to work on your technique a little. Cause this leaves something to be desired.”

“Point taken.” Flores paused, seeming weirdly hesitant to add whatever else he wanted to say. “I also had an ulterior motive for showing you this.” He held up the wrinkled book. “Sometimes I have guest speakers present and if you’re up to it, I’d like you to talk about your experience with Siderov.”

Deeks stared at him in disbelief for a moment and then started laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“No offense, Sir, but most people try and keep me far away from any type of recruit,” Deeks said, figuring they were past the point of tiptoeing around each other. Flores had certainly crossed that line. “I think it’s something to do with the hair and a failure to properly respect authority figures”

“And I bet neither of those things mattered much when you were letting that guy drill holes in your mouth to protect a colleague,” Flores observed. This time Deeks didn’t wince, but he still didn’t appreciate the images bouncing around in his head.

“I was tied down with two guys holding my head and some kind of torture device-and I mean that literally-in my mouth. I wasn’t in a position to “let” anyone do anything.”

He saw Flores grimace, but he didn’t seem shocked by Deeks’ description.

“You could have talked. You could have given in, but you didn’t and I admire that.” He stepped forward, holding out his hand and Deeks shook it robotically. “I’ll give you a couple days to decide what you want to do. Either way, know that I respect you, Deeks.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Deeks muttered, shaking his head a final time before he escaped from the room.

***

A/N: I probably shouldn’t offer, but should I do another part?

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #Deeks at fletc #tw: trauma #angst #ejzah fanfiction

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euthymiaei · 4 years

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Gibbs- Out of D.C. Part 2

!Gif not mine!

Here’s part 2! I was going to make it more angsty but I decided to continue with the fluff.

Word Count: 1705

Warnings: Fluff and (?) Angst

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About six hours later, you were in L.A. and damn was it hot. You hadn't realized how hot it was because of the weather in D.C. but you assumed that it was, without a doubt, hotter than what you were used. You really hoped that Gibbs packed shorts and t-shirts for you. You grabbed your bags and went outside to hail a taxi, but a silver SUV pulled up in front of you before any taxi could even see you. "Special Agent Y/L/N?" The window of the SUV rolled down and you saw your best friend. "Kensi!" You exclaimed as she got out of the car and came around to hug you. "Welcome back to L.A. Y/N. Hetty was going to send Callen to pick you up but we both know that he would have gotten here by nightfall. So, I offered to pick you up instead!" Kensi smiled at you and helped you put your bags in the car. "Alright, ready to see the new office?" She asked as you both got in the car. "New office? What happened to the old one?" You looked over at her curiously. "We needed more space. This one looks better anyways. I think your phone is ringing." You took your phone out of your pocket and sure enough, it was ringing. "Y/N! Are you ok? Did you get there safely?" Gibbs started asking you questions before you could even say hi. "Yes, I'm fine! Kensi came to pick me up from the airport." You laughed a bit at his concern. "This isn't funny Y/N, I was really worried about you." He sounded slightly annoyed and you felt bad. "Sorry. I didn't think you'd be so worried, that's all." You hadn't meant for him to panic just because you didn't call to let him know that you had arrived. 'It's fine. I've gotta go, let me know if you need anything ok?" He sounded worried suddenly. "Will do. Love you, be safe." You hung up and put your phone back in your pocket. "So, who was that? A lover?" Kensi asked teasingly as she pulled into the office. "I'm not telling you." You said and she laughed. "Well, we're here. The new building. Everyone's waiting for you inside." She led you inside and you were in awe. The new office was absolutely stunning. It was so much bigger than the old one, two floors, and it was so spacious. You could see Hetty coming towards you and you smiled. You missed your late-night conversations with her. "Y/N, it's so good to have you back." She said as she walked towards you and shook your hand. "It's good to be back!" You smiled at her and looked around. "I like the new look." "Yes, well, I realized that we needed more space as our team grew. Now then, I do believe we have a case to solve. Ms. Blye will take you up." Hetty waved and you took that as your cue to go upstairs with Kensi. "Hey guys, guess who I brought with me." Kensi said as you both walked into OPS. "Y/N, it's been so long!" Callen said as he walked over to you and hugged you. "Way too long." You replied as you hugged him back. "Where's Sam?" You looked around the room and noticed that he wasn't there. "He's doing some workouts downstairs. Eric went to get him." Callen said as Sam and Eric walked in. "Hey, Y/N!" Sam walked over to you and hugged you while Eric pulled up the case. "Now that Y/N is here, we can start." Eric smiled at you and you nodded. The case was a bit complicated. A German arms group had just landed in Los Angeles and they were looking for people to work with them. That's where you came in. The group had already spotted the team so none of them could go undercover. You were the only person who could go, and it helped that you spoke German. "Alright, when do I go in?" You asked and they all looked at Callen. "I'd have to clear it with Hetty- " "You can go right now, Y/N." Hetty cut him off as she walked into OPS. You nodded and went downstairs with Kensi to prepare. You would be lying if you said that you weren't nervous. Undercover missions can be tricky, especially when it's dealing with Russians or Germans. You grabbed your gear and let Hetty dress you up in a well-tailored suit. "Alright Y/N, you ready to go?" Callen walked over to you and placed his hand on your shoulder in a comforting way. "I think so. Or rather, I hope so." You gave him a weak smile. "You'll be fine. Hetty is letting you borrow one of her classic cars." Callen stepped back and Hetty held the keys to one of her cars out to you. "1967 Mustang. If you damage it, you're paying for the repairs." She sounded serious but she was smiling so you couldn't tell whether she was joking or not. "She is joking...right?" You asked Callen after Hetty left. "Probably not. Alright, you've gotta go." He gave you a quick hug and you went out to the back. A brilliantly restored red Mustang was waiting for you. It was probably the best car that you had ever seen. And had the privilege of driving. You got in and started the car. The engine roared and you felt so alive. You had to remind yourself not to speed because it was a standard car. You drove to the location that Eric had given you. When you got there, two men stood on both sides of your car and waited for you to get out. Once you did, they frisked you, took your gun, and led you to the group. "Amari Remington, what a pleasure to have you join us." One of the men greeted you and you smiled at him. "Thank you, I've been looking forward to meeting you." You stood there, unsure of what to do. "I've seen your file. Very impressive. You could have been an amazing partner." He nodded to one of his bodyguards, signaling him to take out his gun. "If only you weren't an agent. Leave no evidence behind." He smiled coldly at you. His guard started shooting at you so you hid behind a pillar. You didn't know how long you'd be able to hold out, especially without a gun. "Y/N, we're on our way in!" Callen shouted as he and the others came in shooting. Apparently, the guard had some buddies who were hiding. As soon as your team came in, they came out shooting. Sam and Callen were behind the pillar opposite yours. Deeks ran over to you and handed you a gun. "You ok?" He asked as he peeked his head out to see where the guys were. "Yeah, I am now." You did the same on the other side. "Alright, on three, we're going to rush them. Kensi, take out the guy in the back. Ready?" Callen called out through coms. "Ready!" You all responded. "One...two...three!" Like planned, you all ran out and shot the guards. Kensi took out the guy in the back, you and Deeks took out the guys on your side and Callen and Sam took out the guys on their side. Everything worked out fine. Except for one thing. "Y/N!" Callen shouted as you collapsed on the ground. You had been shot. "Hey, you're gonna be fine! Eric, I need an ambulance now!" He shouted as he ran over to you. "Callen...call Gibbs." You said slowly as you felt the pain get worse. Callen took your phone out from your pocket and called Gibbs. After three rings, he answered. He sounded fine as he spoke. "Y/N, you ok?" He asked and you felt yourself start to cry. "Jethro, I'm sorry. I wasn't good enough." You whispered into the phone and realization hit him. <I wasn't good enough> was the code you two agreed to use if you were ever dying. "No, no Y/N don't-" His voice broke as he started crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, Jethro." You felt yourself losing consciousness. The ambulance arrived and you handed the phone to Callen. You didn't want to leave Gibbs. You didn't want to hurt him anymore. He was already so broken, you didn't want to break him anymore. You were taken to the ER immediately. The doctors stabilized you but they weren't confident in your recovery. Gibbs had flown to L.A. immediately after your call and was in the hospital room with you, waiting for you to wake up. He didn't want to lose you or rather, he couldn't bear to lose you. But life was unfair and he knew that all too well. It had been five months since you were shot and you still hadn't woken up. Gibbs hadn't left your side. The doctors were sure that you would be in a coma for a long time but Gibbs knew you were stronger than that. "Come on Y/N, come back to me." He whispered as he stroked your hair. You shifted slightly and he looked at you. You slowly opened your eyes and looked at him. He smiled down at you and hugged you tightly. "Thank god, I was worried you wouldn't wake up." He whispered softly in your ear. "Come on Jethro, you know that I wouldn't leave you here by yourself." You smiled and kissed him softly. "I know. That's one of the things I love about you." He held you in his arms and silently promised to never let anyone hurt you again. He would protect you no matter what. That was the promise he made that day. "Jethro?" You whispered to him. "Yeah?" "Let's go home." He smiled at you and nodded. After a few days, you were allowed to leave the hospital. You stopped by the office to say bye to Kensi and everyone else. They were happy to see that you were ok. As you sat on the plane, you realized how lucky you were to have Gibbs. And he was so lucky to have you.

#ncis fanfiction #ncis #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fandom

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The United States vs. Billie Holiday: The Federal Bureau of Narcotics Was Formed to Kill Jazz

https://ift.tt/3smcRhE

This article contains The United States vs. Billie Holiday spoilers.

Federal drug enforcement was created for the express purpose of persecuting Billie Holiday. Director Lee Daniels’ The United States vs. Billie Holiday focuses a cinematic microscope on the events, but a much larger picture is visible just outside the lens. Holiday’s best friend and one-time manager Maely Dufty told mourners at the funeral that Billie was murdered by a conspiracy orchestrated by the narcotics police, according to Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs by Johann Hari. The book also said Harry Anslinger, head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, was a particularly virulent racist who hounded “Lady Day” throughout the 1940s and drove her to her death in the 1950s.

This is corroborated in Billie, a 2020 BBC documentary directed by James Erskine, and Alexander Cockburn’s book Whiteout: The CIA, Drugs, and the Press, which also claims Anslinger hated jazz music, which he believed brought the white race down to the level of African descendants through the corrupting influence of jungle rhythms. He also believed marijuana was the devil’s weed and transformed the post-Prohibition fight against alcohol into a war on drugs. The first line of battle was against the musicians who partook.

“Marijuana is taken by… musicians,” Anslinger testified to Congress prior to the vote on the 1937 Marijuana Tax Act. “And I’m not speaking about good musicians, but the jazz type.” The LaGuardia Committee, appointed in 1939 by one of the Act’s strongest opponents, New York City Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia, ultimately refuted every point made in the effective drug czar’s testimony. Based on the findings, “the Treasury Department told Anslinger he was wasting his time,” according to Chasing the Scream. The opportunistic department head “scaled down his focus until it settled like a laser on one single target.”

Federal authorization of selective enforcement should come as no surprise. Just this month, HBO Max released Judas and the Black Messiah about how the FBI and local law enforcement targeted the Black Panthers and put a bullet in the back of the head of Fred Hampton after he was apparently drugged by the informant. In MLK/FBI (2020), director Sam Pollard used newly declassified files to fill in the gaps on the story of the U.S. government’s surveillance and harassment of Martin Luther King, Jr. Days ago, The Washington Post reported the daughters of assassinated civil rights leader Malcolm X requested his murder investigation be reopened in light of a deathbed letter from officer Raymond A. Wood, alleging New York police and the FBI conspired in his killing.

During the closing credits of The United States vs. Billie Holiday we read that Holiday, played passionately by Andra Day in the film, was similarly arrested on her deathbed. She was in the hospital suffering from cirrhosis of the liver when she was cuffed to her bed. They don’t mention police had been stationed outside her door barring family, fans, and well-wishers from offering the singer comfort as she lay dying. They also don’t mention that police removed gifts people brought to the room, as well as flowers, radio, record player, chocolates, and any magazines. When she died at age 44, it was found that Holiday had 15 $50 bills strapped to her leg, the remainder of her money after years of top selling records. Billie intended to give it to the nurses to thank them for looking after her.

As The United States vs. Billie Holiday points out, the feds had been watching Holiday since club owner Barney Josephson encouraged her to sing “Strange Fruit” at the integrated Cafe Society in Greenwich Village in 1939. Waiters would stop all service during the performance of the song. The room would be dark, and it would never be followed by an encore.

The lyric came from a three-stanza poem, “Bitter Fruit,” about a lynching. It was written by Lewis Allan, the pseudonym of New York schoolteacher and songwriter named Abel Meeropol, a costumer at the club. Meeropol set the words to music, and the song was first performed by singer Laura Duncan at Madison Square Garden.

Holiday and her accompanist Sonny White adapted Allan’s melody and chord structure, and released the song on Milt Gabler’s independent label Commodore Records in 1939. The legendary John Hammond, who discovered Holiday in 1933 while she was singing in a Harlem nightclub called Monette’s, refused to release it on Columbia Records, where Billie was signed.

The song “marked a watershed,” according to David Margolick’s 2000 book Strange Fruit: Billie Holiday, Cafe Society, and an Early Cry for Civil Rights. Influential jazz writer Leonard Feather called the song “the first significant protest in words and music, the first significant cry against racism.”

Holiday experienced the brutally enforced racial segregation of the Jim Crow laws during her trips south with her bands, according to Billie Holiday, the 1990 book by Bud Kliment. She was also demeaned at the Lincoln Hotel in New York City in October 1938 when management demanded she walk through the kitchen and use the service elevator to get on the stage. Holiday also caught flak for being considered too light skinned to sing with one band, and was on at least one occasion forced to wear special makeup to darken her complexion.

Holiday was 18 years old when she recorded her first commercial session with Benny Goodman’s group at Columbia Records, but knew firsthand that an integrated band would be more threatening than an all-Black group. According to most biographies, Holiday began using hard drugs in the early ’40s under the influence of her first husband, Jimmy Monroe, brother of the owner of Monroe’s Uptown House in Harlem.

Anslinger, the first commissioner for the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, was an extreme racist, even by the standards of the time, according to Chasing the Scream. He claimed narcotics made black people forget their place in the fabric of American society, and jazz musicians created “Satanic” music under pot’s influence.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday doesn’t shy away from the drug czar’s blatant racism, but Garrett Hedlund’s Harry J. Anslinger doesn’t capture the full depths of the disgust the man felt and put into practice through his selective enforcement. Hedlund is able to mouth some of the epithets his character threw at ethnic targets, but most of the actual quotes on record are so offensive there is no need to subject any audience to them today. The film barely even mentions the strange and forbidden fruit imbibed in slow-burning paper that Anslinger obsessed over almost as much as Holiday’s song.

Movies

Judas and the Black Messiah Ending Shows Horrific Legacy of COINTELPRO

By David Crow

Culture

Ma Rainey’s Life and Reign as the Mother of the Blues

By Tony Sokol

Commissioner Anslinger came to power during the “Reefer Madness” era, and shaped much of the anti-marijuana paranoia of the period, according to Alexander Cockburn’s Whiteout: The CIA, Drugs, and the Press. His first major campaign was to criminalize hemp, rebranding it as “marijuana” in an attempt “to associate it with Mexican laborers.” He claimed the drug “can arouse in blacks and Hispanics a state of menacing fury or homicidal attack.”

Anslinger promoted racist fictions and singled out groups he personally disliked as special targets. He said the lives of the jazzmen “reek of filth,” and the genre itself was proof that marijuana drives people insane. On drug raids, he advised his agents to “shoot first.” Anslinger persecuted many black musicians, including Thelonious Monk, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Duke Ellington. When Louis Armstrong was arrested for possession, Anslinger orchestrated a nationwide media smear campaign.

The Federal Bureau of Narcotics’ “race panic” tactics had a double standard. Anslinger only had a “friendly chat” with Judy Garland over her heroin addiction, suggesting she take longer vacations between films. He wrote to MGM, reporting he observed no evidence of a drug problem.

Anslinger ordered Holiday to cease performing “Strange Fruit” almost immediately after word got out about the performances. When she refused, he sent agent Jimmy Fletcher to frame the singer. Anslinger hated hiring Black agents, according to both Whiteout and Chasing the Scream, but white officers stood out on these investigations. He did insist no Black man in his Bureau could ever be a boss to white men, and pigeonholed officers like Fletcher to street agents.

Donald Clark and Julia Blackburn studied the only remaining interview with Jimmy Fletcher for their biography Billie Holiday: Wishing on The Moon. That interview has since been lost by the archives handling it. According to their book when Fletcher first saw Billie at the raid on her brother-in-law’s Philadelphia apartment in May 1947, “She was drinking enough booze to stun a horse and hoovering up vast quantities of cocaine.”

Fletcher’s partner sent for a policewoman to conduct a body search. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll strip,” Billie said before stripping and marking her territory in a provocative show of non-violent defiance by urinating on the floor (another action Daniels’ movie glosses over). Holiday was arrested and put on trial for possession of narcotics.

According to Hettie Jones’ book Big Star Fallin’ Mama: Five Women in Black Music, Holiday “Signed away her right to a lawyer and no one advised her to do otherwise.” She thought she would be sent to a hospital to kick the drugs and get well. “It was called ‘The United States of America versus Billie Holiday,’” she recalled in Lady Sings the Blues, the 1956 memoir she co-wrote with William Dufty, “and that’s just the way it felt.” Holiday was sentenced to a year and a day in a West Virginia prison. When her autobiography was published, Holiday tracked Fletcher down and sent him a signed copy.

When Holiday was released in 1948, the federal government refused to renew her cabaret performer’s license, which was mandatory for performing in any club serving alcohol. Under Anslinger’s recommended edict, Holiday was restricted “on the grounds that listening to her might harm the morals of the public,” according to the book Lady Sings the Blues.

The jazz culture had its own code. Musicians not only wouldn’t rat out other musicians, they would chip in to bail out any player who got popped. When it appeared Fletcher, who shadowed Holiday for years, became protective of Holiday, Anslinger got Holiday’s abusive husband and manager Louis McKay to snitch.

Two years after Holiday’s first conviction, Anslinger recruited Colonel George White, a former San Francisco journalist who applied to join the Federal Bureau of Narcotics. The personality test given to all applicants determined White was a sadist, and he quickly rose through the bureau’s ranks. He gained bureau acclaim as the first and only white man to infiltrate a Chinese drug gang.

White had a history of planting drugs on women and abused his powers in many ways. According to Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs, after White retired from the Bureau, he bragged, “Where else [but in the Bureau of Narcotics] could a red-blooded American boy lie, kill, cheat, steal, rape and pillage with the sanction and blessing of the All-Highest?” He “may well have been high when he busted Billie for getting high,” according to Chasing the Scream.

White arrested Holiday, without a warrant, at the Mark Twain Hotel in San Francisco in 1949. Billie insisted she had been clean for over a year, and said the dope was planted in her room by White. Bureau agents said they found her works in the room and the stash in a wastepaper basket next to a side room. They never entered the kit into evidence. According to Ken Vail’s book Lady Day’s Diary, Holiday immediately offered to go into a clinic, saying they could monitor her for withdrawal symptoms and that would prove she was being framed. Holiday checked herself into the clinic, paying $1,000 for the stay and she “didn’t so much as shiver.” She was not convicted by jury at trial.

Afterward White attended one of Holiday’s shows at the Café Society Uptown and requested his favorite songs. After the show was over, the federal cop told Billie’s manager “I did not think much of Ms. Holiday’s performance.”

In 1959, Billie collapsed while at the apartment of a young musician named Frankie Freedom. After waiting on a stretcher for an hour and a half, Manhattan’s Knickerbocker Hospital turned her away, saying she was a drug addict. Recognized by one of the ambulance drivers, Holiday was admitted in a public ward of New York City’s Metropolitan Hospital. She lit a cigarette as soon as they took her off oxygen.

In spite of being told her liver was failing and cancerous, and her heart and lungs were compromised, Holiday did not want to stay at the hospital. “They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me in there. Don’t let them,” she told Maely Dufty.

Billie went into heroin withdrawal, alone. When Holiday responded to methadone treatment, Anslinger’s men prevented hospital staff from administering any further methadone, even though it had been officially prescribed by her doctor. Drug cops claimed to find a tinfoil envelope containing under an eighth of an ounce of heroin. It was found hanging on a nail on the wall, six feet from Billie’s bed where the frail and restrained artist could not have reached it.

The cops handcuffed her to the bed, stationed two policemen at the door and told Holiday they’d take her to prison if she didn’t drop dime on her dealer. When Maely Dufty informed the police it was against the law to arrest a patient in critical care, the cops had Holiday taken off the list.

Outside the hospital, protesters gathered on the streets holding up signs reading “Let Lady Live.” The demonstrations were led by the Rev. Eugene Callender. The Harlem pastor, who built a clinic for heroin addicts in his church, requested the singer be allowed to be treated there.

Holiday didn’t blame the cops. She said the drug war forced police to treat people like criminals when they were actually ill.

“Imagine if the government chased sick people with diabetes, put a tax on insulin and drove it into the black market, told doctors they couldn’t treat them, then sent them to jail,” she wrote in Lady Sings the Blues. “If we did that, everyone would know we were crazy. Yet we do practically the same thing every day in the week to sick people hooked on drugs.”

Holiday’s social commentary didn’t end with “Strange Fruit.” She wrote and sang about racial equality in the song “God Bless the Child,” her voice captured the pains of domestic violence. Most of Holiday’s contemporaries were too scared of being hassled by the feds to perform “Strange Fruit.” Billie Holiday refused to stop. She was killed for it. But never silenced.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday is streaming on Hulu now.

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: Talk of death and illness

A/N: I’ll be on vacation this week, but I’m hoping to post weekly - Thursdays as reblogs of the previous chapter, Fridays around 6pm EST new chapters, and Saturdays as next day reblogs. And then posting when ever I so choose for one shots and drabbles.

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 , @tortles [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 3 – The Clock is the Enemy

“What a beautiful day, Rosie.” Robert’s smile was small, but evident. He laid back in the patio chair with a blanket around his shoulders. The normally oppressive summer heat of August had been milder this year, but Robert was always cold now. His shoulders hunched over under the heavy cotton fabric, as if the weight of the world were on them.

She looked over at him from inside the kitchen and smiled, glad that he was feeling more energetic today then he had been the last couple of weeks. She had taken him to the doctor this morning and the news was grim – mere weeks were probably left for Robert and her heart clenched as she realized she had to watch yet another person she loved slowly die in front of her. Tears sprung in her eyes and she quickly looked away so he couldn’t see them.

She stood at the stove waiting for the coffee to finish, her hands tapping the side of the brightly decorated mug in front of her. Since his confession months ago about his diagnosis, she spent as much time with him as she could, helping him as he got his affairs in order. Last week, she moved in with him as his health took a turn for the worse and he struggled to care for himself. He felt as if he should have told her no, but he was so grateful for her, he remained quiet on the subject.

When the foam had dissipated, she poured in the cognac and topped it off with a lemon slice – just the way Robert always took his coffee at home. She carried it out on to the porch and sat next to him. He sipped the hot liquid and smiled.

“You know, my mother drank her coffee like this, too.” He nodded at Rosemary’s inquisitive look. He never talked about his family or his existence before Saugatuck, claiming his life here along the coast of Lake Michigan had enough memories to explore for a lifetime.

“I never heard of anyone drinking their coffee like that before I met you.”

“You don’t know a lot of Ukrainians, then.” He smiled. “She drank it with more cognac than is probably recommended, but she needed the pep in her step as she headed off to work.”

“What did she do?”

“She taught home ec at a local high school.” He grinned as Rosemary started to laugh.

“Did she include the coffee recipe in her class?”

“No, but it would have probably helped!”

The two laughed again and soon it petered out to a comfortable silence. The trees waved slightly in the breeze and they could hear the kids down the road shouting and laughing. The day was perfect and they both soaked it up knowing that these were numbered.

---***---

“Marcus! I’m so glad you called!” Hetty Pike’s smile was evident in her tone as she heard her only son’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, mom.” He couldn’t help but grin every time he talked to his mother. She was a bubbly woman who talked with her hands a lot. When he was a kid, she always held his face in her hands and told him that she loved him, her head shaking as if to reiterate what she said. When he’d protested the action as a teenager, she told him she’d never stop because it was her duty to know he was always loved. “Is dad around?”

“Abe! Abe! Pick up! Marcus is on the phone!” He could hear her voice clearly even as she pulled away to call out to her husband. Pike rolled his eyes with a small smile as he heard his father’s booming voice come over the line, drowning out his much softer mother, who said her good-byes while the two men talked.

“Son! It’s been ages! How goes the art thieving?”

“Not bad, dad. I’m calling because I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

For the next hour, they chatted as Marcus sought out his dad’s advice on various aspects of the reopened cases. The senior Pike had been an electrician before he retired and often provided advice to the agent on cases where he could, often becoming a sounding board as his son worked verbally through the case.

After walking through a few scenarios, Hetty got back on the line and the three talked about this and that for a while longer before Pike said his good-byes with promises to call more often and to try and come out for his sister’s 40th birthday party next month.

The energy of the phone call dissipated into nothing as Pike stood in his kitchen, the quiet house a stark contrast to the liveliness he grew up with. He became lost in thought as memories flitted through his brain – happy memories of his parents who were so deeply in love, every day was a chance to prove it to the other; of his sisters and him getting into numerous shenanigans that left them breathless with laughter; of his blue-collar father being proud of his son’s artistic talent and happily attending his shows.

Pike let himself smile a bit before pushing himself off the counter, pocketing his phone as he wandered down the hall into his studio. He bought the small two-bedroom house in the outskirts of D.C. because its large windows let in tons of natural light, allowing him to set up an in-home studio to indulge his artistic appetite in.

Art had always been Marcus’ passion and something he had been good at since he was quite young. He was proud that he could parlay that passion into a career. He didn’t do anything professionally, instead choosing to let his talent serve as a distraction from the stress of real life. As he sat in front of the blank canvas, his hands rested in his lap, fiddling with the pencil.

By this time, his brain was creating a mash up of his memories and Carmichael’s words from some months ago. He hadn’t been on a date since the last time he was stood up, but no matter how much he hardened his heart, he still yearned for someone to love, the kind that his parents had. The kind he thought he had with his first wife, then Lisbon, then Eleanor and Carrie and Sumata.

It seems the only place he could express his heart freely and without pain was on the canvas. He shook his head as he turned on his playlist and let himself get lost in the one place that he could be himself with no judgement.

---***---

Several Days Later

“Helen?” The director looked up from her desk and looked startled at the pale woman standing in front of her. She immediately rose and skirted the desk to take Rosemary in her arms, giving her a warm hug. She felt the younger woman’s arms snake around her waist, and she continued to hold her as sudden sobs wracked the body pressed against her own. They stood like that for many long minutes before Rosemary pulled away and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

The two women sat down in the office chairs and Helen took Rosemary’s hand again, noticing the slight tremors she failed to feel before. She squeezed slightly and waited.

“Helen, I need to take some time off. Robert is getting worse and I don’t want to leave him alone right now. I know I have vacation. . .” Helen cut her off.

“Take all the time you need. I know this has been hard for you, don’t worry about us here. We’re fine. Marquetta can handle anything that comes in for you and I’ll take over the programs you are scheduled to work. You need to focus on you and Robert.” She didn’t say it, but the and your good-byes hung in the air between them.

“Okay. Thank you.” Rosemary stood on shaky legs and they hugged again before she went to her office. Despite the grief that hung around her neck like an albatross, she set her away message on her voicemail and email before packing a few things up for Banana. The dog had gone with her to Robert’s and the mutt spent his days sleeping against Robert’s frail form, providing a steady stream of warmth and companionship when Rosemary was at work.

After looking around her neatened desk, she walked to her workshop and glanced around there. She left a few notes for Marquetta on some projects that needed to be completed before walking over to her locked cabinet. She pulled out her keys and opened it, glancing at the bronze sculpture housed inside. She looked at it for a bit longer before closing the doors again. It was still on her to-do list but it was going to have to wait; Helen knew it was there, but only Rosemary had access. With the turn of her key, she left the museum to focus on the one person who needed her the most.

---***---

Three weeks later

The day was a sunny one, the sky a deep azure blue that spoke of the coming fall and as he laid in bed with the windows open, Robert took as deep a breath as his lungs would let him. He loved Saugatuck in the fall – the leaves, the roadside stands that popped up as the harvest came to fruition, and he loved to decorate the store as Halloween grew closer.

He let himself get lost in the memories of the past for a moment before forcing himself to focus on the paperwork in front of him. His lawyer had dropped off a new copy of his will and testament and Robert carefully read everything before signing it. Even as he laid there dying, there was something about signing the will that created a finality to it all.

As he sealed the envelope and sent a text to the lawyer to come pick it up, he heard Rosemary enter the house. He could smell food and for the first time in days, he felt his stomach grumble in hunger. He began to push himself out of bed when Rosemary enter the room and frowned at him.

“Get back in bed.” Her tone was firm, but gentle.

“I can get up; I’m not going to eat in my bed.” Robert grumbled as she walked over and gently pressed him back into the pillows. Rosemary was only a couple of inches shorter than his six-foot frame, but with his body becoming weaker, she seemed taller and stronger than she ever had before to him.

“You’re going to stay here. I don’t need you falling like you did yesterday and scaring the bejesus out of me.” Rosemary wandered back into the kitchen, pulling out the take-out boxes from Coral Gables. She arranged everything on a tray and took it into the bedroom. Just as she set everything down, a knock came at the door. She walked back towards the front of the house, seeing a woman standing on the other side of the screen door.

“Fern!” Rosemary was surprised to see her close friend on the porch, her voice rising in excitement. They hugged and Fern made sure to squeeze her poor friend a little harder than usual. They broke apart. “What are you doing here?”

“Robert is one of my clients. I dropped off some paperwork for him earlier and he told me to come pick them up. Sorry to interrupt dinner.”

“Never! Come in, I bought more than enough, and he won’t eat that much.” Rosemary’s voice dropped a little and she smiled slightly as a friendly hand rested on her wrist. “Anyway, please stay and join us.”

Fern nodded and walked into the house towards the bedroom as Rosemary ran to get more plates and silverware. When she entered the room, the two were in discussion, their voices low and serious. The conversation stopped as she walked up to them and both smiled at her.

The three sat and ate, enjoying each other’s company and Rosemary noted that Robert ate more than he usually did, which made her feel better. Fern stayed long after dinner was over and as Robert dozed off, the two women continued to visit, but moved the conversation into the living room.

They had been friends for several years, meeting after bumping into each other at Robert’s store. Soon their duo became a quartet as local banker Amy met them at a local charity event and Rosemary’s old college friend Tina joined them as she set up her vet practice in Douglas, just south of the town. The three women had been worried about Rosemary for weeks, visiting where they could and keeping a lively group text going.

When she realized it was midnight, Fern took her leave and Rosemary cleaned up the kitchen. She walked into Robert’s bedroom to check on him. He woke up when he heard her and smiled. She touched his shoulder and sat in the chair next to his bed, the place she spent the most time in these days.

“I’m sorry I woke you. How are you feeling?” He reached out to pat her hand and she held it as tight as she dared. He was so pale, as if he were fading away from her in front of her very eyes.

“Like death warmed over.” The chuckle sounded strained as his breathing continued to be hard for him. “Rosie, I never said it, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I always make time for you, Robert. You know that.”

“And dinner is always Coral Gables.”

“Exactly. Tradition.”

“Tradition.” Robert coughed hard and heavy. He took the tissue she handed to him and wiped the spittle from his mouth. “A good historian loves tradition.”

“And the story it tells.” She sat back and watched him. He suddenly looked at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

“Rosie, are you happy?” She looked at him, surprise on her face. “I mean in general. I’ve never seen you date anyone long term, you hardly go on vacation. You work a lot. Are you happy?”

“I guess? I don’t know. I love my work, I have the girls, I have you. And yeah, sure I could do with more vacation time, but who doesn’t?” She looked away, focusing on the window, although it was too dark to see. “Dating is. . . It’s not easy and most men don’t seem to appreciate my odd hours. Or I’m too tall. Or I’m too loud. And I’d rather be single and happy than in a relationship and miserable.”

“That’s fair.” He smiled. “What happened to that doctor in Kalamazoo?”

“Him?” She wrinkled her nose. “God, he was a massive asshole. Ego the size of the Grand Canyon. I went on two dates with him and had enough.”

Robert laugh slightly before sighing.

“I just worry about you Rose. I don’t want you to be alone when I’m gone. I want you to live a happy life, full of love that you deserve. Promise me that you’ll make time for that.”

“I promise, Robert.” She smiled as his eyes drooped closed, his soft snores starting almost immediately. She set back in the chair, propping her feet up on the edge of the bed to watch him until sleep came to claim her.

#Agent Marcus Pike #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #the mentalist

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bluenet13 · 5 years

Text

Marty’s Promise

This story is both a response to this year’s @densi-mber Day 21 writing prompt: Densi spending the day/having dinner with their moms, and a continuation to “Little Drummer Deeks” a story I wrote two years ago for a similar prompt during the first Densimber. I reblogged that story a few days ago in case anyone wants to read it and it’s also on my fanfiction.net page.

“Do you have the salad?” Kensi asked as she awkwardly made the walk from the front door to the car, juggling gifts in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other.

Deeks just nodded, and then grunted, as said salad almost slipped from his hands.

“Be careful!” Kensi admonished, throwing all her belongings on the trunk, and running to her husband’s aide. “I spent three hours working on that.”

“Kens…” Deeks began slowly. “Most of what’s on this salad, came already prepared on a bag. I wouldn’t say it was hard labor.” He then winced, expecting a punch that never came, instead he felt like a dick, seeing a look of hurt cross Kensi’s eyes.

Walking quickly to the car, Deeks opened the back door for Kensi to set the dish safely inside, along a bottle of scotch Hetty had gifted them and a fruit tart that was his mother’s favorite. “I’m sorry, baby.” Deeks said, moving gingerly towards his wife and embracing her in his arms. “I’m sure the salad is great.”

Kensi still pouted but she smiled after Deeks kissed her lips sweetly. “You know I can’t cook. And our mothers too. So, when they only ask for salad, that’s the least I can do.” She explained.

“Mama offered to teach you a long time ago, but you had never taken her up on that offer.” Deeks said nonchalantly, moving to the passenger side of Kensi’s SUV.

“Deeks, you know I’m not meant for the kitchen. I don’t want to disappoint your mother.” Kensi then closed the door of the car, and the couple was on their way. “Plus, we have you. We don’t need two cooks in the family.”

“We might.” Deeks said with a glint in his eyes. “When we start popping out little baby wolves.”

“Wolves? As in plural?” Kensi asked with a smile on her face. The thought of kids no longer scaring her, just making her heart long even more for that future.

“Maybe?” Deeks replied hopefully. “But I could just do with Deeks family of three if that’s what you want.”

Kensi nodded, glad that they finally stood on common ground on this topic. Her apprehensions still there –about whether they could even have kids, or what type of parents they would be if or rather when it happened– but her excitement about that prospect now more powerful than her fears.

“Time to change the subject.” Kensi directed as she parked in front of Roberta’s house.

Deeks’ sure nod echoing her sentiment. “We don’t want our unborn kids to take over dinner.” He laughed, making Kensi giggle as well, remembering how their mothers got every time the topic of kids was touched on.

Sharing a quick kiss, Kensi and Deeks got to work, figuring out the best way to carry all the things into the house in just one trip. Their hands yearning to be held together, but the countless items they had brought making that impossible at the moment.

-x-x-x-

Ringing the bell, Kensi and Deeks were welcomed by an overly excited Roberta, a glass of wine already in one hand, explaining her glee. “Welcome, Martin, Kensi. Merry Christmas.” She greeted cheerfully, her other hand moving to position a Santa hat over Deeks’ blonde locks.

Fighting his urge to roll his eyes, Deeks remembered that it was Christmas Eve, and everyone was alive and well, which in their line of work, was never a guarantee, so there was no reason not to be his happiest self tonight. “Merry Christmas, mama.”

“Merry Christmas.” Kensi echoed her husband, setting everything down on a table, and embracing her mother-in-law in a quick hug. “Salad, wine, fruit tart and a Scotch that Hetty gave us for tonight.” She explained, pointing to each item, as Deeks moved their gifts to the Christmas tree.

The next few minutes were spent enjoying small talk until the bell rang again marking that the latest member of their little family had arrived.

“Julia!” Bertie shrieked as soon as she opened the door, pushing a recently filled glass of wine into the other mom’s hand. “So glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for holding this dinner.” Julia said, as she took a sip of her drink. “Much better than breakfast the last two years.” She added, remembering the last two Christmases and how the family had opted for brunch outside instead of a home-cooked family dinner. This one being especially important and deserving of a change as it was the first Holiday since they had all become a real family, bound by law and marriage, and not only feelings.

Making her way inside, Julia greeted her daughter and son-in-law, exchanging kisses and hugs, before walking to the kitchen to set down a vegetable casserole, a ham and a Christmas pudding that was her daughter’s favorite.

-x-x-x-

For the next hour, they enjoyed a delicious dinner, and a lot of cheerful talk, as they all relished being together on this day. When most of the food was consumed, leftovers packed, and the kitchen cleaned, the gathering moved to the living room, all of them too full for dessert at this time.

The family then exchanged gifts since they wanted to enjoy a more private moment, as Christmas dinner the following day would involve the whole team and their families.

When all gifts had seemingly exchanged owners, Deeks got up and grabbed two small bags that had been hidden behind a table. He then gave one of the bags to his mother, a nervous smile on his face.

Opening the gift, Roberta was confused as a lone pen drive stared back at her. Recognition setting in her eyes eventually, as they quickly misted with tears. “Merry Christmas, mama.” Deeks embraced his mother in a heartfelt bug, as he tried to subtly wipe some tears from his own eyes.

“It’s an old tape. I had a place turn it digital and copy it into the drive. Mama always wanted to do it, but she never quite got to it.” Deeks explained, seeing Julia and Kensi share confused looks. “For you, baby.” Deeks then handed Kensi the other bag, which she promptly opened.

Holding a similar pen drive in hand, Kensi look at Deeks with a silent question in her eyes.

“OMG, Marty.” Julia said in a low voice, finally realizing what could be inside that drive.” She then got up from the couch, and echoed Roberta by embracing Deeks in another hug.

“What’s going on?” Kensi asked, feeling like she was an outsider in whatever was happening.

“Just watch.” Julia grabbed the pen drive and connected it to the receiver on Roberta’s media table. Both mothers already comfortable around it, after many bonding nights spent together.

-x-x-x-

The tv came alive with the image of a small tree on fire as the camera fell to the ground and the picture twisted sideways. “I told you it was a bad idea.” Julia came into the frame screaming.

A tall man with a buzz cut then joined in, running towards the tree with a garden hose in hand. “Turn it on.” He shouted. Water then came and he sprayed the tree until the fire was completely put down. “Turn it off.” He directed, again. White smoke coming off the charred tree. The remains of what looked like fireworks now on the ground.

“Sorry.” A little, brunette girl said sadly as she joined the frame for the first time.

“No reason to apologize, baby girl. It was my idea.” The man said, as he lifted his daughter in his arms, moving a gentle hand to her face, and wiping her tears away.

“You should both be apologizing, right about now.” Julia scolded her husband and daughter, even as she moved towards their family and embraced them both in a hug.

After a few minutes, Julia walked to the camera, and picked it back up. “No more playing with leftover 4th of July fireworks next New Year’s Eve.” She muttered, just as the image went dark.

-x-x-x-

The image came back on a different setting, father and daughter now dressed in matching Christmas sweaters and sitting around the Christmas tree.

“For you.” Little Kensi said, pushing a messily wrapped gift into her father’s hand.

Opening it, Donald Blye’s eyes instantly became clouded with tears as he held a handmade medal on his hands. The words “World’s Best Daddy” written in what he recognized as her daughter’s handwriting.

“Just like the ones the military gives you.” Little Kensi explained happily.

“But this one is better, baby girl.” Don then kissed his daughter and sighed contently, as she jumped into his arms.

-x-x-x-

The image changed again, this time showing a young girl peeking over the kitchen counter as her father baked a cake.

“What’s that for?” The little girl asked, pointing to a bottle with the words yeast written over it.

“It’s for the dough to grow.” Don explained in simple terms. “Want to help me with the eggs?”

Kensi nodded and jumped back down to the floor, her eyes going to the recipe as she read. “four whole eggs.”

Grabbing one she went to smash it fully on the container, before her father’s hand stopped her. “What are you doing? You have to open them first.” He said.

“It said whole eggs.” Kensi said, tears already prickling her eyes.

“That means both the white and the yellow part that are inside, baby girl, not the outside crust.” Donald explained softly. “Like this.” He then proceeded to open up the first two eggs, before he prompted his daughter to do the same thing with the last two.

“Sorry, daddy.” Kensi said, shaking her head.

“It was a simply mistake, Kensi. But that doesn’t mean you quit. You just try again.” Donald encouraged. “You can do it, just like I showed you.”

Kensi was still pouting even as she doubtfully grabbed the eggs and tried to imitate her father’s actions. The task took a little longer than it had taken him, but after a few minutes it was successfully completed. “I did it!” She screamed cheerfully; her previous near accident already forgotten.

“You sure did, my girl. You’re a quick learner.” Donald said proudly.

As he continued mixing ingredients, Kensi continued asking questions and pointing here and there as she tried to get involved. “You have lots of questions.” Father said after a while.

“I want to learn, daddy… So, one day, I can bake a cake for my own little kids.” Kensi replied, in between giggles.

Donald was surprised at the comment, but he smiled, nonetheless. “You’re too young to be thinking of that, baby girl. But yes, you will. One day, you certainly will…”

-x-x-x-

“How?” Kensi asked after another half hour of forgotten family videos.

“Marty asked me for these before the wedding. At the time, I thought he would use them then, but he didn’t, and I just forgot about them until I saw the pen drive and it just came back to me.” Julia explained, the tears in her eyes, mirroring that of her daughter’s.

“Thank you.” Kensi breathed out, her heart full at the gift her husband had given her.

“You’re very welcome, baby.” Deeks hand moved to wipe away the tears from Kensi’s face, her head then settling comfortably over his chest as the couple stood in an embrace.

“What’s in the other drive?” Kensi inquired eventually, both curious and nervous at the same time.

Deeks failed to answer. He just took the drive from his mother’s hand and connected it into the receiver.

-x-x-x-

“A very Merry Christmas

And a happy new year

Let's hope it's a good one

Without any fear”

Father and son sang along with John Lennon as they sat on the front porch of a simple house. The little blue-eyed boy wearing Christmas pajamas and a Santa hat over his blond curls.

“Boys, we have already listened to this song about 10 times.” Roberta pleaded, her voice coming from behind the camera. “And that’s just today, not counting the whole month.”

The father, who was like an older looking copy of his son, nodded and stood up, moving to their tape player and changing the song. “Thank God It's Christmas” then started playing, and the young boy began as happily singing to the words by Freddie Mercury, father joining is as soon as he was back with his son.

“Come on, boys. What happened to the more traditional songs?” Roberta asked.

“I like Little Drummer Boy.” The little boy answered, smiling sweetly towards his mama.

“We can put that one up next.” Gordon Brandel added. “But, sit down with us and enjoy.” He grabbed his wife’s hand and pull her down.

“Thank God it's Christmas, yeah

Thank God it's Christmas

Can it be Christmas?

Let it be Christmas

Every day”

As the next verse of the song came on, a third voice could be heard among the two male ones, as Roberta joined Gordon and Marty in their private family concert.

-x-x-x-

As the next image came, the video showed little Marty holding a Christmas stocking in his hands with tears on his eyes. “But I was a good boy.” He whispered sadly, looking at the coal that was in place of gifts.

An older looking boy then began giggling hysterically, “maybe you weren’t as good as you thought, Martin.” He said, a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Ray! That’s not something you do to your little brother.” Roberta scolded from behind the camera, as Gordon ran to his son’s side.

“Marty, no. Santa didn’t give you coal.” He tried to explain, glaring at Ray. “It was just a joke from your brother. Even though he knows, we don’t joke like that.”

“Really?” Marty asked in between sniffles, his sad, blue eyes now staring up towards his father, then sideways towards his best friend. “Promise?” He asked hopefully.

Gordon send a very angry stare at Ray, who just paled and got up, running towards the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with a bag and handed it to his best friend. “Sorry, Marty.”

Little Marty then opened the bag, finding inside his real gifts and smiling happily as it became clear that Santa hadn’t really left him with coal.

“Merry Christmas, boys.” Roberta then said, comment directed to her husband, son, and practically adopted son, as they all laid on the carpet, playing with Marty’s new toy train, and Ray’s new remote-control car.

-x-x-x-

“Did Ray really put coal in your stocking?” Kensi asked sympathetically when the screen faded to black.

“Yeah…” Deeks muttered. “He got a big kick out of it. I don’t really remember much of it.”

“Gordon had a huge talk with him afterwards.” Roberta added. “But we know it was all in good fun.” She said giggling.

“Thank you, mama.” Deeks glared at her.

“Sorry, Martin. But it’s funny thinking about it now.” Roberta said honestly.

“Yes, it actually is.” Deeks agreed, wishing he could call Ray and talk to his best friend again.

The next few hours were then spent sharing more childhood stories until a yawn from Julia told everyone that it was already late.

“I will see you all tomorrow.” Julia said as she moved towards the door. “Thank you again for everything, Roberta.”

“Remember, 5:00 pm at the bar.” Deeks said, as he followed his wife and mother-in-law. “Merry Christmas, mama.”

“Merry Christmas, Martin, Kensi, Julia.” Roberta said, before closing the door behind her, head coming to rest on the wood, as silent tears finally came to her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Gordon.” She whispered, eyes on the sky.

-x-x-x-

“Where are we going, baby?” Deeks asked after a few minutes of driving, noticing that Kensi wasn’t going in the direction of their home.

“We’re going to the beach.” Kensi said, sounding sure of herself.

“Why?” Deeks wondered out loud, never opposing a trip to the beach, but it felt strange coming from Kensi at 10pm on Christmas eve.

“It’s time you make true on a promise you made two years ago.” Kensi said, sparing a quick look at her husband.

Deeks blanched a little, well remembering what promise Kensi was referring to, and having known deep down that this day would some day come. And it made sense it was today, after the videos had sent Kensi’s mind back to thinking about his childhood.

“Okay.” Deeks agreed, moving his hand to hold Kensi’s, as she squeezed tightly and smiled reassuringly.

-x-x-x-

“I have held you to that promise for two years.” Kensi began eventually, as they sat down on the sand. “But now it’s time.”

Deeks nodded, knowing she had been patient enough. “What do you want to know?”

Kensi lifted her eyebrows, before realizing his question was serious.

“It’s just easier. I wouldn’t know where to start otherwise.” Deeks answered, as if reading her thoughts.

“When… how… did all go wrong?” She asked tentatively. “Those videos showed a happy family. And Ray was even a part of it.”

Deeks blew out a slow breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I met Ray about 8 months before everything turned out wrong. We became very good friends, and one day, he came home, and mama discovered some bruises under his shirt. He sorta became part of the family after that.”

“Ok.” Kensi said softly, not wanting to push too hard and wanting for her husband to open up in his own terms.

“My father was never a perfect man, Kens. But he was a good father, as you saw on the videos. We didn’t have much, but he practically took Ray in, and that year he spent every holiday with us. He even got gifts for his birthday and Christmas.”

Kensi said nothing when Deeks stopped, knowing that it wasn’t easy for him to open up about this subject.

“I didn’t understand what was happening to Ray at the time, but mama told me we needed to be there for him. So, we did.” Deeks began again, back now towards Kensi and eyes on the dark ocean. “And he was there for me afterwards.”

Walking closer to the water, Deeks took off his shoes and let the cold water reach him. The chill helping the fog in his mind retreat as he considered how to better breach the hard part of the story. Feeling Kensi’s hand embrace him from behind, Deeks signed and closed his eyes.

Head resting on Deeks shoulder, Kensi kissed him on the cheek, trying to convey all her feelings through simple actions. “Take your time, baby.”

Taking hold of her hands in front of him, Deeks opened his eyes again, choosing to focus on the soft glow of the moon reflecting on the dark ocean, instead of the pain the past evoked in him. “Gordon always had a violent streak to him. Mama said it was how he was raised; times were different then. But he rarely allowed me to see it.” Deeks began again, voice low, and barely audible over the crashing waves. “Four months into the friendship with Ray, he had a work injury and hurt his back. Insurance quickly started giving us problems, and he started drinking after that. He had always enjoyed a good whiskey, here and there, but it was never like that.”

Kensi hugged him a little harder after that, wondering if it had been wise on her part to ask him to open up about this topic on Christmas Eve. But it had seen natural, as his promise had been made two years ago in the aftermath of another Holiday gathering with the moms.

“When he couldn’t get any more pills, he just continued drinking more. That led to him being laid off, after he showed up to work drunk one day and started a fight with a coworker. He came home with a black eye and broken nose, and I had never seen so much hatred in his eyes.” The last part spoken not louder than a whisper. “With money running low, he told me he didn’t want Ray at our house anymore, so we just started meeting outside, both of us wanting to escape our homes as much as possible. That’s when I first understood what was happening to him.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Kensi said honestly, recognizing that moment as the time Deeks innocence had been shaken for the first time in his young life. Well knowing that the rest of it had been stripped away in the months that followed.

“Thank you.” Deeks lifted Kensi’s hand, and kissed it sweetly, letting it linger in front of his eyes a little longer. Staring at the ring on her hand, he reminded himself that everything he was recalling was in the past, and everything was better now. “Mama’s salary wasn’t enough to cover for all three of us, so soon after that, he began spending every night at the bar. Gambling then became his work of choice. But he lost more often than not, and that’s when the violence really started.” Deeks left the rest of it hanging in the air, not wanting to vividly explain to Kensi how Gordon Brandel would come home in a drunken rage intent on hitting his wife and son.

“Ray noticed one day. And he asked me about it. I told him it was a sport injury, but he knew I didn’t really play sports. At least not the typical kind, and what he saw, didn’t look like a skateboarding or surfing wound.” Deeks eyes darkened, recalling the shadow of fingers that Ray had seen etched on his skin. Which had then been followed by dark bruises on his torso, and more marks on his neck. “That’s how it all turned out so wrong.” Deeks finished, turning around to stare at Kensi, surprised when he saw tears streak down her face. “Don’t cry, please. Gordon doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“I’m not crying for Gordon.” Kensi explained simply. “I’m crying for the boy you once were.” Kensi then thought back to the videos, and the picture of little Marty she had seen on that brunch two years ago when Deeks had promised to open up about his past. The memory, making another thought popped into her head. “Why don’t you like to be called Martin?” She asked slowly.

Deeks closed his eyes and turned back towards the water before continuing. “Brandel was always vocal about how mama is the one that chose that name. He thought it was weak. When I was a kid, he used to call me junior, which is how his father had used to call him for the first few years of his life.” He almost spat the last words. “When he turned… violent, he used to call for Martin when he came home from the bar. It was just a game to him, and always spoke my first name in a mocking tone. I knew every time I heard that tone, pain would just follow. If not for me physically, for mama, and that was worse.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t call you like that again.” Kensi said, instantly regretting the few times she had used his given name.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t like other people calling me that, because I never know what intention they’re doing it with. But you say it with love, unlike him. When he went to prison, I changed my last name from Brandel to Deeks, and I could have changed my name too, but mama is the one that gave it to me, and I couldn’t let him have that much power over us. That’s why you should use it, if you want. It means, even now, we’re still winning.” Deeks knew it wasn’t really a game, and that in the full extent of things, he had already lost 30 years ago. The day his father had turned to alcohol to fill a void that could never be filled with such an easy escape. The day he had first laid a hand on young Marty. And the day young Marty had decided to end it all.

“Ok, Marty.” Kensi tested the name, before she kissed Deeks again.

Two years ago, Deeks would have cringed at the name, but a lot had changed since then. And with marriage, had come a bigger understanding of what mattered in life. Especially when that marriage had been at stake because of the mission in Mexico. He now had a wife, and a big family, so there was no reason to continue being stuck in the past. It just wasn’t worth it, and he was stronger than that.

“And how did it all end?” Kensi asked a final question, wanting to get a full picture, even if she well knew that Deeks had been vague about what his father’s violence had meant. But she agreed that she didn’t need to know those details.

“I shot him.” Deeks said simply. Turning around, expecting to see disgust on the face of a woman that had only felt love and admiration towards her own father. To his surprise, he found only love and admiration in her stare, and all of it directed at him. “In the months that followed, and having lost his safe haven at our home, Ray started running with some… groups.” The word gang, unspoken. “And one day, he gave me a gun and explained how to use it. I wanted to return it but remembering what my father had done the night before, I kept it.”

Recalling one of their first cases working together, Kensi remembered a story about Deeks and Thanksgiving Day, the first time he had mentioned his father, and she silently wondered how many of his comments and jokes over the years had contained partial truths hidden in them.

“I used it about a month after that.” Deeks continued, his eyes as dark as the Pacific in front of them. “It was either him or us.” He added as an afterthought.

Kensi had wanted to know more about that night, but she could already imagine how it all happened and she had to accept that was only a memory for Deeks and Roberta to know. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, baby.”

“It’s okay, Kens. For better or worse, it made me the man I’m today. And thanks to that, I will know how not to behave when our little wolves start arriving.” He said, smiling sincerely for the first time in the last hour.

“And you will be a great parent.” Kensi said proudly.

“We both will, Fern. Our kids will be lucky to have us.”

“And we will be lucky to have them.”

They both nodded and hugged again. The chill of the night making husband and wife burrow into the embrace a little tighter.

“We will cook delicious cakes for them.” Deeks said, as they had begun walking back to the car, hand in hand. “With no whole eggs, just the inside.” He laughed, then winced as Kensi playfully punched his arm.

“And we won’t allow the older sibling to put coal into his or her little brother’s or sister’s Christmas stocking.” Kensi added.

“Brother or sister? So, you’re really agreeing to more than one baby wolf?” Deeks asked hopefully.

“I think so.” Kensi answered, equally optimistic. Stopping as they reached the parking lot, and kissing Deeks before they each moved to their side of the car. “Wolves do better in packs, after all.”

Reaching their house a few minutes later, Kensi and Deeks decided to leave all their belongings on the trunk for the night, and instead walked inside, tangled in each other’s arms.

Reaching the front door, Deeks smiled before stopping Kensi and turning her to look fully at him. “I love you, baby. Thank you for listening.” And not judging, but that part remained unspoken.

“Love you, too. And thanks for sharing.” Kensi said, and keeping your promise to me, that part also staying unsaid. With a final kiss, Kensi and Deeks stepped inside, door closing behind them, their Holiday wreath silently shaking with the wind gusts coming from the nearby Pacific…

Promises are always meant to be kept, even if it’s two years in the future. And that night, on Christmas Eve of their first Holidays as husband and wife, Kensi and Deeks went to bed feeling closer than ever before. Because that day, they had shared more about their respective pasts, and that knowledge would lead them to be the best parents they could possibly be. One day soon, they would both learn that surviving pain in the past, only means a sweeter happily-ever-after, and for them that would come in the form of little wolves and a pack to call their own.

Fun fact: A few of the stories that are part of this fic are not really fiction, but things I took from my own childhood. One day my mom was baking a cake and I almost threw the whole egg in the batter, I was like five. Back in my home country, fireworks are a big part of New Year’s Eve and my older brother did in fact burn down a small tree in our yard using it as a base for his fireworks. And that same brother put coal in my Christmas stocking when I was a kid… He would get a kick seeing his antics on this story :D Anyhow, thanks everyone for reading, and Happy Holidays and best wishes for the New Year.

#NCIS Los Angeles #ncis la fanfiction #densi-mber 2019 #densi-mber fanfiction #densi fanfic #little drummer Deeks #I considered continuing this story right after the first one #but I decided to keep it in real time #and have it be two years later

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nat-20s · 5 years

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@brushes-of-sage prompted:

“I’d say just honest to goodness Ten and Donna fluff (or hurt/comfort, like the Doctor is sick or something and channeling his inner whiny child and Donna’s trying get him better whilst staying sane or something - it’s been done before but nothing better than more lol)”

this is...decidedly not that but it IS injured ten and hurt/comfort so close enough? Maybe? Anyway:

The Doctor wakes up with a soft bed underneath him, a sharp pain in his leg, and a hand holding his own. All in all, far from the worst way he’s ever come to. He hopes. Sort of depends on who’s on the other end of that hand, he could potentially be in quite a bit of trouble. Following the arm up, he finds that it’s attached to a rather bleary-eyed Donna. Definitely one of the better outcomes.

She’s staring off into the distance, not yet noticing that he’s conscious, so he squeezes her hand and says, “Hey.”

Whipping her head towards him, she blinks at him for a few moments, sucks in a breath and lets it slowly out, then asks, “How’re you feeling? Is your shoulder all right?”

The question strikes him as slightly odd, as he remembers breaking his leg before getting knocked out, but he can’t recall anything happening to his shoulder. Still, he replies, “Yeah, fine,” which earns, for some reason, earns him a quick smack to aforementioned shoulder. “Oi! What’re you going around thwacking an injured man for?!”

“I am thwacking said injured man for being a bleedin’ idiot! Again he sees a situation that he could work through in some other way and again he throws himself into the line of fire! I’m getting really tired of your self sacrificial attitude, mister.”

“I am not...that self sacrificial-,” is all he gets out before Donna is plugging on ahead in her light berating. “I mean, christ, it’s bad enough that you were walking for four miles on a broken leg you didn’t tell anybody about, but then you went and got yourself shot and I had no idea what the effect of that gun was and you didn’t wake up and you kept not waking up and even if I did have any sort of medical knowledge fat lot of good it would do on a time lord and I had no idea if you were going to come back or regenerate or just die and I was helpless to do anything about it and and-”

The Doctor sits bolt right, suppressing the wince caused by jostling his leg, and takes Donna’s hand back. “Woah woah woah. Taking me back to the TARDIS was the right call, I’m all right! See, all in one piece! Just a stun blast and a broken leg.”

Donna doesn’t quite manage to suppress all of her sniffling, but she does manage to give a half-hearted glare at him when she replies, “Oh just a broken leg, like that means anything. For all know about your stupid alien body Time Lords might be like horses.”

“Horses? How?”

The glare fell away to something more settled and conversational. The Doctor liked settled and conversational. Less risk of being shouted at. “If a horse breaks its leg you have to put it down.”

“Wait, really? Why? Seems a bit harsh.”

“I don’t know! Do I look like I run an ranch? Just something I heard from Hettie.”

“Never went through a horse phase?”

“Was always more of an astronomy kid myself. Having a granddad with a telescope and a healthy imagination will do that. Made me kind of the odd one out at age 12, let me tell you.”

The Doctor gives her a soft smile at that, unable or maybe just unwilling to disguise the fondness in his voice as he says, “Seems like that worked out pretty well in the end.”

Some of the tiredness drains from her features as she matches his affection with her own. “Yeah, ‘spose it’s not half bad, is it?”

They spend a few minutes in silence, both ruminating while Donna rubs her thumb along the knuckle of his own. The Doctor is in the middle of wondering whether the TARDIS was put in idleing mode or if she’s actually taking them somewhere when Donna pipes up, not looking at him, with a disconcerting set to her jaw. Her thumb freezes as she says, “You know, when I turned the offer to travel with you the first time, I said it was because you terrify me. Which, okay, you can in fact actually be rather fearsome when you want. Still not a fan of that, by the way. But what was really terrifying was not just that you were willing to take revenge, but that you were willing to die for that revenge, completely unnecessarily. I think I knew, even then, that if I was going to travel with you, that you were going to become my best friend. I also knew that there was a not insignificant chance that awful things were going to happen to you, and I was going to have to watch, and I can’t imagine anything more horrifying than that.

Now I’ve watched you throw yourself into so many situations that hurt you. When we fought off that psychic blob thing at the infinite hotel? When you shot yourself with the time reavers? When you went and tried to blow yourself up on the Sontaran’s ship? These sort of things are happening frequently that I have to wonder whether….”

Donna looks at him again, searching for something in his face that he most likely can’t provide. “Whether what?”

Donna tilts her head in a way that at first registers as pity, but quickly reveals to be pure and simple worry. “Whether you just happen to have some of the worst luck in the universe or if you’re actively seeking out ways to make yourself suffer.”

He wants to instantly refute, tell her “no, of course not, it’s just circumstance,” but lying to her is useless and to himself even more so. But it’s also not like he’s trying to die, not right now. That wouldn’t be accurate either, as he’s quite genuinely the happiest he’s ever been in a while. So, he goes for what he thinks, or at least hopes, is most honest, even if it’s not really...an answer. “I just. I need to help people Donna. I need to protect them. I can’t...I can’t continue to watch people sacrifice themselves for me, continue to get hurt in my place. If that means that getting shot or stranding myself or even dying, then so be it. Better than the alternative.”

Her gaze doesn’t move. There’s a good 20 seconds where his words rest between them. And then Donna says, “Well that’s tough. Because if it comes down to me or you I know who I’m choosing.”

“And that’s fine! I understand, I mean, your granddad would kill me if I ever-”

“No.”

“No?”

There’s not a hint of humor in Donna’s expression when she tells him, “It’ll be you. You’ll be the one to make it out. I mean, that’s always been true, right? That whole immortality thing gave you the leg up from the beginning. When I say that I’m planning to travel with you forever, I’m talking about my forever. I’m not watching you die, that’s part of the agreement.”

The Doctor feels his hearts start to beat in double time, but whether it’s with an instinctive fury at the concept of Donna dying or incredulity at what she’s saying, he’s can’t say for sure. “Well I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Absolutely not. I won’t allow it.”

“Too bad! ‘Allowing it’ has nothing to do with it! If you’re in the line of fire I’m gonna be right there with you, and the only way you’re gonna stop it is to not try and get yourself shot in the first place.”

The Doctor glares at her, and she matches it for a few moments before sighing and saying, “’Sides. You can’t...you can’t atone for things in the past by destroying yourself. Not that I’m saying you’re doing that, but if you are, well, it doesn’t work. Moving forward, putting as much good into the universe as long as you can , I think that’s the way we have to go. At the very least we have to be around to do damage control, right?”

He glares for a few more moments but the fight leaves him just as quickly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll try. Harder. To not get myself hurt or dead. I can’t promise it’ll never happen but. I can do better.”

Donna positively beams at him, and it’s frankly ridiculous how much better it makes him feel. “That’s all I ask. So, how long does it take for a time lord leg to heal?”

The Doctor gives a one shoulder shrug and tells her, “Couple of hours.”

“Liar.”

“Fine. Couple of days.”

“Well then. Sounds like time for a movie marathon.”

And marathon some movies they did.

#donna noble #nat drabbles #nat talks doctor who #more feelings and nonsense? it's more likely than u think

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romancemedia · 5 years

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NCIS: Los Angeles S11E9 - Kill Beale: Vol 1

In the 9th episode of the 11th season of NCIS: Los Angeles, the team are racing to rescue Eric when he finds himself in danger in San Francisco.

This was a full-on Eric Beale centric episode and I gotta say it’s good to have him back and Hetty too, of course. Since the season started, we haven’t seen much of Eric since he decided to accept a job offer in San Francisco, but while everyone thought Eric was living the dream, he was actually on a top secret mission and until now, the only person who knew of this was none other than Henrietta Lange herself. This episode really shows how much everyone loves and cares for Eric like a little brother. The best reactions were from Callen, Kensi, but of course the award goes to Nell since out of them all, she was worried about Eric the most and wanted him to be safe and back so badly. I could really feel for Nell throughout as she was so worried about Eric, but at the same time, she was also slightly mad and upset with him for being kept in the dark as well as not being in contact with her over the last few weeks, but her worries for his well being were her main concern and boy was she concerned. I gotta say there was a good mix of both Eric and Neric going on even though they were apart up until the end of the episode.

I think this episode displays just how much some particularly characters have grown over the series. Callen is finally starting to get over being a lone wolf, Eric really proved himself as he managed to get away and outsmart the fake agents and Nell has come to an important realisation. No doubt one of the best scenes was the confrontation between Nell and Hetty which was honestly a real surprise, since they have one of the closest relationships and I don’t think they have ever argued before... EVER. We have all known for a long time that Hetty has been grooming Nell to become her successor and one day lead OSP, but it seems that plans have now changed when Nell announces she doesn’t want to be Hetty since she doesn’t want to manipulate others the way Hetty does. I won’t lie, Nell really stunned me when she said that to Hetty and I’m surprised that Hetty didn’t seem that fazed by Nell’s words. I wonder how this will affect their relationship in the future?

In the meantime, although Deeks didn’t appear in this episode, I could still feel the Densi love when I saw Kensi wanting to call her husband and especially that ADORABLE AND SUPER SWEET photo of them at their wedding. Plus I LOVED it when Kensi mentioned her and Deeks separation back in season 5. It felt nostalgic and I thought it was so sweet how Kensi was trying to use that reminder to help Nell. Seriously, Kensi was in full on big sister mode with Nell, trying to comfort and reassure her about Eric throughout the episode. Plus I LOVED the actress who played one of the fake NCIS agents. I remember her so fondly, she played Lindsay Monroe-Messer from CSI: NY which is one of my FAVOURITE crime shows and it was so great to see her again. Thanks to Shows like CSI, it’s which got me into crime and if not for that than I probably wouldn’t have become a fan of NCIS: Los Angeles today and for the CSI series I thank them. In the end, Eric was safe, sound, reunited with the Team and Nell most of all and happily celebrated by dancing in Ops. It’s good to have old, Bullet Proof Beale back. However, the episode had one last surprise twist in store before ending. Since Nell no longer wishes to become Hetty’s successor, she offered the job to CALLEN. It was an OMG moment and when Hetty said she wouldn’t be around forever, it got me SO WORRIED. We Finally Got Her and Eric Back and I Don’t Want Her Leaving Us Again.

Overall, this was a great episode. Eric Beale made everyone proud, but obviously this isn’t the end of Eric’s storyline since it was confirmed there will be a ripple effect by the events of this episode and god knows what the future has in store for Neric since I have a feeling their relationship will dealing with issues in the future. Plus although Callen said no to Hetty’s offer, I wonder if he’ll change his mind in the future. Only Time Will Tell So Stay Tuned.

#NCIS Los Angeles #My Thoughts #My Edits #My Thoughts NCIS LA #Eric Beale #Nell Jones #G Callen #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Hetty Lange #Neric #Densi #Eric x Nell #Kensi x Deeks #NCIS Los Angeles S11

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deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious · 4 years

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the big brave tiger and siobhan

“You’re not coming with me?” Heather asked her mum and dad, disappointment evident in her tone. She didn’t want to go off with a virtual stranger. Especially one who worked for the dentist! “You promised that I could watch them fix your tooth!”

“You’re going to get to see that,” Mummy’s tone was one of exceeding patience. “Daddy and I just need a couple moments to ourselves, that’s all.”

“But why?” She demanded. “That isn’t fair. I want to stay with you.”

Daddy offered up a rather miserable cough. “Hettie--”

“Hettie?” Heather echoed. “Hettie what? You know that the dentist hurt me! Now you want me to meet him all on my own?”

“Dr. Fitzpatrick wasn’t the dentist who hurt you, and you know that,” Daddy reminded her. “I don’t want Siobhan to bring you to meet him without me and Mum, but you’ve already met him, remember? At the florists?”

“That was different! You said he wasn’t a dentist when he wasn’t here!”

“Heather, please--”

“I won’t tell you again,” Mummy sounded rather cross. “Please, Heather, just go with Siobhan. Just for a few minutes.”

Heather scowled. “You promise that it won’t be for a long time?”

“I promise. She’s going to show you a treasure chest, remember?”

Heather was conflicted. “What about Penny?” She didn’t want to take the dog from Daddy, but what if he left her behind when Dr. Fitzpatrick made him go into the scary room for his appointment? Penny would be scared to be alone in the waiting room. “Will you and Daddy take good care of her?”

“Of course,” Mummy cooed. “We’ll take the very best care of her. I promise.”

Heather didn’t bother to justify her mother’s comment with a response. She was infuriated. They’d lied to her. Daddy and Mummy had promised that they’d never leave her with another sitter, and they’d just fobbed her off on stupid Siobhan at the first opportunity. Did they think that she was too dumb to notice that? Sure, Siobhan may have been known as a dental assistant, but it seemed blatant to her what her true role was: being stuck in charge of Heather while Mummy and Daddy did grown up things that Heather wanted to be included in.

“I’m just going to take her into the staff room,” she could hear Siobhan telling her parents, while she did her best to ignore their presence. “I promise, Paul, nothing will happen to her.”

“What do they care?” Heather demanded. “They just want to get rid of me!”

“Heather!” Mummy chastised. Heather cringed at the tone of her voice. “We don’t want to ‘get rid of you’. Daddy just needs a few moments to himself. All you have to do is go into the other room with Daddy’s friend Siobhan. You even get a toy.”

Heather wanted to tell her mum that she hated her, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice the words. She didn’t hate Mummy. She loved Mummy. Even if Mummy was being very mean to her, and making Daddy be mean to her too. She didn’t want a stupid toy from the treasure chest. She wanted to sit with Daddy and help him feel better.

“You’re mean!” She settled on. “You don’t listen to me at all!”

“Heather Louise!” Daddy said in a tone that Heather had never heard him use before. “I want you to go with Siobhan, now. When you get back, you’re going to apologise to your mother.”

Heather scowled. “I don’t have to apologise to her! She’s got to apologise to me! Why are you being mean to me?”

“Come on,” Siobhan encouraged. “It’s okay, Heather. I understand. Nobody enjoys having to make an emergency appointment at the dental surgery.”

Heather had little desire to go with Siobhan to see what she was sure was a torture chamber. She wanted to stay with her mum and her dad, but Mummy seemed exhausted, so she hadn’t wanted to push her luck. Even Daddy had seemed willing to force her to go, and he hated the dentist. What was the point of going with Daddy to the dentist if he was going to be taken away from her? That wasn’t fair. All Heather wanted was to be close to her mummy and her daddy. Now they’d sent her off with some stranger!

Sure, Daddy had said she was kind, but she worked for the dentist. How could someone who worked for someone who hurt people be kind? She didn’t understand.

When they got into what Heather assumed was the staff room, Siobhan asked if she wanted to sit down. Heather surveyed the room with tear-filled eyes. There was another fish tank filled with the colourful fish she’d been admiring in the other room. The room had several comfortable looking chairs to sit on, and a settee. While Heather would have normally agreed to sit down on one of them, it was all suspect to her. It was a dentist’s office, after all.

“I don’t want to,” Heather whispered. “The only thing that I want to do I can’t do.”

“You’ll be able to see your parents in a few minutes,” Siobhan said in response. Heather shook her head. That hadn’t been what she’d meant. She desperately wanted to suck her thumb, but she knew better than to admit that in front of someone who worked for a dentist. “Oh, do you mean getting a tiger?”

“Mummy and Daddy think they’re too dangerous.” Heather rolled her eyes. “They’re just big cuddly moggies with tiger teeth.”

“I don’t think that my parents would let me have a tiger, either,” Siobhan told Heather, and Heather let out a sigh. It wasn’t fair that the dentist and Daddy agreed on this. She loved Thisbe and her teeny tiny kittens, but she had gotten to see some tigers at the Central Park zoo when she’d still lived in New York, and promptly became enamoured of the creatures. “Have you seen the tigers though?”

“The tigers don’t live here,” Heather did her best to modulate her tone. Not only did it make her sad that she might never see the tigers at Central Park again, there was also the fact that her admittance was going to lead to questioning. She didn’t want to get upset and have to deal with Siobhan attempting to comfort her. It was a stupid thing to get upset over, really.

They were just tigers.

If only the tigers were really the issue. Heather just didn’t want to admit to her companion that she wasn’t originally from England. Sure, she had pretended that she believed Daddy was her dad, but Heather wasn’t stupid. People pretended that all the time, at least while Daddy and Mummy were there. When they weren’t, it was another story.

“They live where I lived before. There was a zoo there. Mummy took me to see them.”

Heather desperately wanted to suck her thumb, but she forced herself not to. She didn’t care how nice Daddy claimed Siobhan was. She worked for the dentist.

“Daddy hasn’t taken you to the London Zoo?” Siobhan asked her.

She shook her head. “I didn’t know there was a zoo here,” she admitted. “Do they have tigers?”

Siobhan nodded. “Of course they do,” she said. “Mummy tigers and daddy tigers, and little tigers like you.”

Heather knew that the little tigers weren’t going to be like her. How could they be? They were born here, in London. The baby that Mummy was pregnant with would be like them. Heather wasn’t. She wasn’t even like the little tigers in New York. They’d been born at the Zoo. The sign (Mummy had read it for her, because she had taken her before she had learnt how to read) had informed her and Mummy that the tiger cubs had been born in captivity.

Heather had been born in a place called Tucson. She didn’t think the London tigers had been born there.

“The little tigers aren’t like me. They’re from here. They’re not from stupid New York.”

Heather didn’t think that New York was stupid, but she knew that everyone in London did. Especially the kids that she’d gone to school with. Every day she had had to listen to comments about everything. How she looked, how she dressed, whether or not her dad was her dad, and, most galling of all, how she spoke. Daddy had told her that she had a perfectly lovely voice, but Mummy was the only one who’d agreed with him.

No one had believed he was her dad, either. That had hurt most of all. Daddy had even gone to the school to try to convince them, and nothing had come of it. The headteacher had promised him that she would put a stop to it, and she had: she’d put a stop to Heather’s ‘complaining’ by swatting her with the school’s cane.

Not that she’d mentioned that incident to either of her parents. She hadn’t wanted to make them angry at her.

“Is that where you’re from?” Siobhan asked her, in what seemed to be a curious tone. Heather eyed her warily. “New York?”

Whenever someone found out where Heather was from, all of the hard effort she’d put into assimilating into an accent like her dad’s completely evaporated. She hated it. All she wanted was for people to see her as a McCartney, not a liar. She wasn’t a liar. It wasn’t her fault that she was both a McCartney and from New York.

“It doesn’t matter,” Heather whimpered, after a moment of silence. She twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. “The tigers were from there, that’s all. Some of them were babies,” she recalled. “They were so tiny. Not big at all. Mummy told me that they were called cubs. She told me that they would be big like the mummy and daddy tigers one day.”

“Did your dad go with you?” Siobhan asked. Heather glanced up at her, and she slowly shook her head. Mummy had taken Heather to the zoo before Daddy had come to New York.

“Daddy wasn’t there,” she answered, hoping that her evasive answer would satisfy Siobhan’s question. “Me and Mum, we went after she took pictures of some of her mates at the zoo. I’d wanted to go with her, but she’d told me that taking pictures was her job, so I needed to stay with the sitter.” She wrinkled her nose at the memory. “I don’t know why she took me to the zoo afterwards,” she added. “She’d already been.”

“I think she took you to make you happy,” Siobhan replied. “You had a good time, didn’t you?”

“I liked to see the animals. But, I told you, that’s in New York. It’s different.”

“You know, I’m not from here, either,” Siobhan informed her, her accent lilting. “It was hard for me when we moved here from Derry. That’s where I was born.”

“I thought you were from Ireland.”

“Northern Ireland,” she said. “Derry’s where we lived, though. It’s like how we live in England, but London’s a city? Do you understand?”

“We lived in New York,” Heather admitted. “In Manhattan. I don’t like to talk about it because I hated it. Grandpa Lee made me go to a school where everyone made fun of me and his dentist tormented me, and everyone made fun of me for that, and then Mummy had to work all the time, and she had to leave me with babysitters. Sometimes she took me to the Fillmore East with her,” she added. “I liked that. I felt so grown up. Mummy went to London for a few weeks and when she came back she had my daddy with her,” she continued, not willing to look Siobhan in the eyes, but at least willing to speak to her. “He wasn’t my daddy then,” she admitted. “Mummy told me that he was someone she loved very much and that she hoped that we might want to become a family together.” Siobhan smiled at Heather when she said that, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a big deal, was it? Siobhan had a pretty smile, though. It reminded Heather of Mummy’s. “At first, I called him Paul. He brought me Penny, because he had a dog at home and he wanted me to have a dog, too. When Paul came...Mummy didn’t have to work so much anymore. When she did work, he was there, so I didn’t have to have a baby sitter. He told me that he didn’t mind being with me. I don’t know why he does now.” Her lower lip wobbled. “Maybe it’s because of the baby? It will really be his. No one will ever say otherwise. Maybe he realised that.”

“I don’t think that it has anything to do with you,” Siobhan told her. Heather was surprised when she knelt on the surgery floor. “Your dad, he’s never been great at coming to the dentist. I think that he’s had some bad experiences at other dental surgeries,” she elaborated. “Sometimes it’s hard to find the right fit, like when you didn’t like the babysitters your mum found for you?”

“Daddy said that your daddy wouldn’t let him take his pills,” Heather recalled, in a rather accusatory tone. “This is your daddy’s fault. Daddy wouldn’t be so upset if he took them to feel better.”

“I know,” Siobhan admitted. “Maybe that was the wrong thing for him to suggest.”

“What do you mean?” Heather demanded. “He said that Daddy needed to try something called laughing gas. I don’t even know what that is. Is he going to hurt him? I don’t want him to get hurt, Siobhan.”

“My dad wouldn’t have wanted your dad to get this upset,” Siobhan told her. Heather deigned to look her in the eyes. “I think that he wanted to try the laughing gas on him so that he might be able to drive you home.”

“Daddy doesn’t like making Mummy drive,” she supplied. “She didn’t drive a lot when we lived in New York, and they drive on the wrong side of the road here.” She scratched the side of her face. “Maybe he’s nervous because of the accident he got into? It sounded scary. I saw a picture of what he looked like.”

“You saw the film they did for Paperback Writer?”

She shook her head. “No, Uncle Mike took a picture of Daddy after he got hurt. It made me sad to see. I wish that I’d been there, so I could have given him a hug.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What does laughing gas do?”

“It will make your dad not feel anything that my dad does at all,” Siobhan told her. “He’ll get really giggly, you know? Really up?”

Heather wondered if she meant how Dad and Mum got when they smoked the special cigarettes. She vowed to ask them if that was what Siobhan had meant later. She didn’t want to get Daddy in trouble with the dentist.

“I like when Daddy laughs,” she admitted. “It makes me happy. Sometimes he makes me laugh, too.”

“He’ll probably say some daft things when he’s on it.” Siobhan grinned at her. Heather managed to smile back. “It’ll be okay, honest. I think that Daddy and Mummy just needed a few minutes to themselves, that’s all. You can get them some stuff from the treasure chest.”

“Is it really okay if I get something for the baby?”

“I bet it would make your mum and dad happy.”

Heather liked that idea. “I know that they love us both,” she insisted. It was important that Siobhan know that. “I just didn’t want them to leave me.”

“I think that your daddy needed a moment with just your mummy so that he wouldn’t have to pretend that he was okay being here. Even though my dad would never hurt him. Sometimes the procedures make your mouth feel funny.”

Heather drew in a deep breath. “Grandpa Lee’s dentist hurt me,” she admitted. “He went to the school that I went to in New York and he made all the kids who hadn’t had dentist appointments see him for an appointment at the school. He thought that I was still sucking my thumb and he yelled at me, and when he poked at my teeth it really hurt. I had to sit on a folding chair. I wanted Mum and no one would get her for me. Everyone at school made fun of me.”

“I’m sorry, Heather,” Siobhan said. “None of that should have happened. It won’t happen here. There’s a comfortable chair for you to sit in, and Mummy and Daddy can both stay. My dad won’t make you have a dental cleaning alone.”

“Daddy won’t want to be there,” she whimpered. “The dentist scares him.”

“No, Heather, that’s not true,” Siobhan assured her, her tone gentle. “Your dad...he doesn’t like the dentist, that’s true, but he’ll be there for you. I promise. I remember once, I was upset because the kids at school were teasing me about my wires, and about my accent. I was in the waiting room crying, because my dad was in with a patient. I didn’t want to interrupt him because the patient was having an important procedure done. When your dad came out, he asked me if I was okay, and he sat down beside me while I cried. He didn’t care that he was still at the dental surgery or that his ride home was waiting for him, or that he was on enough painkillers to knock out a horse...he really wanted me to feel better. A couple of days later, he stopped by here to bring us tickets to one of his concerts. He made me feel really special. So, I’m sure that he’ll stay for your appointment and hold your hand. Maybe he’ll even sing for you.”

Heather scrubbed at her face. “I like when he sings to me. Sometimes he and Mummy sing together when he plays the piano, or the guitar.” She sighed. “Can I pick out the things from the treasure chest?”

Heather didn’t want to hear about Siobhan having had to get wires. Wasn’t it bad enough that they were in a dental surgery and she was forced to pretend she believed that Siobhan was nice? She didn’t want to hear about poor Daddy being forced to get his teeth pulled, or the dentist subjecting his own daughter to the dreaded braces. She loathed the fact that what she’d assumed was only a lie to her grandfather to get her away from his evil dentist had turned into the reality of having to have a dental cleaning.

There was something that she was curious about, though. Had Daddy really gotten Siobhan tickets to one of his concerts? Heather was a bit jealous. Mummy had been to see Daddy and his band play when they’d come to New York, before he was her daddy, and now even Siobhan had been? That wasn’t fair.

“Did you get to go?” Heather asked. “To the concert. Did your daddy let you go?”

Siobhan nodded. “He did.”

“I wish that I could go to a concert,” she admitted. “It isn’t fair. Mummy got to see Daddy play, you got to see him play, but not me.” She wrinkled her nose. She didn’t know if she was supposed to admit that the Beatles were fighting. She knew that Uncle John being in the princess castle was supposed to be a secret. Daddy seemed to think that, at least. Heather didn’t want to make him angry again.

“Have you asked your daddy?”

Heather shook her head. “No, Daddy doesn’t like to talk about work when he’s at home,” she informed her. “He told me that we were going to have a big party for the record that’s coming out soon! Mummy and Daddy met at the one for Daddy’s last record. So, I asked him if we could have a big party for this one, and if I could go. At first, he pretended that he didn’t want to have a big party for the record,” Heather told her. “I don’t know why. He worked so hard at it. Sometimes he and Uncle Ringo were the only ones who worked. I tried explaining that to him but he still pretended he didn’t want to, so I had to explain how Mummy had been to one and I wanted to go to one too.”

Siobhan giggled. “You must be looking forward to it?”

“Uh-huh,” she chirped. “Da said that he’d take us to the store that they own let us pick out pretty dresses! He said that we could get whatever we wanted.” Heather could hardly wait. Her excitement dimmed as she recalled the last thing that her dad had said to her in the waiting room. He’d been so angry at her. She still didn’t understand why. She tried so hard to make mum and dad happy. “But that was before. He’s mad at me, now. He yelled. He’s never yelled at me before. I didn’t mean to be bad, Siobhan, honest.”

“I don’t think that he was mad at you,” Siobhan told her. “Look, Heather. I think it may have upset your parents when you didn’t want to go with me, because they needed a few minutes alone. I think your dad needed a break from being brave.”

Heather pondered this. “But, Daddy is always brave,” she said. “Honest! Why wouldn’t he just tell me he was scared? I’m scared of lots of things. I would have understood.”

“I don’t know, Heather.”

Heather didn’t know either. She was sure that Daddy knew she was scared of things. Wasn’t that why he and Mummy let her spend the night with them sometimes? Because of her bad dreams? Now he was trying to pretend that he never got scared? Daddy was so silly sometimes.

She decided to change the subject. They’d approached the treasure chest, and she wanted to pick out the best treasure ever for the baby. Even though Mummy insisted the baby wouldn’t be there for a long time, Heather didn’t see the harm in getting the baby a treasure.

“I’m gonna be a big sister,” she gushed, the excitement she felt about her new role overruling her trepidation at appearing anything more than aloof towards the dental assistant. “Mummy and Daddy asked me if I wanted to be a big sister, and I told them yes, so now they’re going to have a baby. But not for a long time. Mummy said during the summer.”

“Do you want a brother?” Siobhan asked her. “Or a sister?”

Heather shrugged. “I want a sister,” she admitted. “But I heard Daddy tell Mummy he wanted to have loads of babies with her. So if it’s a boy, that’d be okay. I just want the baby to come. Mummy says when it’s older I can share a room with it if I want to.” Heather did. She felt it unfair that Mummy had said no to it from the beginning. “Da said that the baby won’t care if it looks like him and I don’t, because he said that I look like Mummy. Mummy’s so beautiful.” She glanced up at Siobhan. “Are you a big sister?”

“Yeah, I’m the eldest,” she told her. “Just like you.”

Heather had never seen such a pretty treasure chest before, and Siobhan told her that she had decorated it herself. While Heather would have never normally contemplated complimenting someone who worked for the dentist, she put aside her principles for the moment. Heather couldn’t believe that she could pick out a treasure for everyone, even the baby. There were so many treasures that she didn’t know what to choose.

“I want the horse,” she told Siobhan. “I think that Father Christmas is going to be bringing me one. I told Mummy and Daddy that that was what I wanted.” She cradled the figurine in her hands. There were three other horses in the treasure chest. They were different than the one that Heather held, but she wanted to give them to Mummy and Daddy. And the baby. Even though she knew that the baby wouldn’t be born for some time. “I want to get everyone a horsie.”

“What kind of horse are you getting?” Siobhan asked. “Do you mean a stuffed toy?”

She shook her head. “No, a real horse. Mummy and Daddy already have some. I want one of my own, so that I can ride on it by myself.”

“I’ve ridden horses,” she told her. “I used to show them.”

“Show them what?” Heather didn’t know what Siobhan meant by the comment, but she was confused by the fact that she had shown horses things and then stopped. “Did they get bored? Is that why you stopped?”

“Oh, no. Show means...it’s a fancy word that means I used to ride them in competition.”

“Do you still like horses?” Heather asked. “Even though you don’t ride them in competition anymore?”

“Of course I do,” she assured her. “I just got too busy, you know? I was studying to be a dental hygienist.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why? You don’t seem scary.”

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my-emotional-self · 7 years

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The Viking and The Star Part 16 (Ivar x OC)

Pairings: Ivar x OC

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Blood, Death (**Spoilers: Major Character Death)

Summary: You and Floki bury Helga before you go to the celebratory feast with Ivar and his brothers.

Numb. Incomplete. Emptiness. You watched as Floki placed beautiful gems, stones and jewelry onto Helga’s body. You could not move, could not think as a black hole filled your heart. Helga was gone, your parents did not want you, and it seemed as though Ivar did not want you either after the fiasco with Sigurd. Alone. That was how you would live your life.

Floki bent down over your sister’s lifeless body, his wails breaking your heart as your head lolled downward. Everybody grieved differently; mourned their own way. Yet here you were, tears no longer cascaded from your eyes.

“Hettie,” Ubbe’s strong voice broke through your mind, turning your head sideways to get a glance at him. His face was pained, sorrowful as he took in Floki’s trembling body. “The feast is about to begin. Ivar wants you there.”

Scoffing, you turned your head back around. “Ivar does not wish me by his side. Do not say such silly things Ubbe.”

Ubbe walked over to you, placing his hand at your shoulder in a comforting way. Normally you would shake off any man who dared to touch you besides Floki or Ivar, but today, right here and now, you did not care. You did not care of Thor himself struck down a lightning bolt at you; you would have gladly accepted death in this moment.

“Please Hettie. He wishes to speak to you before the victory feast begins. Come, please,” Ubbe begged, steering you away from the hill and back towards the castle. The loud cheers of the army became quiet as you passed by with Ubbe. Lifting your gaze you noticed many of them watching you, mournful faces staring back at you. “Last door at the end of the hall,” Ubbe motioned to where Ivar had been waiting for you.

Not even bothering to knock, you opened the large wooden door to see Ivar sat on the bed facing you. His head snapped up, a scowl in his face until he recognized it was you; his face quickly turning melancholy. “Hettie,” he let out a breathy whisper, straightening up his back. “Come here.” He rose his arm, wanting you to take his hand but you did not. Keeping your head bent down, eyes on the floor you sat down next to him. “How are you feeling?”

Alone. That was the only word that swam in your head when it came to Ivar’s question. Instead of speaking you shrugged your shoulders, your eyes glued to your hands placed in your lap; your hair falling around your face like a curtain.

Ivar brushed your hair from your face, gently placing it behind your ear as you felt his eyes on you. The back of his hand traced lightly across your warm cheek, letting out a breath you had no realized you were holding. “Please say something. I know how you feel Hettie. Maybe I can help if you talk to me.”

“I will stay for the feast if you wish me to, but I am leaving after,” you said numbly.

You felt Ivar stiffen beside you, a low growl emanating from his throat. His hand cupped your chin, turning you to face him yet you kept your eyes closed. “Look at me,” he coaxed. But you rejected his command. His grip on your chin tightened, shaking it. “Open. Your. Eyes!” he bellowed, his voice becoming deeper with authority. Slowly, you obeyed as your eyes parted, gazing at his blue orbs; his own eyes narrowing. “Explain yourself.”

“I am leaving Ivar,” you stated once again.

His lips formed a tight line while his eyes turned sinister. “Yes, you seem to have just repeated yourself. But I asked you to EXPLAIN yourself. Why are you leaving hmm? And why do you think I would ever let you leave?”

His words felt like a slap to your face. You did not belong to Ivar, you were not his wife so he had no hold over you whatsoever. You were a free woman, who could come and go as she pleased. Anger boiled inside of you and after everything you had gone through in the past day and night, you snapped. “Because I am ALONE Ivar! I will forever be ALONE! My parents did not want me, my sister was just killed, and from how you reacted this morning, well, I am sure you do not want me either!” You were fuming, nostrils flaring as your chest rose and fell heavily.

Ivar’s face became harsher, yet as your words began to sink in, his face grew softer. “My star…” Ivar began to say but there was a knock on the door; Bjorn standing in the doorway.

“Feast is ready,” was all he said before turning and walking down the stone hallway.

Ivar let his grip go from your chin. “This conversation is not over. We will talk about this after the feast. Now come.”

You were sat on a chair next to Ivar; Ubbe on your left as the rest of the sons of Ragnar sat around the table. Ale and food littered the large wooden table as the rest of the army and friends gathered around tables below. Bjorn stood in, cup of ale raised in his hand as he gave the victory speech about defeating the two Kings who brought Ragnar to his death. Yet you could not bare to listen. As you sat there, your eyes glazed over the table; your heart thrumming in your chest as you felt something wicked stirring. It did not seem right. Just like how you felt around Tanaruz, how something was off about her.

You could not bare to witness anymore death, but you were so numb, felt so empty and hollow that you did not even put up a fight to try. Out of the corner of your eyes you kept seeing Ivar lift his glass, taking sip after sip of his ale.

A loud snap broke you from your numb thoughts, looking over to see Ivar slamming his hand down onto the table. While you shifted your head to watch him speak, you barely made out what he was talking about; something about staying, yet not farming, only raiding. You just wanted to leave, wanted to be by yourself, or perhaps with Floki to mourn your sister; to grieve.

Ivar’s voice grew louder, stronger, harsher as he began to stand up; using his hands on the table to steady himself; the entire crowd cheering at his words. Your eyes danced between Ivar, the crowd and his brothers as your heart began to beat erratically; sweat prickling on your neck as you became increasingly anxious.

“Don’t do this Ivar. We are all the sons of Ragnar, we have to stick together,” Sigurd said.

Ivar retorted, a sinister smile on his face as he made a smart ass comment to his brother; which, in your standards you did not care because you never cared for Sigurd. He always seemed jealous of Ivar, jealous of the fact Aslaug spent more time and love doting on him.

It was when Sigurd made his next comment, his next jibe towards Ivar that you knew things would never be the same. “Well, maybe that’s because you are not really a man. Are you, boneless?”

Ivar sneered, his face twisting into what looked like a mixture of pain and hostility. Not knowing whether to comfort Ivar in this situation, or leave him be, you decided on the latter as you continued to stare at the table numbly, just listening to the bickering happening.

“Poor Bjorn, it is YOU that doesn’t want to keep the army together. It is YOU who wants to go away to sunny places. Everyone else can follow me.”

Sigurd stood up, staring at Ivar. “I do not want to follow you Ivar. You are crazy! You have the mind of a child.”

“And all you do is play music Sigurd.”

“I’m just as much a son of Ragnar as you are.”

“Ohhh I’m not so sure. As far as I remember, Ragnar did not play the oud . And he certainly didn’t offer his ass to other men,” Ivar bellowed, the crowd ‘ooohing’ at his response.

“You make me laugh. Just like you do when you crawl around like a baby.”

“Shut your mouth!” Ivar growled as his fists slammed against the table causing you to jump. This was not going good; this was getting way out of control, even for Ivar and Sigurd.

“Something is going to happen,” you whispered, eyes glossed over as you felt a pang in your chest.

Your words caught Ubbe’s attention as he leaned in closer to you, a worried expression on his face. “What was that Hettie?”

You turned to face him, lips parted, your heart feeling like it was about to rip from your chest. “Ubbe, something bad is going to happen. I can feel it.”

“Enough,” Bjorn yowled from the crowd; mouth full of food.

“This has nothing to do with you!” Ivar barked back.

“What’s the matter, Ivar? You can’t take it?”

“Ivar, do not listen to him,” Ubbe begged.

“No, I guess it must be hard for you now that your mommy’s dead, knowing she’s the only one who ever really loved you. Hell, I am sure Hettie does not even love you like you think she does,” Sigurd said with a grin before sipping his ale. Ivar looked murderous, his lips furrowed up, his eyes malicious.

“Ivar. IVAR!” Ubbe roared but it was too late. Sigurd set Ivar off in a rage within Ivar as he picked up his axe, hurtling it towards Sigurd as it stuck in his chest, right below the heart. Blood immediately began to seep from Sigurd’s wound and you let out a yelp, your hands covering your mouth. While you had never cared for Sigurd before, especially after the events in the tent, you would never wish death upon any of his brothers.

Sigurd pulled the axe from his chest as be began to slowly walk to towards Ivar; the axe rose in his hand, hell bent on using it on Ivar, yet he did not have the chance. Sigurd fell to the ground dead at the foot of Ivar; Ubbe and Hvitserk rushing to their fallen brothers’ side. Your gaze flitted from Ivar, to Sigurd’s lifeless body; your heart now hollow from all the death that surrounded the day.

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densi-mber · 4 years

Text

Paramnesia

A/N: For today’s prompt. This particular scenario was suggested by @mashmaiden. Set in early season 4.

***

“Agent Blye?”

Kensi groaned, pushing at the hand tapping her shoulder.

“Agent Blye, can you hear me?” the voice said more insistently.

“Where am I?” she mumbled, just barely able to open her eyes. Even that made her head pound.

“You’re in the hospital, ma’am,” the man explained. “I’m Nurse Jackson. I noticed you were waking up a few minutes ago.” Kensi gave the barest of nods, becoming increasingly confused. She didn’t remember scheduling any procedure. Actually, she couldn’t remember much of anything.

“What happened to me?” Lifting her hand, she frowned at the needle inserted in the back of her hand.

“Your vehicle crashed and turned over in a ditch this morning. You suffered a head injury, but your doctor can tell you more about that when you’re a little more settled.”

“Am I going to die?” she asked, squinting up at the nurse. Something started beeping loudly and he gently grabbed her hand.

“No, ma’am, the injury was not that severe. Please calm down.” She tried to take a couple breaths, instinctually knowing that she wouldn’t like the results if she couldn’t calm down on her own. When the monitor stopped beeping, Nurse Jackson added, “Your partner will be back soon. He had to step away to make a call.”

“My partner,” she mumbled. She didn’t remember having a partner either.

“Yes, Marty Deeks. He brought you in.” He checked her IV, glancing at her a couple times. “I’m going give you a dose of pain medication and I’ll let your doctor now you’re awake.”

Laying back down, she tried to force herself to remember something, repeating the name Marty Deeks in her mind until she felt calmer. A few minutes later, the door opened again.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re awake,” said the man who walked through. He was tall with messy blonde hair that curled around his ears and a wide mouth that was currently narrowed with worry. Kensi felt something flutter in the pit of her stomach at the sound of his voice. As he drew closer, she noticed some blood smeared across his forehead.

He hesitated for a moment and then bent to hug her, the fluttering feeling increased and she wrapped her free arm around his neck. This was obviously Marty. It felt good, comforting to be in his arms.

“The nurse said we were in an accident,” she said, pushing herself up higher in the bed. She must have guessed right that he was there too because he nodded, his expression turning worried once more.

“Yeah, you don’t remember it?”

“Some of my memories are a little foggy,” Kensi hedged. She grabbed his hand and his eyes flew down to their linked fingers. “But my head barely hurts.” That was a bald-faced lie. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I don’t know, the doctor-“

“Please, Marty.” He arched an eyebrow at that and he shook his head, allowing a tiny smirk.

“You’re super cute when you beg Kensalina, but I think they’ll want to keep you for a while for observation. It was a pretty bad crash.”

“I just want to go home.,” Kensi murmured, pressing his hand to her lips.

“Ok, yeah, wow. Apparently that TBI made you a lot more affectionate that usual,” he said, his cheeks flushing just a little. It was pretty adorable.

“What, I’m not always affectionate with my husband?” she teased, looking right up into his gorgeous blue eyes. It felt normal, easy, and took away some of her discomfort at having absolutely no idea who this guy was.

“Husband?” He chuckled, turning away slightly before he rubbed his jaw. “Ok, yes, I’m definitely your husband. I uh, I want to talk to your doctor...about getting you released. Don’t go anywhere.”

He returned about five minutes later with the doctor in tow. While Marty stood in the background, the doctor, who introduced herself as Doctor Martinez, gave Kensi an amnesia test. At first it took her longer than she was proud of to come up with the simple answers to questions about the date and time, but then they became progressively easier as more information returned to her.

She even started to remember more about Marty.

The only things she couldn’t seem to remember were what happened directly before and after the accident. Dr. Martinez didn’t seem particularly worried about that and since she didn’t ask any questions about her personal life, Kensi didn’t volunteer the information.

“So, what does this mean?” Deeks asked, rubbing at his bottom lip. Kensi had noticed he had a habit of running his fingers through his hair, which made it even messier.

At some point during the exam, he’d taken her hand again. She was grateful for the support and didn’t mind the feel of his warm fingers gripping hers. “Is Kensi going to be alright? Does she need to stay in the hospital?”

“I want to look at her CT scan again, but I think she should be alright to go home,” Dr. Martinez said. “As long as she has someone to watch her the first couple days and nights for any changes.”

“Marty will be with me,” Kensi said, glancing up at him with a small smile. His own smile looked kind of odd, but she didn’t worry about it too much. She trusted him.

“Well, in that case, I’ll be fine with releasing you. And Mr. Deeks, her memory should return in a few days to a couple weeks. It’s an encouraging sign that her amnesia is already resolving.”

“Babe, can you take care of the paperwork?” The words sounded a little strange coming from her mouth, but she shook it off. Everything felt a little strange right now. Marty didn’t immediately answer, so she touched his stomach lightly to get his attention. He jerked, his eyes widening in surprise. “You’ll take care of the paperwork, right?”

“Uh sure, I’ll get started on that,” he muttered. She tipped her chin up expectantly and after a moment of hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.

***

“So, uh, what exactly do you remember about us?” Deeks asked as casually as he could, flicking a quick look at Kensi. She was propped up in the passenger seat with a couple of pillows, but other than the small bandage at her hair line, she didn’t seem that much worse for wear.

Oh, except for the fact that she apparently thought they were married. He wasn’t sure what had led her to believe that were in a relationship at all, but he hadn’t figured out a way to break the truth to her yet.

“We work together,” she began slowly, looking at him for confirmation, “at NCIS.”

“That’s right.” At least that was a start. Maybe with enough gentle leading, she would realize the truth.

“We met when when we were both undercover at a gym. We didn’t get along very well at first, but then we started working as partners.” She paused and glanced at him, her smile turning reminiscent.

“I think you thought I was pretty annoying and kind of idiot when we first met,” Deeks said, smirking at his own expense. “Still do sometimes to be honest.”

“Mm, but I love you anyway,” Kensi commented drowsily, reaching across the consul to run her fingers over his cheek. A shiver ran down his spine at the simple touch combined with her soft, almost dreamy expression . He wasn’t used to her touching him this much when it wasn’t followed by a sarcastic comment or the promise of violence.

“Uh...here we’re are.” He pulled into her driveway, and parked, grabbing her bag from the back and then helping her out. When he offered her his arm, she wrapped her arm around his neck instead, obviously expecting him to pick her up.

After a little fumbling, he had one arm around her waist and the other under her knees. Kensi once again didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“My head hurts,” she mumbled. “And my back is kind of sore too. Maybe you can rub it for me.”

“Sure.” Deeks huffed out a laugh. God, this was like all his dreams come true but in totally the wrong way. He used the spare house key Kensi had given him a couple years ago for emergencies and carried her straight to her bedroom.

Despite their usual lack of boundaries and the number of times he’d hung out at her apartment, he rarely set foot inside her room. It was an unspoken line that neither of them was willing to cross, a sign of intimacy, which was now being completely trampled.

He set her on the bed and then grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats from a pile by the door. Before she could ask for help with changing, he told her,

“I’m gonna check in with Hetty and let her know how you’re doing.”

“But you’re not leaving, right?” She checked, grabbing for his hand.

“Of course not,” he assured her, crouching down in front of her. “What if you tripped over a pile of clothes on your way to get a late night snack? I’d never forgive myself.”

“Shut up. And I promised I clean up the mess this weekend,” she said, rolling her eyes. “As soon as we get a break from work.”

“Kensi, I’m not going to let you clean anything while you have a concussion.” He started to stand again, but Kensi leaned forward, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me.” She dipped her head and he didn’t move as she gently kissed him. It was just a brush of lips, less than the kiss they shared while undercover. Somehow it was so much more. Clearing his throat noisily, he untangled her arms, and rushed into the living room, not caring if Kensi thought it was strange.

He quickly updated Hetty on Kensi’s status. Hetty gave him the rest of the day off without him even asking with instructions to take good care of “Ms. Blye”. He felt a twinge of guilt at that, but didn’t mention anything about Kensi’s memory lapse. The team would figure that out soon enough.

When he hung up, he fixed Kensi a bowl of soup and a small sandwich, remembering she hadn’t eaten since early that morning.

“Hey, I made you some food.” he said quietly as he walked back into her room with a tray balanced on one hand. Kensi was curled up in bed looking way too soft and drowsy-eyed for her own good. “I couldn’t find any twinkies or peanut butter cups, so it’s just plain old tomato basil.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. He didn’t think that was a particularly good sign, but set the food to the side and crouched in front of her again. Just to be at eye level, he told himself.

“Ok, do you need anything else?” Kensi slid a hand out from under the covers and clumsily cupped his cheek.

“Just you.”

***

A/N: I played this like Kensi was remembering some bits from when they were undercover in Neighborhood Watch. And yes, there will be a part 2.

As always, I am not a medical expert or professional. Although I do try to do some research, this is just for fun and there’s bound to be some mistakes.

#densimber 2020 #densimber 4.0 #densi #ncis la fanfiction #densimber day 26 #light whump #by ejzah

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ejzah · 4 years

Note

Could you write about alternate events between seasons 9 and 10 where the team made it back safely, but Deeks and Kensi still haven’t reconciled. Deeks is offered to officially return to NCIS, but since Kensi refuses to talk to him and thinking he needs space, he decides to leave LA and goes to the airport. Kensi realizes how unfair she has been and goes to the airport to stop him. Includes Mosley, another proposal and the entire team watch from ops. PLEASE CAN YOU WRITE THIS!!!

A/N: Is this kind of involved, yes. Is it kind of a mess, also yes.

Since the prompt specified that they return to LA safely, I decided that no one got injured, beyond a few scrapes and such (including Hidoko). Is this exactly what anon imagined, probably not quite.

***

Kensi glanced over at Deeks. He was sitting across from her, just like he had on the way to Mexico, but there might as well be several countries between them. Despite their success in “rescuing” Derrick from his father, their current interactions had not improved.

Derrick was at the other end of the plane, happily chatting with his mom on Sam’s cell phone. Every so often, Deeks would glance back at him, his expression dark. He’d interacted with Derrick readily enough, charming him with his usual ease into playing a guessing game while they waited for the plane to take off, but he’d also made it blatantly clear that he still thought the mission was unnecessary and ill-planned. It didn’t matter that they’d managed to retrieve Derrick without any deaths or major injuries and, most importantly, without Spencer Williams noticing.

After Kensi had pointed out how well everything had gone, he’d pressed his lips together and refused to speak to anyone. It made her heart ache. And it made her angry. It made her feel a whole host of other feelings, gnawing at her. Maybe if she gave Deeks the time he apparently needed, he’d eventually calm down enough to talk to her reasonably.

She glanced at Deeks again; he was staring at his folded hands, his face unreadable. She almost spoke, but just shook her head, glancing back out the window, watching the clouds pass by.

***

Mosley was waiting for them when the plane landed. She didn’t even wait for them to finished descending the ramp before she was racing towards them. She was dressed in leggings, a sweatshirt, and gym shoes and Kensi realized she looked much younger and remarkably small without heels and a dress

“Oh, baby,” she said, pressing a hand to her mouth as Derrick appeared in the doorway. She pulled him into her arms, shaking as she held him. Derrick was a little stiff, but after a moment hesitantly returned the hug.

“I missed you, mom,” he said shyly.

“Me too, Derrick. I thought about you every day.” They talked for a couple minutes more and then she turned to face the, not even attempting to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. “Thank you, for returning my son to me,” she said, her voice ringing with sincerity. All of you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Sam countered, leaning heavily on the cane Callen insisted he use as soon as the boarded the plan. Turning around, she singled out Deeks who was watching the reunion with an unreadable expression.

“Thank you for coming Detective, even though you didn’t have to.” Deeks seemed surprised by her words, but just shrugged.

“It’s what I do. Or at least what I did,” he replied and if Kensi wasn’t mistaken, with a note of censure. Mosley sighed, none of her usual superiority present. She whispered something in Derrick’s ear then took a few steps away.

“I do owe you an apology, Deeks,” she told him. “My actions and words to you were unforgivable, but you should know that I have been reinstated as the LAPD liaison for the Office of Special Projects. Hopefully that will in some way atone for my behavior.”

Deeks looked momentarily surprised by her admission, but smoothed his expression quickly.

“Thank you, Executive Assistant Director.”

“It’s just Mosley now.” She smiled grimly. “I think we all know that I won’t be returning to NCIS in any capacity.” Glancing over her shoulder, her smile became more genuine. “But that doesn’t matter now. I have something much more important to care about.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Deeks said, which wasn’t exactly acceptance of her apology. Mosley nodded and started to turn away. “Derrick seems like a really good kid,” he added. “Take good care of him.”

“I will,” she promised. They watched her bundle Derrick into a black SUV and leave the lot.

“Well, looks like we’re one big happy family again,” Callen said with forced lightness.

***

“We should talk,” Deeks said abruptly several hours later. Callen and Sam had left the bullpen a few minutes earlier and the awkward silence had continued to grow between them.

“If it’s more of what you said in the garage,” Kensi started, schooling her expression into something professional and blank. “then I don’t want to hear it.” She glanced down before her mask slipped and missed Deeks’ look of anguish.

“Kensi...” he sounded anguished.

“I don’t think we need another fight right now.” She couldn’t take it, not right now. There was another moment of silence and then she heard him stand up. “Where are you going?” she asked without thinking.

“I need to get out of here,” he said.

“Ok, give me a few minutes and we can go ho-“

“No, I mean out of LA.” His voice shook, but when Kensi looked up, he had a stubborn expression she recognized. Whatever he was planning, it was set in his mind.

“Where?” she whispered, her heart plummeting. “Deeks, you can’t just leave.”

“Kensi, I can’t go home and pretend that everything is ok when it’s not,” he said, rubbing at his jaw. “I’ll find a cheap ticket somewhere and stay there a couple weeks.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She shook her head, pressing her lips together to keep from screaming at him. Or crying.

“Then talk to me,” he shouted. He cringed as it echoed through the room.

“Talking right now is pointless,” she said, her voice shaking. “You obviously haven’t changed your opinion about any of this.”

He started to say something, leaning towards her, but then he shook his head again and pulled the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Bye, Kensi.” She almost called him back. She almost ran after him. Instead she sat frozen, unable to move or speak.

Sometime later, she didn’t really know how long, Callen and Sam returned.

“Where’s Deeks?” Sam asked, clearly noticing his missing bag.

“He left,” Kensi whispered.

“I realize he’s tired, but Hetty was clear that we need to get this all straightened out as soon as possible if we want to keep our jobs.”

“He went to the airport.” Callen and Sam shared another one of their looks and before they could ask another question, she added, “We fought the other night and he decided that the best thing for us would be for him to leave.”

“When’s he coming back?” Callen asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if he’s ever coming back.” Finally voicing the thought that had been running through her mind since Deeks had left seemed to be the tipping point. She buried her face in her hands as tears started streaming down her cheeks.

She vaguely heard Sam and Callen having a hasty whispered discussion and then Sam’s hand squeezed her shoulder.

“It’ll be ok, Kensi. You guys will work this out,” he assured her.

“How can you know that? You don’t even know what we fought about,” she said, hastily scrubbing at her cheeks as Sam awkwardly leaned against her desk. “It’s not the usual stuff. Dirty laundry and stupid comments. It was really bad this time.”

“I can guess what it was about. And whatever it is, I know that you’ll work things out because I know you two. I know how much you love and care about each other.”

“This is different, Sam. I really hurt him this time.”

“Somehow I have a feeling you both hurt each other. You’ll figure out a way to fix it, just like all the other times. It’s part of being in a relationship,” he said.

“I don’t know how to even begin,” she said helplessly. It seemed insurmountable, especially since every time they spoke to each other, they ended up arguing again.

“Start by going after him,” Callen suggested, you’ll figure it out from there.

“But-“

“Kensi, do you love him?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Then go now. Go before things get worse,” Sam said. She hesitated and then started shoving things at random into her bag.

“Tell Hetty-“

“We’ll handle it,” Callen assured her. Kensi’s rubbed her hand over her face.

“God, I don’t even know where to start looking for him. What if he’s already left?”

“We’ll get Nell and Eric to hack security and find him,” Sam said and Callen made a face.

“We will?”

“It’s for love, G. Go Kensi.”

***

Kensi blew out an unsteady breath as she parked the SUV in the airport parking lot. On the ride over, she’d taken time to really examine her reaction to Deeks suggestion that they quit. She still didn’t know what she planned to say. Hopefully she didn’t end up making things worse.

“Ok, Deeks just purchased last minute tickets for a one-way trip to Cedar Rapids, Iowa,” Nell informed her over speaker phone.

“What the hell is going to Iowa for?” she muttered. “Never mind, where is he waiting?”

“Um, a lobby just outside terminal 6. They start boarding in about 20 minutes.” 20 minutes wasn’t much time. She grabbed her badge, wallet, keys and phone and stuffed them into her pocket. Then, as a last second thought she opened the glove compartment and carefully removed the thin necklace she stored her engagement ring on when she wasn’t wearing it.

She latched it around her neck, the ring a familiar, comforting weight against her chest.

It took 10 minutes to get through security, even with her badge and multiple mentions of her federal status. Then came the task of finding Deeks among everyone else waiting to board.

She got several odd looks from people as she jogged up and down the rows, searching for him. Finally, she spotted him leaning against a wall next to a coffee shop, his head bowed as he typed something on his phone.

“Deeks,” she whispered, standing in front of him. His head popped up, a myriad of expressions crossing his face before he settled on confusion.

“Kensi, what are you-how did you...?” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I’m so sorry for the things I accused you of. I know you might not be ready to forgive me yet, but please say you’ll stay.” Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like there was a hammer in her chest and she felt slightly dizzy. Deeks blinked at her for a moment, stepping away from the wall.

“The only reason I decided to go was because I thought you didn’t want to talk to me. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that I never should have brought leaving or kids up when I did.”

“So you’ll stay?” She waited for his response breathlessly.

“Do you think we can work through our issues?” he asked. It was a terrifying question, but she nodded, taking his hand and gripping it fiercely.

“Yes, I know it won’t be easy, but if we really try, we can figure this out,” she said, remembering Sam’s advice. He closed his eyes, drawing in a trembling breath and then pulled her into his arms.

“The past few days have been some of the worst days of my life,” he told her, his voice raw with emotion. “I don’t want to ever feel like this again.” He let out a sigh of relief.

“Me neither. And we won’t,” Kensi promised. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She leaned extricated her arms as Deeks watched and unclasped the chain around her neck, dropping the ring into her palm.

“Ask me again,” she requested and he rolled his eyes, which a little wet.

“A sixth proposal? Really?”

“The last,” she assured him. He took the ring slowly, rolling it around in his fingers. For a second, Kensi thought he would say no, but then he dropped to his knee.

“Kensi Marie Blye, will you please marry me?” he asked, his eyes holding the same warmth and love as the first time she remembered him proposing.

“Yes,” Kensi whispered, the conviction of her promise behind her words. “I want to marry you more than anything.” Deeks slipped the ring onto her finger once more and several people cheered around them, the faint sound of camera shutters clicking as she joined him on the floor.

***

“Well, thank god we have that mess sorted out,” Hetty said with a sigh as they all watched Kensi and Deeks kissing on screen.

“Do you think we should maybe turn the feed off? Give them some privacy?” Eric suggested.

“They’re in the middle of a crowded airport,” Callen pointed out. “Privacy is kind of a moot point right now.

“What would you have done if they hadn’t worked things out?” Nell asked. Sam and Callen has given them a very abridged version of events, not knowing the full story themselves.

“Consoled Kensi,” Callen answered.

“Knocked some sense into Deeks,” Sam added.

“Or give them both a firm kick in the behind,” Hetty suggested.

“Aw, I didn’t realize you were that invested in their relationship,” Sam teased.

“I’m not. But I already ordered their wedding present and don’t feel like paying shipping charges again.” She couldn’t quite contain her satisfied smile though as she watched Kensi and Deeks stand and leave the airport, hand-in-hand.

***

A/N: I have never been inside an airport, let alone LAX, so I’m kind of making half this up.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #densi #post mexico #sam hanna #g callen #hetty lange #nell jones #eric beale #angst #anonymous prompt #au #ejzah fanfiction

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godyoutalkpretty · 8 years

Text

Mammoth

Something banged hard on the other side of the door, shifting it slightly in its frame, causing the shelf stood against the wall to rattle and the pictures hanging there to swing. Something else made noise on the other side of the door, on the outside of the darkened room; the clattering of metal on metal. There was a pause, then the door swung open inwards at speed, and right behind it came two forms, though to look at them it would be easy to confuse them for one.

Deeks held Kensi close to him, their chests pressed as close as it was possible to be as he carried her across the threshold and into the cabin. Her legs were up, wrapped tight around his waist, her hands desperately in his shaggy golden curls. Their mouths were crushed hungrily together, and frantic heavy breaths tried hard to force themselves around the corner of the pair’s lips. They tracked thick layers of loose snow onto the heavy carpet as they stepped further into the dark cabin.

“Oh, door, door,” Kensi said, her hand wafting randomly towards it, but her lips had already been away from Deeks’ for far too long, and she soon found them again. Deeks shifted her a little as he moved his weight, pointing a leg out and kicking the door back closed. Then, suddenly, Kensi found herself spun fully around and pushed hard against the door again. Deeks was a firm pressure against her, pinning her exhilaratingly against the hard wood at her back. He pulled his mouth from hers a moment, but she didn’t even have time to whine a protest before they were on the side of her neck, kissing at the tendon there. Blindly, she groped about to the side with her palm until she found what she was looking for; the light switch. Illumination blared in the cabin, chasing away all the shadows, and casting it into sharp relief.

It was all beautiful warm wood, all open space, in the cabin. A well-worn, comfortable looking, couch took up most of the middle of the main room, pointed directly at a currently unlit fireplace. On the other side was a wide open window, looking out on the mountains of Mammoth, which were layered with incredible heavy snow. There was a kitchen, and a bedroom off to the side somewhere too.

Kensi saw none of it. She only had attention for the man who was kissing her mouth again. Her hands now explored the expanse of his back, the taut muscles there pulling the cloth of his t-shirt tight. Her heart hammered desperately in her chest, like she was running a marathon, or in a gun fight, but neither of those had the pure hit of adrenaline that this did.

How much time passed she couldn’t say before they both finally came up for air. Deeks gave her a look, almost like a shy little coy smile, almost like he was embarrassed. She couldn’t say she blamed him; they hadn’t exactly been the most subtle people in the last two days. She gave a small start. Had it really only been forty eight hours since they had both decided to go All In, since that moment on the Culver ice rink?

She honestly didn’t think that either of them expected that day to end the way it did. She certainly hadn’t, and she’d been the one who initiated it. It hadn’t even been an especially apropos day of it either. Sure, there had been the case involving Callen and his girlfriend, so maybe it had somehow been ignited by the interactions she’d seen between them. Kensi liked Joelle well enough, and thought that she and Callen were a good, if unusual, match; her a teacher, and Callen doing what he did. There was something to be said about being in a relationship with someone outside of the business, outside of the lying and the danger. It was certainly rare for the kind of people that the OSP agents all were.

Kensi, of course, had no chance of that ever happening. The likelihood of that being a part of her life had vanished without a trace the moment she had set foot in that MMA gym all those years ago, though she hadn’t been in a position to realise and accept that until much later. She didn’t even regret the time in between then and now, because she knew what she and Deeks had was a bond so strong that nothing could tear them apart.

Deeks’ shiver brought her from her thoughts.

“Cold?” she asked, a playful smile on her lips.

“Who’d have thought that at the top of a mountain, surrounded by snow, wouldn’t be the warmest place in the world.”

“Well, me too, so why don’t you go back outside and get the bags?”

“Not exactly the phrase I imagined you’d be saying next,” he said.

“And I’ll get the fire started,” she continued with a bigger grin, “so we can get some heat in here.”

He gave her a wolfen, lopside grin. “Your wish is my command,” he said. He gave her a brief bow, grabbed the door handle, steeled himself with a few deep breathes, then threw it open and lunged back out into the white outside. As the door slammed shut behind him, Kensi quite clearly heard his exclamation of “Balsamic Vinegar!” and shook her head as she rolled her eyes, smirking the way he had gone.

By the time he had returned, heavily laden with their bags, she had the fire going, the red and orange flames flickering with rolling waves of heat in the stone fireplace. A bottle of red wine stood opened at the side of the fire, with two large shining glasses reflecting the dancing flames. Deeks cursed again, shaking himself off like a big wet dog, fresh snow showering from him to land on the carpet.

“It’s really coming down now,” he said, dumping the bags almost unceremoniously by the side of the door. Kensi craned her neck towards the wide windows; indeed, thick, heavy flakes were coming down again in a furious flurry. She turned back to make some comment, but as she did, he had already crossed the space between them, scooping her up into his arms and kissing her again. It was a hot and passionate kiss, none of the fire between them having faded in the last two days in the slightest.

When they finally broke apart – whether it was five minutes or five hours later, Kensi wasn’t actually sure – Deeks gave her another of those sheepish smirks.

“Sorry,” he said. “It was too long without, you know, without kissing you.”

Kensi looked at him, deep in those clear blue eyes, while her palm curled against the rough stubble on his jawline. Unconsciously, she licked her bottom lip, savouring the taste if him still on her.

“Okay Deeks,” she said, taking a few unsteady steps away from him. She felt light headed from the kisses, her entire body trembling. “We didn’t really talk about this, but I think we need to lay down some ground rules.”

“Okay?” he said, a touch cautiously.

“Number one; none of this,” she gestured up and down the both of them, “while we’re at work, okay? We are both totally professional while we’re on the job.”

“Alright,” he said, with a shrug. “Fine by me, but I feel I should point out that you’re the one who could barely keep their hands off me before, so I don’t know how you’re going to manage now that we’re…” He gave a warm smile, before finishing her words, “…dating.”

Warmth flushed into Kensi’s cheeks and her chest at the word, and it took her a moment to be outraged by his implication. She wafted her fist at him, and he chuckled, holding up his hands in faux surrender.

“Number two,” she continued, kneeling down in front of her fire. She took him gently by the hand, tugging him down so he was sat cross-legged before her. “Nobody knows, not to start with. Not Callen, not Sam, not Eric or Nell, and certainly not Hetty.”

“Well, if they missed us start kissing at the ice rink, I think we should be good,” he said.

“We’ll tell them,” she said, “eventually. But not while everything is still new, I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“And here was me thinking you’re embarrassed by me already.”

“I’ve always been embarrassed by you, Deeks,” she countered. “That’s not going to change now that we’re…”

He ginned at her pause. “Say it.”

She smiled back at him. “Dating.” The word was like relish on her tongue.

He leant forward, then, and gave her another kiss, full on the lips. It was soft and warm. To begin with, anyway. As if by some unspoken cue, they both leant deeper into the kiss, harder, pressing themselves together. Kensi’s fingers found Deeks’ soft hair. She’d thought about playing with that hair so many times over the last few years, dreamt about it at times, so she wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity that she had now.

Deeks forced his strong frame against her again, pressing her back, levering her so that she was lying on her spine, the thick, soft, rug below her. Deeks weight was heavy atop her, but the good kind of heavy, the comfortable kind. She lifted one leg up, hooking it across the back of Deeks’ thighs, using it to pull him even closer to her. Her heart was hammering in her chest again; she felt like it might never slow down again.

Her hands were in his hair again, fingers sliding through the shaggy, styled-by-pillow, curls, while his were in her own velvet locks. Soft moans slipped from her lips amongst the other sounds of their kissing. She hadn’t been like this since she was a teenager, since the first flames of passion had boiled up in her young frame and needed the escape only making out with a hot guy could offer.

But then the heat was getting too much.

This close to the fire, it was stifling. She tore her lips from his, pushing him back onto his haunches with the palm of her hand.

“Wait a minute,” she said, around ragged gasps of breath. “I just need to…” Then she reached forward, grabbing his shirt by the hem and drawing it up and over his broad back and wide shoulders in one smooth movement. “That’s better,” she said, staring at his tightly muscled frame. She could still see the soft scars in his chest, remembrance of the time, many years ago, when he had been shot in an attempt to get to her.

Deeks smirked at her. “Really?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” she replied.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” Then she grabbed him one handed around the back of the neck and pulled him to her lips again.

It wasn’t any cooler now. In fact, Deeks’ body was like a furnace above her, giving off pulses of blistering heat that she knew were caused by his own reactions to her. She didn’t care right now. Her hands were roaming his scorching skin, feeling the taut muscles of his back and arms dance under her soft touch. His own hands were running down her side, making her tremble even more than she had been before. Then his fingers were curling around the hem of her own shirt, and it was coming up, revealing her stomach, her ribs, then the soft lace bra she wore beneath.

He discarded her shirt as roughly as she had his, tossing it deeply into the far reaches of the cabin, then pressed her fully back onto the rug and kissed her more.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

#NCIS: LA #NCISLAedit #Densi #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #mine #mine: la #fanfiction #this was inspired in part by me wishing we had a hot makeout session like callen and anna #and a few other thoughs #*thoughts #tho some of them didn't make it into the final piece sadly

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Editor: Christina Boyd Narrator: Victoria Riley Length: 18 hours and 3 minutes Series: The Quill Collective, Book 3 Publisher: The Quill Ink, LLC Released: Jul. 18, 2019 Genre: Anthologies “But I hate to hear you talking so, like a fine gentleman, and as if women were all fine ladies, instead of rational creatures. We none of us expect to be in smooth water all our days.” (Persuasion, Jane Austen) Jane Austen: True romantic or rational creature? Her novels transport us back to the Regency, a time when well-mannered gentlemen and finely-bred ladies fell in love as they danced at balls and rode in carriages. Yet her heroines, such as Elizabeth Bennet, Anne Elliot, and Elinor Dashwood, were no swooning, fainthearted damsels in distress. Austen’s novels are timeless classics because of their biting wit, honest social commentary - because she wrote of strong women who were ahead of their day. True to their principles and beliefs, they fought through hypocrisy and broke social boundaries to find their happily-ever-after. In the third romance anthology of The Quill Collective series, 16 celebrated Austenesque authors write the untold histories of Austen’s heroines, brave adventuresses, shy maidens, talkative spinsters, and naughty matrons. Peek around the curtain and discover what made Lady Susan so wicked, Mary Crawford so capricious, and Hettie Bates so in need of Emma Woodhouse’s pity. Rational Creatures is a collection of humorous, poignant, and engaging short stories set in Georgian England that complement and pay homage to Austen’s great works and great ladies who were, perhaps, the first feminists in an era that was not quite ready for feminism. “Make women rational creatures, and free citizens, and they will become good wives; - that is, if men do not neglect the duties of husbands and fathers.” (Mary Wollstonecraft) Stories by: Elizabeth Adams, Nicole Clarkston, Karen M Cox, J. Marie Croft, Amy D’Orazio, Jenetta James, Jessie Lewis, KaraLynne Mackrory, Lona Manning, Christina Morland, Beau North, Sophia Rose, Anngela Schroeder, Joana Starnes, Brooke West, and Caitlin Williams CHRISTINA BOYD wears many hats as she is an editor under her own banner, The Quill Ink, a contributor to Austenprose, and a commercial ceramicist. A life member of Jane Austen Society of North America, Christina lives in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest with her dear Mr. B, two busy teenagers, and a retriever named BiBi. Visiting Jane Austen’s England was made possible by actor Henry Cavill when she won the Omaze experience to meet him in the spring of 2017 on the London Eye. True story. You can Google it. Website⎮Twitter⎮Facebook⎮Goodreads⎮Amazon⎮Instagram Victoria Riley is a British voiceover artist and audiobook narrator. Originally trained as a theatre actor, she gradually moved into voice work and is now happiest behind the mic. She loves classic literature and travelling the world. If she isn't recording, she's probably lying in a hammock in some far-flung place, reading book after book after book. Website⎮Twitter I received this audiobook as part of my participation in a blog tour with Audiobookworm Promotions. The tour is being sponsored by Christina Boyd. The gifting of this audiobook did not affect my opinion of it. Rational Creatures: Stirring of Feminism in the Hearts of Jane Austen's Fine Ladies, the Quill Collective, Book 3 by Joana Starnes, Amy D'Orazio, Caitlin Williams, Karen Cox, Jenetta James, Beau North, Chistina Morland, Nicole Clarkston, Elizabeth Adams, J. Marie Croft, Jessie Lewis, Kara Lynne Mackrory, Lona Manning, Sophia Rose, Anngela Schoreder, and Brooke West. Now that is a lot of names. Each of these writers brought you a story about a different Austen character. 1. Self-Composed by Christina Morland. (Elinor Dashwood.) 2. Every Past Affliction by Nicole Clarkston. (Marianne Dashwood.) 3. Happiness in Marriage by Amy D'Orazio. (Elizabeth Bennett.) 4. Charlotte's Comfort by Joana Starnes. (Charlotte Lucas.) 5. Knightly Discourse by Anngela Schroeder. (Emma Woodhouse.) 6. The Simple Things by J. Marie Croft. (Hetty Bates.) 7. In Good Hands by Caitlin Williams. (Harriet Smith.) 8. The Meaning of Wife by Brooke West. (Fanny Price.) 9. What Strange Creatures by Jenetta James. (Mary Crawford.) 10. An Unnatural Beginning by Elizabeth Adams. (Anne Elliot.) 11. Where the Sky Touches the Sea by KaraLynne Mackrory. (Sophia Croft.) 12. The Art of Pleasing by Lona Manning. (Penelope Clay.) 13. Louisa by the Sea by Beau North. (Louisa Musgrove.) 14. The Strength of Their Attachment by Sophia Rose. (Catherine Morland.) 15. A Nominal Mistress by Karen M. Cox. (Eleanor Tilney.) 16. The Edification of Lady Susan by Jessie Lewis. (Lady Susan.) This collection of stories is taking a deeper dive into Austen’s greatest female characters. I thought it was definitely interesting to see someone else’s take on these characters. We had a variety of characters from the heroines to the minors. A lot of the ideas behind these short stories come the feminist ideas that are discussed in Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Women. The narrator was such a perfect match for this book. I loved how she performed all the different characters. She was so easy to listen too. I thought that her British accent fit so well. She put so much life into these stores that I felt I was really able to get to know these characters. I thought the writers and narrator did a fantastic job with the story collection mash up. I thought the stories were fun and engaging. The audiobook kept me listening for hours. Over 18 hours. I thought this was a fantastic edition. I found that I really enjoyed this collection. . Interview with Narrator: Victoria Riley. 1.When did you know you wanted to be an audiobook narrator? Well, I've always said that I'd be happy to just sit in a cupboard all day reading books. I didn't know that I could actually do that and get paid for it. Dreams do come true, folks. 2. How did you wind up narrating audiobooks? Was it always your goal or was it something you stumbled into by chance? I'm actually a classically trained actress and was originally interested in theatre. When I started out, audiobooks weren't really a big thing and it didn't occur to me as a career. I gradually veered into voiceover and my first audiobook was through my VO agent. I then set up my own studio at home and audiobooks are just one of the things I work on. 3. A lot of narrators seem to have a background in theatre. Is that something you think is essential to a successful narration career? I wouldn't say it's essential, but it really, really helps. We've been trained to analyse scripts and characters, to convey nuance and emotion. With audiobooks, you have to do it all with your voice, though, so it is an added skill. However, I do think that some people are natural storytellers. My Mum worked as a primary school teacher and I still remember the way she read books to me before bed. 4. What about this title compelled you to audition as narrator? I LOVE Jane Austen. I love her female characters with their fire and intelligence. To have such strong minds, but be so restricted with their options in life. For marriage to be your only way forward when you have so much to offer the world. It makes me feel claustrophobic just thinking about it. From a working perspective, this is also my first collection of short stories. Short stories are a real art form. You have to draw the reader (or listener!) into the tale very quickly and make them care about the characters without the luxury of a whole novel in which to do it. I really enjoyed each one being a separate little project, so I had a sense of closure and achievement after each one. 5. What types of things are harmful to your voice? I wouldn't say I'm that careful with it to be honest. I've had vocal training drummed into me for decades, so I think it really comes naturally to me to support my voice well and to speak from the diaphragm. I've been trained to project to the back of a theatre, without a microphone, night after night after night. Some narrators get tired voices, but you can't shut me up! 6. Who are your “accent inspirations”? Absolutely everybody! I love accents. I have a broad Lancashire accent myself. I hope you can't tell from 'Rational Creatures'! If I hear a good accent, someone on TV or in real life, I'll be there mouthing the words, fascinated by how they're forming the sounds. Penelope Keith is a good one for very upper class ladies. Pam Ayres for West Country. Some elude me, though. My Cockney wanders all over the place, though you get a snippet of it in 'Rational Creatures'. My boyfriend has a London accent and sometimes he helps me with pronunciations. I'll be texting him asking things like 'Transport or traaaahnsport??'. 7. How did you decide how each character should sound in this title? Well, a lot of the characters are very well-known anyway, which helps. I didn't feel as though I was creating them from scratch. Most of them just jump off the page too. There are simple things like class to consider. Also character traits, like arrogance, pomposity, shyness or humility, which affect voice and delivery. I love a character that you can really embody. When it's so obvious how they should sound that you don't even really have to think about it. 8. How does audiobook narration differ from other types of voiceover work you've done? It takes a REALLY long time, especially if you're fully producing the work yourself. It takes around six hours to produce one hour of finished audio, sometimes longer. That doesn't even include all the prep work you have to do first, reading the work in full, researching characters and pronunciations, deciding on voices. Editing takes forever, combing through the recording, editing out little sounds like mouth clicks or any particular noisy breaths. I also regularly do radio jingles, which is a good comparison, because it takes no time at all! Audiobooks are not for the faint-hearted. 9. If you could narrate one book from your youth what would it be and why? Apart from absolutely everything by Jane Austen? I have so many author heroes! However, if it's from my youth, then I'm going to plump for Roald Dahl's 'The Witches'. His stories are so evocative and he doesn't shy away from darker themes. I was born in Pendle Witch country, so this one struck a particular chord with me. 10. Any funny anecdotes from inside the recording studio? We've all done silly things. Giving an Oscar-worthy performance, then realising you haven't pressed record. Stuffing a cushion up your jumper to stop tummy rumbles reaching the mic. Gradually getting more naked as you stifle in the booth in summer. We've all done it. Giveaway: $20 Amazon Gift Card a Rafflecopter giveaway Sep. 6th: The Quill Ink Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author T's Stuff Reading A Page Turner Sep. 7th: All the Ups and Downs Viviana MacKade Miss Lawrence is Hearing Things Sep. 8th: Jorie Loves A Story Nesie's Place Eileen Troemel Sep. 9th: History from a Woman’s Perspective KayBee's Bookshelf, A Literary Blog Nyx Blogs Always Love Me Some Books Sep. 10th: Country Road Reviews The Book Junkie Reads . . . Sep. 11th: Jazzy Book Reviews Locks, Hooks and Books What Is That Book About Sep. 12th: My Creatively Random Life Dazzled by Books ➜Sign up as a host here

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