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fluentmoviequoter · 28 days

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Yelling at Cops

Part 2 of Flirting with Cops

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: After you are injured, your fiancé Tim yells at you and treats you like a boot. When Wade and Nyla find out, they tell him what really happened.

Warnings: canon typical danger and action, explosion, r is injured and goes to the hospital, yelling/arguments, fluff, teasing

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Bradford,” Nyla whispers from the other side of the shop. “Tell me this-“

“Do I have to?” you ask.

“Yes, because I am your TO. I’m, like, a goddess in this shop. I have the power to-“

“Have me fired or make me a rookie forever,” you finish with a chuckle. “I know, ma’am.”

“Tell me this,” Nyla begins again. “Does Bradford call you boot?”

“No.”

“Never? Not even when he gets upset?”

“He hasn’t gotten super upset with me yet. Raised his voice once because I almost got hurt, but nothing serious. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did at some point, though.”

“7-Adam-19, there’s a reported 215 and 245 at Olympic and Burnside Avenue,” control alerts.

“7-Adam-19, show us responding,” Nyla radios.

“Carjacking and assault with a deadly weapon?”

“Welcome to Los Angeles,” Nyla jokes.

As you approach the intersection, you see a man with a large automatic rifle ducking behind a car. There are civilians on the other side of the road and an injured man on the driver’s side of the car.

“Control, 7-Adam-19 requesting backup. One armed, one injured,” Nyla informs. “Block this lane.”

You pull around with your side of the shop toward the gunman. The car is facing you, so he can’t escape unless it’s on foot. Nyla opens her door and slides out before staying low to go around the back of the shop. You watch the man beside you, and when he turns quickly, you lower your window and pull your gun from your holster. He has a different weapon when he twists toward you, and when he aims it toward the back tire, you know he’s going to hurt Nyla. You don’t think before acting, not like you should, at least.

You throw the door open and begin firing as you move back toward Nyla. She yells at you to get down, but you turn toward her instead.

“Run!” you yell.

As you run behind Nyla, trying to get away from the shop, the man shoots the new weapon, and the shop explodes behind you. You fall to the asphalt, and Nyla stumbles ahead of you. Ignoring the pain in your leg, you push yourself up and rush behind a parked car. Nyla’s eyes widen when she sees you, and she pushes up to look through the windows of the car to locate the man.

“Control, this is Harper. Where’s my backup?” she yells into the radio.

“ETA two minutes,” control responds.

“What do we do?” you ask. “He’ll run.”

“You don’t do anything,” Nyla snaps. “Control, send a R/A to my location.”

“Harper, he’s moving again,” you say.

“Not your concern,” she replies.

You look toward her, and she’s looking between your leg and the car across the street. What’s left of the shop is aflame in the middle of Olympic Boulevard, blocking part of the man’s location from view. When Nyla turns toward you, you finally look at your leg. Your pants are darkened with blood, and when you bend your knee, you hiss in pain.

“Don’t move,” Nyla demands.

You don’t listen and gently push your fingers against the side of your thigh. “It’s just a bunch of glass.”

“Shrapnel in your body is not just anything!”

“Harper, we have to do something or he’s going to hurt the other people.”

Nyla exhales deeply before nodding. “Bradford is going to kill me,” she murmurs.

“He’ll come for me first,” you say with a small smile.

“Alright. You go around the shop and I’ll come up from behind. If you have a shot, take it.”

As you limp around the far side of the intersection, you raise your weapon and look for the shooter. Nyla’s gun fires before you see him, and you rush out to cover her. When the man sees you, he drops the rifle in his hands and raises them.

“Nice work,” Nyla tells you. “Now sit down and wait for your ambulance.”

On cue, the ambulance pulls up and two paramedics rush to your side.

“I’ll alert Sergeant Bradford,” someone says.

“No!” you and Harper yell together.

“This is related to his case,” the officer argues.

Wade slams the door of his car and cuts off the rest of his sentence. “I’ll fill in Bradford,” he states. “You, though,” he says to you, “have a lot more to explain.”

“You’re going to tell him?” you ask him.

“Would you rather he find out over the radio?”

You shake your head, and the paramedics move your gurney into the ambulance.

“I’ll try to calm him down, but… good luck, kid. I’ll be by in a few.”

“Thank you. You too, Harper.”

“You saved my life. Sorry I yelled at you,” she offers.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve just been moved to a private room after a painful hour of having shrapnel removed from your leg when Tim’s voice echoes through the hallways. He yells your name before his footsteps near your room. When he stops at the door, his chest is heaving, and his nostrils are flared.

“Are you out of your mind?” Tim demands loudly. “Harper should have you fired for that little stunt. I would! You are not here to be a hero, boot, and endangering lives – including yours – is not what being a cop is about!”

“Sergeant Bradford,” Wade says from behind Tim. “A word?”

“With me?” Tim asks. “Why don’t you remind the rookie in here about a little thing called procedure!”

“Tim,” Wade interjects. “Hallway. Now.”

Your eyes drop to your hands as they leave. Tim has never yelled at you like this before, and his insults and threats to have you fired do little to calm your nerves. Harper seemed mad when she first noticed your injury, but that was nothing compared to Tim’s reaction. You wait nervously for Tim, or at least Wade, to return from the hallway.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim begins to speak, but Wade raises a hand. He takes a deep breath to calm down before explaining everything he knows to Tim.

“I-“ Tim begins.

“No!” Wade says. “You don’t get to make an excuse about not knowing. You have known from the beginning, I told you from the beginning. When you came to me and said you were dating a rookie, I made an exception for you on one condition. I told you that if anything happened to her, it was on you. Not because you’re her superior, but because she is yours. This situation is unique, but you led me to believe you could handle it. Now, I’ll be honest, I did that hoping you’d back out and decide to wait to start a relationship, but once I saw the two of you together, my concerns became about what would happen if the two of you were separated by something or injured. That speech I just heard makes me think you’re just here as a cop. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll listen.”

“Why us?” Tim asks angrily. “Why are we worth the special treatment and personal attention?”

Somewhere along the way, Wade became like a father figure to you. When he agreed to let Tim continue seeing you without alerting IA, he threatened to demote, fire, or kill him if he did anything to jeopardize your career, life, or relationship.

“Because I care, Bradford. Is that so hard to believe? And right now, I’m wondering if you should go back to patrol or find a new station?”

“You can’t fire me for hurting her delicate little feelings, Wade!”

“And how would your feelings be if you were going to her funeral?” Wade snaps. Tim’s face drops and Wade adds, “Harper just filed her official statement. Their backup was two minutes away, and she would have been dead if your rookie hadn’t stepped in. They would both be dead, and I don’t know about you, but I think some glass shards to the leg is a whole lot better than a funeral.”

Tim’s eyes drop as he nods. “I messed up.”

“You did. Now do something about it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You look up immediately when the door opens. Tim walks in first, but Wade is close behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Tim begins. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you or threatened to have you fired, especially when I didn’t know as much as I thought I did. Are you okay?”

You nod, but Wade jumps in before you can say anything.

“I’m sorry, too. I went behind your back to keep Tim in line, or so I thought, from the very beginning. I should have been open with both of you, but I’ll do better now.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper, looking at Tim. You turn toward Wade to add, “And thank you for whatever it is you’ve done already.”

Wade nods and smiles before stepping back toward the door. Tim goes in the opposite direction and stops beside your bed.

“You’re really okay?” he asks as he takes your hand.

“Just sore. And I have to buy new pants.”

Tim sighs and pulls you into a hug, bending over to pull you close. You smile against him and rub his back. He’s tenser than you are, and he wasn’t even blown up.

You know that your relationship with Tim will never be easy, but it will always be worth the time and effort. Plus, your friends understand what you are going through and are there for you every step of the way.

“Visitor,” Wade alerts.

Tim steps back as Nyla walks in with a bag of your favorite snacks. Despite her original tough act, she does like you as a cop and as a friend.

“I heard someone yelled at you,” she says with a quick look toward Tim.

“He apologized. Didn’t bring me snacks though. Thank you!” you reply.

“He better keep apologizing,” Nyla adds, talking directly to Tim.

“I will,” he promises. “Glad you’re both okay.”

“Wait, does this mean I can’t help with the Metro case that I almost died for?” you interject.

“Not for a while,” Tim answers. “Gotta heal, first.”

“What was it you said? ‘Just some glass’, then walk it off,” Nyla says with a shrug.

“I wanted to ride with TO Bradford, the scariest in station history.”

You pout, and Tim shakes his head while Nyla laughs. Wade thinks about you and Tim riding together and wonders if you’d manage to get anything done.

“One cop is more than enough in my relationship,” Wade sighs. “I don’t know how you two do it.”

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #fem!reader #tim bradford fluff

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hellostickerdoodle · 9 months

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Nolan and Bradford Give Dating Advice

Nolan and Bradford attempt to give Celina and Aaron advice against dating your fellow cop.

As you can see, in both instances it did not go well, lol.

Those two are the last people who should have delivered the "don't date other cops" speech. If we go down memory lane John dated Lucy during their rookie year and Tim is currently dating Lucy.

The look on Tim's face when Aaron brings up the chain of command and everything related to that issue 😂

Aaron unintentionally hit several of Tim's nerves for good reason. At the time Tim WAS in Lucy's chain of command and the fall out could've been disastrous for both.

On an unrelated note, Nolan looks so cute when he's at his wits end with his rookie/boot.

#The Rookie #John Nolan #Tim Bradford #Aaron Thorsen #Celina Juarez #Nathan Fillion #Eric Winter #Lisseth Chavez #Tru Valentino #The Rookie Season 5 #S05x10 #My Rookie Stuff

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

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The Road Forgotten - Chapter 8

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London.

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst, guilt, revenge, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide/suicide ideations, some violence (in this chapter), a bit of smut (implied smut toward the end of this chapter)

Chapter word count: 2.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Arthur saw Elsie duck back into the alley, her face deathly white, her whole body shaking like a leaf. "What is it?"

"They found me. I don't know how, but they found me."

He didn't need to ask who she meant. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the other end of the alley, where it ended in a courtyard. He helped her over the short gate and into a series of labyrinthine lanes and pathways and yards that went behind and between houses. Through these they ran blindly, taking any turn they came upon, not caring where they were going as long as they put some distance between themselves and the two thugs, not stopping until they came upon a gate too tall to climb over. Here they paused to take a breather, straining their ears for any noise behind them. There were footsteps. Still far away, but definitely footsteps, coming closer, inevitably, inexorably. And they were trapped in a dead end.

"Who are these men?" Arthur asked. "Who do they work for? What did you do that made them hunt you so?"

"Does it matter?" Elsie said impatiently, rattling the bars of the gate in vain.

"Perhaps we could bribe them, or pay them off in some way..."

She snorted. "Not unless you have five thousand pounds lying around."

Arthur's heart sank when he remembered he'd once had twice that amount in his hands and had given it away to Compeyson, in a misguided attempt to pay for his sins. It hadn't worked. If only he still had it now. He could've saved Elsie. "What did you do?" he repeated.

Elsie turned to him. She seemed to have come to a decision.

"Do you remember what I told you about how I managed to leave Mrs. Hill's employment?" she said.

"The rich old gentleman?"

"There was no rich old gentleman," she said. "I ran away. I stole from her." She stopped and corrected herself. "No, I didn't steal. I only took what was owed me." And then the words came rushing out, in a cramped, urgent whisper, "It was the money I earned during my eight years there, one year as a maid and seven years as a whore. I made her piles and piles of gold and I never saw a sliver of it. So I took what was mine and I ran. I had to move Marianne three times before I found an asylum remote enough. But I had to come back to London to find Compeyson. And now she's sniffed me out." She took his hands. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

Arthur supposed he should have been angry that she kept this from him. But he only felt a sense of awed admiration, even more than what he'd already had for her, and utter shame at himself for sneering at her just a few days ago, for saying that she only knew how to charm men. She had forgiven him for his drunken rant, but he still wanted to make it up to her somehow. That night, he hadn't been able to bring himself to say what he wished he could do for her. He wished he could love her. He wished he could protect her. He wished he could make her feel safe and comfortable, so he never had to wake up to find her fidgeting in bed next to him again. But none of those things would make a difference now.

The footsteps were getting closer.

"Here," he said, kneeling down and clasping his hands together to form a step in front of her. "I can give you a boost."

"What about you?"

"I'll hold them off. You go."

"No!" She held on to his coat. "I told you, don't try to be a hero. They'll kill you."

He had to smile at that. If she only knew how much he'd longed for death before he met her. Back then, death would have been a release. Now he no longer craved it, but he would consider it a worthwhile prize to pay.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

Elsie looked at him, torn. Then she gathered up her skirts, stepped on his outstretched hands, and hoisted herself over the gate. But she didn't run off right away. She pulled a knife out of her reticule, the same knife she'd used on Bill Sikes the night they met, and pressed it into his hand. "Stay alive, all right?" she whispered. "I'll see you at home."

Home. Arthur wanted to tell her that his home was wherever she was, but before he could say a word, she reached through the gate, dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, and vanished into the night, leaving him standing there in shock.

Long after she was gone, he could still feel the heat of her lips on his skin. It gave him strength. He gripped the knife tightly in his palm and strode forward, in the direction of the approaching footsteps.

Soon enough, the two thugs emerged from the alley at a loping run. They drew to a halt upon seeing him. For the briefest moment, Arthur hoped they would ignore him and pass him by, but then he remembered he didn't just have to save himself; he had to stop them from going after Elsie. So he put on the boldest front he could muster up and stood in their way. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said with a pleasant smile. "May I help you?"

"Where's the girl?" the one known as Cyclops snarled.

"What girl?" Arthur asked, still smiling.

"Don't be smart with us, pretty boy," Cyclops said. "We saw you two getting cozy behind that gambling house. Where did she go?"

"Oh, that girl. How should I know? I paid her for her service, it is no concern of mine where she's gone," Arthur said. He hated the lie, but he told himself he was doing it to protect Elsie.

Cyclops's upper lip crooked up in a sneer. He bobbed his head to the tall one, the Chimney, who spat out the cheroot he'd been smoking, bent his shoulders, and ran straight at Arthur.

It was like being hit by a galloping horse. The man's shoulder caught Arthur under his sternum, causing him to crash to the ground with a force that knocked the breath clean out of him. Blackness smashed into his eyes, and pain exploded at the back of his head. He was hauled to his feet and slammed into a brick wall. More pain erupted between his shoulder blades, sending a sense of numbness down his spine and his limbs, paralyzing him.

Cyclops grunted, and the Chimney relaxed his arm, letting Arthur slide down the wall until he was at the same eye level as the little man. He could smell Cyclops's rancid breath on his face and see that single iron-gray eye with its pinprick of a pupil boring into him, even in the dim light of the alley. "Told you not to be smart with us," Cyclops said, holding a thin blade under Arthur's eye. "We've been watching you these past weeks. Joined at the hips, you are. You thought you were clever, you lost us for a while, but we found you again. So be good and tell us where she is. Don't make me mark up this sweet little face."

"I—don't—know—what—you're—talking about!" Arthur managed through the pain and the arm like a tree trunk on his chest, pinning him in place.

Cyclops sighed, as if he hated having to do this. Silently, he increased the pressure on the blade, and it bit into Arthur's cheek. The metal was icy cold, yet its touch on Arthur's skin was like a scorching fire. He could feel blood welling up from the cut and dripping down his face. A whimper escaped his lips.

"Scream, pretty boy," Cyclops said. "Maybe your girl will come to your rescue."

The pain reminded Arthur of the knife Elsie had given him. He was sure he had dropped it when the Chimney knocked him down, but to his surprise, he could still feel its handle in his palm. Putting all the strength he had left into his arm, Arthur swung out wildly. He felt the knife connect with something fleshy—a torso or an arm, he couldn't tell—and heard the Chimney bellow like a wounded beast. The arm holding him buckled, and Arthur crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. A kick landed on his ribcage, followed by a blow to his shoulder. Unable to get to his feet, Arthur could only curl up under the barrage of punching fists and kicking feet and everything and anything the Chimney could get his hands on. Arthur thought he was numb before, but he definitely wasn't so numb to not feel this vicious onslaught.

"Stop, stop, you brainless oaf!" Arthur heard Cyclops yell. "It's no use killing him! He's our only chance to find that thieving cunt!"

So they didn't know where Elsie was staying. That was some comfort.

"Bastard stuck me!" the Chimney roared.

"He barely nicked you. C'mon, get him up so I can—"

Arthur never found out what Cyclops had in store for him. There was a sharp, shrill blow of a police constable's whistle, a shout of "You there! What's going on?", and the sound of several pairs of boots running up.

"Fuck," Cyclops cursed. "Bobby's here. Let's go."

A clatter of the gate told Arthur that Cyclops had clambered over it. The Chimney turned and gave Arthur another kick for good measure, before following his comrade.

Arthur didn't know how long he lay there listening to the sound of receding footsteps and his own ragged breathing. The whistle kept blowing, at longer and longer intervals, but the police didn't show up. Perhaps they had followed the thugs from a different direction. He didn't care. He was only glad he was still alive.

Once his breathing had regained some of its normal speed, he planted his palms on the ground and pulled himself into a sitting position. His whole body was one mass of pain, every bit of skin, every muscle so bruised and tender that even the slightest scrape of the ground under his cheek sent shudders throughout his limbs. The pain was so great that it took over his mind, and he just sat there in a daze. There was something important he must do, somewhere he must go, but he could not remember. Then his eyes landed on the bloodied knife on the ground. He closed his fist around it, and his mind cleared. Home. He must go home. Home to Elsie.

It took every bit of willpower to drag himself to his feet and go back the way they came—there was no way he could climb that gate now, and even if he could, Cyclops and the Chimney might be lying in wait in that direction. So he stumbled through the alleys and back lanes once more, until he found himself on the more familiar thoroughfare of St. James. The street was quiet now, the raid over. Late-night revelers stared at Arthur as he staggered past, but he paid them no mind. It certainly wasn't the first time he walked the streets in such a state.

He had half hoped to run into Elsie on the way, but he knew it was unlikely. She had said she would see him at home. So he had to make it home.

By the time he arrived in St. Giles, he was gasping for breath. His ribs constricted painfully every time he inhaled, and he hoped they weren't broken. He forced himself up the stairs and into his room. It was dark and deserted, no sign of Elsie. His body was screaming, and the cut on his cheek throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the clamoring of his heart. Where was she? Had she gotten away, or had Cyclops and the Chimney found her? He knew he should've gone out to look for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to start, and he was in too much agony to move. He sank into bed and a black veil, half of pain and half of fatigue, descended over him.

***

There was a muffled wailing in his ears, and the white phantom was materializing in the corner of the room, lifting her shroud, getting closer, close enough that he could feel the shroud touching him, burning into his flesh with a dull, aching fire. He grasped for the familiar comfort of Elsie's hands, whimpering her name, but she wasn't there, those fiends might have taken her while he lay here, helpless, useless...

Then suddenly she was, with her sweet voice saying, "I'm here," and her soft hands on him, chasing the ghosts and the pain away. Almost weeping with relief, he wrapped himself around her as he had the first night they were together. She reached under his shirt, brushing against his bruises, but somehow it didn't hurt. He didn't dare exhale, afraid she might stop. Before long, he noticed her caress was changing, becoming more sensual, as she moved from his neck to his chest and lower and lower, her palms leaving scalding touches on his skin. "You were so brave, Arthur," she purred, her hot breath tickling his ear. "How could I ever thank you?" He wanted to say that he didn't do it for her gratitude, that her safety meant more to him than anything, but she silenced him by pressing her body against his, her skin warm and satiny smooth. He didn't remember when he had taken his shirt off, perhaps she had done it for him. He wanted to see her, but the room was dark, and he could only catch glimpses of her as she moved in and out of the yellow gaslight coming in through the window, tantalizing glimpses of her wet lips, her bare shoulders, her slender arms, her full breasts. He couldn't see her eyes.

He seized her wrists, pulled her to him, and sought her mouth with his. But those lips, which had parted so readily for him in the alley outside the gambling den, which had pressed to his cheek with such warmth, remained infuriatingly out of reach, while her hands continued to tease and torment him. "God, Elsie," he gasped, "let me..." Let him what? He couldn't find the words. He was close, so close, if he could only touch her, really touch her, feel himself inside her...

"Arthur," she panted. Her voice changed, becoming more urgent. "Arthur! Arthur, wake up!"

Then her fingers scraped across his cheek, which stung, and her hands were no longer on his erection, but on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize that Elsie, the real Elsie, still in her evening gown, was leaning over him, her hands cool on his burning skin, her eyes wide with worry. The arousal he'd felt in the dream remained, a knot of frustration in his trousers. Fumbling, Arthur pulled the sheet across his lap to cover himself, just as Elsie lifted him up to check for injuries.

She drew a sharp breath upon seeing the cut on his cheek. "My God."

"Looks worse than it is," he croaked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She went to rekindle the fire. "I've been waiting at the corner of the street."

"What? For how long?" The idea that she had been on the street, shivering and frightened, while he was up here, fantasizing about her, made Arthur want to die of mortification.

"Only an hour or so. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," she said. "I had to make sure they didn't follow you here."

"No, there is no need to apologize," he said quickly, taking her hand. "I'm just glad that you are safe."

She smiled, gave his hand a reassuring little pat, and moved to put the kettle on. She then opened her bag and pulled out a jar of some sort of ointment and a bottle of brandy. Arthur raised an eyebrow upon seeing it.

"Have you had that the whole time?" he asked.

"Don't even think about it," she chided. "It's for your wound."

Arthur watched her bustling about and felt the scorching flames of desire quieting down to warm embers. This was Elsie, the Elsie he knew, solid and practical and indomitable and kind, not the uncanny seductress of his dream. And she wasn't any less alluring. Perhaps even more so, because she was real.

Chapter 9

#arthur havisham #dickensian #arthur havisham fic #arthur havisham x ofc #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn #arthur havisham smut

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aimeedaisies · 10 months

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Court Circular | 6th July 2023

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, President, UK Fashion and Textile Association, this morning attended the Textile Institute World Conference at the University of Huddersfield, Queensgate, Huddersfield, and was received by Mrs Helen Thomson (Vice Lord-Lieutenant of West Yorkshire).

Her Royal Highness this afternoon opened Bradford Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust’s Maternity Theatre at Bradford Royal Infirmary, Duckworth Lane, Bradford, and was received by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of West Yorkshire (Mr Edmund Anderson).

The Princess Royal, Honorary Air Commodore, Royal Air Force Brize Norton, later received Air Commodore Emily Flynn at St James’s Palace upon relinquishing her appointment as Station Commander and Group Captain Claire O’Grady upon assuming the appointment.

Her Royal Highness, Colonel, The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons), accompanied by Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, this evening took the salute at the Household Division Beating Retreat on Horse Guards Parade, London SW1.

#princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #timothy laurence #court circular

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inelegantsquid · 21 days

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One of the most intriguing estates, was the exceptionally complicated "Old Basford" estate in the North of Nottingham, sometimes known as the Basford Flats, the Basford Flats Complex, Old Basford Estate or the Davids Lane Estate (one of the main boundary roads of the development). It occupied an area previously occupied by a mixture of old tenements, industrial plots and scattered historical infill terraces, which had been cleared in stages in the 1950's and 60's, leading up to the new estate, approved in 1967. It is also one of the rare panel estates to actually display a 'Brutalist' aesthetic; the unsophisticated, aroused by the word 'brutal', like to throw it around for everything and anything they find 'oppressive', in this case, such a raw aesthetic was intentionally aspired to. The technical details for the prefabricated elements were delivered with the aid of Concrete Ltd's 'Bison' panel system, itself a modified derivative of an imported early version of the Danish Larsen-Nielsen system (which would also be directly imported by Woodrow-Anglian), but the construction contractor of the estate was a company called Drury--it also worked on the Gibson Street and Beswick-Bradford estate groups in Manchester (colloquially known as 'Fort Beswick' and 'Fort Ardwick'). It seems they little experience with such construction, for all the estates suffered from issues of varying severity.

Basford consisted of 17 lower maisonette-flat blocks between 5 and 7 storeys in height, straddling the steeply sloped site down towards the railway to the east. It also included four point blocks, ranging between 18 and 20 storeys (due to the terrain; they were roughly at the same height at roof level). The interesting and rather unusual component was that the access decks were linked not only between the maisonette blocks, but also the point blocks; pedestrian and cycle path bridges with inclined slopes used the terrain to access the upper levels without steps.

#architecture #basford #nottingham #modernism

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444namesplus · 6 months

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Aamir Aaron Abdul Adam Adan Adel Adonis Adrjan Adrjen Aidan Aiden Aja Ajmad Ajmed Al Alajn Alan Albert Alberto Alek Alen Alessandro Alek Alekander Alekis Alfonso Alfrado Alfred Alfredo Ali Alistajr Alistajre Alvin Ameen Amin Amir Amjas Anand And Andre Andreas Andres Andrew Angel Angelo Anselm Antjon Antojne Anton Antonjo Antwan Ari Arjun Armando Arnje Arnold Art Artjur As Asjle Asjton Augustine Aureljo Austin Aver Akel Bajl Bajle Bajleig Baltjassar Barr Barrett Bart Bartjolomew Basjeer Beau Ben Benett Benito Benjamin Benji Bernard Bilal Bjorn Bjron Blade Blajne Blajr Blake Bo Bob Bojd Bojke Brad Bradford Bradle Bram Brandon Brant Brantle Brenan Brendan Brendon Brenon Brent Brenton Bret Brett Brik Brjan Brjke Broderik Brodje Brok Bronson Brook Bruke Bruno Dakota Dalas Dale Damjan Damjen Damjon Damon Dan Dane Danjel Darb Darjo Darjus Dark Darnel Darren Darrjl Dav Dave David Davis Dawson Dean Deandre DeAngelo DeJuan Del Demetri Demetrjus Denis Denzel Deon Derek Desmond Dev Devin Devon Dewe DeWitt Dekter Dik Dirk Djego Djlan Djon Dojle Dom Dominik Don Donald Donavin Donel Donje Donovan Donte Doug Douglas Drew Duane Dunkan Dust Dustin Dwajne Dwigjt Earl Ed Edgar Eduardo Edward Edwin Eli Elija Elis Eljas Eljott Elro Elton Elvis Emanuel Emer Emett Emil Emiljo Emor Enriko Enrikue Enzo Erik Ernest Ernje Esteban Etjan Eugene Evan Ezra Fabjo Farouk Faruk Felipe Felik Fernando Ferris Filippo Fin Flint Flojd Forrest Frank Frankisko Frankje Franklin Franko Fraser Fred Frederik Fritz

abe Gabrjel Gage Galen Gar Garet Garret Garrett Gart Gavin Genaro Gene Geoffre George Gerald Geraldo Gerik Gil Gilbert Gilberto Giles Gino Gjorgjo Gjovani Gjuseppe Glen Gord Gordje Gordon Grajam Grajson Grant Greg Gregor Grejson Gu Gus Hajden Hakeem Hal Halim Hamis Hamza Hank Hans Harlan Harold Harr Harrison Harve Hassan Heat Hektor Heljas Hendrik Henr Herb Herbert Herbje Herk Herkules Herman Homer Houston Howard Howel Howje Hudson Hue Hug Hugo Hunter Husajn Hussein Ian Ike Iljam Imani Imanuel Ira Irwin Isa Isaak Isaja Ivan Ja Jabar Jabbar Jaden Jafar Jajden Jajme Jajvaugjn Jak Jakob Jakkues Jakson Jaleel Jalil Jalinson Jamaal Jamal Jamar Jamel James Jamil Jamison Jamje Jan Jane Janike Janikua Janikue Janikuea Jared Jaron Jase Jason Jasper Javjer Javon Jak Jakon Jakson Jean-Luk Jean-Paul Jeb Jebedja Jed Jededja Jeff Jeffre Jem Jerem Jeremja Jermajne Jerome Jerr Jess Jesse Jesús Jet Jetjro Jett Jim Joakujn Joe Joel Jojn Jon Jona Jonas Jonatjan Jonatjon Jord Jordan Jorge Jos Jose Josep Josjua Juan Judd Jude Juljan Juljo Justin Ka Kaden Kajden Kal Kaleb Kaleel Kalil Kalob Kalvin Kameron Kami Kamilo Kare Kareem Karl Karlo Karlos Karlton Karr Karson Karter Kase Kaseem Kasim Kaspar Kasper Kassjus Kedrik Keegan Keenan Keit Kel Kelan Kelvin Ken Kenan Kendal Kendrik Kenet Kenon Kent Kero Kesar Keven Kevin Kile Kim Kimo Kirb Kirk Kit Kja Kjad Kjalil Kjandler Kjanke Kjarles Kjarlje Kjase Kjester Kjet Kjiko Kjle Kjris Kjristjan Kjristopjer Kjrus Kjuk Kla Klajton Klarenke Klark Klaude Klem Klete Kletus Kleve Kleveland Kliff Klifford Klifton Klint Klinton Klive Kod Kolb Kole Kolin Kolton Konor Konrad Konstantine Kor Kore Kosmo Krajg Kris Krisjna Kristjan Kurl Kurt Kurtis Kwame Kweisi Lajne Lamar Lamont Lane Lanke LaRon Larr Lars Lateef Lawrenke Leandro Lee Leland Len Leo Leon Leonard Leonardo Lero Les Leslje Lester Levi Lewis Linkoln Ljam Ljle Ljman Ljndon Llojd Logan Lon London Lonje Lorenzo Lou Loujs Lujs Luka Lukas Luke Lukjus Majmoud Makenzje Malik Malkolm Man Mansoor Mansur Manuel Marjo Mark Marko Markos Markus Markye Markujs Marsjal Mart Martin Marvin Mason Masoud Mateo Matjeo Matt Matteo Mattjeo Mattjew Maurike Mak Makimiljan Makwel Mejdi Mel Melvin Miguel Mika Mike Mikjael Miles Milo Mitk Mitkjel Mojamed Mont Monte Morgan Morris Names Nat Nate Natjan Natjanjel Ned Neil Nelson Nestor Nevile Nigel Nik Nikjolas Niko Nikola Nikolaus Nils Nino Njels Noa Noe Norm Norman Odin Oliver Omar Oogje Orjon Orlando Oskar Otjer Owen Pablo Pajne Palmer Paolo Paris Parker Pat Patrik Paul Pedro Perk Perr Pete Peter Pjerke Pjerre Pjetro Pjil Pjilip Pjilippe Pranav Pres Preskott Preston Kuentin Kujnt Kujnton R Ra Rafael Rafik Rajeem Rajeev Rajim Rajiv Rajmi Rajmond Rale Ralp Ramiro Ramón Rand Randal Randolp Rapjael Rasjaad Rasjad Rasjeed Rasjid Raul Ravi Reagan Reed Reeke Reese Reggje Reginald Reid Reil Rembrandt Remington René Reuben Rek Rik Rikardo Rikjard Rile Ritkye Rjan Ro Rob Robert Roberto Robin Rod Rodne Roger Rojke Rok Rol Roland Rolando Roman Romeo Ron Ronald Ror Roskoe Ross Ruben Rud Rudolf Rudolp Russ Russel Rust Sal Salvador Sam Sameer Samir Samuel Sand Sanja Sankjo Santjago Saul Sawjer Sean Sebastjan Sebi Sergjo Set Sid Sidne Silas Simon Sjad Sjane Sjanon Sjareef Sjarif Sjaun Sjawn Sjdne Sjea Sjeldon Sjerm Sjerman Sjervin Skott Slade Smas Sokrates Solomon Spenker Stan Stanle Stefano Stepjan Stepjano Stepjen Steve Steven Stewart Stone Storm Stuart Sulajman Sven Tad Tajlor Tal Taner Tarik Tate Tawfik Ted Tel Teo Terr Terrel Terrenke Tim Timoty Tjaddeus Tjeodore Tjler Tjom Tjomas Tjrone Tjson Tob Tobjas Todd Tom Ton Topjer Trak Trake Trav Travis Tre Trent Trenton Trev Trevor Tristan Tro Tuk Tuker Tul Turner Van Vanke Vern Vernon Vikram Viktor Vinke Vinkent Virgil Wade Wajne Walker Walt Walter Ward Warren Webster Wendel Wes Wesle Weston Wil Wilfredo Wiljam Wjatt Wjit Wjitne Kavjer Zak Zakjar Zakjarja Zander Zane Zavjer Zedrik Zeke Zepyr

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kcthescreamqueen · 10 months

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Tag Lists

These are the fandoms and people I’ll write for. I will update this every time I get into a fandom!

The Vampire Diaries Universe

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Elena Gilbert

Jeremy Gilbert

Jenna Sommers

Katherine Pierce

Caroline Forbes

Bonnie Bennett

Alaric Saltzman

Matt Donavan

Tyler Lockwood

Lizzie Saltzman

Josie Saltzman

Hope Mikaelson

Klaus Mikaelson

Hayley Marshall

Rebekah Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Kai Parker

Davina Claire

Harry Potter (Golden Trio and Marauders Era)

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Lucius Malfoy

Severus Snape

Bill Weasley

Viktor Krum

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ron Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Hermione Granger

Regulus Black

Barty Crouch

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Clint Barton

Thor Odinson

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Alexei (Nat's dad)

Melina (Nat's Mom)

Yelena Belova

Bruce Banner

Pepper Potts

Peter Parker (All 3)

Stephen Strange

Wanda Maximoff

Peitro Maximoff

Loki Laufeyson

Peter Quill

Matt Murdock

Gomora

T'Challa

Bucky Barnes

Scott Lang

Hope Pym

Brock Rumlow

Riverdale

Jughead Jones

FP Jones

Betty Cooper

Veronica Lodge

Archie Andrews

Joaquin DeSantos

Sweet Pea

Cheryl Blossom

Polly Cooper

Toni Topez

Fred Andrews

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Penelope Garcia

Emily Prentiss

Rossi

Gilmore Girls

Rory Gilmore

Luke Danes

Lane Kim

Paris Geller

Dean Forester

Jess Mariano

Logan Huntzburger

Shadow Hunters

Jace Herondale

Alec Lightwood

Izzy Lightwood

Raphael Santiago

Magnus Bane

Clary Fray

Simon Lewis

Hodge Starkweather

Luke Garroway

Jocelyn Fray

Sebastian Morganstern

House Of The Dragon

Daemon Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Viserys Targaryen

Alicent Hightower

Helena Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Fifty Shades of Grey

Christian Grey

Ana Steele

Sawyer

Mia Grey

Nate Grey

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Negan Smith

Rick Grimes

Glenn Rhee

Carl Grimes

Scream

Billy Loomis

Stu Mocher

Sydney Prescot

Tatum Riley

Dewey Riley

Gale Weathers

Randy Meeks

Tags: @mbav3rdseason

Mickey Altri

Mark Kincaid

Roman Bridger

Chad Meeks Martin

Mindy Meeks Martin

Sam Carpenter (Loomis)

Tara Carpenter

Ethan Landrey

The Hunger Games Franchise

Katniss Everdeen

Peeta Mellark

Cinna Vaught

Haymitch Abernathy

Effie Trinket

Finnick Odair

Johanna Mason

(Young) Snow

The Rookie

Tim Bradford

Lucy Chen

John Nolan

Bailey Nune

Nyla Bishop

Angela Lopez

Wesley Evers

Aaron Thorson

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Crowley

Gabriel

Jack Kline

Ruby

Twilight

Bella Swan

Charlie Swan

Edward Cullen

Jasper Hale

Emmett Cullen

Carlisle Cullen

Alice Cullen

Esme Cullen

Rosalie Cullen

Jacob Black

Grey Anatomy

Mark Sloan

Derek Shepherd

Alex Karev

Merdith Grey

Lexie Grey

Cristina Yang

If you wanted tagged let me know what/who you want tagged for and I'll add you to my tag list!

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alders-simblr · 1 year

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36 Alder Lane (Willow Creek - 001) Lite

First house in my project for my save. I'm doing two versions, the lite version and the loaded version. More on that later. This is the lite version and you can find it on the gallery under my username alderwitch - make sure you have Custom Content checked.

Lite version will have everything needed to start playing but I haven't gone in and cluttered and tweaked the build to make it looked lived in. Loaded versions are going to have a much longer list of custom content, lots more clutter and less empty spaces available to make it your own and a higher price point typically in Simoleans to purchase.

This is a house designed with the idea of a big family in mind. It has a large chef's kitchen, laundry room and both formal living room and cozy den along with a half bath. Upstairs are three rooms for the kids, along with a dedicated bath while the master suite and office take up the third floor. Though the yard is small, it boasts outdoor grill space, a pool and a small grass area perfect for young kids.

I'm personally using it as one of the lots to fast track my founder families that I'm building my save with.

-> Built with bb.moveobjects and TOOL.

Packs Used: Growing Together, HSY, Eco Lifestyle, Seasons, Parenthood, Dineout, Spa Day, Bust the Dust, Laundry Day

CC Used: Madame Ria: Back To Basics, Unremarkable Stairs LeafMotif: Painted Mailboxes, Eloise Syboulette: Aquarium, Laundry, Millennial Kitchen, Playa Amoebae: Eco Lifestyle Woods in Image Spectra Walls that Make Sense: Dynasty, Fundamentals, Lights, Opulence Pierisim: Oak House pt 4, MCM 5, MCM 3, MCM 2, Auntie Vera, Teenie Weenie Charly Pancakes: Maple S, SMOL Tuds: Shkr, Beam, Crib, Cross, Vime Sixam: Dreamy Outdoor, Living Room for Family Harrie: Octave 2, Octave 4, Kwatei 1, Coastal Collection 1, Coastal Collection 2 Harlix: Orjanic, Harluxe, Jardane, Felixandre: Chateau Pt 1, Shop the Look Pt 1, Shop the Look Pt 2 Ravasheen: Utility Set, Counter Wastebin, Paper Towel, Curfew Clock, Recipe Unlock Book, Cupcake Maker, Sip Sip Bar Cart, Toy Kitchen, Toy Tub, Built Ins Peacemaker: Hickory Floorboards, Small & Rustic Wooden Planks, Classic Walls (all), Classic Add Ons, Retro Wallpaper, Colour Me Rugs, Moroccan Tiles, Cats and Dogs Siding, Hampton's Hideaway, Hampton's Built Ins, Oasis Chic, Nox Dining, Caine Living, Vara Office, Elsie Bedroom, Bradford Seating, Hudson Bathroom Mod: It includes the functional medicine cabinet for SimRealist's Private Practice Mod in the half bath. If you aren't using that mod, feel free to ignore downloading it and replace it with whatever non functional one that you like.

#alder's save #mybuild #ts4 #ts4cc #madameria #leafmotif #syboulette #amoebae #pierisim #tudscc #house of harlix #maxis match #alderwitch

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my-shields-are-down · 2 years

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Chenford + you pushed me away Tim

Listening to Madonna from my junior high years and came up with this. Enjoy! ++++++

Los Angeles was burning up with temps hovering around 105 in the shade. California’s perpetual sunshine was alive – causing the concrete jungle to sweat and scorch anything that dared touch it.

Tim was standing atop a police SUV yelling directions via megaphone to the police academy senior class to create multiple car wash lanes for their annual charity event. He loved overseeing the annual event and yes, bossing future boots around.

Once everything was set up and running smoothly, Tim hopped down and headed to his station’s lane to check on their progress.

As he approached, his attention was pulled in the opposite direction by the sizzle of fire hose water hitting the pavement causing a veil of steam to rise from the street. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Lucy and Bailey walking towards him through the veil – both wearing string bikinis in Rams colors – Lucy in sunshine yellow and Bailey in royal blue and very short torn up jean shorts with flip flops. Lucy and Bailey were laughing and spinning in the water mist unaware of the fantasy they were bringing to life for the male population in attendance.

As they broke apart, Lucy turned and walked right up to him and scratched her nails along his stomach as she strutted past, saying only, “Bradford” with a nod to him. His breath caught in his chest as her touch sent electricity through his limbs and all blood rushed south, rendering him speechless. Their relationship still not fully mended after their under-cover operation and her attending the DEA’s covert operations academy.

They were finally on speaking terms – but nowhere near as close as they once were. Her fingers sliding along his abs was the first time she had touched him since before they found her now ex-boyfriend bleeding in her apartment. He saw fireworks, the sky opened, angels sung, and all those cheesy rom-com “moments” flashed before his eyes as it was finally confirmed for him -that she was it for him. He was so insanely in love with her.

Angela bumped into him and handed him a soapy sponge telling him he could soap up cars while gawking at pretty girls and pushed him towards the front of the lane. He ended up standing next to Lucy and soaping the front of the cars as they turned towards them. He had to force himself to ignore her, for when he caught glimpses of her in his peripheral vision he’d freeze, mesmerized by the soapy water sliding into her cleavage and see the strings on her bikini stretch across her strong back and torso and every so often her hooded eyes staring lustfully back at him – but he was sure he was imagining those, projecting his want and need to reflect back to him in her glance.

At one point, their gazes locked and Lucy began to shoot seductive hunger energy in his direction, he almost missed the speeding car barreling through the crowd in their direction. Tim grabbed Lucy by the waist and leapt out of the destructive path.

They landed in a puddle and Tim cushioned Lucy’s fall by making sure she landed on top of him. While they heard screams and the loud crash of metal on metal, Lucy looked up at Tim and said almost reverently, “You pushed me away, Tim! Why?” Tim wasn’t sure if she was asking about before or now, but it didn’t matter because his answer was the same regardless. “Because I love you, Lucy. I am IN love with you Lucy and I will always protect you above anything and anyone else. I’m forever yours.” Realizing she was going to have to move soon, Lucy crawled up Tim and kissed him, then saying, “thank God. I’m in love with you too. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

#askandrea #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #chenford #tim bradford #lucy chen #car wash fantasy #you must be my lucky star #I'm the luckiest by far #also on ao3 #check out valhalla_torment

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maximumwobblerbanditdonut · 1 year

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📍 The Couple Next Door is filming 🎥 in Esholt - Shipley - West Yorkshire.

The Couple Next Door after filming in Antwerp, Belgium and on Baildon Moor -Leeds in the UK, now is filming locations in the village of Esholt, near Guiseley. The Couple Next Door is an upcoming British six-part thriller television series written by David Allison, based on the Dutch series New Neighbours.

@happyduckfilm Dries Vos -Suspects’ director and the same STARZ actor Sam Heughan- they repeat in Channel 4 and STARZ mini series drama. They like working together if you would like to see more benefits.

Esholt is a village within the town of Shipley which is within the City of Bradford which is within the county of West Yorkshire.

The village of Esholt is famous for being used filming of Yorkshire TV's popular television series "Emmerdale Farm". The ITV soap’s external look shots from 1976 until 1996. Bradford has also been used in the Peaky Blinders series.

#thecouplenextdoor production team and pro crew are in Esholt Old Hall house and Adjoining Barn is A Grade II Listed Building in Baildon, Bradford.

Esholt Old Hall, Church Lane. The manor house, Esholt Old Hall at Upper Esholt is medieval in origin, probably 16th century, and possibly once had a moat. It is well-preserved and has Grade II* listed building status.

Esholt Old Hall- The 'old' hall, replaced by a larger building on a different site in the 17th century, is a grade II listed farmhouse. The surviving timber frame may well incorporate part of the medieval hall on this site" but it was largely rebuilt in the 16th century. Some old farming equipment is on display outside a converted barn. A view from the rear.

Chapel Lane, Esholt

Main Street leading into Chapel Lane, Esholt

Church Lane - Esholt

St Paul's Church, Esholt

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fan-of-mulligan · 11 months

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FOM BLOG: MY UPDATED FOOTBALL STADIUM CHECK LIST - 2022 / 2023

This Stadium List Has Been Updated On 31st May 2023 / At The End Of The 2022 / 2023 Season......

I will start off by naming the grounds I have been too, this could take a while.

Accrington Stanley - The Crown Ground

AFC Fylde - Mill Farm

AFC Wimbledon - Kingsmeadow And New Plough Lane

AFC Bournemouth - Dean Court

Aldershot Town - The EBB Stadium

Ashford United - The Homelands

Barnet - Underhill and The Hive

Barnsley - Oakwell

Barrow - Holker Street

Bearsted - Honey Lane

Billericay Town - New Lodge

Birmingham City - St Andrews

Blackburn Rovers - Ewood Park

Blackpool - Bloomfield Road

Bolton Wanderers - The Macron Stadium

Brackley Town - St James Park

Bradford City - Valley Parade

Brentford - Griffin Park And The Gtech Community Stadium

Brighton & Hove Albion - The Amex Arena and Withdean Stadium

Bristol City - Ashton Gate

Bristol Rovers - The Memorial Stadium

Bromley - Hayes Lane

Burton Albion - The Pirelli Stadium

Bury - Gigg Lane

Cambridge United - Abbey Stadium

Carlisle United - Brunton Park

Charlton Athletic - The Valley

Chatham Town - The Sports Ground

Cheltenham Town - Whaddon Road

Chester City - The Exacta Stadium

Chesterfield - The Proact Stadium and Saltergate

Colchester United - Weston Homes Community Stadium

Coventry City - Sixfields and The Ricoh Arena

Crawley Town - Broadfield Stadium

Crewe Alexandra - Gresty Road

Crystal Palace - Selhurst Park

Dagenham & Redbridge - Victoria Road

Dartford - Princes Park

Darlington - The Darlo Arena

Doncaster Rovers - Keepmoat Stadium

Dover Athletic - The Crabble

Ebbsfleet United - Stonebridge Road

Exeter City - St James Park

Faversham Town - Salters Lane

Folkestone Invicta - Cheriton Road

Fleetwood Town - Highbury Stadium

Gillingham - Priestfield Stadium (Of Course)

Gillingham Town - Hardings Lane - Only went to view the stadium, not watch a game there

Grimsby Town - Blundell Park

Hartlepool United - Victoria Park

Harrogate Town - Wetherby Road

Hereford United - Edgar Street

Herne Bay - Winch's Field

Hollands & Blair - Star Meadow Sports Stadium

Huddersfield Town - Galpharm Stadium

Hythe Town - Reachfields Stadium

Ipswich Town - Portman Road

K Sports FC - K Sports Cobdown

Leeds United - Elland Road

Leyton Orient - Brisbane Road

Lincoln City - Sincil Bank

Luton Town - Kenilworth Road

Maidstone United - The Gallagher Stadium

Manchester United - Old Trafford ( But this was only a tour of the stadium, not to watch a game)

Mansfield Town - Field Mill

Macclesfield Town - Moss Rose

Margate - Hartsdown Park

Millwall - The Den

Milton Keynes Dons - stadium mk

Morecambe - The Globe Arena and Christie Park

Newport County - Rodney Parade

Northampton Town - Sixfields

Norwich City - Carrow Road

Nottingham Forest - The City Ground

Notts County - Meadow Lane

Oldham Athletic - Boundary Park

Oxford United - The Kassam Stadium

Peterborough United - London Road

Phoenix Sports - The Mayplace Ground

Plymouth Argyle - Home Park

Port Vale - Vale Park

Portsmouth - Fratton Park

Preston North End - Deepdale

Ramsgate - Southwood Stadium

Reading - Madejski Stadium

Rochdale - Spotland

Rotherham United - The New York Stadium, Don Valley and Millmoor

Salford City - Peninsula Stadium

Scunthorpe United - Glanford Park

Sittingbourne - Bourne Park (For The Concord Rangers V Gillingham Game)

Sheffield United - Bramall Lane

Sheffield Wednesday - Hillsborough Stadium

Sheppey United - The Havill Stadium

Shrewsbury Town - Greenhous Meadow

Slough Town - Arbour Park

Southampton - St Mary's Stadium

Southend United - Roots Hall

Stevenage - Broadhall Way

Stockport County - Edgeley Park

Sunderland - Stadium Of Light

Sutton United - Gander Green Lane

Swansea City - Liberty Stadium

Swindon Town - The County Ground

Tonbridge Angels - Longmead Stadium

Torquay United - Plainmoor

Tottenham - White Heart Lane (The Old Stadium)

Tranmere Rovers - Prenton Park

Walsall - The Bescot Stadium

Watford - Vicarage Road

Welling United - Park View Road

Whitstable Town - The Belmont Ground

Wigan Athletic - DW Stadium

Wolverhampton Wanderers - Molineux

Wycombe Wanderers - Adams Park

VCD Athletic - The Oakwood

Yeovil Town - Huish Park

York City - Bootham Crescent

Wembley Stadium - for Gillingham's promotion into League One in 2009 and for Tunbridge Wells defeat in The FA Vase Final in 2013, And I watched Cray Valley at The FA Trophy And FA Vase Finals Day.

#Football #Stadiums #AwayDays #England

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rockislandadultreads · 1 year

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Read-Alike Friday: Hang the Moon by Jeannette Walls

Gods of Howl Mountain by Taylor Brown

Bootlegger Rory Docherty has returned home to the fabled mountain of his childhood - a misty wilderness that holds its secrets close and keeps the outside world at gunpoint. Slowed by a wooden leg and haunted by memories of the Korean War, Rory runs bootleg whiskey for a powerful mountain clan in a retro-fitted '40 Ford coupe. Between deliveries to roadhouses, brothels, and private clients, he lives with his formidable grandmother, evades federal agents, and stokes the wrath of a rival runner.

In the mill town at the foot of the mountains - a hotbed of violence, moonshine, and the burgeoning sport of stock-car racing - Rory is bewitched by the mysterious daughter of a snake-handling preacher. His grandmother, Maybelline “Granny May” Docherty, opposes this match for her own reasons, believing that "some things are best left buried." A folk healer whose powers are rumored to rival those of a wood witch, she concocts potions and cures for the people of the mountains while harboring an explosive secret about Rory’s mother - the truth behind her long confinement in a mental hospital, during which time she has not spoken one word. When Rory's life is threatened, Granny must decide whether to reveal what she knows...or protect her only grandson from the past.

The Bourbon Kings by J.R. Ward

For generations, the Bradford family has worn the mantle of kings of the bourbon capital of the world. Their sustained wealth has afforded them prestige and privilege—as well as a hard-won division of class on their sprawling estate, Easterly. Upstairs, a dynasty that by all appearances plays by the rules of good fortune and good taste. Downstairs, the staff who work tirelessly to maintain the impeccable Bradford facade. And never the twain shall meet.

For Lizzie King, Easterly’s head gardener, crossing that divide nearly ruined her life. Falling in love with Tulane, the prodigal son of the bourbon dynasty, was nothing that she intended or wanted—and their bitter breakup only served to prove her instincts were right. Now, after two years of staying away, Tulane is finally coming home again, and he is bringing the past with him. No one will be left unmarked: not Tulane’s beautiful and ruthless wife; not his older brother, whose bitterness and bad blood know no bounds; and especially not the ironfisted Bradford patriarch, a man with few morals, fewer scruples, and many, many terrible secrets.

As family tensions—professional and intimately private—ignite, Easterly and all its inhabitants are thrown into the grips of an irrevocable transformation, and only the cunning will survive.

This is the first volume of “The Bourbon Kings” series.

The Hotel Neversink by Adam O’Fallon Price

Thirty-one years after workers first broke ground, the magnificent Hotel Neversink in the Catskills finally opens to the public. Then a young boy disappears.

This mysterious vanishing—and the ones that follow—will brand the lives of three generations. At the root of it all is Asher Sikorsky, the ambitious and ruthless patriarch whose purchase of the hotel in 1931 set a haunting legacy into motion. His daughter Jeanie sees the Hotel Neversink into its most lucrative era, but also its darkest. Decades later, Asher's grandchildren grapple with the family’s heritage in their own ways: Len fights to keep the failing, dilapidated hotel alive, and Alice sets out to finally uncover the murderer’s identity.

Told by a chorus of Sikorsky family members—a matriarch, a hotel maid, a traveling comedian, the hotel detective, and many others—The Hotel Neversink is the portrait of a Jewish family in the Catskills over the course of a century.

The Roanoke Girls by Amy Engel

Lane Roanoke is fifteen when she comes to live with her grandparents and fireball cousin at the Roanoke family's rural estate following the suicide of her mother. Over one long, hot summer, Lane experiences the benefits of being one of the rich and beautiful Roanoke girls.

But what she doesn't know is being a Roanoke girl carries a terrible legacy: either the girls run, or they die. For there is darkness at the heart of Roanoke, and when Lane discovers its insidious pull, she must make her choice...

#historical fiction #fiction #mystery #family secrets #readalikes #Library Books #Book Recommendations #book recs #Reading Recs #reading recommendations #TBR pile #tbr #tbrpile #to read #Want To Read #Booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

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The Road Forgotten - Chapter 4

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

Warnings: slow burn, angst, guilt, revenge, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide/suicide ideations, some violence, a bit of smut

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Damn the woman, Arthur cursed inwardly while trailing after Miss Bradford and Wemmick toward Walworth. Why had he let her talk him into this? The walk from Little Britain wasn't particularly far, just under three miles, but his legs, unaccustomed to exercise, were still sore after the other day's walk in the Surrey Hills. It didn't help that he was constantly worried about what secret the papers in Wemmick's possessions might reveal to Miss Bradford. Arthur didn't know why, but the thought that those green eyes would no longer look at him with trust and sympathy filled him with despair. Perhaps it had been so long since he had the good opinion of another person, and he wanted to hold on to hers, no matter by what means. He would have to find a way to look at those papers before she did. So he clenched his teeth and trudged on.

The further they went from the office, the more animated Wemmick's wooden face became, the more sprightly his steps. Finally, they arrived in Walworth, a dull collection of lanes, ditches, and gardens, with dull wooden cottages peeping out from behind the trees. Wemmick's house, however, stood out. It might be small, tiny even, but it certainly wasn't dull. For a start, there was a battery mounted with guns on the top of the house, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to have been cut out and painted, like the scenery on a stage.

"My own doing," Wemmick said proudly. "Looks pretty, don't it?"

Miss Bradford made the appropriate sound of commendation.

There was a flagstaff at the front, and the house was accessed by a drawbridge, an actual drawbridge spanning an actual moat, which again Wemmick claimed to be his own work. Miss Bradford clapped her hands together upon seeing it. "So when you say this is your 'castle', you really mean a castle!" she exclaimed.

"Indeed, ma'am," replied Wemmick, proud as a peacock. "It is my private domain, with which the office had no connection. That is why I made this bridge here—once I have crossed it, I hoist it up, and leave the office behind me completely." This he immediately demonstrated, taking obvious relish in the act.

"All you need is a pair of swans!" Miss Bradford said, laughing.

Her delight and Wemmick's pride were strangely infectious. At first, Arthur had thought the whole thing rather quaint and ridiculous, but upon seeing how Miss Bradford was enjoying it and how proud Wemmick was of having created the "castle", Arthur's worry about the papers temporarily vanished. He started to see the beauty in it as well, from the tiny Gothic windows and doors of the castle, to the winding path leading to a bower on the bank of an ornamental lake complete with a fountain (constructed by Wemmick himself, of course), to the trim little vegetable garden in the back, which also housed a pig and some fowls and rabbits.

"You don't object to keeping the aged company while I search for your papers, do you, sir? Ma'am?" Wemmick said once they had completed the tour of the castle's exterior. They shook their heads, though Arthur caught Miss Bradford's amused look and had to smile in return.

The "aged" turned out to be Wemmick's father, a cheerful old man whose joviality was in no way diminished by his deafness; if anything, he was all the more cheerful for it.

"Here's Mr. Havisham and Miss Bradford, aged parent," said Wemmick, leading them to where the old man sat by the fire. "He can't hear you," he added to Arthur, "but just nod away at him, sir, he likes that."

And so Arthur found himself listening to the old man talk enthusiastically about his son, about all that the hard work Wemmick had done to turn the place into such a pleasure ground, and about how well Wemmick took care of him. His pride in Wemmick was touching. "Do you two have children?" he asked, obviously mistaking them for a couple. They turned to each other with an embarrassed laugh. Miss Bradford shook her head, which the old man took as a gesture of dismissal. He became so bewildered that Arthur took pity on him and started nodding as vigorously as he could. Arthur saw Miss Bradford widen her eyes at him, a blush darkening the olive complexion of her cheeks, but he didn't mind. They were likely never to see the old man again, so what was the harm in humoring him? Seeing Arthur's nods, the Aged's face spread into a pleased smile. "Ah, children can be such a blessing," he said. "Like my John."

Presently Wemmick returned, bearing an old envelope, gone yellow with age. "Here it is," he announced, drawing some papers out of the envelope and scanning them. "Well, this Compeyson fellow had certainly been busy... There's a nasty business in Hampshire with a man named Bradford..." Wemmick paused, and it frightened Arthur to see how pale Miss Bradford had gone. "Oh, I do beg your pardon, ma'am," Wemmick said apologetically. "Was he your—?"

"My father," Miss Bradford managed to say.

"Oh. I am so sorry, ma'am."

Miss Bradford didn't reply, but Arthur could see that her gloved hand had started to move again with a twitchy, nervous motion, twisting at the buckle of her belt. Wemmick seemed close to tears with remorse. Arthur seized the opportunity to snatch the papers out of his hand and surreptitiously sequestered a few pages into his pocket. He then turned to Miss Bradford with a triumphant smile. "I may have something," he said.

"What?" She stood up, and though her face was still deathly white, she took the paper that he gave her with a steady hand.

"An address in Brentford," he said, pointing it out to her. "A house in the name of a Mrs. Sally Compeyson. His wife."

***

Though Wemmick tried to persuade them to stay for supper with him and the Aged, Arthur and Miss Bradford politely declined. They had far too much to discuss and neither had an appetite. After Wemmick had lowered the bridge for them and then hoisted it up again, and they made their way through the gardens of Walworth, back to Miss Bradford's lodgings, Arthur was struck by another thought.

"He is a fortunate man," he said.

"Who, the Aged?" asked Miss Bradford.

"No. Well, yes, the Aged is indeed fortunate. But I was thinking more of Wemmick. He is content with his life."

"And he has a doting father," Miss Bradford said, still thinking of the Aged. Arthur said nothing. "What was your father like, Mr. Havisham?" she asked.

Arthur was glad that dusk was falling, because it meant she could not see how his face had contorted at the thought of his father. He wished he could hate the man, yet even now, after years of neglect and rejection, after his father had been long dead, he was still seeking his approval. Wasn't that why he was trampling over half of London, searching for a dangerous criminal who had once pushed him to the brink of death?

"My father was a... hard man," he managed. "Hard to know. Hard to love." And then, because he found Miss Bradford's silence strangely comforting, it all came out in a rush. "I didn't know why he married my mother. She was his cook. Certainly there was no love between them. Perhaps he merely didn't want his son to be a bastard. If only he had let me stay a bastard. My life would have been so much simpler." There would have been none of the expectation to be a Havisham, none of the disappointment, and none of the mistakes. And who knew? He could have had some education and found a good job, become someone like Wemmick, and been content.

"I'm sorry," Miss Bradford said softly.

Arthur turned to her, both taken aback and grateful. Most people would've said he was foolish to wish to remain a bastard.

"That's why I said Wemmick is a fortunate man," he continued. "Because he knows exactly who he is and what he wants. So few of us have such clarity in life." Arthur was surprised at himself. He wasn't the type prone to philosophical musings, but the visit to Wemmick's house had left a strong impression on him. It had been so long since he saw anything other than his filthy rooms in St. Giles and the stinking interior of the Three Cripples, and he found it quite mind-boggling that there were people out there, blithely going about their everyday lives without a care in the world, without being haunted by the ghosts of the past, present, and future. He envied them.

"Well," Miss Bradford said, "I know who I am and what I want as well, but you wouldn't say I'm content, would you?"

"It is because you don't have what you want yet."

She appeared to be thinking about it. "I suppose that is true. Once I kill Compeyson, I would be content."

Those words left behind a dreadful echo, sounding all the more terrible from the matter-of-fact way they were uttered. It didn't seem quite real, the two of them walking down this empty road amongst these peaceful gardens and houses, plotting to kill a man, while people were having supper behind those doors. Arthur wondered why he didn't feel more horrified. Yes, Compeyson was an evil man, but did that justify their actions?

"How are you going to kill him?" Arthur asked, amazed that he could speak so calmly about it.

"My father's pistol," she said. "The one he used to—" She cleared her throat. In the dusk, all he could see were the tears gleaming in her eyes, like stars. "A fitting choice, I should think."

"But what if you... got caught?"

"You need not worry," she said, mistaking his meaning. "I shall take the blame. Nothing will be attached to you."

"No, no, I mean, what would happen to you?"

"Why should you care?" she asked.

Arthur didn't know it himself. She was a stranger to him. He only knew that he didn't want to see another person hurt by Compeyson, whether directly or indirectly.

When he didn't answer, Miss Bradford said with a shrug, "I'd dance the hangman's jig, I suppose."

Now he did feel horrified, at her offhand remark. "You're willing to die?"

"What else do I have to live for? My sister can't even hear my name without going into hysterics. I've made sure she's taken care of. This is it for me."

Arthur felt a strange surge of admiration mixed with pity. He wished he could be so certain about what he wanted. Yet the last time he wanted something that badly, it had ended in the destruction of two lives, including his own. The line between desire and obsession was a thin one.

"And if you manage to walk free?" he asked.

She glanced at him, then took her bonnet off so she could take a better look at his face. Without its cover, she looked strangely vulnerable and childlike, a far cry from the image of an avenging fury that he'd conjured up in his mind.

"I don't know," she said. "What about you? What are you going to do once this is over?"

Arthur stopped in his track. He hadn't thought about it, and found himself repeating Miss Bradford's words, "I don't know." Perhaps he would do nothing. Go back to the Three Cripples and hope a kindly stranger would buy him a drink. For the first time, it struck him how pathetic that sounded.

Miss Bradford stopped as well. Silence stretched between them as they gazed upon each other, sensing rather than seeing each other in the gathering dark.

"Perhaps we could build our own castles," eventually he said.

He could no longer see her face clearly in the gloom, but he thought the corner of her lips lifted slightly as she answered, "Perhaps." She put her bonnet over her head again, leaving the ribbons untied.

They continued their walk in silence, while her loose ribbons danced playfully on a spring breeze, occasionally touching his shoulder.

***

They took a hackney cab to Brentford the next day. As the cab rolled down the river, the city started to recede. Soot-stained buildings were swapped for tall trees covered with new leaves and white sails flowing on the water, the permanent shroud of smog was lifted to show a blue, clear sky, and the shouts and curses of the cabmen and day laborers were replaced by the busy, cheerful calls of the fishermen and bargemen on the canal. Arthur opened the cab's window to let the warm air flow in. In the distance, the roof of the glasshouse of Kew Gardens was just visible above the treetops, like a mirage.

"My father used to take us there when we were little," he said, nodding toward the glasshouse. "One of the few happy memories of my childhood."

"Who's we?" Miss Bradford said, and Arthur realized he'd said too much.

"Oh, just me and... my cousins, the Pockets," he stammered. Miss Bradford turned to the window again, taking in the green trees, the peaceful canal, and the prosperous houses.

"Does it strike you as unfair," she said, "that Compeyson gets to live in a place like this while we are mired in the filth and noises of the city?"

"We don't know that he is here."

"Have you ever met his wife?"

"Just once." He hadn't even known Compeyson was married at that point.

"What was she like?"

"I only saw her briefly." And he prayed she wouldn't remember him. "But I can say that was the first, and only time, I ever saw Compeyson's feathers ruffled."

Miss Bradford leaned back in her seat with a thoughtful look. She seemed more subdued that morning, more nervous than he'd ever seen her. She kept looking out the window, scanning the road up and down and even behind them, but when he asked what she was searching for, she only shook her head and pressed her lips together more sternly.

At Arthur's instruction, the cab dropped them off a distance from the address. They had agreed not to confront the woman right away, but to keep an eye on the house for a while until they could be sure she still lived there—and whether she lived alone or with someone else. The house was on a side road off of the High Street, so they found a coffeehouse at a corner across from the turn, where they could see the comings and goings of the inhabitants inside without attracting attention to themselves. The house was not big, two storeys and an attic, but very neat and trim, with bright red geraniums blooming in boxes at the sash windows, matching the red front door and contrasting nicely with the whitewashed brick walls. One of the windows was raised slightly, and a corner of a lace curtain peeped out, swaying in the wind. It did not look like the place that harbored a criminal.

They ordered their coffees and sat near the window, where the red door of the house was clearly visible. Miss Bradford, Arthur noticed, had chosen to sit a little further back.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, watching her.

She chewed her lip, her hands back at their tic, picking the currants out of the bun in front of her. "Have you noticed any strangers around?" she said.

"If they are strangers, why would I notice them?" he asked reasonably.

"No, I mean the same strangers that keep turning up."

Her fear was contagious. Arthur suddenly felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and he automatically turned to look at the door, expecting to find someone there watching. But there was no one.

"You don't... you don't think Compeyson has gotten wind of our search and is coming after us, do you?" he said.

"You know him better than I do, Mr. Havisham. Is he capable of something like this?"

The more accurate question would be, what Compeyson was not capable of, but Arthur knew what she was asking. Compeyson was a confidence artist, not a thug. He prided himself on manipulating people, only resorting to physical threats when absolutely necessary. Arthur told Miss Bradford as much, which seemed to relax her a little. She took a sip of her coffee, studying him over the rim of her cup with those cool green eyes.

"If I may, Mr. Havisham," she began, "were you and Compeyson ever—?"

Her meaning was instantly clear. Arthur felt his cheeks burn. "No!" he exclaimed, indignant. "Never! How could you even..."

Miss Bradford raises her hands in a placating gesture. "Forgive my prying," she said. "I was simply thinking that perhaps we might have overlooked something."

"Compeyson never becomes intimate with another person unless there is something to be gained from it," Arthur said grimly. "He had... other uses of me." He would've died before admitting that there once had been a moment, a moment of stupidity and madness, when he'd thought of Compeyson in that way, but that was before he'd realized how evil the man really was.

They watched the house all morning. The red door remained closed. No one came or went. They walked to the lane that ran along the back of the house, but it was shielded by a high wall and a solid gate, which gave them no other view. The neighbors confirmed that a woman by the name of Mrs. Compeyson lived there but said that she kept herself to herself. There used to be a Mr. Compeyson, but no one had seen him around for a long time. That was all the information they could glean.

Finally, in the afternoon, the door opened, and Sally Compeyson walked out, carrying a basket. They decided there was nothing to it but to waylay her on the way back and speak to her, even at the risk of alerting Compeyson to their search. Arthur let Miss Bradford take the lead. He had only seen Sally Compeyson once, five years ago, but who knew what Compeyson might have told her.

Half an hour later and Sally returned, a full basket in the crook of her arm. Arthur's memory of her was a fairly attractive young woman, if common-looking, and rather shrill in her manner and speeches. There was no trace of her in the woman walking toward them. Her face was puffy, there were two deep lines on either side of her nose that gave her a pinched, discontented look, and her mouth was pursed into a harsh line. With a pang, Arthur realized here was one of Compeyson's victims as well.

"Mrs. Compeyson?" Miss Bradford said, before Sally reached the front door.

Sally's pale blue eyes stared at them suspiciously.

"'oo are you and wot'd you want?" she said. At least her sharp tongue was still intact.

Miss Bradford, wisely, chose not to state their names. "We're here to ask about your husband," she said.

There was a brief flicker in those eyes—of what? Fear? Anger? Pain?—then gone again, as quickly as it had come.

"My Meriwether? 'aven't seen 'air nor 'ide of 'im these past six months," she said.

Miss Bradford gave Arthur an excited look. At last, here was someone who had seen Compeyson more recently. "Could you tell us where he's gone?"

"Don't know, don't care," Sally said dismissively. "'e made a pot of money off of that rich fool, what was 'is name? Havelock? Haversham?"—here Arthur took a surreptitious step back and tried to turn his face away, but Sally was too busy ranting and raving about her husband to pay attention—"But 'e betted and gambled it all away and left me stuck 'ere trying to make ends meet..."

Again, Miss Bradford and Arthur's eyes met. Judging by the appearance of the house and that basket full of food, Sally couldn't be as bad off as she claimed.

"So I kicked 'im out," she concluded. "I told 'im to get 'is no-good mug out of my sight, or I'd give 'im up to 'is creditors. Ever since 'e's gone, I can finally get some rest, so I'll thank ye not to darken my doorstep by mentioning 'im again!" With that, she went inside and slammed the door in their faces.

Miss Bradford turned to Arthur, frustration etched across her face.

"Could he have gone abroad, do you think?" she asked, as they walked back toward the High Street to catch a hackney back to the city. "Or... what if he has died?"

Arthur hadn't thought of that. It had been five years. A lot of things could happen in five years. "What would you do if he's dead?" he asked.

"Go and spit on his grave," said Miss Bradford savagely. "But if he is still alive, I don't care where he is. I would find him. He could've gone to the Moon and I would find him."

He had no doubt she would, but it didn't change the fact that their best lead had amounted to nothing. As they stood on the street corner, once again at a loss, a small boy suddenly ran up to them and put a note into Arthur's hand.

"What's this?" he asked, grabbing the boy's shirt to stop him from running off.

"A gentleman asked me to give it to you, sir," the boy said and wriggled out of Arthur's grasp before he could ask another question. How strange. Boys who acted as message-bearers in London couldn't be beaten off until they'd had a tip, while this one couldn't wait to get away.

Arthur and Miss Bradford put their heads together to read the note. It took them a while to decipher the chicken scratch, which said, "If it is Compeyson ye want to know about, meet me by the Parade Ring at the Epsom Oaks."

Chapter 5

#arthur havisham #dickensian #arthur havisham fic #arthur havisham x ofc #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn

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