storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2009-01-05 01:59 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-01-05 01:59 pm
Entry tags:
Introspection (Nicholas gen)
Title: Introspection
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Length: 246 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Nicholas gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: He's not one much for introspection, but sometimes if Danny gets him in his cups (he still doesn't drink much, though), he'll think about what would have happened if Danny had died.
He doesn't see a point in believing in religion, and he doesn't see a point in worrying about what's already happened or what's going to happen. He can't prevent it, or change it.
He's not one much for introspection, but sometimes if Danny gets him in his cups (he still doesn't drink much, though), he'll think about what would have happened if Danny had died, if his less-than-clean physique hadn't been a barrier to the deeper penetration of the bullet, if he'd had a heart wound instead of one that aches when it's going to rain.
He'd be back in London. Nicholas liked London; London was simple. Punks were punks, thieves were thieves, and everybody-- everybody was hiding something. That was London.
And okay, it turned out that everyone in the country was hiding something too, but it was one big thing, and the best arrest he'd made in the past year had been the capture of the teenage punks who'd put out a ransom note on the wandering swan. And one of their mothers had turned them in.
(It still made the front page of the newspaper, though, all quotes from Sgt. Fisher.)
The best cop in London was making traffic citations and chasing birds. The strangest thing about it was, he didn't mind.
He's not one much for introspection, so he gives up on it three drinks in and gets pissed with Danny and watches action movies.
This is life in the country, after all.
Fandom: Hot Fuzz
Length: 246 words
Prompt: n/a
Pairing: Nicholas gen
Other: n/a
Excerpt: He's not one much for introspection, but sometimes if Danny gets him in his cups (he still doesn't drink much, though), he'll think about what would have happened if Danny had died.
He doesn't see a point in believing in religion, and he doesn't see a point in worrying about what's already happened or what's going to happen. He can't prevent it, or change it.
He's not one much for introspection, but sometimes if Danny gets him in his cups (he still doesn't drink much, though), he'll think about what would have happened if Danny had died, if his less-than-clean physique hadn't been a barrier to the deeper penetration of the bullet, if he'd had a heart wound instead of one that aches when it's going to rain.
He'd be back in London. Nicholas liked London; London was simple. Punks were punks, thieves were thieves, and everybody-- everybody was hiding something. That was London.
And okay, it turned out that everyone in the country was hiding something too, but it was one big thing, and the best arrest he'd made in the past year had been the capture of the teenage punks who'd put out a ransom note on the wandering swan. And one of their mothers had turned them in.
(It still made the front page of the newspaper, though, all quotes from Sgt. Fisher.)
The best cop in London was making traffic citations and chasing birds. The strangest thing about it was, he didn't mind.
He's not one much for introspection, so he gives up on it three drinks in and gets pissed with Danny and watches action movies.
This is life in the country, after all.