#young alan

[jenli88]

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Yes, young Alan!! I didnt expect it to be good at all but it did XD

[fallenfurther]

An old trick

FAB-FIVE-FEB 2021 - Alan

Prompts used: balloon, beach

Finally written this one for @gumnut-logic FabFiveFeb challenge. I had the idea it just took a while to write it down. I’m still pondering over the other ones but I’ll get there eventually, no rush. This is all fluff (on paragraph of minor angst that any parent can relate too) but mainly lots of Alan being a fantastic uncle. Yep, Scott’s cute little boy has wiggled his way into yet another story. Enjoy!

********

Sally flicked through the clothes on the rack, scanning for something new for Gordon and Alan. Both children lived primarily in hand-me-down clothes, but after already being worn by three other boys, those clothes were starting to get threadbare and were falling apart. Most people shopped online these days, but Sally had been dragged out to the shops as a child and it had stayed with her. It was also much easier to get the right size in person.

On the other side of the rail, a red balloon bobbed along, bringing a smile to her face. It was an old trick she had use when Jeff was a child, as he had been prone to wander off, which she had used again with all her grandsons. Alan was still too young for school, so she’d had to bring him with her. Their first stop had been the balloon man, where she had let Alan select a helium balloon, which she had tied around his wrist. Sally could always make an accurate guess at which one her grandson would pick. In the absence of any rocket or space themed balloon, the reddest one would be chosen. Today was no exception, a simple red balloon had been favoured by the boy. That balloon allowed Sally to keep an eye on the wandering toddler. The balloon would bob along at her eye level, occasionally slipping out of view as Alan ducked under something, before appearing again a minute later. Sally hadn’t lost a boy in years using this method, though Gordon had given it his best shot a few times. Thankfully, even he would refuse to lose a fish-shaped balloon. The current red balloon floated around the corner of the rail and appeared to her left along with the blond boy attached to it. Alan was muttering to himself as he pottered along, eyes fixed on the shuttlecraft in his hands.

“Red rocket flies fast to the moon, and lands, and Daddy gets out, and he collects moon rocks….”

Sally knelt down so she was at her grandson’s level, the selected shirt in her hands. Those blue eyes left the toy and met hers.

“I don’t think your Dad’s rocket is red, young man.”

“It should be red.”

His innocence radiated out from his sweet little face and brought a smile to hers. Holding up the navy top, she let the boy judge the picture on the front. His mouth dropped at the sight of the cartoon rocket flying towards the moon.

“How about this one, Alan?”

*******

Alan watched his nephew whiz past on the rollercoaster train. Squeals of glee came from many of the kids and his nephew was one of them. His eyes were large with delight, grin almost reaching his ears as one arm waved enthusiastically at Alan. Alan waved back, a matching smile on his face despite having had both an elbow and bag dig into him in the past five minutes. It wasn’t the fastest coaster on the promenade, but it was the only one that his nephew could go on, and this was his third ride. The boy was so much like Scott. As the ride slowed towards the station, Alan wriggled his way through the mass of parents towards the exit. His nephew ran straight at him with open arms. Alan knelt as best he could in the crowd and gave the boy a hug.

“Again, Alan, again!”

“No more. I said it was the last time.”

The child’s lip puckered slightly, and Alan knew what was coming, though this time he had a plan. Before the situation deteriorated, Alan bargained.

“No more rollercoaster, however I did spot the teacups earlier. How about we go spin around really fast on them?”

“Really fast together?”

“Exactly, we can do it together.”

An enthusiastic nod was his nephew’s response as a small hand slipped into his. Alan gazed at the boy with a proud smile, gripping the hand tightly as he led them into the crowd. It had been Penelope’s idea to come to the beach with the boy and Alan agreed it was a great idea. Grandma and Penelope were enjoying one of Weston-super-Mare’s finest tearooms, while the boys had fun exploring all the old-fashioned attractions. Weston-super-Mare had once been a popular seaside resort and had been restored and embellished to reflect its heyday. It was now considered a fantastic family vacation destination. Alan hadn’t expected it to be this busy though. Rare, good weather had coincided with the school holidays leading to an increased number of visitors.

They continued forward gallantly, people jostling Alan’s shoulder as the rushed past the slower pair. When his nephew was once again knocked into him by another unapologetic patron, Alan knew he had to act. Slipping his hands underneath the boy’s arms, Alan lifted him into the air and onto his shoulder. Fists clenched clumps of Alan’s hair as happy feet banged against his chest.

“I can see lots.”

“Can you see the teacups?”

Alan gripped the boy’s ankles and started weaving at a faster pace. He tried not to bump against others and paid particular attention to the ground, so he didn’t hurt any children.

“No.”

It didn’t surprise Alan, the teacups were around the corner out of sight, but it got his nephew glancing around. Despite him being a little young for a lot of the rides, they were still having a great day. As they turned a bend a small hand waved and pointed in the top of Alan’s vision.

“Alan, horses.”

Following the outstretched arm, Alan could see a horseracing game. With no time limit, and his own curiosity piqued Alan headed over to the stall. An enthusiastic host was commentating on the progress of the nine metal horses as they jolted towards the finish line. Before them, nine people frantically rolled balls up stages towards coloured holes. The person at position five pocketed his ball in a blue ringed hole and horse number five moved forward. It was second in the race and almost at the end. Unfortunately, number three crossed the line to the sound of a ringing bell.

“Yay!”

Clapping came from the bouncing boy on Alan’s shoulders. People started to leave their seats as the horses reset to the start and Alan twisted to look up at his nephew.

“Want to give it a go?”

“Yes.”

Alan grinned as he took a seat at stage four. Number three was still occupied by the previous winner. Carefully, he lifted the child from his shoulder and settled him in his lap, shifting so the boy could reach the balls at the bottom of their run.

“Alright you lovely ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, all you gotta do is roll your balls up the run, so they fall in the coloured hole….”

The attendant came along as he spoke, and Alan tapped his watch to the card reader. Glancing down at his nephew, who had a ball in his hands, he braced his legs against the wood and slipped an arm firmly around the child’s waist. The ball was raised up into Alan’s face, making him twist away.

“See the coloured holes?” Alan pointed up the run, “when the bell rings, we have to get the balls into those holes. That will make our horse move. Our horse is the green one with the four on its side. We have to try get it to the finish line.”

Those blue eyes were locked on his as the child nodded, before wriggling as he reached forward with the ball. Alan picked up a ball with his free hand and held it at the bottom of their stage, ready to roll it at the holes. The bell sounded and they rolled their balls up the green felt. They both missed; Alans going too far and his nephew’s falling short.

“Grab another and try again,” Alan encouraged, holding out the third ball for his nephew. It was taken and rolled, tapping the side of the yellow ring before coming straight back to them. Alan grabbed another ball and rolled it up, pocketing it into a yellow hole. This nephew had another go, but this time Alan rolled another ball just after. When his nephew’s ball started rolling backwards Alan’s banged into it, bouncing it forward again and making it fall down a yellow hole. The boy bounced, clapped and giggled at the same time.

“Keep going. We can do it.”

Alan grinned as he rolled a ball up the stage and it went into a red hole, bring a cheer from his lap. They started to get into the swing of it, his nephew occasionally rolling a ball hard enough for it to teeter on the edge of the yellow rings. They were both having fun when the bell rang to signal a winner. Alan was a little sad it was over. Lifting his head, he could see their horse was in last place, but he’d learnt long ago it wasn’t always about winning. Their horse had moved. Pointing at it, he made sure his nephew knew how well they had done.

“Look how far our horse got!”

There was a gasp before those blue eyes were sparkling up at him with pure joy and longing.

“Again. Again.”

Alan laughed, holding out his watch to the attendant. Half the seats around them changed hands. Grabbing the balls, the pair were ready when the bell sounded. All Alan could hear were the giggles of his nephew as they rolled balls up the felt together. When the bell tolled, their horse was once again last, but it had moved further.

“Again. Again.”

“Last time, buddy. We still need to go find the teacups.”

“Yes!”

The toddler was already focused on the holes, ball in a poised hand. Alan had managed to get the feel of it, as well as getting into a rhythm, so was over the moon when their horse was third from last this time.

“Again.”

Alan shifted backwards, pulling the child away from the stage and prepared to stand.

“No. It’s time for the teacups.”

The pout came, as it always did. Apparently, it made the child resemble a younger version of himself, which explained why strangers often mistook Alan for the boy’s father. Before they could leave the attendant lent over the stage and held out a small cuddly bear to the boy.

“For being a good sport.”

“What do you say?”

His nephew had the bear in his clutches, the pout having been replaced with a smile.

“Thank you.”

A large, dimpled grin was projected at the attendant, who chuckled and waved goodbye as they left. Heading into the ever-bustling crowd was much less fun. Alan was elbowed almost immediately but he could just about see the teacups between the people. As they made their way through a crossroads in the stalls, a bag was thrust into Alan and he instantly let go of his nephew’s hand to push it away.

“Hey, watch it.”

“Sorry mate,” was grumbled back, the owner walking away without a second thought.

Alan glanced down, hoping to grab his nephew’s hand, only for his heart to stop. He twisted left and right, eyes searching for the boy. It had only been a second, yet he was gone. People continued to push past as panic started to build. He couldn’t lose him. Alan called out the boy’s name, moving here and there around the streams of people. There were so many children, so many small faces he had to scan to find the one he wanted. As the seconds ticked by, worry descended over Alan. He called out again, straining his ears against the noise around him.

“Alan!”

It was a quiet cry, but it was all Alan needed. He headed towards it, and sure enough, there was his nephew, tears streaking his cheeks and falling into the fur of the teddy clutched to his chest. Alan grabbed him, pulling the boy into a fierce hug as relief flooded him. Alan fought the tears that threated to fall from his own eyes.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you.”

Scanning around, he tried to get his bearing and let himself calm down. His eyes caught a glint of sunlight and his gaze settled on its source. A memory came to mind. Carrying his nephew, he headed back into the fray.

******

A lovely girly afternoon tea with Lady Penelope was just what Sally had needed after being on the island for so long. Penelope was always good company, and it made a welcome change from her grandsons. Refreshed and relaxed, the pair headed down to the seafront with Parker in toe, to find the boys. Alan had messaged her their location, thankfully with enough unique details for them to easily find their way. He had become a fine young man.

Sally’s eyes scoured the seafront as they neared the stated location. She smiled when she spotted them, her heart melting at the picture. Alan was sitting on a bench with his nephew in his lap, both eating ice cream as they looked out over the sand. Matching smiles on their faces confirmed they had had a good time too. What surprised her most was the two balloons floating above them, gently tapping each other in the light breeze. The silver rocket attached to her great grandson made perfect sense, what child didn’t love a helium balloon? But the simple red one attached to Alan’s wrist puzzled her slightly. It sent her back in time to the young boy who always chosen red. Maybe he remembered it too.

[haansgruuber]

Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber, photographed by Robert Isenberg, Virgil Mirano and Peter Sorel for Die Hard (1988) dir. John McTiernan

[haansgruuber]

“Alan was a Method actor, so we were all pretty much terrified of him on set [of Harry Potter]. I just remember him being creepy around the corridors. He didn’t smile, and everyone talked about him in a reverent tone. But the memory that sticks out to me was we were allowed to bring guests [to the set], but we had to ask the producers’ permission and sign all these forms. It was the kind of thing [that you were] allowed to do, but you didn’t do it too much. Like, if you did it too much, you were pushing it. But Alan Rickman, pretty much every day of filming, he had a whole troop of little children [visiting]. It was the most bizarre scene to see Snape in this black robe, usually with, like, a bib on — we had to wear these bibs so we didn’t ruin our costume — surrounded by all these happy little children who were just chatting away to him.” — Evanna Lynch [x]

[haansgruuber]

“Somehow action films seem to have this taint. There’s this misconception that they require less work and that they don’t really match up to a dramatic film. I think Alan Rickman should have been nominated for an Academy Award [for Hans Gruber in Die Hard]. He did a great acting job in that film. He was the best bad guy I have ever seen in my life.” — Bruce Willis [x]

[haansgruuber]

Your villain, here, is patently a controlled job of acting. I’m just not certain whether it makes the film, or breaks it — a very difficult call. “Well, then, at least we’ve made an interesting motion picture. I hope you can see it again before you decide what to put down for publication... No, really: Am I being insulted here? What I wish more people knew is that there’s a nice little ghostly love story out there in a few theaters now called Truly, Madly, Deeply — where I play a tender, loving sort of chap who returns from the dead — and that I’m looking to defy as many expectations as I can, in case the people who liked my turn in Die Hard should take that character as the only thing I’m capable of doing. That’s what I’m doing so much of the broad comedy-villainy for in Robin Hood, you know. [Director] Kevin [Reynolds] and I — well, we worked it out where I could get away with mugging the camera, and sticking my nose out into the audience, and throwing away some asides and one-liners. Now, what you were saying earlier, that may be because of expectations you’ve brought from having liked the Die Hard bad man. I am hellbent on defying your expectations, at every turn, and even if you don’t like what’s being done, I dare you to find it uninteresting. Robin’s Sheriff of Nottingham is a troublemaker with a murderous streak, all right — but goodness, this is a costume melodrama, not Shakespeare. I believe this particular villain needs to be a little laughable, lest we players mislead the audience into taking things too seriously. And as to what you were saying about a make-or-break performance: I might very well ‘break’ the picture by playing it so — well, so grand-manner.” — Alan Rickman [x]

[haansgruuber]

Alan Rickman, playwright Christopher Hampton, Lindsay Duncan, director Howard Davies and Lesley Manville of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s Les Liaisons Dangereuses dine at The Dirty Duck pub on Waterside in Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England (1985) [ x ]

[haansgruuber]

Alan Rickman and David Thewlis photographed by Rick McGinnis in Toronto, Ontario, Canada (November 1991 / December 1993)