#idea that was stuck in my head so bad I finished three full illustrations in a day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bibliocratic · 4 years

Text

drunken nights

jonmartin, scottish safehouse, drinking wine and card games

fluff. just fluff.

His lips and teeth stained purplish, Jon finishes his drink with an extravagant flourish and beckons impatiently for the corkscrew.

Martin's put it down somewhere, so by the time he's uncovered it from down the side of the sofa, Jon's sourced a new bottle, digging into the soft flesh of the cork with the metal implement Martin's passed over.

Their second evening in the safe house has wound down grim and blustery, the creak of the cottage like a laden floorboard, and Martin is discovering Jon drinks exactly like a uni student.

“We should play a game,” Jon proposes grandly and decisively, holding up a finger like he wants to illustrate a particularly salient point in a lecture.

“Like what?” Martin says, content to let the words form and fall out of his mouth lazily, half-moulded like a cushion against the back of the sofa. Like some indolent Caesar, he holds his mug out, shaking it at Jon until he gets the message. Jon gives himself a triumphant and satisfied nod when he manages to top up both of their mugs – there was no glasses in the cupboards that they've yet found, and Jon seems content to fill the mismatched mugs up like he's pouring tea – without spillage.

“Let's do questions,” Jon says, passing back Martin's topped-up drink. He's gone blotchy around his throat, but he fixes on Martin with wine-bright eyes, bearing one of those smiles on his face that Martin never knew could come so easily.

“Don't you have.... y-your omniscient mind powers f'that?” Martin says, squinting as Jon, who had just sat down and sunk against him, in a resolute gear-change becomes a spiky thing with a mission, all elbows as he pushes himself back up to a wavering stand before lurching in the direction of the kitchen cabinets.

“I'm serious!” Jon replies, making a god-awful clattering racket as he pushes aside cutlery and tin opener and spatulas from their home in the top drawer that apparently holds everything, either kitchen-related or not.

Finally, with a little 'ah!', he brandishes like a dog-eared grail a grimy looking box of playing cards. “Daisy left these.”

“Makes a nice change from gaffer tape an' weirdly stained rope,” Martin burbles back, using the divinely-granted opportunity he's been bestowed to give Jon a shameless and fondly admiring once-over before Jon swivels around on the balls of his feet and Martin schools his expression mild and dopey. “Anyway, you want t' do questions, why don't we jus' play Never Have I Ever or summin'?”

Jon makes a face that is either currently remembering some beer-soaked student days or trying very hard to forget.

“My game's better,” he says, bee-lining back to his position squashed against Martin's stomach. He throws himself down heavily, and Martin gives a grunting, over-dramatic ooof as his favourite hedgehog-human elbows him while he reconfigures his seating. “'s fun.”

“You know the meaning of the word then?”

Jon sticks out his tongue. Martin tries to poke it with his finger, and Jon reels back with another one of those wine-laden expressions, earnest and open as a window.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, struggling with finding the opening at the top of the pack, before he pauses, dutifully following up with a no-less sincere and concessionary: “But not if you don't want to.”

Martin takes the cards off him, not wanting to watch Jon martyr himself for hours trying to open something for the second time in as many days. (The raspberry jam was still unopened and apparently fused shut for later civilisations to one day come across. Martin had caught Jon trying to pop the seal with a knife and there had been words).

Jon sways and folds his limbs cross legged, body leaning towards Martin as he unpacks the cards into his palm.

“What questions then?”

Jon huffs.

“I'm not going to tell you, that's not the game.”

“What if you cheat though?”

“I won't!”

“'s what a cheater would say.”

“Martin...!”

“Tell y' what,” Martin grins, “Rules! You like those. Right – er – kay, if you use your ominous eye powers – ”

“I'm not going t – ”

“If. Then, then there's a penalty. 's fair, right?”

Jon grumbles another petulant 'not gonna' into his wine mug, the protestation echoing.

“I think...” Martin says slowly, blinking heavily, taking a big swig and sloshing it around his mouth. “...you should hafta take a drink.”

“I'm drinking anyway,” Jon replies impishly, with one of his own-brand smug expressions, and Martin shushes him with a shoulder-shove and a grinning 'another drink then!'

Jon takes the cards out of Martin's hands, almost folds the lines in his forehead in concentration as he tries to shuffle them, and then promptly fans them all over the sofa.

“A-and!” Martin says with a pleased smirk. “A-and I get another question!”

Jon makes the kind of sigh that implies he is possessed of saintly, near beatific patience for agreeing to such unreasonableness.

Martin leans forward and sloppily kisses Jon's hairline, and this seems to appease him. He tries to sit straighter up, fails and gives up up as a bad idea anyway.

The game is decided. It's simple and easy for their lubricated minds to parse – if a black card is turned over, Jon asks Martin a question. If a red, Martin asks Jon. Number cards are easier, more playful questions. Higher number cards and picture cards are more serious or personal questions. Any card can be refused at any time. Jon repeats this with an anxious frown until Martin nudges him with an elbow, sensing a spiral starting if he doesn't intervene, and demands the game be begun.

The rules go out of the window just as simply. Often they'll get tangled in the bramble-patch of some question, mouth full of reminiscences, clarifying or expanding questions batted back and forth like a casual and amenable round of some racquet sport. But, equally likely, debate will spring up over the numerical value of the question and that will cheerfully eat up the time as they spiritedly disagree on what sorts of information is worth what number.

“That's an eight at least, y' - you can't ask that until you've got at least an eight.”

“But I've not got an eight, I’ve a six.”

“Then tough, you better wait.”

“But you could tell me nooooww.”

Jon draws a nine of spades, and spends an over-long amount of time pondering the question.

“C'mon, hurry up.” Martin nudges him with a socked toe, and takes another gulp of his rapidly depleting wine.

“I'm thinking,” Jon pouts.

Martin stretches out, yawning, and then awkwardly manoeuvres himself so he's on his back, half lying on Jon's crossed legs, the rest of him stuck out over the arm of the sofa to dangle.

“You look silly upside down,” he says, following the line of Jon's jaw, his vision getting a little less concrete now but perfectly happy to float in his tipsy haze for a while.

Jon trails a hand through Martin's hair rhythmically while he ponders.

“I've got – yeh, yeh, I've got one,” he says finally. “Ok, here you go, right – when was your last relationship?”

“I had a three-week fling about five years ago with a guy called Manoj,” Martin replies, loose-lipped, riding the easy slide of the words slicking out of his mouth. “He's some high-flying investment banker now. Not good boyfriend material, you know, but we kept in touch, text sometimes if we wanted to hook up.”

The static in Martin's head fades enough for him to frown and shake himself free of the urge that just swept him along.

“Shit,” Jon swear. Martin doesn't like the blank expression of horror that's begun to creep like ivy rash, pushing aside his reddening inebriation. “Shit – Martin – I...”

“You're a cheat!” Martin declares quickly, efficiently sweeping all concerns about Jon's mild lapse from his mind in favour of smugly finger-pointing. “Cheat! That's – More wine! That's t'rules.”

“I – er.”

Martin's stumbling fingers reach down to the side of the sofa, and he sits up enough to fill Jon's mug again. It overflows a bit and drips on Jon's jeans and neither of them notice.

“You promised no mind powers,” he sing-songs, pushing the mug back at Jon.

Jon's expression seeps from heightened and horrified to a cautious mild embarrassment, and Martin feels a warm wash of a job accomplished.

“'was an accident,” he says as he sinks his face into the mug.

“Penalties are penalties.” Martin grins.

“You really have hook-ups with an investment banker?”

“Had. Past tense. Don't judge me.”

“I'm not – you can do what you like with your own body. Jus' they tend to be a bit...” Jon makes a most definitely judgy face.

“Stuck up?”

“I was going to try arrogant.”

“Maybe that's my type,” Martin says with a goofy wink, and Jon rolls his eyes. “And that was a sip, Jonathan, that's not a penalty.”

Jon drinks a little more. Martin bestows a graceless kiss against his cheek as a reward for his pains.

“And now my question,” Martin says.

Jon has the habit of drawing his eyebrows intensely together as he waits for each question, as though readying to give the enquiry the entirety of his attention.

“Alright. Go on.”

“Which one of my poems is your favourite?”

“I'm not answering that.”

“Why not?”

“Martin...”

“Fine. Another one. Non-morose answers only.” Martin bops Jon's nose. He's struggled through the reticence of his unruly limbs to sit up properly, and enjoys the fruits of his labours in that he can now more easily look at Jon while he's talking. “What do you wish you were better at?”

“Well, under such strict and unnecessary restrictions,” Jon says, who has taken advantage of Martin's more upright position to lean against him like a capsizing boat, his mug hugged against his breastbone. “Dunno. I've always quite liked the idea of – of getting into astronomy. There's all of the visually observable stuff, and it's fascinating, like it's – 't's really cool, the sorts of things you can see, even with reasonably cheap equipment, but then – then they've got this – this thing called radio astronomy, an' it's where you detect things like pulsars and stuff using radio waves, and it's really amazing, you know and – why're you smiling at me like that?”

“I'm dating such a nerd,” Martin laughs and fails to disguise how charmed he is, how wide his wine-stained lips are pulled. “That's adorable.”

“What about you then?” Jon says. He's going for affronted, but his hair is sprouting up fly-away, there's a strip of darkening skin over his nose and cheeks, and he has honest-to-god dimples that even his scruffy patch of beard doesn't mask when he smiles with his whole mouth. His happiness is a thoughtless, reckless thing and Martin thinks it's stunning. If he can figure out how to word it, he's definitely going to tell Jon, just blurt it out because Jon deserves to know, should be told how much his happiness means to Martin.

Jon swivels his body to drape his legs over Martin's knees, fidgets like a cat before he finally stills.

“Maybe baking?” Martin muses. He strokes the knobbly bone on the side of Jon's ankle, the skin fading smooth from the dark hair down his legs, and Jon twitches like he's ticklish. “I've never really...”

“Martin!” Jon says suddenly. Sitting up so fast in fact that he sloshes a blood-coloured stain onto his shirt.

“What?” Martin says, a buzz of threatened sobriety at whatever has broken their languid, lazy peace. Jon's putting his mug down and leaning forward.

“Martin,” he stresses again, and his face has filled up with a torch-bright light, dimples deepening. “There's flour in the kitchen. Martin, th-there's – I think there's... Eggs! We've eggs, 'n you got milk – let's make – let's make a cake!”

Martin blinks.

“What now?”

“Yeah, sure, now.”

Martin snorts.

“That oven's seen the Blitz, Jon! We'll need tetanus shots before we go near the thing.”

“N', n' it'll be fine, Daisy used it to make bread to disguise the smell of bleach.”

“God, that's not the ringing endorsement you think it is.”

“Hush, c'mon, let's go look,” Jon tries to stumble up and nearly drop-kicks his innocently placed mug. Martin breaks into a tipsy peal of laughter, squawks when Jon nearly collapses back onto him, almost headbutting him before he squashes his face with a petulant, slightly-off-the-mark kiss.

“Fine,” Martin half-slurs as Jon squirms, trying to separate them and drag Martin up from where he was entirety committed to being dug in for the evening. “F'ne, we'll look, kay, you pr'lly can't get rabies anyway with your mind powers.”

Jon staggers and nearly slips. Martin, feeling that it'll be better for all concerned if Jon is not allowed to do much walking for the moment, instead feels that now is a perfect moment to demonstrate every expression of chivalry he's always rather sappily wanted to shower a loved one with.

This firmly in mind, the idea growing better by the moment, Martin valiantly attempts to lift Jon in a wonky bridal carry.

Jon near shrieks with something that is both primal and delighted, but also rationally terrified: “Martin, your back!” Your back!”

“'s fine,” Martin grunts.

“You're going to do your back in!”

“If you keep squirming around, lemme get a good grip.”

“You're g-g-goin' to drop me, M-Martin!”

Tears are rolling down Jon's cheeks, his chest heaving in short-breathed gasping laughter that makes their small cramped living room seem bigger than it is. Martin does nearly drop him, but the sofa is still there for Martin to plant the hiccuping, giggling object of his devotions down upon safely. It takes a few minutes, but he convinces the leggy, laugh-shook drunkard he calls his own to clamber onto his back like a leggy koala, and this is more successful as Martin swayingly carries him into the kitchen.

(Their cakes are flat, lacking in sugar and near carbonated by the time they remember to take them out of the oven. Martin wakes up with Jon's hair in his mouth and a thundering pity-party of a headache made worse by Jon's snoring and he cannot for the life of him stop smiling).

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fluff #i absolutely love that headcanon that jon and martin just spent one night at the safehouse just getting slaughtered and having fun #give them something happy #cw alcohol

242 notes · View notes

thescatterbrainedwriter · 3 years

Text

Your Stupid Smile

Word count: ~6,100

Pairings: oc x canon

Warnings: fluff and shenanigans

Sup! I’m actually running out of stories to post. Didn’t think this through too well. Curses to writers block and the fact I write long stories. Even so, do hope you enjoy! 🥔🎨

**Note, Emily is my personal character. I just like to stick her places. I also still have no idea how to do a ‘short click for full’ post.

———

Irritating, simply irritating. Everyone was having a good time, sure, but Nash was having a hard time joining in on the fun. Every time he got close to truly relaxing and enjoying the company around him, he would hear it, that laugh. Of course, once he heard the laugh he had to see where it originated from, and it was always the same face. That stupid face and that stupid smile. He couldn’t stand that smile, and he didn’t want to admit to himself the reason why it bothered him so much.

The team was in the lounge enjoying the company of each other after a long day. Cisco was telling a story, Barry and Iris adding tidbits here and there, and the more elaborate and ridiculous it became the more laughs rang out. By the end of it everyone was rolling and roaring with laughter which only intensified after a stray loud squeak sounded. Emily covered her mouth in embarrassment before folding over the bar counter in laughter again. “I’m sorry!” She breathed trying to apologize between laughs. “I don’t know where that came from!” She covered her face in an attempt to wipe away the tears now rolling down her rosy face. “Oh no, my face sprung a leak!” Everyone continued giggling and Ralph stretched his hand over to her to deliver a tissue. She took it with a mousy thanks wiping her face. Nash was trying his hardest to keep from looking at her, he already made the mistake of just glancing over and he scowled to himself about the flush slowly spreading up his neck.

“Hey Estrata,” Cisco called after composing himself a degree. “You got any stories to share?”

“Yeah,” Ralph agreed. “You almost never share anything. Think you could drop the mysterious facade for a night?” Emily had one arm draped over her head and held her cheek with her other hand as she thought. “Hmmm..... I dunno,” she teased. “I’m not exactly good at sharing, things about me anyway.”

“There’s room for only one queen of ice,” Frost defended. “Quit giving the cold shoulder and fess up would ya?” Emily gave a growly sigh as she seriously considered the plethora of things buried within. “Ok fine,” she relented. “You make a good case, and Ralph has a point. I’m just, I’m really hesitant to share much. Seeing as I could find myself stranded somewhere else, it gets tiresome re-explaining.” Everyone gets quiet and Emily scratches her head realizing she killed the mood a little. “Eh, I think I have a solution though. Tell me,” she smiled. “What you wanna know? Besiiiides, my name,” she cut Ralph off before he could ask. Everyone chuckled and Nash just smirked.

Frost stared her down thinking intently, Emily actually got nervous with the holes being drilled into her soul with the stare, before she decided on a question. “You don’t look like the type to, but are obviously capable of, doing some not so desirable things. So have you?”

Emily squinted at her before straightening her back and clearing her throat. “Just, just gettin riiiiiiight into it huh?”

“I don’t make a habit of pussyfooting around,” Frost dismissed smirking. Emily patted her cheeks trying to think of a good story to tell while everyone turned 100% of their attention to her, excitedly waiting for whatever secret would come up. “Ok, ok, I got one,” she said smiling. “Believe it or not, but, I’ve had to break out of area 51.”

“You were taken to area 51?!” Barry asked shocked. “How? Why??” Emily flashed another, albeit awkward, smile. “Well, I am a wanted woman back where I come from.”

“Wanted huh?” Frost asked somewhat impressed. “What’d you do to earn that target on your back?”

“Exist,” she said plainly. “What I am, is a very valued product to a group of people. I’m one of a handful, if not the only person, with my genetic makeup.” She sighed making everyone become glum. “They really wanted to study me, poke and prod and see how they could use me and duplicate what I am.”

“Estrata, I didn’t—“ Frost started before Emily waved dismissively. “No, no, it’s fine,” she assured with a smile. “After learning that I decided to make myself the biggest most obnoxious target ever,” she waved her hands in front of her to illustrate as she giggled reminiscing. “I thought to myself, that if they wanted me that badly they’re gonna have to work for it. So I made it my mission to piss them off and kick their collective ass,” she flashed a big smile. “Besides, if they’re busy chasing me and my friends, they can’t go looking for anyone else.”

“Guess that explains all the injuries Caitlyn found,” Frost commented thoughtfully. “And the fact you gave Dr. Wells such a hard time about just coming to the lab in the beginning.”

“Yup! Broken ribs, arms, legs, fractured skull and fingers, I’ve had my stomach punctured straight through at least twice, and my shoulder. Think that one actually broke my shoulder blade to be honest.....” Emily rambled.

“Jeeze....” Ralph said stunned.

“And that’s not counting their penchant for causing neurological damage with all variations for shock collars and tasers,” she listed with a smirk. “I really shouldn’t be smiling but honestly, they’re some serious badges of honor so why not?” They all softened their faces though she could tell they still felt bad. “So anyway, “ she continued, “there I am in the bowels of area 51, strapped to a chair in some interrogation room when two guys in suits come in.” Everyone changed their tune as she gets back into the story, Nash admiring her resourcefulness and determination. As she rambled and gesticulated enhancing the story with her hands, complete with illusions and little animations, Nash couldn’t help but stare even when she smiled bright. Cisco noticed his staring and bumped his arm jostling him enough to break his gaze. He wiggled his eyebrows causing Nash to grumble and avert his gaze from everyone but still listened attentively.

“Soooo, there’s a whole facility underneath?” Barry asked once she finished. “And what we all think is area 51 is just a cover?” Emily nods with a smile. “There’s quite a lot buried underneath. I think the whole desert lot actually.”

“And no one knows about it?” Ralph asked.

“Lots of people know, but the government makes them seem crazy. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t like Eiling all that much, reminded me too much of them.”

“So this, Quazar, or Quinton, was there too?” Frost asked. “Why was he there again?”

Emily paused trying to formulate the sentence as coherently and short as possible without rambling again. “He was the one who gave me my powers. Well, not really gave but, reactivated dormant genes so I could do what I do. It’s how I got the monicker ‘half breed’.” She drifted off in her memories. “We grew close, and I must admit I didn’t handle learning he was an alien well but. We protected each other, and came to care a lot about each other.” She smiled thoughtfully. “He’s my anchor to home. Him and Oliver and Flaer and Jimmy.” Bringing herself back to the present she cleared her throat. “He was there for leverage I guess. Most likely for added study being a pure blood. As long as he was there I would be too, even if I got out I would come back to try and get him out. So I just broke him out right away and messed up their plans.” She flashed a smile lightening the mood of the room.

“Boy, you are just full of mysteries aren’t you?” Ralph asked with a smirk.

“Eeeyup! And I am 100% telling the truth too. I also gave yooouuuu..... three mysteries? Three mysteries an explanation,” she said standing with a stretch. “No more.”

“Just, one more question?” Cisco asked. “Do you miss him? Quinton?”

Emily paused looking at him. “Well yeah, ‘course I do. I get homesick sometimes. I miss everyone back home.” She sighed deeply as her mind wandered a bit. “Sometimes, my relay picks up messages he sends. Takes quite a long time to decompress the file because of barriers and reality changes but, he asks me how I’m doing, gives me updates on what’s going on, tells me to hurry home. But....” She rubs her cheek thinking. “He said..... he said if I ever get stuck somewhere, not to worry about them back home. He would keep everyone safe, and that he wanted me to be happy wherever I landed.” She smiled softly. “So... so I try. I try real hard, to be happy. And make other people happy. And, I guess I do a pretty good job.”

“You do,” Nash commented without thinking. Everyone turned their attention to him, Emily raising an eyebrow and smiling softly. “Huh?” Nash cleared his throat averting his gaze. “I-I mean I’ve noticed, that, everyone enjoys your—your company and. And they, like, having you around.”

“That include you?” She asked. Nash snaps his head to her and makes eye contact, his words momentarily caught in his throat as he begins to panic having been put on the spot. “Speak,” Harry says manifesting beside him. “You need to speak, say something.”

“I mean yeah, I guess,” Nash coughs out. “I certainly don’t find you all that annoying anyway.”

“Probably not the right response....” Harry comments.

Emily frowns a little. “Hmm, well I suppose that’s something.” Nash turns away from her again, Emily cocked an eyebrow noticing his ears turning rather red. She was sure he felt them burning but decided not to press him further.

“She noticed that you know,” Sherloque said manifesting by the bar behind her. Nash looked at him curiously. “What?” He asked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Emily responded taking her seat at the bar again. “Oh, sorry,” Nash apologized. “Thought I heard something. Guess it was nothing more than an auditory hallucination or something.”

“She’s not as oblivious as you think she is,” Sherloque continued. “I guarantee she already knows how you feel, and is just waiting on you to do something about it.” Nash turned away from the bar trying to ignore him, in addition to keep his flush from getting worse. He didn’t want to acknowledge it but it was rather difficult to keep from staring at her or subconsciously follow her around. He grumbled to himself trying to get his mind on something—anything—else. Cisco noticed and smiled mischievously having gotten an idea. “Hey, I remember you saying you attended a spontaneous karaoke session with Harry at one point,” he started. “Think you could sing something?”

“Wait, you sing?” Ralph asked in surprise.

“As a..... hobby.....” Emily said shyly. “I don’t really.... sing in— in public. Much....”

“Why not?” Barry asked. “Caitlyn said I sing pretty well and I never sing in public.”

“She gets carried away,” Nash says still not looking at her. “Least that’s what Harry said. Though, I’m not sure if it’s her or the crowd she sings in front of.”

“It’s, uh, it’s a little of both....” Emily half confirmed.

“How’s that?” Ralph asks intrigued.

“Uhhmmmm.... well.....” Emily fidgets a little. “I’m a bit on the theatrical side. I like my special effects, people like seeing all the flashy stuff and, well, I can get lost in the music. Sometimes.”

“All the time,” Harry comments. “Tell her to sing So Soft by that Carrie woman.”

“Why So Soft?” Nash asks out loud. Emily stiffens and blushes slightly. “What?” she squeaks. Harry smirks. “That’s why.” Nash looks over at her, smile threatening to crack onto his face as she sat there with her cheeks slowly getting rosy. Cisco notices her posture change as well and smiles wide. “I think we may have a winner for song choice.”

“Nu-no, not that,” Emily stammers. GP flies over to her whirring what seemed like a suggestion which only served to make Emily beat red. “I am NOT singing that one!” She near yells. “You should know better than to suggest that.” The drone whirrs again. “That one’s worse, no!”

“I kinda like the idea of worse,” Ralph teases. “What was suggested anyway?” Emily casts her gaze down making her hands into fits and pressing them into her knees. “GP always try to suggest two songs he knows will make me uncomfortable,” she explains. “They’re...... uhm..... they’re.....” Emily pauses before rolling her head and deciding to just get it over with. “They’re called ‘Do You Think I’m Sexy’ and...... ‘Sex bomb’......”

Everyone’s interest had been piqued with Cisco and Nash both staring at her with raised eyebrows. Emily covered her face in embarrassment floating above her seat a little. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” she near whines. “What about Talking Body?” GP whirrs in intelligible english tones. “Preferred over those, but still no.” Emily responds still red in the face. “No, I.... hmm.... I think I... h-have one. It’s called Collide.” Emily straightened her posture and cleared her throat. “Oh this is embarrassing......” she muttered under her breath after a pause and cringing. Taking a breath to calm herself she began, GP providing the background music.

*Lately, I feel like I’m pushing you away*

*Acting moody for no reason*

*And even though you know I'm always gonna stay*

*I've been talking like I'm leaving*

*I don't know why I keep playing these dumb games*

*Love is not a competition*

*And no one's winning when I'm pushing you away*

*Sometimes darkness is a prison*

The lights seem to dim a little before returning to the normal ambient light. Taking a breath to steady her nerves further, Emily continues.

* Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

Emily smiles becoming more relaxed even beginning to move in rhythm with the music and providing small effects such as orbs of lights and dimming the actual lights at times.

*Look into my eyes and tell me we're okay*

*And we both can be forgiven*

*Kiss me gently, say the things you wanna say*

*You don't need to ask permission*

*I'm a stormy ocean, but you're steady*

*And I'm a commotion, but you get me*

*Too many emotions, but you let me*

*Let me blossom in the dark*

The lights dim and brighten to the beat of the song, the orbs of light change color and seem to twinkle and multiply. Emily smiles wide as she sings and looks around in amusement at the display going on. Everyone else is distracted by the lights but Nash was fixated on Emily. He smiled as she smiles happier than he’s ever seen feeling as though this was her unfiltered.

*Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

The lights slowly begin to dim as Emily, having decided to stand, took slow strides toward the center of the group. She begins to float the closer she gets and takes a modest cross-legged ‘seat’ in the air. Everyone looks around curiously and Nash fixates on her again.

*I'm a stormy ocean, but you're steady*

*I'm like a commotion, but you get me*

*Too many emotions, but you let me*

*Let me blossom in the dark*

Emily darkens the whole room by creating a field that prevented any light to show through. She then made it look like she was glowing, her suit had appeared, her hair was snow white with the unique holographic shine, and she still kept the rest of them in utter darkness as she continued toward the song’s end.

* Turn the lights on, honey, honey, I don't wanna hide*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I'm surrendering tonight*

Emily snaps her fingers and flicks her wrist in front of her causing an explosion of stars appear in the room making it look like they were in the deep of space. Still glowing, albeit softer, she smiles wide. Nash watches noting she seemed to feel at home in such an environment almost looking free, maybe even exited to share the wonder of the void she knew so well with people she cared for. She looked dazzling in that moment.

*Although I'm not perfect, I feel perfect in your eyes*

*Turn the lights on, honey, I don't really wanna hide, not tonight*

*Come and crash into me 'cause I want us to collide*

*Collide, collide, collide*

The room fades back to black and Emily brings the normal light back into the room gradually so as not to blind everyone. They watch in stunned silence as she takes a few steps back toward her chair, suit disappearing and hair returning to her usual red tinted brunette, and she smiled shy and awkwardly. “So.....?” she asked.

“That was—“ Nash began.

“Amazing!” Cisco interrupted causing Nash to snap out of whatever trance he fell into. Emily smiled placing a hand on her cheek as she blushed. “Hobby my ass,” Ralph scolded. “You’ve put in some serious work to sound that good.”

“I’ve, had a few years of practice,” she teased.

“Well, whatever it is you just stunned us with, I wish I had a talent like that,” Iris commends. “That was..... wow!”

“Sing something else!” Wally said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that was great!” Joe agrees enamored.

Emily laughs waving a hand. “No no, I would be singing all night. Do you know what I would sound like tomorrow if I did that?”

“C’mon, just one more?” Frost asks surprisingly invested. Emily sighs with a reluctant smile tilting her head toward Nash a little. “Again, Harry, this is why I don’t sing in front of people.”

Nash chuckled in amusement with Harry smiling next to him. “Three. Three ‘one more’ requests that night,” he explained. “I was worried she would kill me by the end of it. If it weren’t for Jessie changing the topic when we left she may well have.” Nash looked at him curiously. “I was......responsible for two. She wasn’t enthused when I got the whole room going,” he said reminiscing. “By the way, if that wasn’t an obvious tell, I don’t know what is.” Nash’s gaze fell upon Emily again as she grumbled placing both hands on her cheeks considering indulging their requests. “No, no. It’s going to turn into karaoke night all over again if I don’t stop now,” Emily determined. “Only one tonight, but maybe another some other time,” she smiled raising a finger with a wink.

Casual conversation carried for another hour or two before Emily began to yawn, followed by a few of the others present. Half an hour after the first yawn, everyone decided to call it a night. It was well into the evening at this point and no one wanted to risk sleeping in too late. Emily stretched winding up leaning all the way back, about 90°, over the bar. She stayed like that taking a deep breath and complained about not wanting to move. “I think I’m just gonna.... sleep here. Like this. Yeah, this is comfy....”

“Thaaaat doesn’t *look* comfortable.....” Cisco commented looking confused at how she could even *do* that.

“Must not be a fellow human rubber band,” she replied grabbing her elbows keeping her arms above her head. “Being super bendy sure comes in handy.” She smiled lazily and turned her head to face the person she heard moving to her side, seemingly tripping over a chair. Her eyes met Nash’s, who’s cheeks immediately turned rosy, and lifted her head. “You ok?” She asked.

“Yeah, no. I’m f-fine,” Nash coughed out. “Stupid chair, got tangled in my feet....” He kicked it nearly getting tangled in it again.

“Yeeeesaahhh,” Emily said tiredly. “They always seem to like ankles and toes, huh? Just.... always in the way, at the worst times.” Her eyes closed again and she sighed half falling asleep right there. Nash averted his gaze awkwardly and Cisco smirked at him, Nash gave him a face instigating a silent argument between the two about him saying something before GP flew over and whistled at her waking her again. “Hmmm?” she said tiredly. GP whistled again and Emily groaned. “Nooo, don’t waaaanna move,” she said with another stretch. GP bonked her head and she sighed. “Ok, ok. Fine. I’ll go to bed.” With a huff, she pulled herself into a sitting position before hopping off her seat and heading out. Various farewells and well wishes were exchanged as they left one by one leaving Emily alone with Nash and Cisco. They stood awkwardly at the elevator door waiting for it to come back up, Cisco flicking his eyes in the direction of Emily trying to encourage Nash to say something and Nash refusing.

“Good night guys,” Emily said with a yawn when the elevator dinged. “Travel safe, ok?”

“Make sure nothing blows up, alright?” Cisco joked. She smiled tiredly. “Aww, no fun. And I was gonna try to make a star tonight.” Nash smiled recognizing a similar joke he made with Cisco. “I’ll make sure to hold down the fort,” she assured rubbing her eye as they stepped in. “I’m pretty good at keeping people out of places.” They waved as the doors closed, Nash watched as she turned, flicking her finger like you would a switch, and the lights going out one by one as she advanced down the hall. Cisco turned to face Nash with a disappointed look. “What?” Nash asked doing a double take.

“You need to tell her you like her already,” Cisco scolded.

“I don’t... like her,” Nash said attempting to brush off the accusation. “Why would you even think that?” Cisco’s face dropped unamused. “Yeah, ok. You are literally dripping in tension when you’re in the same room as her.”

“I am not!” Nash protests. “I’m chill.”

“You stare at her, you follow her, you ears get red when she looks at you.”

“I.... do not... What?” He turned to face Cisco as the doors opened. He rolled his eyes as he left, Nash close behind. “Pretty sure everyone knows. Well, maybe not Barry. But Wally does, Joe asked if you two were a thing, Iris knows....” Nash went quiet still following him. “I think Ralph may have a thing for her too but so far hasn’t had any luck.” He spun to face him and pointed a finger in his face. “Say, something. Anything. The awkward is getting unbearable.”

Nash stared at Cisco for a minute before the latter turned to leave, Nash took a long look back at the lab with a sigh. *I really should,* he thought. *But what do I say?*

——

The next day was business as usual, Emily had decided to get some practice in before everyone came in and had just finished when she passed Nash in the hall on her way to change. “Oh, hey Nash!” she greeted with a smile. Nash felt that familiar flush start to run up his neck when he saw her. He closed his eyes and muttered the only word he could think of. “Don’t...”

“Hmm?” Emily asked tilting her head to look him in the face. He opened his eyes making eye contact and used as much self control as he could muster to speak. “Don’t.... smile. At me.”

Emily paused in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t smile at me,” he repeated slowly beginning to regret his sentence choice. Emily blinked a few times just staring at him as she tried to understand. “Why...?”

“Because it’s stupid and makes me uncomfortable. And it’s annoying. Remember when I said you weren’t all that annoying? I lied. You’re more annoying than Ramon,” Nash blurted everything out before he realized what it was he was saying but fought to keep a straight face. Emily’s face was blank, shoulders dropped a little, and she stared confused at him. “Oh.... well..... ok.” She said softly. Nash felt his heart constrict in his chest. What had he done? She took a breath and looked him in the eye again, her facial features betraying hints of mischief. “Alright Nash, I’m sorry. I had no idea my smile could do that to you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder in mock concern making Nash a little suspicious. “I’m so glad you told me.”

“....You are?” Nash asked.

“Yes, yes, I am. From now on I won’t smile at you.”

“You.... won’t?”

“Nope. I’ll just smile at everyone and everything else instead,” Emily said fighting a smile. “Rest assured you’ll never see my troublesome smile again.”

“Ah...... good.....” Nash said trying to sound satisfied.

“See you later then,” Emily said before continuing on her way. Nash watched her go mildly panicking. “What just happened?” He asked no one in particular.

“You messed up, big time,” Sherloque answered from behind him. “How so?” Nash asked spinning around.

“Well, you heard her. She’ll still smile, just not at you,” Sherloque smirked. “But oh, she knows what you said wasn’t true. Not all of it anyway. She still may be a little concerned you find her annoying.”

“So, what will she do?”

“Exactly what she told you she would. Clever woman,” Sherloque mused. He smiled at Nash who still looked concerned. “She will, continue to smile, at everyone and thing other than you. And in doing so, knowing you don’t really find it uncomfortable, she will frustrate you.” He stands close to his face continuing to smile. “My, what a mess you’ve made. I do wonder how you’ll fix it.” He disappeared leaving Nash alone in the hallway again, completely and utterly uncertain about what to do now. “Oohhhh no....” he muttered to himself.

The rest of the day went on as normal, no one but Nash really noticing her slightly altered behavior though they did note he seemed a bit more frustrated than usual. She really did keep her word, taking care to never smile directly at him though that didn’t stop him from getting the smallest of glimpses. He found himself staring at her more often, and after three days he had nearly had enough.

He had found himself in the cortex, Barry was out and about as the Flash leaving Cisco, and Ralph there with him. He was tense and on edge knowing Emily could come in at any moment. He was too preoccupied to remember where she said she was going which only served to amp his anxiety. He tensed when he heard the familiar light tapping of footsteps drawing closer.

“Hey, I’m back!” A familiar voice called out. Nash refused to turn to meet her even as she walked over. She was wearing an oversized tank top, sport shorts, knee high socks and sneakers with her hair tied up. *Training,* he thought to himself. *That’s right, she wanted to practice for a while.* “Hey Cisco, Ralph. Hi Nash....” She smiled at Cisco and Ralph before dropping the facade to look at Nash. He clenched his jaw but kept his composure. “So, what are you up to?” She asked.

Cisco’s eyes darted from her face to Nash’s, before giving Ralph a look. “Not much....” he said. “Barry’s just doing his patrols, hasn’t come up with anything yet,” Ralph added walking awkwardly away.

“Hey, uh, Estrata,” Cisco called from the control desk. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Yeah sure, what’s up?” She asked cheerfully.

“The, satellites could use some maintenance. I can do general software updates from here but it’s difficult to do physical repairs. Could yoouuuu.....”

“Go check it out?” She finished for him. “My pleasure. I’ll take Tinker with me in case they need specialty parts.” She said smiling at the small drone flying into view. “Good idea. Yeah. Take.... take what ever you need and stay however long to. Fix things...” Cisco replied trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Be back in a jiffy!” She said with a grin before dropping it to look at Nash as she walked by. “Later.” They all watched and waited for her to leave the room before the two shot daggers at Nash with glares. “What?” He asked when he turned and saw their faces.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Cisco asked near shouting. “She has been acting weird for the last few days,” Ralph added. “I don’t .... know..... what you mean,” Nash tried to dismiss. “You said something to her, didn’t you!” Cisco accused. “What did you say?!”

“I—I.... didn’t ......” Nash stuttered trying to avoid the unwanted confrontation. They stared each other down for a while before he relented. “Alright fine. I..... I did.... say something.....” he said rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not the.... greatest thing...... in hindsight.....”

Cisco took a few steps forward still glaring. “Spill it.”

“I.... may have told her that..... she, uh, was..... annoying.....” Nash answered sheepishly. “You.... you what?” Cisco asked in disbelief. “You said what to her!?”

“You told me to say something to her. Anything, actually,” Nash tried to defend.

“Not that! Oh my— guh...” Cisco yelled throwing his hands in the air. Nash scratched his head like a child might when in trouble, being under all that scrutiny made his scalp really itchy. Ralph just stood there shaking his head. “You messed up, so bad,” he said.

“You don’t think I know?” Nash snapped back. “I got a lecture from a Wells as soon as she walked away!”

“You need to fix this,” Cisco said pointing again.

“How, Ramon? How?”

“I don’t know! But you have to do something! Smart, this time,” he glared, Nash glaring back at the ‘smart’ comment. “Because this?” he gestured around him, “This tension, is worse than your repressed tension. It sucks!”

“Hey Cisco,” Emily called over the relay. “Hey Es,” Cisco called back. “What ya got for me?”

“I’ve fixed a few cosmetic things, just scratches and dings from space debris, aaaaand I gave you a few new toys.” Cisco’s face lit up with a smile. “Ohhhh, new toys? Estrata, you spoil me.”

“Only cuz I like ya!” She responded with a giggle.

“Can’t imagine what you’d do for a special someone in your life,” Ralph commented shooting a look over to Nash. Nash clenched his jaw glaring back unenthusiastically. “Hmm, yeah. I’ve been told I get scary when I get serious or protective. Like, Mama Bear mode on steroids. So probably break a mountain in half. Or bake, I like brownies,” Emily rambled.

“.....Wait..... can you do that?” Ralph asked concerned. “Break a mountain?” Emily paused. “You know, never tried. But I did obliterate an asteroid one time.”

“Really?” This time Cisco asked.

“Yeah, but it was a small one. Like, maybe half a football field. And it was made out of a material similar to sandstone.”

“Thaaaat’s still pretty impressive,” Ralph stated impressed and a bit wary. “I know I could never do that.”

“Sure you could, you just gotta put your back into it!” She giggled, Ralph chuckling in return.

“So you gonna come back now?” Cisco asked glancing at Nash.

“Nah, not right now,” Emily replied with a sigh. “Been a while since I’ve just hung out in the deep black of the void, think I’ll chill for a while.” Nash’s shoulders dropped a bit hearing the news. As if he needed another contributor to his tension, now he had to wait for who knows how long. “Ok, take as much time as you need,” Cisco said still looking at Nash. “We’ll be here when you come back.”

“Ok, see you later then,” Emily said before closing the connection. Cisco crossed his arms and Ralph gave him a look, Nash stood stiff lost in thought. “Well, least now you have plenty of time to think of what to say,” Ralph commented before leaving. “You better make it good too,” Cisco warned before exiting as well, leaving Nash to stew for a while in uncertainty. *What to say....* he said to himself.

——

It was well into the evening when Emily made her way back to the lab. She casually strode down the halls humming to herself when she came across Nash and nearly bumped into him. “Oh! Oh, hi Nash,” she said looking up at him.

“H-hi.... Estrata,” Nash smiled awkwardly. “What brings you skulking around here so late?” She asked putting a hand on her hip. “I uh, I.... have something...... I’ve been meaning to, tell you....” he said trying to figure out the words as he went. “Oh? You do?” She said sounding intrigued. He nodded his head looking at his feet. “Uh huh, yeah.” He paused still staring at the ground and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I lied... earlier.... wheeeen I said you were..... annoying......” he started. “You did?” She asked relaxing a little. Nash nodded again. “I did. I actually don’t, find you annoying that is. I uh, really like your company. A lot.” He peeked up to look her in the eye, the flush building like before. “Well then, why did you say that?” Emily asked, face softening as he spoke.

“I don’t..... I don’t know..... I....” Nash ran his hands through his hair in frustration and started pacing around. “You..... don’t know?” she asked in confusion. “I..... I don’t, have the words...�� Nash said pausing and rubbing his chin. He stood quiet for a moment before turning to look at her again. “Maybe.... I don’t need words.....” he muttered to himself.

“What was tha—“ Emily’s sentence was cut off by Nash, who took three quick strides toward her, cupped her face and nearly rammed his face into hers with a kiss. Emily stood stunned, clearly not expecting this turn of events at all, and could only stare wide eyed into space. Once he broke the kiss he looked her in the eyes, thumb gently running over her cheek. “Wha...?” Emily started to ask. “Truth is, you make it incredibly difficult not to do that,” he says with a smile. “Especially, when you smile.”

Emily’s lips slowly pulled into a soft smile before mischievous tones bled in. “Hmmm, I’m not sure I got all that.” Nash raised an eyebrow smirking at her before placing another kiss on her lips. Emily chuckled after he broke the kiss again. “Gee, I dunno.... if I understand..... you may have...... to repeat.... that......” she said with a giggle, Nash taking the obvious opportunity to kiss her over and over while she spoke. They stood for a moment, smiling at each other like idiots, when they heard someone walk around the corner.

“Oh my god, FINALLY!” a voice said loudly from behind them. Emily gripped Nash’s shirt pulling him close as she tried to bury herself into him in embarrassment. Her face was beat red and eyes wide as Cisco briskly walked by. “Now if you two could do something about the other obvious tension you have, that’d be perfect,” he said pointing a finger first at Nash, then Emily who was trying very hard to hide her face. Cisco smiled at Nash, who gave him a wink, before walking away to a lab somewhere. They stood quiet for a minute before he rubbed her back and drew her into a hug enveloping her petite frame. She relaxed nestling into him a bit with a deep sigh. “So....” she began looking up at him. “What’s this ‘other tension’ Cisco was on about?”

“Oh, uh, I uh....” Nash coughed. “Not sure, actually.” She pouted suspiciously at him raising an eyebrow, keeping the stare made his ears rather red. “Mhmm......” she smirked. “Then I guess there’s nothing to ‘take care of’ and no real reason for a sleepover or anything....” she said slipping away. “I’m tired anyway, should probably just go to be—“ her words were cut off by Nash grabbing her from behind in a tight hug causing her to squeak. “Ok ok! I’ll stop teasing” she giggled. “But you’re kinda cute when you’re frustrated.”

Nash raised an eyebrow. “So are you telling me, this was a bad idea?” He asked close to her ear. “Noooooo.....” she said trying to hide the goosebumps. “Just..... think of it as an adventure. You do like adventures, right?” She asked grinning at him. He paused looking thoughtfully at her. “You know, now that I think of it. This might be one of the better ones.”

————————••••••••————————

~Fin~

#the flash #flash fiction #my oc tag #nash wells #cisco ramon #ralph dibny #funny #science #barry allen #fluffy

3 notes · View notes

hecohansen31 · 5 years

Note

Gurl if you got more ideas for them please dish! Lol that's my request, just more of that, whatever your ideas are for them lol

(A/N): Hello sweetie!

I know that I have already started a story about those two, but hey… I literally wrote this supernatural AU (although I don’t know if this could be properly called AU, since Roman is already a supernatural being) a few months ago and it was supposed to be about an OC insert (so if you see Heco, sorry it’s reader) and it was supposed to be actually MichaelxReaderXIvar… but I feel like Roman is just more fitting, so…

I really hope that you’ll enjoy it and if you like this verse please let me know because I literally finished the first chapter of the other fanfic I was working on so I will be working on the smutty continue of this…

Thank you, again for your support lovelY!

(Also I am tagging @walkxthexmoon, since she expressed her love for it, if you want to be tagged into something else… let me know!).

Also, since it is implied but not explained: Ivar is a werewolf, whereas Roman is a vampire (actually a “upir” but both Ivar and Reader tease him calling him “vampire” so I am here doing the same thing!).

WARNINGS: Bad Friends (I literally have to say that each time I am wirting about shitty friends I am like “No, my friends are not like this”, and then they make something… and I am like “this is karma for being assholes), Bitchy Reader, Heavy Flirting and Mentions of Sex and Threesomes.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed when her friends had sent her into that demonic village, as a birthday gift.

She was almost wondering if they hated her that much

(Was it the fact that she was more successful than them, or the fact that she was the only single one of the group, ruining with her mere presence the life of all its components…).

Because there was no way that journey was a vacation, it was absolutely a punishment of some kind, starting from the fact that her freaking car had stopped working an hour before arriving to the hotel, on a full bus, with her heavy luggage.

She was supposed to spend a weekend as a single lady with her newly broken-up best friend, except…

Except her ex-boyfriend appeared a few days ago, proposing to her and basically blowing off her plans.

If you could call “plans” something which had been thrown on your way.

She still regretted all the books she might have received, instead of being sent in this shithole.

She didn’t mean to judge a book from the cover, or better by the shitty phone reception, and the shitty appearance of the hotel where she was staying for two nights and three days and the shitty shops.

She hoped she might find some kind of bookshop… because that’s where she hoped to spend the days… although there were a lot of bar and liquor shops, maybe people liked to get drunk enough to forget about this shithole.

No, she wouldn’t be judging, not even as it started raining just when she stepped off the bus and reached hurryingly the hotel, almost slamming herself on the closed door, that thank God gave out under a little pressure, allowing her inside and in the warmth of the hall, for which she was thankful.

She spent a few minutes trying to recollect herself and thanking whatever make-up goddess, she hadn’t worn any, alongside collecting from her bag the vacation’s document and her wallet.

She approached the receptionist, a man, bigger than her of a few good inches, and turned around fixing some documents, till she coughed, more because of the cold she had been in than anything else, gaining his attention, or better a very pissed glare.

She almost though about fleeing the scene and checking the buses station, but the glare dissipated as soon as he took her in: she was sure she looked a mess enough to pray for his pity.

-Well… it is raining outside, isn’t it? – he mused almost shyly, immediately leaning on the table of the reception hall, almost as if to be closer to her, making her squeak lightly and in response her social anxiety kicked in, making her shove her folder with the payments and bookings in his face.

He smiled, with his shining blue eyes, taking (very gently for a man of his stature) the documents and setting down his eyes on them, and she almost whined to be robbed of those two spots of ocean, but she tried again just to readjust her appearance, wanting to seem calm and at ease, although she hated doing anything that remotely made her have contact with strangers.

-(Y/N) (L/N)? – he asked and she had to stop herself from saluting him as a freaking soldier, but the voice raspy and rough made him seem like someone who wanted everyone to stand at attention when he spoke to them, so she tried her best, although staring right into the ocean was a bit scary -… but I don’t see any Annie Howin, are you waiting for her? -.

Here came the hard part: explaining her friend had balled out of this “magical adventure” and if she could use a single room, instead of a double…

-… nope…- she almost wanted to slap herself for the childish expression, but the guy looked at her wolfish, clearly amused by the way she had rolled the word, which made her blush (wasn’t it too warm here? Or was she just burning from embarrassment?) -… you see… we were supposed to spend a weekend as singles…-

-You are,,, single?- he seemed almost surprised by the way she said it, but she tried not to mind the comment too much, spitting out the discourse she had rehearsed for two days.

-… but her ex-boyfriend came back in town and… he proposed…-

-… and she accepted? – he commented as if they were in some kind of cheap telenovela, bringing a smile on her lips, while his own mimicked it in a smirk, a very sensual smirk (part of her thought it was the one lovers offered when they were teasing the other, as if humoring them but also trying to get them out of the shyness shell).

-Yep- again the childish expression and again the wolf-like smirk, which honesty made her wonder if his teeth were freaking sharp or it was just an impression -… and after he cheated on her… the dude kind of sucks…-

-Well, he must have other talents- the innuendos made her start out a laugh, mostly because of the absurdity of the situation: shy little (Y/N) gossiping with a gorgeous receptionist, who seemed into her.

(Key-word: “seemed”, she was pretty sure he was just flirty by nature, with those good looks and arms that could carry her everywhere, no she wasn’t totally imagining herself clinging at them, meanwhile he whispered naughty things, before dropping her to their shared bed…).

-I don’t know, I wasn’t the one he cheated her with…- and then she went back to the straight discourse, gaining a little laugh from the receptionist -… so she is not coming… and I am all by myself…-.

She didn’t meant to appear that pathetic, but it must have seemed that way to the guy, who rose his head, as if his ears could stand at attention as a well-trained dog, before giving her a sultry look and in that moment she remembered how stuck to her body her clothing was, nothing too transparent but… she was definitely vulnerable and that guy was checking her out as a piece of meat.

But not in the “sexual harassment” way, the “I really want you in my bed” way, and she was sure she was just mistaking the signs.

She was not ugly, but not a boy magnet: she just eased the “feminist who won’t put up with your shit” attitude, and it didn’t help to have social anxiety and shyness.

-So, you are all alone in a wedding suite… that’s honestly sad…- he mumbled but he didn’t seem sad for her, he was still leaning, and although his head was at the same level of her cleavage he was being a gentleman and still staring at her eyes.

-Yep, that’s why I would like to change it to a single: wedding suite is definitely too big for me…-.

-Sorry, lovely- she almost jumped at the nickname but he just smiled at her sweetly, letting the flirty persona behind -… we can’t change, but I am sure you will find the wedding suite to your liking, it is one of our best-.

Oh, just her luck.

She must have shown her disgust on her face (not a difficult thing, since she couldn’t hide anything) because he smiled apologetically to her:

-I swear it is a lot better than it looks, and we have warm water-

-But no wi-fi- she mumbled sadly at the sign on the window.

He scratched his head nervously, nodding.

-That sucks absolutely, but you can find an amazing wi-fi connection at “Shiny Moon”, it’s a bar near here, if you want, I can accompany you later-.

She seriously was flattered by the offer, but she didn’t know this guy and although he had been a gentleman (still sending her a few glance that made her feel hot and bothered, but maybe she was imagining them) she didn’t want trouble, mostly with hunks.

-Thank you, but I am sure I will find it, also I wouldn’t want to disrupt your work- she tried to push the “don’t want to bother you” excuse and he clearly didn’t believe it, but nodded as if he was used to that rejection and she thought for a moment to tell him, that maybe he…

But a beautiful blond-haired woman appeared catching the receptionist’s attention.

-Ivar! – she shouted, the name probably written on the little thing on the man’s tight t-shirt, which she couldn’t read because her glasses were a mess.

Ivar didn’t seem happy to be called and (Y/N) honestly didn’t get why: the woman looked like she came straight from a Swedish version of “Sports Illustrated”, definitely a model, who had unluckily chosen a shitty hotel.

-The water in my room isn’t working- she didn’t acknowledge (Y/N) as soon as she stepped near the receptionist table, locking eyes with Ivar, who turned his head down, avoiding categorically her gaze, but grunting a “ok” -… it needs to be fixated immediately, so come to my room-.

The last part of the quote seemed a clear invitation and it was what made Ivar snap, turning around abruptly and sending a glare at the woman, before recognizing her presence and softening his grim grin.

She didn’t know why, probably for empathy, but she smiled straight back at her, before coughing to make the rude model acknowledge her presence and whisper, trying to appear sultry.

-Ivar was minding my case, give him five minutes and he will solve your problem…- she wanted to add “your attitude problem” but she didn’t dare, already having said much more than the model expected, from her smiling face which sent her way a venomously sweet smile, nodding.

She didn’t answer to her, just turning to Ivar again and mumbling in a languid voice.

-Be swift, I don’t think it can wait much longer-.

Ivar just nodded, eyes fixed on the desk, and raising just when (Y/N) whispered a “she is gone”.

-She is a…- he tried to mumble, clearly numbing his rage to her benefit, meanwhile she shot him a compassionate look.

-Some people should just get a kick in their beautifully shaped butt- she mumbled and laughed honestly, as if releasing all the tension, something which was truly heartwarming for her, and made her smile to him as genuinely as she could do.

-I mean I would, but I am scared it would get just stuck there…- he made her laugh brightly and for a moment she thought about how embarrassing she must have sounded: nobody liked her voice or her laugh, too high-pitched, childish and definitely creepy but he looked at her as if she had just told him she was the freaking Virgin Mary, before turning around and catching a key.

-I am supposed to photocopy your document, but since you seem pretty cold and have dealt with an assholish receptionist, I’d say you can go to your room and warm up, it should be done by now- he put the key in her hands, reaching out for the physical contact.

He could have thrown them at her, made them dangle in front of her, but he straight up waited for her to offer her hands, gently putting the keys into them, covering them with his: that freaking contact was not accidental.

But she enjoyed the warmness of his hands, smiling thankfully at him, before trying to take everything in her hands.

And just when she was going for the elevator, she felt herself being called out.

-I know you might already know, because Fredys gave it out, but I am Ivar-.

She got into the elevator and she faced him smiling brightly before offering her hands as if she could grip his.

-I am (Y/N), but I think the documents gave it away-

-… unless they are fake, (Y/N) a pretty common name…- he made her laugh so easily she forgot to push the button, thankfully somebody else called the elevator and she made it in time just to smile at him and start her phrase.

-Strangest…-

-… parents- she mumbled meanwhile she reached her number, forty-eight, she low key liked it and the place looked much nicer inside, the old style that made everything seem “vintage” although it was a step from destroying itself, which might happen with her luck.

The key actually worked and she slipped swiftly inside the room, smiling at the clean smell and the warmth of it: a shower and a change of clothes would do her good, but firstly she moved around the room to check everything was alright and was surprised to find out how luxurious it actually looked, with even a bathtub, with hydromassage and a long plump bed where you could roll around in silk sheets.

The architecture was old and there was the much hated and anti-hygienic moquette, alongside with a horrible fantasy on it but everything looked in a classy way, much better than the motel she expected to find and much more than for what she had paid for her.

The place didn’t cost too much, according to her last research but it looked like it was worth every penny, if you ignored the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere with no wi-fi.

It was perfect if you looked for the perfect place for a “Shining” replica.

She tried to focus on positive thoughts, such as the fact that she shower water was immediately warm and she was happy to sing a little meanwhile relaxing her tights muscles from carrying her luggage every freaking where.

She then blow-dried her hair with the hair-drier that was there working perfectly, meanwhile slipping in a more comfortable attire: she had mostly short dresses, since she thought she would be out partying, a few sweater and her beloved high-waisted skinny jeans but she had managed to slip some ugly leggings and an old ruined university sweater.

It was barely three p.m. but she was tired for the long journey, which should have been a very short one, but the breaking of her car didn’t help (she had thought for a moment it was a sign that she should have just gone back home); she had had to deal with the police, coming to help her.

She had thought that maybe luck would be on her side, when she saw the bus coming on her way.

Unluckily the freaking bus journey sucked, so… she was tired AF and the cheap reality show she had chosen didn’t help and she ended up falling asleep on the plush bed, mumbling something about how bitchy bridesmaids could be…

She woke up because something on her head was vibrating and scared her into thinking about a possible earthquake, but it was just her phone.

It was Annie, from whom she had missed five calls and thousands of messages.

But she was so tired, that she actually thought about not answering her back and going back to Tom Hardy’s muscled arms.

(She had dreamt for a minute about the reception boy… Ivar… but it low key felt wrong; he wouldn’t definitely be involved into the situation she was dreaming, alongside the fact that it would be low key disgraceful to see him and blush after what she had seen in her dream).

-Hey Annie… I was sleeping- she even yawned, trying to tell her friend to make it quick.

They had never really been best-friends, forever competitors in everything and at the social level it seemed Annie was winning.

-Thank God you answered! I was getting worried…- she mumbled, clearly chewing her lips, she was also probably staring at her elegant diamond ring, part of (Y/N) wanted to tell her it was as small as her boyfriend’s dick, or so the rumors said, but she had stopped herself from doing anything, she had just “awed” stupidly alongside her other friends, when Annie had shown it to them (the ring, not her boyfriend’s dick)-… did you arrive? -.

-Yeah- and she watched her watch, apparently it was late enough that she might have missed her dinner, because of her little nap and outside it was pretty dark.

She put her friend on speaker, trying to put on a decent outfit, nothing too much to go to the “Shiny Moon”, which she highly hoped wasn’t some kind of exclusive club or a strip-club, because she had no intention to stick her tired body in a skirt, so she ended up in her comfortable jeans and an even more comfortable sweater.

-… so I am still sorry, but I felt like me and Gerry had to have our space and time, after the proposal… did I tell you he took me out to the “Sinatra”…- the most expensive place in their hometown, Heco remembered how it was something Annie always wished to do, and she was low key happy her friend could cross that off the list.

-Oh, it’s beautiful! – she commented, grabbing in her hand the sheer lace of her mini-black dress, the sexiest dress she owned and definitely the one she used to go out to clubs, but she immediately put outfit down, not feeling confident enough for that look -Hope you two had fun! -.

-I hope you will, too, (Y/N), is the room nice? -she asked, quitting the chipping about everything else.

-Oh, yeah, I have a jacuzzi- she heard her friend “owww” and mumble “maybe I should have come” -… and I am going out to get wi-fi, that’s why I haven’t been answering your messages because my 3G is not working so well…-.

-Yeah, I can’t hear you well…- mumbled Annie, but this didn’t discourage her from keeping up the conversation meanwhile (Y/N) adjusted her head in a high ponytail -… so I was thinking about the maid of honor: my sister or my cousin? -.

She low key didn’t expect to be the maid of honor, but not even being considered?

They hadn’t been best friends but (Y/N) had tried to play the part, remembering her friend’s birthday and gifting her lavish gifts, consoling her when asshole Gerry had left her and helping her build her confidence.

Annie had always left (Y/N) behind, after she was alright, and (Y/N) had been ok with that, she had stopped expecting people to do something for her, but still, it stung…

And to avoid confrontation, she started making horrible sounds and stumbling on her words as if she was seriously having a shitty phone reception, hearing Annie trying to scream and give up in the end, telling her to call her when the phone reception would get better.

She threw the phone on the bed, huffing and breathing heavily before adjusting elegantly her appearance and attempt to go out.

She stalked the reception hall and found a woman instead of Ivar: a beautiful blonde woman who seriously made her wonder if everyone there was a model.

She chatted a bit, asking for directions for the “Shiny Moon”, meanwhile the woman photocopied her ID, but clearly as disinterested as Ivar had been flirty.

She thanked the woman and adjusting her light coat she moved outside.

It was November and it was definitely cold but not as cold as in some other states: the sweater and the coat kept her warm for the ten-minutes-journey to the “Shiny Moon” a dark and grimy place.

Still from the window she saw that there were many people dressed just like her, just with their computers or chatting up.

She entered and although the main colors of the club were golden and black, in a very tacky assemble that mixed a sex-club with a diner, the atmosphere was peaceful, alongside almost empty.

She sat at the bar stool, immediately making eye contact with a pretty girl of her age.

-Hi, welcome to the “Shiny Moon”! What can I get you? – her voice was emotionless although she showed off a smart smirk.

-Whatever can get me the wi-fi password?- she asked, trying to get straight to the point and gaining a sincere smile from the girl, who took a little piece of paper and offered it to her, before asking if that was all.

-Can I get a menu if I am not too late for dinner? – she asked, feeling her stomach grumble miserably, since she had avoided lunch.

-You are lucky, the kitchen is open for another hour and in the meanwhile can I bring you some kind of drink? – she said, putting out a white notebook and offering a plastic menu.

-Oh…- she didn’t know what to say -… coca cola? -.

-With rum? – added the girl, smiling at her teasingly and making her blush.

-No, no alcohol- she liked alcohol, but only when she knew she would make a fool of himself between people who did know her, not a strange grimy place, where she knew nobody, although if they looked all like models she could make an exception -… I need to go back on my own, so…-.

-If you can wait till my turn is over, I can accompany you- offered the girl she had just met and this brightened (Y/N)’s heart, but also she didn’t understand why a stranger might offer her help, after a few minutes of knowing.

-Oh, no I don’t want to bother you- she mumbled, using again the excuse she loved, since she constantly felt like a bother for everyone, even strangers she just met in a bar.

-Oh no bother, sweetie- the girl cheered sweetly -Us girls must stick together-.

And she sent a wink her way, worsening her blush, but she was immediately distracted by a blonde ghost appearing beside her.

-What have I said about talking with clients, Destiny? We have a full night.. we have no time to…- and then she met the ghost bluish-green eyes -… well I think I can make a little time for you, doll-.

Ivar adjusted the hydraulic tools back again on their shelf, fixing his appearance.

He had managed to avoid Fredys’ advances this time, although he hadn’t minded the flirty attitude of the new guest.

It wasn’t a typically flirty, more like he was the one doing all the flirty parts and she was just batting her long eyelashes, smiling shyly and worst of all: her freaking hips…

They looked like a freaking goddess’ hips, large and he wanted to see them in his hands, meanwhile he pushed them down on the bed, reassuring her with kisses on them.

Shit, the little girlie had done just a few steps in his direction and he wanted to bed her already, something he couldn’t do, but still nothing made him avoid the pleasure of making her blush and maybe if he played his cards right he would get to feel those hips.

He had a serious problem, worse than Hvitserk and food.

Talking about Hvitserk, he was coming up the stairs just when Ivar was going down on them, swiftly.

-Oh, hello there! – saluted him cheerily his brother, meanwhile he stopped alongside Ivar -Going out? -.

-Yep, I am going out for a few shots at the “Shiny Mood”, want to come? – he proposed.

-Sadly not, me and Ubbe have clan thing to do, but maybe I can join you later…- he knew he had lost the faith of his brothers and it hurt every time they reminded him of that but he tried to rein in his anger.

-Ok, have fun at the clan meeting- he tried not to sound bitter, but he knew he had failed when Hvitserk failed to keep his own straight face.

-You know we would absolutely love for you to be here with us, but… the clan is still not trusting you…- and he patted on his younger brother’s back -… you’ll be back soon-.

-I hope- he mumbled closing the conversation, and moving down the stairs, meanwhile his brother stuck there, but got a last look from Ivar -Oh… and we have a new guest, room forty-eight, she is mine, don’t try anything funny-.

If with Ivar, the flirting was strangely comical and harmless, with the green-eyed bartender she felt dangerously exposed even in her turtleneck and her full fitting jeans.

-Just cola, so, beautiful? – she just nodded, avoiding the bartender’s gaze.

Men weren’t usually that blunt with her and not having the control made her feel definitely vulnerable.

-… Destiny you can go to deal with other clients, I got this one- he ordered to the gentle girl and (Y/N) shot her a glance as if to ask her not to leave her with the hot bartender.

But the girl just sent her a sorry glance, before moving off to the other clients.

-You are new in town- it wasn’t a question, but she still nodded again, just to feel a hand under her chin, gently raising it up so that her ink eyes could meet the bluish and greenish of the bartender, who sweetly stare into her making her feel as if she was showing him her soul.

And she was thankful he liked what he saw.

-Much better, doll, look at me in the face while we speak, you have pretty eyes and even a prettier mouth-.

-I have never been told that- she mumbled but kept her eyes up.

-Oh, what a shame- he replied, moving his hand, which was still resting on her chin, to her hair, caressing her as if she was some kind of dog, something which made her roll her eyes but also lean into the touch -… women like you need to be cherished each day-.

-Aren’t you the flatterer…- she mumbled and he laughed sensually, dropping his head and turning around, thing that made her almost drop a whine, being robbed of the beauty, but he came back immediately, with her drink, and exactly like Ivar, he handed it to her with extreme physical contact, thing that made her almost wink at him.

-Just the truth, lovely mystery lady- he replied, before dropping on his elbows so he could stare at her at the same height, making her blush and cough out her cola.

-You didn’t tell me anything about yourself also, mysterious bartender- she sassed him and it got a pretty smile and an hand offered to her.

-Roman- and she accepted it, offering her own name.

-(Y/N)-.

-Pretty strange name, (Y/N) look more like a tequila girl- he humored her making her cackle a laugh.

-I do like tequila, but I am in the middle of nowhere and I don’t want to be kicked out of my single night out-.

-Ohh… single night out…- Michael almost whistled, clearly focused more on the single part than the ladies night -We host a thousand of ladies night, but don’t they involve another friend? - .

-Didn’t I tell you I am nothing like ordinary? – she said, with a bitter smile, drinking her sorrows away in the sugary drink -My last single friend got engaged a few days before, so I am all out of single friends, that was why I was trying to talk Destiny to join my night out… you literally ruined my night-.

-Oh, did I? – and he did a thing with his tongue that made her almost faint.

-Yeah, you are obviously not a single lady- she mumbled, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

-I am not a lady- he appointed -… but I am single, sweetheart-.

And the hand was back on her cheek, coaxing her nearer, till she felt somebody occupying the bar sit next to her…

-…well I am single too, so can I join the single train? -.

Shit, flirty! Ivar was back again.

Roman had had a tough night, a full night at the “Shiny Moo” and Roman had wandered off, meanwhile Destiny was chatting up clients, making others wait, and he had immediately moved to tell her to move her ass, till he saw the pretty girl she was talking to.

Clearly the type of girl who didn’t care to walk in a bar in simple clothes and she still managed to be the most stunning girl in there, and she was just wearing jeans, jeans that looked like they were painted on her perky butt, and a mickey mouse sweater, he honestly thought looked deviously innocent.

Part of her looked like she could have just come out of a fairy tale books, but the way she talked and once the shyness went away… she seemed to come out straight from an erotic novel, the well written kind.

She honestly made his night better.

Ivar, a little less.

The fact that they wanted to bring the same girl in their beds made it… interesting.

-Hello there, lovely, saw you found the “Shiny Moon”-.

The girl smiled more at ease, than with him; Ivar was a people-charmer, whereas Roman was more sensual and the girl looked like she was entirely scared by her sexuality.

So, Ivar clearly had the advantage, but Roman knew how to get everybody on their knees for him.

-… yeah, I mean I am not amazing with directions, but this place is basically in front of the hotel so…-.

-So, you are staying at the old “Kattegat”? – asked Roman, trying to get more info than Ivar, also because he was honestly mesmerized by the girl, utterly smitten and curious to know more.

-Yeah, just for the weekend- and then she moved her little chin to Ivar, smiling slightly and asking -Oh by the way the room is beautiful-.

Ivar looked like a puppy who got a treat after the compliment he had received, nodding immediately meanwhile he mumbled lowly a few words.

-… that place might seem a terrible on the outside, but believe me, it’s very much worse inside, alongside the fact that his owners are all assholes- replied Roman, wanting her eyes back on him and getting them, alongside a shocked expression and a grunt from Ivar, which was immediately suppressed by something that said “do you want war? I will bring it to you”.

-People only come here for the free wi-fi- replied swiftly the other man, sparking a little fight.

And immediately (Y/N) came between those two, touching Ivar’s chest.

-Woah woah… your places are equally broken on the outside, but they are prettier on the inside, and yeah the wi-fi bonus is amazing- she laughed lightly, but her intention was clear: she wanted no riot or brawl in there, cocking an eyebrow at Roman, in a little show of dominance.

He, instead, licked his lips, a little aroused by a girl that could handle two extremely territorial males, without and ounce of fear; Ivar was thinking the same, looking at the hand on his chest with wide eyes.

-You are definitely all over men’s bullshit- mumbled attentively Roman, making her drop her hand from Ivar, who looked a few minutes from crying for the loss.

-Oh, all over every person’s bullshit, but you men are just the absolute worst- she laughed timidly, before downing again her drink, as she tried to avoid thinking about the two men looking at her smugly and intensively.

“Well you are lucky, we are not men, sweetie” that’s what he wanted to tell her, but seeing through all the confidence she was faking, that she was pretty shy, it wasn’t the time to tell her they were supernatural beings.

Although she seemed smart to figure that out on her own.

-… men disappointed you, lovely? – Ivar asked, tried to sound compassionate, meanwhile he adjusted himself on the stool, probably because of his legs bothering him.

-It’s just…-.

-Are you a lesbian? – asked again Ivar and Roman sent him a death glare, knowing perfectly from the adorable blush she was wearing that they had just burned a chance to talk with her.

-No, I mean girls are beautiful, but not interested into them, although maybe I should, men are…-.

-… the worst- mumbled Roman, sending a straight up glare at Ivar, as if to let the sweetheart know that he was indeed “the worst”.

Ivar clearly looked embarrassed by the way she mumbled back, and moved near to get her attention, offering and half-hearted apology, helped by his sweet and dramatic blue eyes.

-Sorry, didn’t mean…-.

-Don’t worry- she mumbled leaning towards him -… a lot of people assumed it the same: no dates, no guys out of my house and I frighten every boy who comes my way-.

She tried to laugh it off but Roman could find how much it actually pained her: the loneliness and the sadness made her feel as if she was not enough.

But she was so so much more than enough and sweet, and she had already two men courting her.

-They were all boys to be frightened by such a pretty and powerful girl- replied Ivar, immediately gaining points by the pretty compliments, she leaned back into him, not enough to touch but… Ivar helped the contact by putting a hand over her shoulders, making her blush even more and sending Roman a winning smirk.

But he hadn’t lost.

-So, pretty girlie, do you have any plans for this weekend? – he asked, taking away the attention from Ivar and leaning forward, thing that was made by (Y/N) herself.

-Just to relax and do anything else-.

-Never thought about a threesome? – and the look of shock was enough to be a win for him.

Ivar seriously couldn’t be the prouder guy in the entire bar with the prettiest girl in town under his arm, smiling sweetly and with red shadows on her cheeks he wanted to kiss and maybe he would get to if he accompanied her back to the room.

Also, it was a little win over Roman, who instead of him, just needed to look at a girl to have her in her bed, and he also had had another little advantaged over him.

But he ruined anything as soon as Roman spit out the “threesome” proposition; it wasn’t rare for them to share a girl, mostly because of Ivar’s “little problem”, but this girl so sweet and pure… he felt like the sharing option was crazy.

She looked shell shocked in her expression of true shock, even worse than the one that she had on her face after his “embarrassing question”, but she almost laughed out, probably expecting it all to be a little joke.

Michael looked at her like a cat with a mouse, clearly trying to stay serious, although he laughed it off as if it was joke before going back to being serious.

-But seriously sweetie… if you want to do something more than just relax, we are more than willing to help you with a little fun-.

#roman godfrey #ivar #vikings #hemlock grove #hg #ivar x reader #ivar reader #roman godfrey reader #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey fem reader #roman godfrey x fem ! reader #ivar fem reader #ivar x fem! reader #ivar imagine #roman godfrey imagine #vikings imagine #supernatural AU #fan fic

84 notes · View notes

sailorsaigas · 7 years

Text

“Substitute Guardian” (a Morgan Lives AU) Chapter 2

Author's Note: Chapter is after the Read More, so as not to clutter folks' dashboards.

A year ago, I wrote the first chapter of an AU fic about Morgan surviving the events of Turn Coat. Well, I know it's been a long time in coming, but here is Chapter Two of that AU, the title of which has been settled on. I only hope you will find this entertaining, and that it might help some of you stave off the boredom of having to continue to wait for Jim to finish Peace Talks. Enjoy. ^_^

Being in Chicago again was...odd.

I wasn't entirely certain how I should feel about my return to the states, having spent the better portion of the last year under house arrest in Edinburgh. The early months saw me hospitalized, recovering in an infirmary bed after pushing my already wounded body too hard apprehending the man who'd framed me for murder. A grueling process of rehabilitation eventually began when my mandatory bed rest order was lifted, though after regaining my previous strength, I continued with physical training as a means of self-improvement and killing time. One might be surprised how utterly boring being confined to a centuries-old castle can be. So I trained - trained and studied like a newly minted apprentice one-hundred and fifty years younger. I had no intention of being bested again by my enemies.

Over the course of my time under lock and key, I had a few brief but important conversations with Harry Dresden, who made it a point not to interact with the Council more than absolutely necessary. I understood that mentality far more easily, now, after having my eyes opened during the events of that last year. We discussed where we stood as associates, swallowed what we could of our pride, and made something of a halfhearted but honest attempt at reconciliation. There was a lot of bad blood there, and neither of us could really get over some twenty years of animosity overnight, but it helped that I'd been made aware of the unfortunate truth. The Black Council, a hidden force seeking to tear apart the wizarding community from within, was real...and it was high time somebody did something about it. And so, despite some reluctance from Ebenezar McCoy, I was brought into the fold of the Gray Council, a nearly treasonous body of our own that sought to prevent the enemy from gaining the upper hand in our shadow war.

Stuck as I had been in Edinburgh, I didn't have much to offer of my previous talent as a Council enforcer, but my copious free time gave me opportunity to put my experience to good use in other ways. I was permitted supervised free range of the hallowed halls, and since the only individuals experienced enough to be trusted to watch me were Wardens I'd had a hand in training, they'd rarely challenge me regarding what I did or where I went. Thus I made my primary purpose one of study and documentation, becoming something of a writer for Dresden’s project, the Paranet. The idea of networking the minor talents of the world so that they'd be educated enough to protect one another had been risky in many ways, but had so far been more than worth the risk. However, their information had been limited primarily to what Dresden and a few of his friends were capable of offering, so I made it my goal to expand upon that.

Such was how it became my job to transcribe my personal knowledge, alongside those of Edinburgh's ancient libraries, to create tools for use by the Paranet. To speak plainly, they were mainly pamphlets with a few illustrations, but Dresden and Anastasia said so earnestly that they could prove invaluable to the lesser talents of the world that I started taking pride in the work. It helped that there was little else to do, of course.

Now I stood back on the streets of Chicago, a free man of a sort, though the Doom still hung above my head. These were my old stomping grounds long before they had been Dresden's, and they'd been my area of responsibility as a Warden up until the war with the Red Court of Vampires. I'd hounded Dresden through these streets as I observed his own probation beneath the Doom, and now the shoe was on the other foot. Dresden, if he yet lived, was a Warden of the Council, while I was the one with a single mistake keeping me from summary decapitation. I'm certain there was a lesson in that, and it was one reason I strived to put aside the more petty and miserable aspects of myself.

Shaking off my reminiscences, I examined the building where I'd be staying for the duration of my time as a mentor to Dresden's young apprentice, Molly Carpenter. I knew the building, of course. Only a few blocks away from the ruins of Dresden's own home, the address on my note had directed me to what had once been a boarding house that had been converted into apartments. During our time trying to prove my innocence, a mortal private investigator had set up an observation post in this very building to stake out Dresden. I don't know when the Council had found the time or money to empty the building and remodel it, but they'd done so. It looked pristine, at least from outside, and I knew nobody lived here anymore from a notation on Ana's scrap of paper. The Council didn't want to risk more collateral damage after whatever destroyed Dresden's place nearly killed several mortal bystanders.

I headed into the building and opened the door to the ground floor apartment, though I had keys to all of them. I wondered if they expected me to house Miss Carpenter here while I trained her? That would be practical, but Ana had mentioned the girl would be at her parent's house, and I imagined she'd be more comfortable there. Undoubtedly so, considering what had apparently transpired over the past 48 hours or so.

The apartment was sparsely furnished, though it had necessary amenities like an ice box and a wood-burning stove. There was one bedroom with a bare twin mattress against a wall, connected to a small bathroom with a standing glass-door shower. A single recliner occupied one corner of the living room near the fireplace, and a small dining table that had no accompanying chairs filled space in the kitchen. On it rested a plain white envelope labeled 'Donald.' Inside the envelope was a crisp stack of bills, the first installment of my new monthly stipend. I noted with a small smirk that it was the same monthly amount I'd be making if I were still serving as a Warden. Though I wasn't a Warden anymore, and likely never would be again, I supposed that my time in-service had earned me something. I'd have preferred my blade to the money. Warden or not, Ana made the sword for me. Practically speaking, nobody else would be remotely capable of wielding it effectively. Sentimentally speaking, it was probably my dearest possession.

Placing the envelope of cash in the pocket of the overcoat I wore with today's ensemble of a well-tailored, tan three-piece suit (why couldn't Dresden see the obvious social benefits of not dressing like a hoodlum?), I decided to set aside all other thoughts in favor of the most immediate concern. I couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to pay a visit to my new apprentice. I stepped outside, hailed a cab, and was shortly on my way.

-----

The house I arrived at looked like something out of a Hallmark card, something I wouldn't have thought possible in this part of Chicago. Complete with finely manicured lawn and white picket fence, it was the absolute model of idealized American suburbia. I could feel a kind of power emanating from within the borders of the property, and I knew immediately that this was indeed the correct residence. Michael Carpenter, Molly's father, was the only living retired Knight of the Sword, an ancient group of warriors who served to maintain the balance between Good and Evil on behalf of God. I could only imagine a retirement package from such an occupation would be graced with ample benefits from the Lord.

I was cautious as I approached the front door of the home, being careful not to offend whatever sort of divine bodyguards might watch over the place. I knocked politely, three times, and awaited a response from within. A woman promptly answered, and I could recognize in her face that this must be Molly's mother, Charity. I could also see in her general stance and demeanor, a woman of fierce physical and mental fortitude. I'd hazard to guess she'd once served as the sparring partner for her husband, and Ana had mentioned to me before my departure that the woman was an accomplished smith, likely as a means of indicating someone from whom I could commission a sword. I bowed my head politely, and introduced myself.

"Mrs. Carpenter, I am Donald Morgan," I spoke. "I am a wizard of the White Council. I am here on the Council's behalf to speak with your daughter, Molly, regarding the disappearance of her mentor, Harry Dresden. And, if necessary, continue her training in our arts in his absence."

Mrs. Carpenter looked at me, her right eyebrow arched upward.

"Morgan?" she asked. "The Warden? Harry spoke of you before. Not nicely, either, I should say."

I sighed. I should have known one of Dresden's friends would know my name and my reputation, colored though it might have been by his own perceptions. I could believe she did not think very highly of the man I once was.

"Former Warden," I explained. "I am no longer a Warden of the White Council, Mrs. Carpenter. After a political incident about a year ago, I was removed from my position and consigned to the Doom of Damocles, much like Molly and Dresden before her. That being the case, Dresden has gone missing, and is presumed dead. The Council has but two options regarding your daughter's future: execute her under the order of the Doom, or send me to mentor her in Dresden's stead. I shall see her through to her graduation into a full wizard of the Council, or merely until Dresden returns."

I held my arms out to the side, palms up in a non-threatening gesture of sincerity. I don't do those much, so I doubt it looked very convincing.

"I'm not here to hurt Molly, Mrs. Carpenter," I said, plainly.

Charity continued to stare at me for a moment, sizing me up, gauging my honesty.

Then, her voice firm, she said, "I won't invite you in. Prove to me that you mean no harm."

I understood her meaning immediately. Wizards, and other supernatural entities, cannot pass through a threshold (the magical barrier that separates a home from the outside world) without giving up a significant portion of their power. Certain creatures, like the Vampires of the Red and Black Courts, cannot pass through a threshold at all without first being invited. The threshold of this home was one of enormous potency, and stepping through it would mean leaving nearly all of my magic at the door, making me incredibly vulnerable. It was a common and reliable practice among those who were 'in-the-know' supernaturally, and I applauded her in my mind for thinking ahead. She was clearly a sharp-minded and no-nonsense woman, and having apprenticed under Anastasia Luccio, that was something I could most certainly respect.

"Very well," I replied, and stepped across through the doorway.

It was an odd sensation, leaving my magic behind me. Stepping through the Carpenter threshold was like stepping through a wall of gelatin and coming out the other side disrobed. I felt diminished and exhausted, as if I'd dived into a pool of ice water. I bowed my head politely in her direction after crossing, and she nodded at me. Had I been one of the few harmful supernatural entities that might have crossed a threshold uninvited without trouble, I'd likely have been pulverized by whatever security force watched over the household if I'd intended harm.

Charity motioned to the staircase with a wave of her hand.

"Molly's sleeping upstairs," she explained. "She was wounded when she went to help Harry at Chichen Itza."

I didn't have many of the facts, but if Dresden had been at Chichen Itza, he'd been at one of the most powerful domains of the Red Court. I could only assume it bore some connection to his supposed demise.

"Would it be a problem if I woke her?" I asked. "It's important we get this settled as soon as possible."

"It won't be a problem, but she's not in any condition to talk for very long," Charity stated, matter-of-factly. "She's heavily medicated, patched up on a helicopter and brought here by some of Dresden's associates afterward."

"Field medicine? Why not a hospital?"

"Her wound wasn't severe, she'd mostly overexerted herself after being wounded on the battlefield."

"Well, I am relieved to hear that she is alright, but I will need to speak with her right away so that she understands what is to be done."

"Alright, then. This way."

Inside a room cramped with sewing equipment, Molly slept soundly in a small bed, an IV in her arm.

Charity gently shook her awake as we entered, saying, "Molly, Morgan from the White Council is here to see you."

I didn't miss how Molly's eyes shot open with fear at the mention of my name. Once again, my old reputation preceded me. Swiftly, Mr's. Carpenter calmed her daughter with soft, gentle words explaining that I wasn't there to hurt her, and that I just needed to inform her of some changes regarding her apprenticeship since Harry was missing. Molly was still groggy from sleep and pain medication, but the initial adrenaline rush had cleared her head enough that she acknowledged her mother's words and nodded at me to proceed.

"Hello again, Miss Carpenter," I began. "Your mother is correct that I'm not here to do you any harm. I can only assume the medicine is to blame for you forgetting I'm no longer a Warden."

I tried to smile to show I was being lighthearted, but I was long out of practice, and Molly got a somewhat sour look on her face. I awkwardly tried to recover momentum.

"Ahem, anyway, I have just been released from house arrest. I'm here because Dresden has gone missing, and is presumed dead. Whatever Dresden and the rest of you did at Chichen Itza has thrown the supernatural world into a frenzy. I couldn't begin to tell you even half the things I've heard, and my situation left me fairly out of the loop to begin with. Whatever it is, the Council is preoccupied with damage control, and wasn't sure what to do with you. After much deliberation, rather than have you executed under the Doom, I was chosen to act as your mentor until such a time as you graduate or Dresden returns. I was already under the Doom, myself, so it is no great loss to the Council, and it spares any needless bloodshed."

I paused to let Molly absorb what I had said, and then continued.

"It will only be a temporary arrangement, of course. Under my tutelage, barring Dresden's return, I imagine it would not take longer than a year or two to get you to full wizard status, in which case you would no longer need a mentor. And, of course, should Harry come back, he will be granted the opportunity to once again take over your training. As it stands, however, none of us has any idea what has become of him."

I looked at Molly sternly, though not bluntly intimidating, trying to put a kind of gentle, grandfatherly rebuke into my demeanor.

"What in the world was Dresden doing on the vampire's boat at the time of his presumed death?" I asked.

Molly let out a huff of indignation. "I should have known the first thing you'd do is be suspicious of Thomas."

"Why shouldn't I be? He is a member of the White Court--"

"He's more than just a White Court vampire," she interrupted. "There's a reason Harry was on the boat, and Thomas' offer to let him use it was made in good faith."

"You're the second person today to tell me that," I responded. I tried giving the girl a small smile. "I guess I'll take your word for it, for now."

"Thomas isn't responsible for Harry's murder," Molly said. "I know that for certain."

"You do?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at the remark. "That implies a great deal. If you know for certain that Thomas Raith isn't involved, do you know who is responsible?"

Molly sighed and shook her head. "No. But whoever did it didn't use magic."

"Captain Luccio was able to confirm as much to me before I came out here. Regardless, such discussion has no bearing on my purpose here. I won't trouble you with more questions. Get some rest, and I'll be back tomorrow so we can go over the details of your training."

Molly nodded, and promptly returned to sleep.

Afterward, Charity saw me to the door and wished me luck getting situated in town. She gave me the number for the house, as well as their cell phones, and told me that if I intended to continue investigating Harry's disappearance it would be good to get in touch with Harry's associates in town. A good place to begin would be with their mutual acquaintance Father Forthill at Saint Mary of the Angels, and Karrin Murphy of the Chicago Police Department, in particular. I thanked her, and made my way out the door.

No sooner had I closed the gate to the front yard behind me than I was very nearly run over by an emerald green stretch limousine that sped up to the curb in front of the Carpenter home. Immediately after parking, the driver walked around to passenger side rear door, opened it, and gestured for me to enter. I knew him for what he was the moment I set eyes upon him, and the voice that beckoned to me from within the limo only confirmed my suspicions.

"La! Mortal magi, always so paranoid," called a beautiful singsong from the dark interior of the vehicle. "You have my word of safe passage for the duration of a conversation, Wizard Morgan. On behalf of my Queen, I must needs speak with thee regarding the matter of Harry Dresden."

I looked from the driver holding open the door, and back to the waiting interior of the car. Stepping into the vehicle would be stupid, even with word of safe passage from one of the Fae. Then again, it was about Dresden. Considering that, I thought to myself: what would Harry Dresden do in this situation? The town, after all, needed someone to fill his boots for a time.

I got into the car.

#Dresden Files #Substitute Guardian #Morgan Lives AU #Donald Morgan #It's finally here #Sorry you all had to wait so long

33 notes · View notes

theinquisitivej · 7 years

Text

Bojack Horseman (Season 4) - A Review

Back in the ‘90s, in a world populated by both humans and anthropomorphic animals, BoJack Horseman was in a very famous TV show. It was a silly, vacuous, ‘Full House’ type of show named ‘Horsin’ Around’, and it was about a horse adopting three human orphans and getting into various wacky shenanigans for half an hour each week, complete with terrible catch-phrases. After nine seasons, the show was cancelled, and since then, BoJack has lived in soul-crushing limbo.

BoJack is famous and wealthy enough to have anything he could want, and somehow, he even manages to get away with being shitty to strangers and friends without losing their misplaced support. Adoring fans and the general public are happy to be around him, but they don’t want to get close enough to know him, and his friends consistently find just enough reason to never quite sever their connection to BoJack. They allow themselves to be pulled into his orbit and find it difficult to leave, often because they’re dealing with their own personal issues.

While you can’t help but cathartically enjoy spending time with BoJack for his cynical jokes and his egotistic indulgences, you slowly realise that he is a sad, lost person. He hasn’t done anything important or fulfilling for the best part of two decades, and there was little substance to the thing that made him famous in the first place. He has made mistakes and hurt people, but what’s worse is that, despite his efforts to be better, he keeps finding new ways to damage himself and those around him. Born from a home that showed him no love but saddled him with huge expectations, BoJack went into the world, got famous, and it still isn’t enough. He’s desperate for some answer that will fix his sadness, but the more he tries and fails, the more he fears that he is broken beyond repair; that he’s always been broken, and the only thing he can ever do in life is repeat the same cycle of ruining everything of value he touches, and getting nothing in return to sooth his endless dissatisfaction. BoJack is a reverse Midas, doomed to never hold onto golden things.

Did I mention this is an animated comedy?

Well, a year ago I watched all three seasons of ‘BoJack Horseman’, this show from Netflix that really deserves your attention. It’s witty and very amusing at times, but it stuck with me less for its comedy, and more for its powerful drama (though its sense of humour strikes a chord with my own more and more as the seasons progress). Its moments of humanity and sincerity resonated with me because it looked at characters who felt real, whose issues, personalities, and traumas felt developed enough for the inhabitants of this ludicrous world of animal people to feel tangible. There were no predictable arcs, no clean progression for the characters to undertake and come out as fully-adjusted people with all their problems neatly resolved as a result. With some shows, you’re watching to see how things end, and discover how the fictional characters have lived once their story is finished. ‘BoJack Horseman’ is not about endings, but the state of ongoing. Its characters aren’t heading to some obvious end-point, they’re just endeavouring to sustain themselves and find meaning in a world that often robs us of control. It’s not a neat story where the main characters find an answer to their worries and then get to live their lives free from trouble. It’s a series of attempts to figure out life made by people hoping to find some philosophical solution to the daily problems they face, and then those convictions are tested on a day-to-day basis until something bad happens to make them break under pressure. Because in life, nothing really concludes. There’s always tomorrow, and there’s no way to know for sure if you’ll be okay with whatever it has in store.

And yet as scary, as impossibly daunting as that is, we never stop hoping. BoJack often talks as if he’s given up on ever improving, surrendering himself to the notion that he is a lost cause. But every now and then, he manages to find a glimmer of hope to cling onto, whether it’s through the little moments of goodness he sometimes finds within himself, or by interpreting external signs in the world around him as proof that he should keep trying to move forward. Life is impossibly hard, but we somehow find the strength within ourselves to keep facing it. That’s what ‘BoJack Horseman’ is about, and that’s why it’s one of my favourite shows.

That is my review for this show overall. I think, or at least hope, it works as a spoiler-free introduction for the uninitiated, as well as a reflection on the show’s successes for people who are already familiar with it.

But I do want to review the specific themes of Season 4, which recently released in its entirety and is what prompted me to write this. I’ll still keep this spoiler-free, but this is just a way of processing the ideas this season prompted in me, and my way of articulating why this might just be ‘BoJack Horseman’s best season yet.

Season 4

A lot happened this season, so I’m going to try and get a handle on it by looking at what each of the five main characters went through during Season 4.

Todd, the undeterrable force of optimistic positivity who crashed on BoJack’s couch one night and never left, continues to be an uplifting presence in the show that saves it from becoming too bleak. His development doesn’t occur in an arc that you notice gradually unfolding each episode, so you may think he comes off a bit short at first. However, episode 3, joyously titled ‘Hooray! Todd Episode!’, works so well as a self-contained thorough examination of his role, both in the show and in the lives of those around him, that you don’t feel lacking in rich Todd content. Considering how heart-wrenching the rest of the show can be, it’s immensely rewarding to see Todd tend to himself and his own identity, quite possibly gaining the most healthy and content mindset in the entire series.

I’m glad I recently rewatched the entire series before Season 4 came out, because I had completely forgotten where the last episode of Season 3 had left Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter. If the previous season wasn’t fresh in my mind, I would’ve been blindsided by the swiftness with which we move into Mr. Peanutbutter running for governor. In the past, Diane has gone from potentially being the most mature and level-headed character in the show, to being almost as unsure about her life and as disillusioned with her career as BoJack. Meanwhile, her husband Mr. Peanutbutter, a yellow Labrador Retriever whose naivety and relentless happiness would be grating if his chipper charisma wasn’t so infectious, has stayed more or less the same. He occasionally shows his emotional insight and how he is less oblivious than you might think, but he’s still the same chipper dog we knew back in Season 1. Their relationship is fascinating to watch, as you initially think they’re completely wrong for each other, until you start to notice the good things they do for one another, and you start to root for them. But as Diane starts doubting herself more and her patience with Mr. Peanutbutter stretches thinner and thinner, you start to worry. Seeing what has been building up for three seasons come to a head in Season 4 is explosive, but not so dramatic all at once to make it apparent which way their relationship is heading. This fictional marriage is believable, organic, and a brilliant illustration of how people are often drawn to relationships that make them feel like they can be a better person, even if they fear that this is not who they really are.

Princess Carolyn is one of my favourite characters throughout the show (though if you ask me on another day I could say the same for any of the five main cast members). When we first met her, this pink cat was introduced as a side character in BoJack’s life; she was his ex-girlfriend and the agent that bailed him out of the troubles he got himself into. However, since ‘Say Anything’, the seventh episode of Season 1, ‘BoJack Horseman’ has fleshed out Princess Carolyn’s character. She’s torn between her romantic side and the pride she takes in her work, as it allows her to help people, and she believes she’s good at it. Her life is a tug and pull between two things she dearly wants, but she can never quite keep hold of either of them. The impact of one episode focusing on her in Season 4 was admittedly lessened for me because (without getting into spoilers) I wasn’t buying it and the episode reminded me of one ‘How I Met Your Mother’ episode which it ended up following a similar path to, so I saw the ending coming. However, the progression of her character was still terrific to watch. Princess Carolyn is the master of keeping up a juggling act even when things aren’t looking too good, but in Season 4, we finally saw her stumble as she lost some faith in herself.

Finally, BoJack’s storyline, as always, left me feeling raw in the most bittersweet and satisfying way. The sixth episode, ‘Stupid Piece of Sh*t’, gives us a telling glance at the inner workings of BoJack’s mind. It provides a poignant look at how crippling anxieties and self-doubt manifest themselves on a day-to-day basis and why they can feel so inescapable at times, while also somehow managing to be hilarious through narration that can hit close to home as we find it mirroring our own thoughts. Hollyhock is a welcome new presence in the show. She represents a more innocent, younger version of BoJack that has come into his life at a key moment when he has the potential to change and become a better person. The moments when she challenges his cynicism create an entertaining and often hilarious dynamic, and BoJack’s trepidation around her is understandable and heartbreaking.

My favourite element of Season 4, however, was the storyline with Beatrice, and the devastating way this culminates. The only major criticism I had rewatching the first three seasons was how the cruel behaviour of BoJack’s parents, and how they are responsible for many of BoJack’s deep-rooted issues, seemed to be exaggerated to almost cartoonish effect. These scenes would be darkly humorous, but given how seriously the show took its deconstruction of BoJack and the rest of his life, it seemed mismatched whenever it would have a joke where Butterscotch or Beatrice would be excessively cruel to a young BoJack. In the absence of any explanation as to why they were so harsh towards BoJack, the only way we could take their mean nature was as a dark joke about the cruel unfairness of life. Season 4 retroactively fixes this issue for me, because it provides context by characterising Beatrice. We, as omniscient observers, are informed of the past, and are allowed to see how BoJack has inherited the wounds of the past and is haunted by family ghosts. But despite our omniscience, we are powerless to help BoJack, who may not fully comprehend what he has inherited, and can only ask why he suffers as he feels its effects. ‘BoJack Horseman’ has gained a reputation for having each season’s penultimate episode be a gut-wrenching climax to the dramatic thread of each season, and Season 4’s is no different. I will say nothing more about it, because it’s the kind of television that is so excellently crafted and so not worth spoiling that it feels clumsy to even attempt to describe it through words.

Season 4, like each of ‘Bojack Horseman’s seasons before it, has more going on than I can adequately address in one review. It continues to deepen its lead characters to the point where they have gone far beyond being fictional and start feeling like real people living tangible lives that we are checking in on. The humour and the drama has never been balanced better, and I would argue that each half is at the top of their game. As I reached the final shot of the season and heard the closing music, feeling full of more hope and happiness for BoJack than I had ever felt before, as fleeting as it may be, I knew that this really was one of my favourite shows.

10/10.

Sad, silly, beautiful, and sobering, ‘BoJack Horseman’ is brilliant television with exceptional character writing. It is worth your time.

#The Inquisitive J #television #television review #film and television #review #reviews #critic #criticism #tv criticism #critical analysis #animation #tv #bojack horseman #bojack season 4 #bojack horseman review #bojack season 4 review #the inquisitive j reviews

8 notes · View notes

godamnarmsrace · 7 years

Text

Happy Birthday Pauline!!!

So here is a little present for you I hope you like it and if not well...it’s the thought that counts...right?

Note: this is set in the future.

We Could Be Friends, Me and You

Six months ago.

Robert didn’t know what he was thinking - Okay, he knew, he was just pretty sure he was nuts. He was standing outside the garage, contemplating going inside to speak to Cain about Aaron’s nightmares. It had been three months since Aaron came home from prison and the bad dreams were still happening, just as regularly as they had when he’d first gotten released.

Robert was more than a little bit pissed at Aaron’s therapist. She seemed fairly useless, with only broad spectrum ideas on how to fix things, but his husband needed someone to talk to and at least she could be that for him.

“Why are you loitering on my property Sugden? Shouldn’t you be home, doing gross newlywed things to my nephew?” Cain said when he spotted Robert standing there.

Robert wasn’t about to back down or give up just because Cain was giving him the stink-eye. “I need to talk to you about Aaron he…”

“No,” Cain said, dismissing him before he could finish. Robert watched as Cain walked back into the garage and out of sight. He wasn’t afraid of Cain, he could totally do this. He was more afraid for Aaron, getting so stressed by the nightmares that he might hurt himself on purpose or from lack of sleep. “It’s important, it’s about his time in prison. He’s still having nightmares. Please, Cain, you must know I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t bad,” Robert said, as he followed Cain into the garage.

“Worried about him messing with your beauty sleep?” Cain mocked, wiping his dirty hands on an even dirtier rag. It was distracting. Why would anybody bother?

Robert pulled himself out of his internal quest for logic and said “What? No, but he does keep trying to move into the spare room because he doesn’t want to keep waking me. I could not give two shits about losing sleep, I just want to sleep with my husband beside me and I am worried if this continues he might revert to self-harming. I’m already checking him every night for new marks. He knows what I’m doing and he’s humouring me for now, but Cain, we can’t keep this up. He’s hurting and I don’t know what to do.”

Cain just stood there for a minute, looking at Robert as if he was silently judging his entire existence. Cain pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a deep sigh, the harsh gust of air illustrating his irritation.

“There’s this thing, that I did after getting out, that helped but it will only work if Aaron agrees to it. He must be committed to finding a solution out of it, otherwise, it is a waste of time,” Cain said, his words clipped and low as if to stave off the chance of anyone overhearing their conversation.

Robert knew better than to interrupt, he waited for Cain to continue.

“It’s call IRT, basically Aaron will need to write down all the details from his nightmares and then change the theme. Give the dream a new ending, write a joke, make him taller than his opponent, something to change the flow of the dream. The other thing he can try is to think about what he’d like to dream about instead. He needs to do this for about twenty minutes before falling asleep each night, to help break the negative thought processes surrounding those memories,” Cain explained. He turned back to his work clearly finished with Robert, it was an obvious banishment.

Five and a bit months ago.

Cain looked up from the engine he was pulling apart and let out a grunt, “Why are you here?”.

“I wanted to say thank you. The dream therapy thing you told me about, it seems to be working. Two weeks and only two nightmares. Both times instead of closing himself off to the outside world, Aaron has gotten up and written down the dreams, reworking them in his mind. So, thanks,” Robert said, unable to contain his gratitude. Aaron was starting to look and act like himself again and he knew it was an ongoing issue but at least now Aaron had a tool at his disposal that he could utilise, to take some of the sting away from his nightmares.

“His therapist should’ve suggested it,” Cain said, obviously not comfortable with Robert singing his praise.

“Yeah, well she isn’t very good but it was a struggle to get Aaron to agree in the first place and he needs someone to talk to,” Robert wished he’d known how hopeless she would be when they were looking for someone.

Cain gave him a look that just about screamed he thought that Robert was an idiot. “He has you to talk to.”

“Yeah, but what do I know? I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make things worse,” Robert argued, the last thing he wanted in the world was to make things hard for Aaron, when Aaron made every one of Robert’s days better just by existing.

“You don’t have to say anything Robert, just keep you’re your mouth shut and listen. Sometimes people just need to be heard. Why don’t you go practice that somewhere, far away from here?” Cain said, going back to his work, leaving Robert standing there his mind completely blown by the level of Cain’s insight.

Three months ago.

“Are you fucking serious with this? I’m not your buddy or your friend. We are not going to bond and braid each other’s hair. You need to stop coming to me,” Cain said, throwing the spanner down into the toolbox at his feet when he saw Robert hovering once again. He stopped and reconsidered, “Is Aaron okay?”

“Yes, it’s just we’ve been fighting about…” Robert tried to explain, sure that if Cain would just hear him out he might have the perfect solution for all of Robert’s problems.

“Robert,” Cain all but snarled.

“Yeah?” Robert asked, trying not to seem too needy.

“I don’t care, now do one,” Cain said, his voice one angry line.

Robert left full of disappointment, turning his feet towards the pub and his sister’s sympathetic ear. It was a Tuesday, today might be a day when that compassion was for him and not Aaron. However, it was hit or miss and Robert knew he could be just as easily walking into a lecture. He had such high hopes for Cain helping him out again, but the rejection was getting embarrassing. He wouldn’t do this again…not unless it was to help Aaron.

Two months ago.

Robert’s phone beeped, letting him know that Aaron was late, stuck in traffic on the way back from a scrap run. He didn’t mind, he was enjoying his pint at the bar. Organising his schedule in his mind, while he considered pulling out his phone and calling Liv. He thought better of it, they could do it when Aaron finally showed up because he’d want to talk to his sister too - they both already gave him shit for calling so often.

Glad, they were going to have dinner here, Robert was knackered it had been a long week and no cooking, meant no dishes, which meant after they’d eaten he could take his husband home and upstairs to their bedroom. He could count the new freckles that Aaron had gotten from working in the sun with his sleeves rolled up.

Startled out of his plans of stripping Aaron naked and licking him one inch at a time, Robert was surprised to see Cain. He pulled up the stool next to him at the bar and order himself a pint.

Robert watched his uncle-in-law down half the pint in the first minute, before even setting it down on the bar. He stared at it for several minutes before lifting it to his mouth for another large gulp. Cain looked at Robert, seemingly acknowledging that he was there and watching him, but he said nothing. He just raised one sardonic eyebrow, before draining his glass and getting up off the stool.

“Good talk,” Cain said, in the same gruff tone as ever, then left. Robert ended up sitting alone in the pub wondering what the fuck just happened. And he was still in shock and completely confused when Aaron finally showed up and sat down next to him.

“You okay?” he asked Robert, the soft touch of Aaron’s hand on his arm filling Robert with giddy butterflies. They always used to piss him off but now he loved it, and now he hoped they would never disappear.

“What?” he asked trying sort it all out in his head and failing.

Concern touched Aaron’s features and he tilted his head to one side studying Robert rather intently. “You’ve got this weird look on your face. Did something happen?”

Robert didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just went with the basics, “Cain was just here.”

“What did he do?” Aaron said looking disgruntled. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Robert said offended at the thought.

Aaron let out a little huff of breath clearly, bored of talking in circles with Robert. He didn’t know what else to say because he really couldn’t fathom what was so weird about Cain being in the pub.

“Well, then that explains it. I’m gonna get a curry. You?” Aaron said, after looking at Robert for a few seconds longer.

“Curry sounds good,” Robert agreed.

Today.

Robert’s meeting Aaron again in the pub but this time instead of Aaron running late, Robert is just early.

“Pint please Vic,” he asks, sitting down at the bar, happy to relax after the crazy day he had.

“You could just get your own Robert,” Vic suggests, as she pulls his pint for him. “Can’t you see how busy it is?”

“I don’t work here and I don’t live here anymore,” he argues, she huffs and puts the pint down in front of him.

“If you want food you should order it soon, there was a mix up with the ordering and we are running out of everything,” Vic pulls a face and gestures at the kitchen as if she is blaming it all on Marlon.

Robert smiles at her but doesn’t acknowledge her implication, he knows that is a slippery slope into rage and accusation. He just wants to sit quietly with his pint, instead, he says, “I have to wait for Aaron.”

“Please yourself, but don’t come crying to me if all that’s left is the makings for a cheese butty,” Vic turns away to serve another customer and Robert finds him smiling into his pint over her antics.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replies, he’s smarter than that.

Cain chooses that moment to come into the Woolpack and sit next to Robert.

It is deja-vu. Robert watches as he orders a pint and then drinks half of it. Cain puts it on the bar in front of him and runs his fingers up and down the glass making tracks in the condensation.

It’s somewhat hypnotising and when Cain speaks Robert almost falls off his chair.

“So, Moira invited me to dinner but I didn’t go because I was too busy having sex with Harriet,” he mutters under his breath, so low Robert has to lean closer just to hear every word.

Robert works his jaw, trying to make words come out after that shock revelation when Cain just continues without waiting for a response.

“This was a few months back but now I’m thinking it was a big mistake you know? I could have been working towards getting my marriage back on track instead I’ve been doing the vicar in the confessional.”

Robert just has no words. Which is just as well because Cain hasn’t finished.

“So, then Moira calls me this morning, she’s having trouble up at the farm and was wondering if I might be interested in giving her a hand and then staying for dinner after. So now I either go up to the farm and ‘fix’ whatever isn’t working, right or I turn her down again and spend the night playing saint and sinner with Harriet.”

Seriously, Robert looks around, hoping for a witness to whatever the hell is currently happening, because he’s about two seconds away from pinching himself.

“So, I guess the question is, what I have with Harriet, is it anything? Is it going anywhere? Or is it just a bit of fun, because I was bored with my existence and she gave me some lip one day? If it is something, is it more than what I had with Moira?”

Robert watches as Cain downs the rest of his pint and stands, he reaches out as if he is going to touch Robert. He can’t stop the flinch before it happens but Cain notices and pulls his hand back and puts it in his pocket.

“Okay, so good, this was helpful. Thanks, Robert,” he grunts as he turns to leave only to run into Aaron who just entered the pub. He nods in greeting to his nephew, “Aaron.”

“Cain,” Aaron says confused by his behaviour. “What the hell was that?” Aaron asks, with his hands on his hips, it’s very distracting for Robert, even in his befuddled state.

Robert shrugs, still not sure himself.

“Oh, my god, are you like friends with Cain?” Aaron asks, with horror written all over his face.

“What? No…maybe, I don’t know,” Robert replies. Were they? Who the fuck knew? Cain had spoken to him twice in the past two months and both times he’d left Robert feeling like he’d been abducted by aliens or something.

“Oh god,” Aaron says, sitting down next him and putting his head in his hands. “I can’t even begin to imagine the chaos.”

#Robron #look ma I wrote something #zo'e did fic #otp #i love my boys #fic for pauline #happy birthday sweetie #robert and cain are bbf's #robert sugden #aaron dingle #cain dingle #matty makes it better with beta

77 notes · View notes

hellosaltysaladcollectionstuff · 4 years

Link

Our Favorite 7 Of 73

For ID@Xbox Summer Game Fest, Microsoft released 73 demos for upcoming indie games on Xbox One. The demos are all free but they'll only be available to download and play until Monday, July 27.

It would be quite the ask for any one of us to play through all 73 demos in order to tell you which are the best ones, but as a team we've managed to check out a hefty sum of the games made available. The demos detailed in the following gallery are all of the ones that stuck out to us the most--some left us nostalgic, others offered something brand-new we'd never seen before, and still more just scratched an itch that we've been looking to satisfy for a long time. Regardless of our reasons, these are the demos that made us the most excited to play their respective full games when they release.

We haven't listed the demos in any particular order. This is just a list of demos that we think are cool or at the very least hint towards an exciting game. Maybe they'll all meet expectations, maybe they won't. We'll just have to wait and see.

Xbox Series X And Xbox One News

Halo Infinite Is A Platform For The Next Ten Years Of Halo

Halo Infinite Gameplay Debuts At Xbox Series X Stream

Xbox Series X Event: Every Game Announced

New Fable Announced During Xbox Event

Xbox Series X: Release Date, Specs, Price, And Everything We Know

Kaze And The Wild Masks | PC, PS4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch

You'd be forgiven for not knowing if you didn't happen to grow up in the early 1990s, but following the breakout success of Sonic the Hedgehog there was a veritable flood of me-too 16-bit mascot platformers that never quite caught on. From Ristar to Acro the Acrobat to (deep sigh) Awesome Possum, it was the battle royale of its era. Everyone wanted to make one.

Playing Kaze and the Wild Masks brought me right back to those heady days, sitting on the carpet and playing the latest copycat rental from Blockbuster. That's not a slight against Kaze, because these platformers weren't actually bad, just oversaturated. Almost 30 years removed, it's as comfortable as your favorite sweater. The art style is beautifully vibrant and colorful, the platforming is familiar and accessible, and it's just a great nostalgia trip. I love a lot of recent games that have taken a fresh look at modernizing classic platformer tropes, but Kaze is the much more explicit throwback I didn't know I wanted. -- Steve Watts

ScourgeBringer | Xbox One, PC

ScourgeBringer is already out on Steam Early Access but the Xbox Summer Game Fest demo is the first time we have the chance to play it on console--it was also my first time actually trying the game after oohing and aahing at trailers for the past few months. I love it a lot.

I've always been a fan of video games where you're encouraged to fight quickly, especially if you're further rewarded for being skillful enough to fight without touching the ground--games like Titanfall 2 and Hollow Knight. ScourgeBringer goes a long way towards scratching that itch for me. Though you can platform between enemies, ScourgeBringer rewards players for playing aggressively and doing midair dashes between foes. You remain airborne while slashing or shooting so you can reasonably clear out entire rooms without touching the floor if you're good enough.

I also like ScourgeBringer's hard but fair gameplay loop. Enemies can kill you quickly if you can't pull off deflections and dodges, but there was never a moment where I died and thought, "Dammit, how the hell was I supposed to counter that?" The game is harsh in its punishments--it's a roguelike where you pick up temporary power-ups with each run and slowly unlock permanent abilities over time--but it's fair. It also helps that the game reloads relatively quickly, so you can just jump into another run upon death. -- Jordan Ramée

Haven | PC, PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox Series X

More than most of the demos I dabbled with, Haven defies easy categorization. At first blush it's a visual novel telling a futuristic love story between a couple of stranded spacefarers. Even in the course of a relatively short demo, though, it opens up considerably and blends together a few disparate genres and mechanics, which all illustrate a sense of duality and interdependence.

Cooking a meal is performed by coordinating ingredients from the left and right sides of the user interface. Similarly, the RPG-like battle system appears simple at first, but it quickly becomes clear that coordinating your attacks to perform them together is the only effective way to fight. When you do defeat a monster, you pacify it rather than killing it, a sign that this pair are ultimately peaceful scientific observers.

Inside the ship you're a first-person observer, a choice that seems self-consciously voyeuristic in a story about a romantic couple. Outside of it, though, Haven's best feature shines. Movement through the world has you float through the tall grass with balletic grace, with the ability to swerve, u-turn, and drift with ease. It's all based on just a few simple commands but it's so well-executed and intuitive that floating around the world is just a joy. -- Steve Watts

SkateBird | Nintendo Switch, PC, PlayStation 4, Xbox One

After playing a lot of the hardcore skateboarding simulator Session, in which both thumbsticks control each individual foot on the board, Glass Bottom Games' charming SkateBird is a sigh of relief. Not just because it's far simpler to control than Session, or even the Skate and Tony Hawk franchises, but also because it's incredibly cute and cozy. The small demo available on Xbox One as part of the Summer Game Demo Event, while lacking in variety, had me hooked on its aesthetic. And though I wish there was more to do in its limited sandbox, SkateBird makes skateboarding approachable.

The vertical slice strips everything away--story missions, alternate locations, bird customization, etc--and left me with two activities and a fully skateable "park" on a desk. The cute little skatepark consists of kickers made of office supplies, ramps and quarter pipes with bendy straws as coping, and various other obstacles using Thrasher magazines. The controls are simple and the trick list is much more contained than other skateboarding sims, but watching a tiny bird push around on a tiny board before busting a hardflip into a front crooked nosegrind never gets old--no matter how limiting or restricting the demo is and how many times I performed the same eight or so tricks.

While there's a lot left to be desired in the demo, what's currently available had me itching for more. It'll be interesting to see everything SkateBird has to offer when it launches in 2021 for Nintendo Switch, PC, PlayStation 4, and Xbox One. -- Jeremy Winslow

The Vale: Shadow Of The Crown | Xbox One, PC

Frankly, I've never played a game like The Vale: Shadow of the Crown before. Or, I guess I have--it's technically your run-of-the-mill fantasy RPG with towns to visit, side quests to fulfill, weapon and armor to buy, magic to learn, choices to make, and plenty of battles to be had. But the game flips a lot of that on its head by putting you in control of someone who's blind.

In The Vale, you have to navigate the world, fight enemies, and interact with NPCs all while looking at a nearly completely black screen. There are a few flashing lights on the screen, but they don't help you. It feels like they're just there to give your eyes something to look at. So you're forced to interact with the world via sound and touch--the former via headphones and the latter via controller rumble.

This makes tasks that are almost trivial in most RPGs, like sneaking past a group of enemies or navigating a busy market square, into daunting endeavors. But it's also a rather interesting and novel way to play a video game. The Vale might not be much to look at, but the demo is pretty fun to play and I'm intrigued to see how the gameplay will evolve throughout the full release, which I assume would crank up the difficulty after the tutorial. -- Jordan Ramée

Freshly Frosted | Xbox One, PC

Freshly Frosted brings together two of my favorite things, donuts and conveyor belts. The donut-factory based puzzle game is focused on making zen-inducing factory-lines that automatically make a variety of donuts. I love puzzle games that focus more on relaxing the brain than frustrating it, and Freshly Frosted is incredibly relaxing. It's very easy to adjust the factory lines whenever I make a mistake or miss a topping for my endless line of donuts.

I also appreciated how Freshly Frosted takes a very simple concept of a donut factory and continuously adds more and more steps or ideas to create a puzzle game that feels fresh throughout the demo. Having to feed three different types of donuts through all of the different toppings is a cute and fun experience that is definitely worth playing if you like puzzles and relaxation, or just need an excuse to order some donuts. -- James Carr

9 Monkeys Of Shaolin | Nintendo Switch, PC, PlayStation 4, Xbox One

Despite being just two and a half levels long--with the half being a tutorial introducing the controls and story--I found myself growing a little bored during the 9 Monkeys of Shaolin demo. Developed by Sobaka Studio, the Russian team behind the underrated isometric twin-stick brawler Redeemer, 9 Monkeys of Shaolin has this staunch air of familiarity to it: The story--in which Japanese pirates invade and pillage a remote Chinese country--echoes a similar set-up to Ghost of Tsushima and the control scheme is eerily reminiscent of (yet surprisingly simpler than) Redeemer's. Even the enemy types and environmental backgrounds are familiar and generic.

And yet, after finishing the short demo and re-watching the 2018 announcement trailer, I was still intrigued by the RPG elements and excited for what's to come.

9 Monkeys of Shaolin is a side-scrolling beat-em-up that put me in control of the fisherman Wei Cheng. The combat is simple yet fluid, with the controller's face buttons performing one of four actions: kicks, slashing strikes, thrusts, and dodges. Every action can be canceled into another--for example, the three different attack types can be combined together or immediately interrupted by a parry move--which allows me to remain aggressive and reactive when surrounded by multiple enemies. Though the arsenal was limited, the short demo seemingly belies the depth 9 Monkeys of Shaolin has buried within it. There's also online and offline co-operative play, which should make the combat even more chaotic during later levels, especially when you acquire new moves and better gear and magical spells.

With being a small, vertical slice of the final game, the 9 Monkeys of Shaolin demo is by no means indicative of how the game will look and play when it drops on Nintendo Switch, PC, PlayStation 4, and Xbox One. But the demo does make the case that, if anything, 9 Monkeys of Shaolin will be an enjoyable action romp when played with a friend. -- Jeremy Winslow

from GameSpot - All Content https://ift.tt/30FMC9D

#Blogger

0 notes

monoshah · 7 years

Text

How to get over your Childhood-1/2

“How to get over.. wait what?”

I understand that this title might seem bit confusing to most of you, so, before I dive into the specifics, let me back up a bit.

Over a couple of months ago, I started reading a book called Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, an author, psychologist, and science journalist. It took me almost four months (you read that right) to finish the book, but, hands down- the lessons I’ve learned changed my perspective on many things involving feelings.

My journal is filled with notes and actionable insights that I drew from the book, and I’m sure to write a detailed post about it in the future. Today, however, I want to focus on something very specific-

The relationship between our childhood experiences and our feelings and patterns of thought.

Why we need to talk about our childhood to understand ourselves and practice Kindness

We’ve all been there- in the midst of anger, in the depths of passion, in the awe of lust. And, as much as we’d love to call ourselves “rational”, we’ve done things and made choices that, to a greater extent were dictated by our feelings.

Why is that? Why are we such slaves to our emotions? I mean, we live in a society that uses and has used intellect to make great things. In an age where we know our minds and how to tame them (hint- Meditation) why does the Heart seem so uncontrollable to us?

Evolution wise, there was an emotional brain long before there was a thinking one. At first, there’s the brainstem- the most primitive part of the brain. It ensures our survival. From there emerged the emotional centres, the limbic system. This is the structure in the brain that deals with memory and emotions. Finally, from this system emerged the thinking brain, the neocortex.

So, you see, that is why, no matter how much you respect your friend, if he says something that upsets you, you still take it to heart. There was an emotional brain long before there was a thinking one.

Now, let’s go the next part of the puzzle- childhood.

Developing Stages of The Emotional Brain

Our emotional brain starts developing rapidly in the first five years.

Clearly then, on a larger scale, it is shaped by our childhood- the people we grow up with and the environment we grow up in.

Here’s Goleman,

“The first three or four years of life are a period when the toddler’s brain grows to about two thirds its full size, and evolves in complexity at a greater rate than ever will again. During this period key kinds of learning take pace more readily than later in life- emotional learning foremost among them.”

So, there’s a reason why you’re so trustworthy or not so truth worthy. A reason why you just lash out “without thinking” when someone says something that hurts you. Why does it hurt you? Insecurity? that too, sadly, is related to our childhood experiences.

Now, a question that you might be thinking about is- can’t the emotional brain learn something at a more older age? When interacting with friends, meeting new people? At college, for instance?

Here’s Goleman again-

“Though some emotional skills are honed with friends through the years, emotionally adept parents can do much more to help their children with each of the basics of emotional intelligence: learning how to recognize, manage, and harness their feelings; empathizing; and handling the feelings that arise in their relationships.”

The point of re visiting your childhood and trying to derive lessons from it is not to blame your parents (they’re normal people with their own struggles after all), but, for two very helpful things for the society and for ourselves:

1) To be kinder and more charitable towards ourselves and others

Hopefully, up until now, you get a rough idea of how much of our feelings and thoughts have been shaped by things that are completely outside our control, one of which is being raised in a pretty unfair childhood.

So, not only does this help us take ourselves less seriously but also stops us from making rapid assumptions about people.

The next time you binge eat a bag of chips, you will not “become” the voice in your head that calls you a fatso and a loser. Instead, you will try to be curious about why you did what you did. It will make you go beyond, making you ask yourself what your binge eating sessions is connected to. Is it stress? Maybe you were brought up by parents who were stressed too, or maybe you’ve always felt abandoned and food is your escape?

That itself will make you, in a very real sense, “see” this madness unfold and since you will not “become” it- you can find out ways to stop it by reasoning it. Why won’t you become it? Because you know that’s not you. Its just an automatic pattern of response., something, that, you’ve been doing for a long time.

Awareness brings clarity and clarity helps you achieve wisdom. And wisdom, changes everything.

The same applies to other people.

If you ever come across someone in the midst of rage, you won’t start labeling them as “bad”. Instead, you will feel sorry for them- after all, his or her childhood experiences led to this. It will make you more charitable because you would acknowledge that quite simply, they have an overreactive amygdala because of things happening in their past.

Here’s The School of Life on charitable people (picked up from the book “On Being Nice):

“A Charitable soul does the extra work for us. They come forward with explanations of why we behave the way we do: they understand enough about our past to have a picture of where our impatience or over-ambition, rashness or meekness come from. They hold in mind what happened with our parents and with the move to another country. They create a picture of who the person in the “begging” position is that is sufficiently generous and complex as to make us more than just the ‘fool’ or ‘weirdo’, the ‘failure’ or ‘loser’ that we might so otherwise easily have been dismissed as”

We’re all prisoners of past patters and a deep dive into our childhood will make us extend a helping hand to other inmates in that prison. We won’t solely call ourselves ‘weird’ anymore, instead, we’ll just be a small part of the big race that, in itself is pretty weird.

2) To understand ourselves

Socrates is famous for his saying “Know Thyself”, and, we get closer and closer to understanding ourselves by examining our childhoods. This makes us critically think about why we do some things that we do.

Do you feel a need to please everyone around you? Or, are you more of a, what society calls, narcissist?

Whatever the case maybe, there are reasons for it; reasons that need to be laid out. Reasons, that, if we’re aware of, can help us change for the better.

So, how can we explore this dark side? Here’s Robert Glover, author of the famous book “No More Mr Nice Guy”,

“On a separate piece of paper or journal, write down or illustrate the messages you received in your family that seemed to imply that it wasn't OK for you to be who you were, just as you were. Share these experiences with a safe person. As you do, make note of your feelings. Do you feel sad, angry, lonely, numb? Share this information as well. The purpose of this assignment is to name, rather than blame. Blaming will keep you stuck. “

This kind of journaling exercise will help you think about your feelings and thoughts. Maybe you will remember that one time when someone who you respected a lot in your family did not give you enough love; or maybe they relied too much on you for their own happiness, making you feel responsible for other people’s feelings.

It's fascinating how much an hour of deep journaling can help you uncover.

Knowing yourself has countless other benefits- it helps you make wiser choices of what kind of people to associate yourself with, who to date (or marry), when to get work done, etc.

Hopefully, this convinces you to get curious about your emotional health, to derive insight from your everyday emotional patterns.

Next week, we shall discuss the golden question- Can we get over our childhoods? If yes- how?

0 notes