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knightowl725 · 4 years

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Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 5

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. Thank you to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and commenting. Every comment adds 10 years to my unending lifespan, which will be used as irresponsibly as possible.

And yes, I’m intentionally making the cover art that chaotic. I know two things about graphic design, and one of them is that I shouldn’t be doing it.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57440155

It took more legwork than their usual meal to eat their breakfast feast outdoors. At first, they tried moving the table out. But getting the long rectangle through the angled kitchen, then the cramped entry room proved too challenging. Instead, they laid out blankets and rugs and towels to set the food on.

While Caduceus began bringing out food, Fjord explained what had happened to the rest of the Nein. If he had expected shock or teasing, or even them questioning his sanity, he was surprised yet again that morning. His friends broke out in a joyous celebration.

“Does this mean you are going to stay, Fjord?” Jester asked, and the group went silent with bated breaths.

“I, uh, I don’t know just yet,” Fjord confessed. “I need to find work, and see if Caduceus would let me stay here.”

He remembered he needed to text Calliope, or had he texted already?

“But you want to stay,” Beau said. “If that all works out, you’re going to stay? And definitely not go back to Avantika?”

He took a deep breath. “Right.”

Jester leapt to her feet, arms up as she screamed, “Thank the Traveler!”

Caleb gently pulled her back to the ground by the skirt of her dress. “I think you’re thanking the wrong god.”

“Fine, the Wildmother can have this one,” she said with a sigh.

“We can go get your things today,” Yasha offered. “Do they have any...club activities?”

Beau coughed out a “cult” in her not-subtle way.

“We usually… They usually do some, uh, worship in the afternoon. Around 3.”

“Perfect,” Nott said eagerly. “We can break in while they’re out!”

“What? No!”

“Did you ever lock that window when I came to get you?” Beau asked. When Fjord shrugged, she said, “If you left it unlocked, maybe no one noticed and we can just get in that way. Easy peasy.”

“Breaking and entering is illegal.”

“Yeah, if you get caught,” Nott retorted.

“3 o’clock you said?” Caleb asked innocently. Fjord just looked at him.

Caduceus joined them with the last of their food, and they ate beneath the blossoming tree. The falling petals got into their food and drinks, which quickly became a contest of who could catch the most petals from the air. As breakfast came to close, the Nein leapt about, making personal piles of bright petals while Caleb counted.

They took photos, both for themselves and for Caduceus to share with his family.

When Fjord made his way back to his room, Caduceus followed to take a look at his plant.

“Huh, what do you know,” he said in an impressed tone, picking up the plant and admiring it from different angles. “Not supposed to do that overnight.”

“Another blessing, I suppose?”

“Another sign, yes.” To Caduceus, they were one in the same.

Fjord went over to his bed to pick up his phone. Not cracked, which was always a relief. But there was a message.

Don’t care about resumes, just come by the gym sometime and we can talk. Any day’s good. Hours on site. Arborexemplar.com

“Everything okay?” Caduceus asked.

“Yeah, of course. Calliope got back to me about the job. Asked me to come by sometime,” Fjord said, quickly looking up the gym’s site. It was open most of the day. “I’m going to go by now, I think.”

“Good plan. Tell her I said hello,” Caduceus said, gently putting the plant back. “You’ve been taking good care of it, by the way.”

“Just doing what you said.”

He only smiled, ambling out of his room so Fjord could get his things together and leave.

Calliope was… intense. She bore the same intimidating height, same symbolic earpiece - if coupled with other piercings - and same pink hair. But she was more muscled, more intense, and more, well. Fjord didn’t want to call Caduceus odd per se, but his sister was definitely not the same tier of eccentric.

“You’re Fjord?” she asked when he walked into the Arbor Exemplar.

It was about thirty minutes’ walk from the Blooming Grove, but from his poking around his map app, it was closer to campus in parts. There was even one of the smaller campus libraries close by.

The gym was part indoors but mostly an outdoor gym. There were trees, vines, and plant life everywhere, as natural as the Grove and even wilder-looking with it nestled right between more traditional city buildings. As if Calliope had tried to cram the same amount of nature The Grove had across its territory into a much smaller space.

“Yes, I am,” he said.

She stepped around from the front desk, wearing a teal sports bra and matching leggings. Her long, pink hair was braided back tightly. “Let me show you around. We can walk and talk.”

He followed her around the maze of a gym as she pointed out supply closets and rooms or sections dedicated to specific classes and types of workout. The more high-end equipment was kept indoors, but most of the gym relied on less technology/based forms of exercise. Sparring areas, ropes and tires, weights and dance, and even an open-to-the-air yoga studio on the roof.

“We’re open rain or shine,” she said. “Working out in the rain is a different experience, and something we’re known for. Staying connected with nature is our M.O. It’s what sets up apart, but more importantly--”

He nodded. “The Wildmother.”

“Right. Caduceus said you knew a little about Her.”

“I’m learning,” was all he said for a moment. Then he added a quiet, “Hoping to learn more.”

She looked at him. “Well, this is a good place to learn. The Clays, we worship Her in different ways these days. You’ve seen how Caduceus does it, but now you can see how someone actually cool does.”

Fjord smiled at her sibling jab. “I’ve enjoyed learning from Caduceus.”

“Yeah, he’s just weird,” she said with a shrug. “And getting weirder. But what I really need from you is to man the desk. We have our hours, but I don’t really care who works when so long as someone is there. You need to get with Reani, our current receptionist, to figure out the schedule. I’ve got a few instructors too, to help cover the desk sometimes. Not feasible just for two students, so they can fill in some gaps. Reani knows the drill.”

“Are you offering me the job?” he asked.

She led him back to the front desk, where he made note of who he assumed to be Reani. The young woman smiled at him, but was busy on the phone.

Calliope shifted around the desk for a moment, then found a scrawled list. “Okay, here’s the pay and our perks. We got some good deals through a family friend, but also my dad’s a general physician at a little clinic outside of town, so if you go to him he’ll see you for cheap.”

“Okay,” said Fjord, overwhelmed as he looked at the handwritten list.

“You can take classes here or exercise for free when you’re not working. I don’t care as long as you don’t damage anything. You gotta respect the Wildmother, but you don’t have to worship Her. Just don’t be an ass about it. Let me know if you have questions. I need to fill the spot sooner than later, so if you can let me know by Tuesday, that works.”

“Yes, of course,” he said. She turned slightly away, a clear indication she was done. He said one last, “Thank you for your time,” before he went back into the street.

Looking at the time, he saw it was only just now hitting the afternoon. He had some schoolwork to manage, so he decided to test out just how far the nearest library was.

After finishing up his work and mapping out the routes he’d need to take from the gym to various classes, Fjord packed up and headed home. As he walked back towards the Xhorhaus, he felt a bubble of excitement well up inside him. He got to make his own schedule, to a degree. The gym itself seemed nice, if a weird concept. The job couldn’t be harder than the cafe, and he could use it for free.

Plus, benefits. He glanced at the notes again. It looked pretty basic, but it was something.

His eye was drawn back to the pay. He’d done some research on the walk over to see what receptionists were paid for part time work in the area. He’d been certain not to expect even that much, as it was a good amount over his minimum wage rates at the cafe - no tips. But here, he’d make substantially more than at the cafe, and right within the range of what seemed fair for the area.

It was too good to be true, right? This whole day had to be a dream. He would wake up any minute in his bed at The Champions’ house, and none of this would be real. Or he’d do something stupid and wreck the whole thing.

Today was supposed to be his last day in the Xhorhaus. And as certain as he was that this whole thing was about to slip through his fingers, he held on anyway.

And if he was going to hold on, he needed to talk to Caduceus.

On the way back, he wondered how best to handle severing ties with The Champions. The mature thing, it seemed, was to tell them face to face. Or at least text Avantika since he'd been booted from the group chat.

But he didn't want to talk to them ever again. Especially not Avantika. She was manipulative and calculating, and he wasn't sure how well he would stand against her. He’d told her the day Beau brought him to the Xhorhaus that he’d be back Sunday. Today. She’d be calling sooner than later. He had to do something.

The idea of talking to any of them even through text was too much. He took the coward's way out maybe, but he blocked every number from The Champion he had. Blocked their social media, their numbers, their emails. No contact. Hopefully.

It felt like freedom, but freedom tinged in anxiety. Still, there was a skip in his step as he bound up the porch steps into the house.

“Caduceus!” he called as he stepped inside.

“Fjord!” came a shout from the kitchen, matching his energetic tone.

Fjord let the door fall closed behind him and headed for the kitchen. As he pulled back the curtain, he was hit by a wave of warmth and mixed scents. He caught the smell of baking bread in there and took a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” Fjord asked, almost laughing at the sight before him.

Caduceus had every possible surface in the kitchen covered in plates, cutting boards, mixing bowls, and piles of ingredients - prepped and not. He stood before the stove. There were several pots pans before him, each actively cooking. His apron had turned a dusty purple from the layer of flour that coated it in splotches. He’d taken off his nice robe and rolled up his sleeves past the elbows. He twisted to smile at Fjord, eyes alight and a strike of flour across his cheek.

“Hullo Fjord,” he said, perhaps the cheeriest Fjord had seen him yet.

“Are we expecting an army?” Fjord asked, stepping further into the kitchen.

Caduceus laughed. “Watch this pot for me, will you?”

Fjord took his place at the stove, slowly stirring at some kind of soup. Caduceus wrapped the handle of a copper pan in a small towel and lifted it away, flicking off that burner with his free hand. The thick, pale sauce within it looked to contain some tomatoes and was speckled with spices and herbs. Caduceus poured it over a pair of tupperwares containing rice and what looked like meat, but was probably tofu.

Fjord saw an assembly line of other containers, pairs of matched meals in mismatched tupperware left open for their final touches. A few laid empty, waiting to be filled in kind.

Caduceus set the pan back on the off stove, sealing those completed meals and stacking them on top of each other. He turned and set them on another counter beside another set of sealed meals.

“What are you doing?” Fjord asked. “Meal prep for a month?”

Caduceus grinned at him, taking back his place at the stove. Fjord stepped aside, about to step back completely before Caduceus offered him a spoon holding some of the soup he’d been stirring.

“What do you think?”

Fjord accepted the spoon and took a cautious sip. Hot, of course, but clearly Caduceus’s take on a tomato soup. “It’s amazing!”

“Good, good,” Caduceus said. “I can never get it quite like Auntie makes it, but this should suffice.”

“For what, exactly?” Fjord asked for the third time.

“Here, hold this.”

Any attempts at discerning what Caduceus was doing were sidestepped with a cheery determination. Resigned, Fjord helped him finish what was easily two week’s worth of meals. Then, Caduceus wrote out dates on little sticky notes, firmly taping them to each container.

When he was done, all the meals were neatly stacked and clumped together, labeled, and the sink was overrun was dishes.

“Need to clean up,” Caduceus said to himself.

“I’ll help you if you tell me what this is all for,” Fjord said.

Caduceus finally faced him. “I’m not going to send you off without a few decent meals.”

“A few--” Fjord’s mind caught up with his mouth, and he said, “This is for me?”

“If you’re going back to that awful house, then I’m going to make sure you live another few weeks, at least,” Caduceus said firmly. “You were so gaunt and thin when you got here that you could have been part of the Clays, but a few good meals and you were a different man! So you’ll take this, and tell all your terrible friends that it’s completely vegan so they won’t touch it, and you’ll be okay until you get settled in a new job, I hope.”

Fjord’s stomach sank. Caduceus hadn’t been there when he told the group he wanted to stay. He’d gone and done all this work, cheerful as anything, to send him off. He seemed happy about it.

“This is...so thoughtful of you,” Fjord managed.

Caduceus, smiling proudly at his work, lost that smile. “Fjord? Is something wrong? I know you’d probably like more than vegan food, but I was afraid I’d only give you food poisoning if I tried to cook meat. I’m not saying you can’t eat it - it’s perfectly natural, but I’ve made sure to include a lot of protein, so--”

“No, it’s perfect, Caduceus,” Fjord said. “But, ah, thank you for the clarification on the meat thing. I hadn’t thought to ask yet if that was a tenant of the Wildmother.”

“We don’t really eat meat or dairy, the Clays that is. But She doesn’t have any issue with it, that I’m aware of. Animals eat animals. It’s just how we were raised. Calliope tried it once, got awful sick from it. Said it felt like eating leather.”

“I imagine it would,” Fjord said with a little laugh.

“If that’s not the issue then, what is?” Caduceus asked kindly. Fjord should have known better than to think he’d effectively distracted him.

He tried to gather his thoughts, but nothing seemed to connect. “I was hoping to talk to you…”

The front door opened. With all the cooking fans off, they could just hear it. Both men glanced towards the curtain instinctively. Silence. No one in the Nein entered that quietly.

Fjord took a step towards the entry room, but Caduceus stopped him by putting out a hand. His brows furrowed as he stared at the curtain. Without looking from that point, he shifted his head towards Fjord and put a finger to his lips. Quiet.

“Check upstairs for ‘im,” said a deep, male voice.

His heart began to race. Fjord knew this man. To Caduceus he mouthed, “Champion”. Caduceus nodded, and his face set into a darkened expression.

Someone headed up the stairs. Just one person, from the sound of it. A second, the speaker, began sifting about the entry room. Every step he took closer to the kitchen ramped up Fjord’s heartbeat until he was certain it was audible.

Why were they here?

No, that was obvious. It had to do with him. He’d been foolish to think he could block some numbers and be free. Even if he hadn’t taken the final step with The Champions, he belonged to them.

Leaving wasn’t an option. And now Caduceus was in danger.

#my writing #critical role #fjorclay #teahaw #multi-chapter

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wellimhavinga3outof10day · 7 years

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Lost Lullabies - Chapter Thirteen

Description: Mickey Milkovich, former child star turned action movie star, runs into his old co-star, Ian Gallagher, out on the street in the middle of a winter night. When Mickey takes him in, he doesn’t realize that Ian has the power to completely turn his new life upside down.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Read on AO3

Mickey had his phone out and his agent dialed before he was two steps off the set. He waited impatiently through the ringing, very aware of the fact that Ian was following him. Voicemail.

“Pick the fuck up,” Mickey snapped. He waited a grand total of two seconds before he added, “Get the director fired or get me the fuck off this set.” He hung up.

A few steps later, Ian’s hand came down on his shoulder. Mickey whirled on him quick enough the Ian’s hand fell, that his touch didn’t have the chance to calm him down. “What are you fucking following me for?” Mickey said.

Ian held up his hands. “Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Okay? You wanna know if I’m okay?” Mickey almost laughed, but settled for shaking his head instead. “That director just fucking outed me to the entire cast of extras without blinking a goddamn eye.”

“He didn’t say—”

“It doesn’t matter what he said. What he said was enough. Extras can’t keep their fucking mouths shut and the rumours will be flying by morning and it’s worse now because you followed me.”

“What?”

“What do you think they think we’re doing, Ian? The director just gave us two options.”

Ian licked his lips and lowered his eyes to the ground. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”

“You never do.” Mickey stormed off before he had a chance to feel bad about that. He tried to call his agent again and still got voicemail. Then he called his publicist and, giving as little information as possible, told her to get ready for a scandal to hit soon.

He barged into his dressing room and slammed the door behind himself. He stopped in front of the mirror. He didn’t think he had fucking puppy dog eyes. Several times in his career he’d been told he was incapable of looking at someone like he loved them. More than once, someone had joked about getting him a facial expression double for the romantic scenes in his movies. Who knew the secret to fixing that problem was putting Ian Gallagher in front of him?

Mickey sighed. He screwed up his face in the mirror and then did his best to put on a completely neutral expression. He ran though his old exercises from acting class – happiness, anger, sadness – and then shook his head fast. Looking himself in the eyes, he thought, think of Ian. He didn’t notice his expression change one bit.

It had been longer than five minutes, but the asshole deserved to wait after what he’d said to him. Mickey checked his phone to find a text from his publicist – what kind of scandal – and he replied, a gay one. Then he shoved his phone into his pocket and walked back to the set slow, ignoring everyone who shot him furtive glances on the way.

Ian was already back on set, hands in his pockets, walking in circles as he whispered his lines under his breath. Mickey stopped a few feet away to look at him. He arranged his face in a calm manner, breathed until he was sure he had everything back in control, and then walked up to his mark. Ian stopped pacing to look up at him, his green eyes soft, questioning. Mickey almost broke his resolve on the spot. Almost.

“We shooting or what?” Mickey said.

The director gave a shrug that seemed to imply ready when you are and Mickey looked to Ian with his best expression of disdain. Ian jumped on his mark. The director called action. They got through three lines of dialogue, then five, then seven, and Mickey had to resist the urge to shoot the director a snotty glare. Instead he focused on Ian’s nose, gave the impression of looking into his eyes without actually doing it.

Three minutes in, the director called cut. Mickey guessed he couldn’t have asked for a fucking miracle.

“Now you look like you hate each other,” the director said.

“We’re having an argument,” Mickey said.

“But you’re still friends. Can you do friends for me, Milkovich?”

Mickey wanted to punch the guy’s smug face in. He glanced over his shoulder at Ian, who shrugged, and then gave the director his nastiest smile. “Sure. We can do friends. After all, we’re friends, right, Ian?”

Ian said nothing, just looked down at his shoes.

Mickey rolled his eyes and stepped back onto his mark. He was going to have to give Ian a lesson in growing a fucking backbone, but that could wait until the scene was finished. They had to get through the thing three times perfectly for all the camera angles before they could move onto the next section and, at this rate, they’d be there until two in the morning. Maybe having a co-star who wasn’t as bratty as him would actually prove to be an advantage.

They went through half the scene again and then again and again. Every time the director let them go just a little bit further and Mickey wondered if that meant they were improving or if the director was just a dick. He preferred to think it was the former.

He messed up his first line somewhere around the ninety minute mark. When he did, he asked for another five minute break and the director gave it to him, begrudgingly. He didn’t storm off set. Instead, he sat down in one of the empty chairs and pulled out his phone. Three texts from his publicist asking him to explain and a long paragraph from his agent about how this was the original director from their series, a man Mickey had worked with for many years, and he was important to the shoot. The company had gone through a lot of trouble to get him back. Mickey replied, it’s him or me.

Two minutes later he got a text from his publicist again that said, more likely we’ll have a scandal about you being a diva. Mickey didn’t deign that worthy of a reply. He shoved his phone back into his pocket, took a breath, and went back to his mark. Looking at the ceiling, he ran through his lines in his head to make sure he had them down. Ian came back to set a minute later, sipping a coffee. He handed it off to the first PA who asked for it.

“You okay?” Ian asked.

“Peachy.”

“I just meant...” Ian shrugged. “Are we okay?”

“Were we ever okay, Ian?”

Ian opened his mouth to reply, but the director called them to attention. Mickey felt his heart drop a little further in his stomach, weighed down by his own nastiness. He couldn’t help it. Seeing Ian again was hard. Harder than he had expected it to be. And, yeah, he’d done his best to forgive the guy and move on – after all, he could’ve gotten out of it if he had really wanted to – but having those green eyes in front of him again just made him feel like a teenager with a bad crush.

They got through the whole scene on that run and the director praised them for finally, finally hitting the right note between friendship, anger, and platonic love. Mickey flipped him off. Then they had to do it again without messing up. And again.

It was noon by the time they finished and broke for lunch. Mickey almost let Ian walk away from him. He should have let Ian walk away from him. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and headed the same way. “Good job,” he said.

Ian met his eyes with a small smile. “That took forever.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not our fault the director’s a jackass.” Mickey meant to leave it at that, but Ian was still looking at him, and he rambled on. “Plus, you’ve got your lines down, which is more than I can say for most people I’ve worked with. And you can still fucking act after all these years, so kudos.” Ian still stared. Mickey cursed. “Whaddya want me to say?”

Ian shook his head. “Nothing. You’ve just been so hot and cold on me all day.”

Mickey didn’t have anything to say to that, so he occupied himself playing with the hem of his t-shirt. He knew if he pulled the threads out the costume department would throw a shit fit, so he only let his nail catch against the threads for a moment before pulling back.

“I get that I kind of forced you into this and that you’re pissed you’re here and the director’s a dick and it’s kind of my fault, but...” Ian trailed off. Mickey risked a look at him. Ian smiled. “Think we can do it? Be friends like he asked?”

Mickey thought about it. On one hand, all he really wanted was a good excuse to hang out with Ian as much as possible. On the other, friends was the last thing he wanted to be with Ian. He pulled on a thread too hard and broke it, cursed under his breath. He could feel Ian’s eyes on him, the question in the air, and knew he wasn’t doing a great job at hiding what he was thinking. Some benefit to being an actor.

He met Ian’s eyes finally and said, “You left my life at fifteen, came back at twenty-four just to fuck it up, disappeared some more, and somehow wound up putting me on the set of a movie I hate? Does that sound like a recipe for friendship to you?”

Ian’s eyes fell.

Mickey wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him tight. “Fucking kidding with you, Gallagher.” He pushed him away, but not before getting in a good noogie. “Jesus, you’re easy.”

“You haven’t managed to get in my pants yet.”

Mickey laughed, tried to hit him but Ian dodged. Real happiness bubbled over him to see Ian smile, laugh. They walked to lunch together making bad jokes and ripping the script to shreds. At one point, Ian said, “If they really can’t stop us from eye-fucking, they could just make our characters gay.” Mickey laughed so hard he almost fell over in his chair.

They went on to the next scene and the next and the next. The director had found a spray bottle somewhere and now spritzed them whenever they looked like they wanted to fuck. The only thing that held Mickey back from murdering the guy on the spot was the goofy smile on Ian’s face whenever he was dripping with water.

Mickey was careful with his expression, careful to keep his eyes off of Ian’s. If they were going to be friends, like Ian wanted, then he had to get control of himself. It wasn’t like Ian was God’s gift to gay men or anything. He was just a guy with a serious drug problem, a hint of alcoholism, a screwed up family, and a smile that could light up the fucking sun.

Mickey found himself laughing more often than not when Ian tripped over a line or forgot what he was going to say. He’d be lying if he didn’t throw in an eyebrow raise here or there to crack him up, if he said he didn’t like seeing Ian flustered in front of the cameras. The director grumbled something about the blooper reel being “gay as fuck” but Mickey ignored him as he got water sprayed in his face.

They got back in rhythm. By the end of the day, their last scene took them an hour to film. It was only seven by the time Mickey had packed up his stuff and was heading out the front door. Ian caught up to him on the way, a smile and a yawn on his lips at the same time.

“You headed back to Fiona’s?” Mickey asked.

“Nah, they’ve got me in a hotel closer to here.”

“A hotel?” Mickey wrinkled his nose. He nudged Ian with his elbow. “Fuck that. Come back to my place.”

“A comfy five-star hotel bed or your couch?” Ian clicked his tongue. “Hard choice, but I’m going to go with the hotel.”

“Wow. Respect the couch, Ian. It’s older than you are.”

Ian laughed. “It feels like it.”

Mickey shoved him and stepped towards the car waiting for him. “You got a ride to this hotel?”

“Bus.”

“Come with me.” Mickey didn’t wait for a response, just started walking. But like earlier, he knew Ian was following him. They slid into the car together and Ian gave the driver the name of his hotel before resting back on the seat. Mickey liked the silence between them, but he decided to ruin it anyways. “You like being an actor again?”

Ian shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

“So still not your life’s calling?”

“Never thought it was your calling either.”

“Like you said, it pays the bills.”

Ian was silent for a moment, staring out the window at the streetlights as they flashed by. “To tell you the truth, I never really had much fun on set unless I was filming with you. Don’t know if I would have kept up with it even if I hadn’t gone off the rails.”

Mickey made a noise somewhere between a ‘hmm’ and a ‘yeah.’ Then he said, “Don’t know if I would have kept up with it without Mandy. I don’t know that I’ve ever had much fun on set.”

Ian elbowed him. “Not even with me?”

Mickey smiled. “I have fun with you. But that’s not really about being on set, is it?”

“No. Guess not.”

The driver pulled up in front of Ian’s hotel and the two sat there for a moment, warm in the silence. Mickey shot Ian a look, a small grin, as he felt the awkwardness of the moment closing in. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Mickey said.

Ian nodded, forced a smile. “Goodnight.”

Mickey waved him off and watched as he exited the car. He didn’t tell the driver to go until Ian was safely inside.

<<Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen>>

#gallavich #shameless #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mine #chapter thirteen #lost lullabies #3outof10 fanfic

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invisible-mirror · 7 years

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Final Verdict on NBC’s “Kings“

I enjoyed this show quite a bit more than I thought I would. Even given the travesty that was Sebastian Stan’s character (more on that in a second), some of the other characters really shone.

Thoughts on characters:

Ian McShane did an amazing job. His King Silas is complex and compelling and probably could have carried the whole show single-handedly. All the kudos here.

I also really enjoyed Queen Rose. You can’t often make me like the “will do anything and kill anyone to protect the family honor” type, but those types often seem to be using their children’s welfare as an excuse to pursue personal gain, whereas Rose I think genuinely places her children’s welfare first (even if she and the children tend to have diametrically opposed ideas regarding what constitutes their welfare). Plus she’s scary competent. And had the added benefit of not killing anyone I’d grown attached to, I guess.

Michelle is pretty solid, too. It just took me two-thirds of the series to realize it, because a major component of her backstory wasn’t revealed until Episode 8, and some of her actions made zero sense without it.

I'm thinking even Jack could have been an interesting character if only he’d had a different name this whole time. Like, I dunno, “Ishbaal”, or maybe something ending in “Lannister.” Towards the end he seemed to be developing a passing acquaintance with, well, the whole concept of a moral code, which makes me wonder if they started him off in a bad place with an eye toward a redemptive arc. Not that it matters at this point.

I can see why there’s significant overlap between this fandom and Stucky fandom, because part of me thinks the writers may have legit confused David with Captain America. Or maybe Samwise Gamgee. Or a border collie with Stockholm Syndrome. But the story wouldn’t have worked as well otherwise, and the Bible does somewhat try to pass him off that way. So eh, sure.

Was Macaulay Culkin’s entire purpose to stand around looking creepy and making the audience uncomfortable? If so, nicely done.

Excellent comic relief in the form of the two palace guards.

I did not expect King Abaddon. I guess maybe he’s supposed to be the king Saul spared against God’s orders? Interesting scenes, though.

Reverend Samuels... was more or less what I expected, honestly. Bit more human, maybe. At least in the beginning.

Other thoughts:

The dialog is weird. It’s not quite modern and not quite archaic, and in retrospect it’s what gave me the initial impression that the show’s writing was going to be actively horrible. But the lines are delivered convincingly enough (see above: great acting) that you just kinda get used to the phrasing.

What a downer ending, though. It wasn’t even dramatically bad, just kind of... deflating. I guess they assumed they’d get a Season 2 and were free to leave some threads dangling.

Lots of fun Easter eggs for those who know the original story. Moreso in the beginning, before the plot really builds up steam and the butterfly effect (ha!) starts turning small deviations from canon into a virtually unrecognizable story. Even in the finale, though, I could tie one or two events back to specific verses.

The NBC app is not so bad, after all. You just have to unplug and restart the TV before each use, and then start the app from the Details menu instead of the main screen shortcut. Then it works about 90% of the time.

^The first sentence of that last bullet point was sarcasm. Seriously, NBC?

#kings #religion #still kinda miffed about jack tbh #you had one job dude #o n e j o b

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thesecretgambler · 7 years

Text

Day 9 – Monday 3rd July

As we drove away from Zaragoza, listening to a mixture of country classics new and old, Sam searched for a place for us to park the caravan for a few days. Somewhere close enough to the next gym we wanted to train at. We found somewhere and booked it within a few minutes. As with most things, not fussing about anything and just getting things done.

The benefit to staying on a caravan park is that we can hook up to electricity, as well as easier access to shower facilities and other practical amenities. Even though, living ‘off grid’ I’m finding, is minimal fuss too, feels more free, and is actually free in the financial sense, along with lots of amazing parking opportunities, including yards from the beach.

New temporary home

But for now, the green, shaded camp site is our home for the next 3 nights.

After we’d got settled in the afternoon, we relaxed a little after the mornings training, and 3 hour drive.

As it became dark, and cooler, we walked a mile to the beach to find somewhere to eat. We found a place right on the beach with music playing, cool breeze, good atmosphere and good food. We ordered a usual feast, with it being in mind that Sam is looking to fight at Featherweight (66kg instaed of 62kg and Bantamweight) meaning loads of nutritious food is advantageous to Sam’s physical growth, albeit not mine!!

After the food and a few drinks, we strolled back to the caravan, sat out the front for a while while we chatted, before settling in our spots with our books and podcasts.

Day 10 – Tuesday 4th July

After waking around the usual time of 8am, we showered, then walked to the beach where we planned the day. We agreed to get ready (short shorts, flip flops and vest. Real tinkers), then drive 20 minutes into Barcelona for some food and sight seeing before training.

Parking up as central as possible, we found somewhere to eat down one of the countless picturesque streets, coolly shaded by the height of the impressive buildings either side. Eating as close to the typical Spanish way as possible, and oddly but naturally sharing one glass of cold white wine, we relaxed in the cool bar that didn’t seem to be catering for tourists.

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After, we set about exploring the city on foot, for over 3 hours. I tried to avoid the sun as much as possible where I could, as I knew what to expect from the evenings training having trained at Sparta once before, around 2 years ago, and when my real draw to Spain and the training here too, began.

After a lot of walking, we lay on a grassed area, watching the world go by, under the shade of a tree. Then, around 5pm it was time to get back to the car to get to the gym for 6pm.

We got there just after so trained at 7pm instead.

The 7pm kickboxing class was taught by gym owner, 98 professional K1 fight Pro and current Spanish Cruiser weight boxing chamion, and all round first class guy, Cesar Cordoba.

The session started with lots of detailed mobility, every joint. Then, specific shadow boxing. Just one hand, 1,2, 3 shots, with head movement, then the other, then both, then adding in knees and simulated kicks, before free shadow boxing.

From the second you step on the mats here, it’s blatantly obvious that there’s real quality here. From the coaches lead, the type of quality that’s imperative to beat guys like Melvin “No Mercy” Manhoef, and to win the vast majority of 118 professional kickboxing and boxing match ups. Absolutely impressive. And with it all, the technique, the fighter, the coaching, the gym owner…Cesar is a complete gentleman. 6’2, great with the kids, great with the other fighters (regardless of discipline), and seemingly a hit with everyone who meets him.

Rightly so, he’s a great bloke. Anyway, fan boy-ing over with and back to the session…

…I’m partnered up with national level Kudo fighter and prospective MMA fighter Oscaar Lopez, and Sam with experienced professional MMA bantamweight, Paul Marin.

The session is fast and technical. The drilling consists of landing shots hard, to act as conditioning too. It was the first place I’d really experienced this around 2 years ago, and something I’ve gone on to enjoy. Although this session, my training partner I presume is close to late 80kg’s, conditioned, lean and technical, meaning the session is fast, quality and serving it’s purpose with physical conditioning. Covering lots of technique, conditioning and finishing with a good cool down including another considered round of shadow boxing, the hour session was over at 8pm.

Then, the Kudo competitor, BJJ purple belt and MMA coach, David Abellan, came on the mats. I knew David from the time I trained here the first and only other time, as well as following on Instagram and Facebook.

David informed us that around 6 of us, who are all competitive in MMA, would be training seperately to some of the other guys on the mat. I partnered up with Oscaar again. I’m hoping it’s not because we’re the same size, which often happens to me, I think with maybe looking heavier than what I fight at, as Oscaar as well as being fit, bright, tough and technical, is extremely strong and quite a bit bigger than I am too. This made for a very tough 2 hours of relentless MMA drills and sparring!!

After travelling, having a few beers every day, constant walking around in the heat, then sparring very good guys, meant it was a tough 3 hours in total. All good though. My training partner is a very cool guy, and plus, I’m always all the way in for hard training for and with anyone. I don’t discriminate, even if I know I’ll be on the receiving end. Any of my training partners and coaches in Manchester or Valencia I’m confident would vouch for. I’m always happy to take what’s mine for me, but also a very strong believer in giving more than we take, in every way. In the case of MMA, it means offering your tired, sore body, and a fearful mind, to a team mate who’s of high quality and getting fight ready. Tony Morgan, Eulogio Fernandez Jareno, Ali Arish, Sam, and more… I’ll always go all the way in. They know it, and I know it. They’re my team mates. I don’t like getting beats, but don’t want my mates to lose their fights. I’m not the only one. Good team mates and friends are this way.

Anyway, it got to 10pm and I was done! So, it was time for photo’s and massive thanks before we headed back to the little, portable, homely home, before heading out again for late night food.

Really, I couldn’t thank Cesar and everyone at Sparta enough. Again, not letting us pay a penny. Offering us the highest level tuition, and training partners to train and spar with.

The gym has the facilities and equipment that are signs to what’s needed for the quality stand up fighters it houses. With ample showering facilities, as well as a separate area for strength and conditioning. It’s within the city centre, although I’d say probably a 10 minute drive from La Rambla.

If anyone was in Barcelona and wanting to train at a top class gym, then I would recommend contacting the gym and making a way to train here.

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Personally, I feel much richer being friends with Cesar, and with the guys I’ve now met at Sparta, along with people from the gyms I already train at, and have trained at on my travels.

The thing is, a lot of the people you come across in these gyms are, it’s true, potentially extremely physically dangerous, but more than that, there are a handful in each gym that are extraordinary in many ways. Articulate, polite, sensitive, funny, intelligent, humble….the list of qualities are endless, and usually all inclusive.

I consider my life in MMA, as a martial artist, fighter, and student, to be the building blocks of my life. I’m a result of my genetics, and the company I keep. I want to be everything that’s great in every person I meet, respect and admire. And, in this gym, there’s a lot of things that make people great, in abundance.

Thank you Cesar and Sparta Fight Team.

Sparta Fight Team, Barcelona. Spain Day 9 - Monday 3rd July As we drove away from Zaragoza, listening to a mixture of country classics new and old, Sam searched for a place for us to park the caravan for a few days.

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