#i mean we must protect the moustache
Note
If your requests are still open can you write one with Miles Teller where the reader is in the military (you can decide which branch) and she helps him get ready for his role as Bradley “ROOSTER” Bradshaw and also helps on set. Then while filming that’s when the reader finds out she’s pregnant and enlists in the casts help in telling Miles.
Baby Teller • miles teller
I hope I’ve done you’re amazing request justice. After the mention of incorporating the idea of protective Miles from @nickie-amore that isn’t on the request I just had to give it a go and include it, it is short and brief though so I hope that is still okay! At first it scared me that I wouldn’t be able to write for this request but I really enjoyed this. I will disclaimer that I have no US Military knowledge what so ever so I’ve done some research for this in terms of rank and the roles in the different armed forces so I left the detailing very vague. I can’t speak for all the great service women out there so I’m sorry if my portrayal is incorrect. I apologise if it doesn’t replicate your vision for your request in the way I have executed it. Also I should say that there are some time skips of when everything takes place so I’ll separate them and hope that it’s clear enough.
You can read Part 2 here.
Gif is not mine, belongs to the owner.
Warnings: not a lot of Miles until towards the end, fluff
Miles Teller x fem!reader
Word count: 2.5k
After we had found out the great news that Miles was going to be in the sequel film of Top Gun everything changed. I was so happy for him, I knew this role meant a lot to him and I also knew he wanted to do it for me. As a woman in the US military I was sadly use to the odd derogatory terms that were thrown at me, times have certainly changed enough to allow me to do the role I do, just as good (if not better than) my fellow skilled aircraft specialists but it doesn’t mean they choose to accept me. Because of the countless times I have wondered if I was good enough and if I actually should have my rank in the Air Force working as an Airforce Mechanic specialising in maintaining and repairing the planes having to prove myself wasn’t always easy and no one knows that better than Miles. He’s been my biggest supporter and helped me make the choice to enlist in the first place all those years ago before we had even started dating and were just friends.
The whole reason why he auditioned for the role of Rooster, as far as I was aware and could only speak for myself, is because he wanted to understand my life, the life my dad and grandfather led before me and the whole reason why I joined the US Air Force. Before I became a Teller, I was a(n) (Y/L/N) and it certainly showed in the path I chose to take.
Even though I’m not a part of the Navy, I know a hell of a lot about planes and the mechanics behind them. What I didn’t expect was for him to want me to be there every step of the way of filming, him wanting to do it all justice and as realistic as possible was his reasoning for having me behind the scenes and no one disagreed with that. There was even mention of including my name in the closing credits (how crazy is that?!). So that’s what I did, whenever he or any of the other cast or crew asked any questions I answered them as best as I could with my knowledge that 9 times out of 10 came in handy.
I loved getting to know everyone, they became another family like how I was with my brothers and sisters in my regiment were and what was even more lovely was that they all included me in it as well.
As filming got underway all of Miles’ focus went on his performance of getting into his role and I was giving as much advice as I could as well as enjoying seeing my husband at work in his element being so tirelessly busy so it came as a shock to me after I found out that what I thought was a little stomach bug going around set was something much more permanent, well at least for the next 9 months or so. I can’t deny it must have been the moustache, it should be a crime to look that good with one.
“Hey that’s the fourth time in an hour you’ve been going to the bathroom. Are you okay (Y/N)?” Monica ever the observer asks me after I come back from the toilets for the fourth time in an hour like she so correctly pointed out. Me and Monica had formed such a great bond, don’t get me wrong we all had, but maybe it’s because I see myself in the role that she’s playing as Phoenix so much, being one of the women in essentially a “man’s world”, she was doing it justice and letting us have the recognition we deserved. It’s hard and draining at times but the job as a whole is also so rewarding and I couldn’t see myself giving it up. I wouldn’t change it for the world, the good and bad times because that’s shaped me for who I am now and there’s no time dwelling on past situations when the future is right ahead of us.
I look into her brown eyes before checking that the surrounding area is clear, when I’m happy that no one is in close range to hear us I reply. “I found out yesterday morning that I’m pregnant, roughly six weeks along so still early days.”
I watch as her eyes widen and I cover her mouth with my hand before she can utter a word but I hear a slight catch in her throat sound out slightly. “You’re the only person I’ve told. Miles doesn’t know yet, to be honest I don’t know how to tell him. Even though we’ve been together for a long time we’ve only been married over a year and I know there are some future projects he wants to be involved with. I know he’s going to be happy, so happy, but I understand he’s focused on filming right now and it means so much to him I don’t want the news to mess with his head frame for filming so please don’t tell him, I’m not ready ye-“ I’m caught off guard as Monica reciprocates my actions from seconds before seizing my rambling with the palm of her hand and making me drop mine in shock.
Her eyebrows furrow as I see her process my words over in her mind. “When are you going to tell him then?”
She looks at me anticipating my reply, I stare back the silence growing awkward, I look down at the palm still covering my mouth. “Oh yeah, sorry about that.” She chuckles and I roll my eyes good heartedly before joining in with her laughter.
“Well I was thinking of probably telling him on the last day of filming, I was hoping you and the boys would help me.” I try and pull my best puppy dog eyes which seems to work quite well on her. I knew they would, they always catch Miles out and haven’t failed me yet.
“Say no more, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to help.”
Ever since then me and Monica and the boys have been catching up and spending as much time revising the plan as possible to tell Miles during their time when they’re not needed onscreen. Miles has been none the wiser which has helped the plan commence even better than I could have asked for.
As the days have drawn closer to the impending anticipated end date of filming and my bump continuing to grow and being kept hidden by lots of loose fitting attire I also grew more nervous as every day passed. Even though Miles, as far as I was aware, had no clue about the plan I couldn’t say the same about my newfound distance I was putting between the two of us unintentionally of course. Because the bump was more prominent now I was more inclined to shy away from his touch which was the hardest thing to do when all I wanted was to cuddle up close and share the good news but it had to be done for the sake of the unveiling that wouldn’t be long now.
“Y/N have you seen my Hawaiian shirt? I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Which one? There’s many of them.”
“The cream and kinda green one, I wore it during the bar scene. I need it for filming because we’re reshooting it tomorrow.”
He doesn’t but we’ve had everyone pretend that they’re going to be reshooting a scene when in actual fact it’s going to be the grand reveal and filming was completely finished which he didn’t know just yet.
I’m no seamstress by any means so one of the lovely costume designers actually used a template and replicated his Hawaiian shirt using the actual one he wears walking into the bar (the one he is currently looking for) but making it a smaller scale and it honestly turned out so cute. I couldn’t wait to see his reaction, and I didn’t have to wait too long now.
The time was finally here, after I sent him off in search of a shirt I knew he wouldn’t be able to find I went the meet with the cast. I find them in the bar, cameras placed hidden in plain sight but only if you knew where to look. I wanted to capture this moment forever and Tom managed to pull some stings for it to happen. Not only was my name going to be in the credits but this video was going to play at the very end too, my nerves were increased to the max because I knew this could only be done in one take and there was no places for screw ups.
I’d asked Glen to send a message to Miles to ask him to join us for “filming” so he should be here any second.
“Hey everyone.” He says when he walks through the door, his face set in confusion as he does a double take at seeing all of the cast sat at the tables and bar stools around one side of the bar.
I clear my throat before standing up so he can see me more easily. His face lights up as he begins to head in my direction and I meet him half way, feeling everyone’s eyes on us as I prepare to tell him the news. I leave my hands behind my back so he can’t see the neatly wrapped package I have clenched in my fists.
“What’s going on sweetheart. Is everything okay (Y/N)?” The worry is easy to hear in his voice and he reaches his left hand up and holds my cheek, I lean into his touch hoping it’ll help me find some strength.
I breath in deeply and let out a loud sigh that comes out sounding shaky. “I’ve asked you and everyone here because there’s something I need to tell you. First I would like to say thank you to everyone for helping me make this happen, now that it’s suddenly here and we’ve come to an end of an incredible movie that I know people of all ages are going to love. Friends have been made for life and
He opens the present, pulling out the Hawaiian shirt and revealing the small rooster soft toy that has a tag around one of its foot that reads ‘Baby Teller’. I notice the moment he figures it out, my throat catching and unshed tears begin brewing in my eyes.
“Really?” The biggest smile stretches over his face.
I nod, calming my nerves down. “Yes, really.”
“So there wasn’t going to be any filming today?”
“No baby, we just said that to get you here.”
He begins to laugh, nearly manically, sounding relieved.
He must see the confusion on my face because he explains. “I was worried you were going to ask for a divorce. I thought I’d made a terrible mistake of asking you to help, that I was asking too much of you and not seeing you on and off set enough. You had me really worried sweetheart, please don’t do that again okay? I don’t think I could take it.” He says, pulling me in close. The feel of his warm, strong arms encasing me makes me feel protected and fortunate of having such an understanding and loving man in my life. I know our baby is going to be the luckiest little bean in the world.
“Never again baby I promise, I’m sorry for worrying you but I’m so happy the plan worked out perfectly.”
“Yeah, me too.” He pulls away and cups my cheeks in his hands, stroking my skin softly and staring deeply into my eyes locking me in place and unable to look away even though that’s the last thing I could want to do. He leans down and connects our lips in a soft caress that progressively gets more heated and I hear clapping and cheering surrounding us but doesn’t deter us at all.
Glen and Lewis begin singing the chorus to Great Balls of Fire, roping everybody else in, gradually getting louder. We break apart laughing and turn to everyone with their arms in the air. This wasn’t part of the plan but I’m glad it’s been included. I couldn’t wait to replay the video and watch this whole moment back and for everyone else to see it too.
After filming finished, the interviews and premiere’s began. I went to as many as I could during the early stages of pregnancy and even when my bump became more pronounced in the dresses I wore I tried to go to as many as I could before I had to stay home and not travel as my due date neared in the coming weeks.
Miles has been amazing all the way throughout and has gone to every appointment he could when he wasn’t stuck in doing interviews. I knew those times were hard for him but I made sure to relay everything that was said to me straight after.
I didn’t prepare myself for how protective Miles would become. After getting to the end of every month hinting at the arrival of the baby it became clear he didn’t want to leave my side.
At first I found it sweet and endearing but after so many months of this mother hen clucking around me it did become irritating rather quickly. I tried to say nothing in moments when the protectiveness hit its maximum limit because I know it’s just nerves and excitement all wrapped into one for our first child.
All of the premieres I did manage to go to when the camera men and interviewers were near they always asked to see baby bump and every time our photos were taken Miles was right by my side a hand on my back and the other protecting my bump rubbing it softly.
There was one photo that was my favourite of them all. We were having our photo taken, in that exact position and the baby kicked at the perfect moment, the image capturing him looking down at the bump with a toothy grin and me staring lovingly at him. A definite highlight of mine
“So what have you named him?”
We look at each other before turning our attention back to the phone screen, lots of faces staring back at us on FaceTime. “We’ve decided to call him Bradley.”
The answering chatter and cheer becomes a big jumble of noise that I can’t tell who’s saying what.
“That’s so sweet.”
“Such a good choice.”
“Oh I love it!”
“Bradley Teller? Has a good ring to it.”
“Glen is a much better choice but Bradley will do. It’s second best at most.”
We all laugh at Glen’s comment, he would ask me constantly if Glen was in the running of baby names after I chose to find out the baby’s sex.
We all stay silent after Bradley makes a noise of discontent after disturbing his peaceful sleep and hold our breathes until he lets out a little sigh before settling back down again against Miles’ bare chest beside me. Everyone coo’s upon hearing the soft sound out of his little mouth.
For me baby Teller was always going to be called one name and one name only.
Bradley Alexander Teller.
———————————————
A/N: I wasn’t going to include a middle name at first but then I thought Miles’ middle name would be perfect. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please let me know. Z❤️
#miles teller#miles teller x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun maverick#tom cruise#miles teller x wife!reader#miles teller x pregnant!reader#monica barbaro#glen powell#lewis pullman#masterlist
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RedRose (re)reads: The Ruins of Gorlan
aka the book that i originally hated
ngl, i know the first sentence by heart.
reading the first ever description of the wargals just hits different after having read TRR6
i think the prologue hits harder every time i read it - especially now that TEY have been out for a while
i would die for the wards. no cap.
why am i so nervous for choosing day???
STRANGE, HE THOUGHT, HOW SELDOM PEOPLE LOOKED UP.
bby will i love you
lowkey in love with baron arald, ngl, the man deserves so much more
martin honey, you’re trying and i appreciate that
i always forget rodney has “an enormous moustache” but i love that for him. i also forgot that arald has a beard. i always forget the beards.
imagine being nervous as hell, looking up, and looking into halt’s eyes. i too would simply pass away.
“halt had a habit of coming up on you unnoticed” how do you know, will. how do you know?
rodney’s “you don’t know what you’re in for” is kinda sad when you remember that initially horace thought the bullying was normal
arald and nigel must make some team, i’d pay to see that.
when george says “thank you” and arald is “taken aback”,,,, does no one ever say thank you??? :(
“what would you do with a turkey pie?” “eat it” as you should girlie
THE RABBITS
i still wanna know what halt was thinking when pauline was trying so damn hard not to laugh.
i can’t tell if halt setting will up was a funny prank or a mean set-up
“climbed it as easily as you get on your horse in the mroning. easier, in fact.” iconic.
arald slamming back by implying that being apprenticed to halt is a punishment: even more iconic.
“he hated it when people didn’t know he was joking” so do i, arald, so do i.
THE WILDFLOWERS. BRIGHTLY COLOURED.
i still hate halt for the housework, ngl.
i’m a little weak for the “simply oakleaf design”
“an intelligent force?” “not intelligent. intelligence. although it does help if you intelligence force is also intelligent.”
i will now interpret timeline inconsistencies as halt just full-on lying about everything.
i still wanna know why halt was in the kitchen when will stole pies.��
forgetting that there’d be a stream in the way is something that’d be lowkey funny. hella inconvient, but funny.
will’s obsession with swords makes me so sad
“how did you learn how to do that?” “practice” wow so useful, thank you halt
WHY DOES THIS BOY ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS ???
i love that this book already implies that horace is gonna be better than rodney. boy’s a natural. damn. it’s what he deserves.
“sometime i think we should forget the weapons training and just throw all the paper at the enemy - bury them in it.” - karel knows best
“if you feel that’s a good idea - go ahead.” yeah no thank you
halt just really threw will onto a horse for the first time and said “go for it”, huh? seems very safe.
i also still wanna know why abelard was with old bob
i just think it’s really cute that bonding with tug is one of will’s favourite things from his first apprentice months
i love how entertained arald is by stories about halt
technically, the victory that’s awarded to halt for leading the cavalry, should be awarded to gilan. but i think halt purposefully “takes” the credit, so that morgarath will come after him, not gilan. in this essay-
halt calling will by his name instead of boy >>>
i always forget about salt peter. but here he is at last again.
i love halt blaming will for salt peter answering in questions. i would do the same.
halt dealing with salt peter should be more of a meme than it currently is
i think the boar scene would be even more incredible on the big screens. i also love how excited the men are about it.
i have a soft spot for how protective halt, rodney, and arald are of will and horace.
“he wasn’t in a rush to see another one” uh-oh. should’ve known.
tug attacking a wild animal... stresses me out now more than it did. s/o to the wolf.
THE END OF THE BOAR SCENE. i am not in tears but i sure am crying.
i forgot that the boar scene was the context for “people will think what they want to. never take too much notice of it” kslsjdj i love soft halt
halt knowing that rodney knows and will appreciate horace is just chef’s kiss
shoutout to rodney’s gut, honestly
why is always “boar scene”, and never the abuse scene? i think that one’s even more pivotal for
i think the abuse scene is also the first time halt is established as a dilf and no i will not take that back
ok but also halt is a little too cheerful lmao, it makes me terrified
“take one more step and i’ll put an arrow through you” sounds like something halt would say, but it was baby will.
“the chief ranger” i bet they only call crowley that as a joke
“and it’ll be gilan because it’s always gilan” it truly always is, eh? always was, always will be
“Halt, Halt!” is top tier commedy and i will not be accepting counter arguments at this time
i am in love with how readily gilan accepts will.
so it’s canon that gilan can imitate halt perfectly. duly noted
if will thought that maybe gilan was too small for battleschool, then yes, gilan is taller than will and halt, but not super tall apparently
IT WAS A WARM SENSE OF BELONGING, AS IF, SOMEHOW, HE HAD ARRIVED HOME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.
i cannot put into words how obsessed i am with them arriving at the gathering grounds and the absolute chaos that is reigning there. i am simply obsessed with rangers doing ranger business.
“crowley wants the army alerted and mobilised” friendly reminder that crowley is like the second most powerful person in the kingdom.
halt and gilan talking about the mission has me so soft, the mutual trust and love
“i’d happily kill someone for a cup of coffee” “light a fire to brew it, and you might have to do just that.”
poor next flute player
“sometimes, he thought wryly, a reputation for being right all the time could be a heavy burden” me when people ask me about salt peter and i don’t remember who tf that is
“it’s the kalkara. they have a new target and they’re hunting” the grasp that this will have on cinema audiences... uncanny
shoutout to rodney for getting will into the castle, because those guards were hella incapable
okay but arald is really showing why he deserves to be redmont’s baron and i am lowkey so proud of him.
do i know everyone’s gonna be fine? yes. am i terrified nonetheless? also yes.
the fire, the shooting, will,,,,, you legend, i am speechless
“jenny was a difficult person to refuse” good for her
there’s absolutely no reason for george not to be here. this is where the slander begins and i do not appreciate it
i still believe that at first, halt absolutely refused to take time to recover from his wounds, that arald send pauline “to straighten him out”, and that from there on out, halt refused to do absolutely anything because he was “recovering”.
nah i think he would’ve been an especially great teacher in those weeks.
THE KISS. I AM LOSING. MY MIND.
“aren’t you coming with me?” “not invited” i think halt threatened to get arald fired if he invited him. no, i don’t think - i know.
‘i am a ranger, my lord’ TEARS
AND HE WAS SMILING. AND I WAS CRYING.
i love it when halt uses his words because he can be so good with them if he wants to.
halt’s revelation that he was the man Daniel saved has my heart skip beats
HE FELT AT PEACE
that’s ironic because i do not feel ANY PEACE
#redrose reads#ranger's apprentice#rangers apprentice#redrose rants#john flanagan#i binged this books in two hours ngl
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Story 0x05 - The Storm Overture
Regulus: Ouch! Hurts … really hurts …
Regulus suddenly jumps back and falls to the ground, as if she is seriously injured.
Sonetto: Huh! I … I have not taken my best shot. Please stand up and continue to fight with me.
Regulus: Arm’s broken …! Hurts …
Vertin: She doesn’t look right. She’s pale. I’ll go check.
Vertin squats next to Regulus and blocks Sonetto’s eyesight.
Vertin: *give her something*
Regulus: Wh-wha-what are you doing?
Vertin: It’s the Misty Bubble Ball. You know how to use it, right?
Regulus: Huh …?
Vertin: I need your help. Before that, I’ll help you out. I’ll see you in the bookstore in Oxford Street. Now, push me.
Shocked for half a second, Regulus pushes Vertin away with great strength. “Bang!”
Sonetto: Huh! Timekeeper …!
Vertin: *cough* … Protect your eyes …
…
Sonetto: It’s my mistake. But … it should be fine. The time of Misty Bubble Ball is limited. She must still be in this block!
Vertin: Sonetto … are you still searching? The “Storm” is coming. If you don’t go back now, it’ll be too late.
Sonetto: At least … let me search these stores again.
It’s the same determined face. She put it on before every exam. Sonetto strides over the rising puddles on the ground and runs into the department store.
…
Where to go now? The bookstore in Oxford Street? No, of course not.
…
But to the place which she never agreed to meet at.
Regulus: Whoa! You freaked me out?! Did we say the bookstore …?
Vertin: Exactly. Isn’t it the bookstore? The unimproved Misty Bubble Ball has a special scent. Sonetto will be here any minute.
Regulus: So … so what do you want from me? Whoo … Poor me …
Vertin: Relax. I’m not going to take you to the Foundation. I ask you to go somewhere safe with me. Regulus, I need you to brave the “Storm” with me.
Regulus: Brave the “Storm”?
Vertin: Shh! She’s here.
Fluctuation of arcane skills coming from outside. Vertin takes a moustache from the table and sticks it to Regulus’ face immediately.
Sonetto: Timekeeper! Any progress … on your end!
Vertin: I’m sorry …
Sonetto: You shook your head … that means … My mission … failed? …
…
The thunder has brought her back to reality. She looks down at her leather boots which are already soaked by the “rain”. Pink rain, yellow rain and blue rain are spreading like paints in water. The buildings’ outlines start to liquidise, becoming as weird as the lines in comic books.
Sonetto: Ti-Timekeeper …
Her face is pale.
Sonetto: When will the “Storm” begin?
Vertin: In 10 minutes.
The collage of Richard Hamilton falls from the sky, splashing rain all over her. But she just nods in a hasty manner, her eyes seemingly frozen.
Sonetto: I should go. I have to go back. … Thank you very much for your support, Timekeeper.
Sonetto turns around and runs the way back.
Regulus: The rain … is it falling upside down?
It seems Regulus was going to run away, but now she is just standing at the door in a daze. She reaches out for the raindrops and watches them flying towards the sky through her fingers, feeling confused.
Regulus: Why does everyone … act as if nothing happens? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? … These things are really weird …
Vertin: You can see something’s weird … which proves you are the one I’m looking for.
She draws back in haste until falling down in a puddle behind her.
Regulus: Looking for me? No. No way … Are these … potions! Did you use potions on me?! Why! The “little thing” is no longer with me …!
Vertin: Enough! Stop running! The “Storm” is here.
At the last moment, Vertin finally manages to open the suitcase and push Regulus inside.
Vertin: Look at the world … with your own eyes!
…
Regulus: What… What?
Vertin: I am not them. I am here to protect you.
1929
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Fail - I don't hate trans people, just the "movement" - how that doesn't work.
The "movement" adcocates that people have the right and ability to transition.
Being against that movement means you don't think people can transition their sex. But you can believe that someone can be transgender.
Your vision of transgender will be very different to trans activists and allies. In your eyes, someone could be trans only as an adult, post puberty, and therefore less likely to pass, and with experience of living as their assigned gender. This is to protect the children, despite the fact plenty of people die before that point by suicide, we digress.
Assuming someone makes it to that point and survives to transition, the transphobes' trans person must remain visibly trans, by outing themselves at any segregated space. This is because they are seen as fundamentally different than cis people, you don't believe they can ever wash away their birth gender.
You believe their trans nature is something deceptive, never completed, perpetually counting against them, they will never be a real man or woman, they will only ever be a fake man or woman. And what kind of decent person wants a fake life for themselves? You disagree that this life can be real, that someone could change their gender and live a normal life, and you think everyone else should live their lives according to that belief of yours. Everyone should be forced to reveal their assigned gender, in innocuous settings, because it is unbearable to think that one of those deceptive, fake, not real people might sneak past you otherwise.
If there was a real endemic of transitioning people, it would be obvious that it isn't so scary, that people are just people, but in your mind they are monsters that you might graciously allow to exist in your world under tight restrictions, so you can always see them.
Therefore, I propose allies start practicing a lot more drag to highlight how non scary this actually is...I guess I need to start practicing my moustaches.
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A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons
...that i couldn't get out of my head:
(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)
he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.
his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'
he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)
he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,
he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time
when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)
when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them
he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture
he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)
he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap
he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.
he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')
(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)
he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)
the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law
once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee
when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord
the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.
zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar
he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear
he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden
most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)
one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket
zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)
on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it
the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'
zuko: facial what now
he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before
'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'
he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.
(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)
his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)
he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances
during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some
he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).
he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.
the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.
after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.
unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)
he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)
he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere
when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid
on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes
this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks
just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential
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Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader
Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.
Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.
Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!
Word count: somehow, 4.4k.
Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.
Rating: T
The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia.
The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.
Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.
What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.
He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.
Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.
Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.
For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.
Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.
Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.
Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.
It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot). However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.
Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.
“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.
Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.
What the fuck is up with him?
Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.
“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”
Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.
Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.
“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.
“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”
“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”
Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.
You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.
“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”
What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?
Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.
When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.
“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice.
“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head.
“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.
Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”
That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.
“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”
“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.
“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.
“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.
You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.
“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.”
“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”
You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you. You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.
Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”
At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair.
“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.
You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.
Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.
“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.
Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.
You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.
“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”
Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.
“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”
You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.
He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.
Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.
It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.
You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him.
With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.
“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.
Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say.
“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”
His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?
“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.
“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”
And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.
“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”
I’m in love with you.
Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?
You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.
Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.
“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”
You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.
The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?
“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”
You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.
Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”
“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.
And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.
You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.
Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.
What the fuck were you expecting?
Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?
And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.
Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.
Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.
“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.
When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.
Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.
You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.
Suddenly you could understand it.
That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.
I’m in love with you.
I’m in love with you.
The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.
PART TWO IS HERE
#santiago pope garcia x reader#santiago pope garcia#santiago garcia x reader#triple frontier#triple frontier x reader#triple frontier fanfic
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Hey everyone who have been waiting for the next chapter! Life got in the way but I am here to deliver the next (short) chapter. The last chapter to this thing will be segmented in small parts to build through to the end. And if you guys saw the movie. . . just know that I am not ready to write that part yet, but alas, the show must go on! Again, thank you to all who have been reading thus far!
- - - - - -
Chapter VI: PROTECT THE CHILDREN
“Hey guys, look! It’s _____! She must have been waiting for us!” Tanjiro called out as he led the group back to the Butterfly Estate.
“Ah! Sweet _____! How lovely of her to greet us at the doors!” Zenitsu swooned.
“Cook!!” Inosuke called you fondly as he ran up to you first. “What’re you cooking for us tonight!?”
“Yama Kujira (white-moustached pig/Japanese boar)!”
“We’re seriously having that tonight? OH, I can’t wait!” Inosuke squealed from underneath his boar head.
Zenitsu gritted his teeth from seeing Inosuke interacting with you so openly, still believing him to be barbarish in every way. ‘No way is he going to help _____ over me!’
Tanjiro spoke to you next, “That sounds great, _____! Will Rengoku-san be joining us, too?”
You sighed longingly, “Later, he will. He’s on a man’s outing with Tengen so I found it best to wait for you guys to come.” You inspected them in the order of their approach, ending with Zenitsu. “You’ve all been fighting hard, haven’t you?”
“Yes ma’am, we have! How nice of you to notice the work we’ve been putting in on the field! It’s not easy, you know!” Zenitsu huffed, feeling proud of himself. Tanjiro and Inosuke obviously had other words for the ‘crybaby’.
“I see that!” You loved how sweet they were to you, so, you found it in your best interest to take care of them. They have gone through a lot, just like you had. It was in you to nurture them. “I’m so proud of each and everyone of you for coming back alive. How about I help draw your baths and get you all settled in? I’ve still some preparations for the yama kujira, so resting is in order for all of you!”
“And the food!?” Inosuke questioned.
“It’ll be ready for you after you all clean off. Though, if you’d like my help--”
“I CAN BATHE BY MYSELF AND MUCH QUICKER THAN THEY CAN!!” Inosuke exclaimed proudly.
“Amazing! Then let me honor your tenacity by pampering you, even for a bit.” You offered.
‘_____ has always been nice and welcoming to us since we met, especially with Nezuko. She didn’t strike first with intent to kill, but to know, to listen.’ Tanjiro had a soft spoke in his heart for you, the so-called ‘foreigner’ of the Hashira. You always showed them a hand of kindness when most others didn’t.
“I brought you something back from the village we went to as well!” Zenitsu handed you a cute kanzashi (hair ornament) with an opposite gradient he had given to Nezuko.
“Oh my, it’s beautiful! Thank you!” You immediately stuck it in your locs, making sure it was in there nice and tight. “If I didn’t know any better, you’re due to make Rengoku jealous.” Even though you were clearly taken.
‘Her scent is sweet, kind, and nurturing. Her aura is captivating and contagious, as he told me many times. I can see why.’ Tanjiro thought of you fondly. ‘Worlds of responsibilities just fall off my shoulders when _____ and Rengoku are around us. It’s comforting.’ Tanjiro breathed in deep with a smile. ‘It feels like. . .’ He stepped forward, ready to get Nezuko inside and bathe. ‘Feels like home.’
- - - - - -
You were able to squeeze Senjuro away from his and Rengoku’s drunkard father for a feast that your fiancé will smell from his stumbling walk back to HQ. It was a gathering for the returning children, though others were more than welcome to join the night festivities.
You gazed at the lads eating and picking on another in usual fashion as you pet Nezuko who lied happily across your lap. Tanjiro and Senjuro soon joined the both of you as Zenitsu and Inosuke made fools of themselves as per the usual.
“Senjuro, Tanjiro,” you started, “I’m going to tell Kyōjurō something very important soon. Do you want to know what it is?”
Both answered, ‘Yes, we do!”
“I’m going to ask him if we all can be a family.” You gestured your hand to them.
“Be… be a family? Do you mean--”
“Yes, Tanjiro. I’d love for us to adopt you all, or at least take you all in. I love you all so much that if we were to see it to the end of this madness, I’d be happy settling down with that idea. What do you two think?”
Senjuro was a bundle of cheer as he sat in between you and Tanjiro. “I would love that! And I believe my big brother would love that, too! He always wanted a big family.”
“All of us as a family...” Tanjiro nodded. “If we’re never imposing, that would be great. More than great.”
‘More than anything else in the world, _____.’
- - - - - - - - - -
Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)
#rengoku kyojuro x reader#rengoku x reader#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu rengoku#kimetsu no yaiba fanfic#demon slayer#demon slayer fanfic#kny fanfic
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Flame of Healing | EraserMic x Reader | Chapter 10 - Kurogiri
Masterlist | AO3
Warnings: Kyudai Garaki, Mnaga Spoilers, Grooming of a Child(not Child Grooming), Abuse of Power, Abuse of a Corpse, Mentions of Murder, Brainwashing, Memory lose, Abusive thoughts towards Reader.
Word Count: 2032
Taglist: @stargazingaloneatnight @rinzyx05 @uselesssapphickitten
AN: Hey before we start, I know Kyudai Garaki has been very triggering for Chinese MHA manga readers. His name only gets stated once and the rest of the time he is simply referred to as "doctor". I don't know If I have Chinese readers, but I am aware of how his name alone has affected those fans and I want them to know I understand and therefore will not be using that name when referring to him.
Now, on with the fic!
I hope y’all can see that this chapter will be coming from Kurogiri’s point of view. If any of the warnings are an issue for you I do want you to know this chapter is not a must needed chapter to read. I just wanted to explore some issues relationships regarding Shigaraki.
Upon first waking up, Kurogiri felt strange. He didn’t know where he was or who he was, He felt keep guilt in his heart yet he had no idea as to why. All he could feel within his heart was a loss of an attachment.
“It’s awake?” Said a man’s voice.
Kurogiri looked at where the voice came from and saw a man with white hair and red eyes who stood at 234cm tall. The man next to him was noticeably shorter, had no hair on his head but had a big moustache and wore big goofy-looking glasses.
The shorter man responded. “It seems so. He also seems to be doing better than when he first woke up.”
“Agreed.”
First woke up? Wasn’t this the first time we woke up?
The taller man walked towards him, looking down at Kurogiri. “Do you remember anything?” He asked.
“No.” Kurogiri answered.
“Good.” The man looked deep into Kurogiri’s eyes with a creepy smile on his face. His eyes seem to glow either from quirk use or maybe he just looked evil. A feeling in Kurogiri’s gut made him want to fly away and run somewhere. He didn’t understand these feelings. “You will do everything I command you to do. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” Kurogiri answered.
Kurogiri felt as if he was split in two. One who controlled the stage and was the main everything while in the back of his mind locked away in a box was something telling him to stop.
Even if he could fear it, it was not the main player and therefore it didn’t matter.
“Your one and only mission is to look after and protect my son, Tomura Shigaraki.”
“Yes, I understand.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “We should give it a name, sir.”
“Yes.” The white haired red eye man agree. “You’ll name will be Kurogiri, while you shall call me Master.”
Kurogiri nodded his head. “Yes sir.”
This is the only life Kurogiri will know, and should knows.
Yes. This is correct.
---
“This is my son, Tomura Shigaraki.” The man introduced. “Tomura, this is Korugiri, and he will be your caretaker when I am away.”
Kurogiri looked down at the 7 year old boy with light blue hair and red eyes, looking so much like his father besides his skin conduction on his face, more noticeably around his eyes. The boy also had hands wrapped around different parts of his body.
“It is a pleasure to meet you Tomura Shigaraki.” Kurogiri said as he walked closer up to the small boy.
The boy made a face before speaking. “You look like some hero wannabe.”
Kurogiri looked at his clothing, not aware of it earlier. He didn’t understand it himself though it felt as if he knew every pocket of said outfit.
The purple flame man turned his full attention to the boy, kneeing down to be on the same eye level. “Is there something you would rather have me wear?”
The boy looked puzzled at first, but then was in deep thought. The boy soon grabbed Kurogiri’s hand and lead him somewhere. “Yes, but first we must make sure it fits on.”
All For One watched as Tomura lead Kurogiri away. Once the two left the room he turned to the doctor.
“Do you think we will be able to make them… Less human, doctor?” All For One asked.
The doctor turned to his master with an evil smile. “Oh yes, sir! We can do more than that!”
“Alright, you then have my full blessing to continue this project of yours, Doctor.” All For One stated.
“If I may ask sir, why did you give away the Nomu to the child?” The Doctor asked. “We could’ve used the Nomu to defeat the current One For All Quirk Host!”
“It’s more of a back-up plan doctor.” Said All For One. “Just like how your Nomu’s will be part of my back up plan.”
The Doctor was confused by All For One’s answer. “What do you mean backup plan my lord?”
“You must always plan for if your first plan fails, doctor.” Said All For One. “I have many moving parts under my belt. You are aware of our planned attack on this All Might, but you are also part of the main back up fail if I get gravely injured. I am… Preparing Tomura to be my next host body either for myself or my quirk if that happens. Kurogiri will now be a part to make sure the body stays intact, ready for my use.”
Upon realising of his master’s plan, the doctor’s face glowed up in happiness. “Oh Master! You are so smart! I am sorry for doubting you!”
“It does not matter to me doctor.” All For One scuffed.
Another reason I picked Tomura was because he looks so much like my beloved brother… All For One thought to himself. If only that idiot learnt how student his ideals where.
All For One shook his head, making the memories of his late brother leave his memory. His only focus was to defeat those enemies who wish to bring him down, which was All Might.
---
Over the 3 years Kurogiri looked after Tomura, Kurogiri became very attached to Tomura. He culdn’t help but see Tomura as his own son, even if Tomura did not see Kurogiri as the same.
The tiny voice at the back of his head also became more quite, barely ever speaking. Even then , Kurogiri learnt how to tune the voice out. As if he would care what that voice said.
Well, that was untilt eh day he finally caved into Tomura begging to go outside. Tomura wanted to see some gaming cafe. It was agonist the rules All For One had set for them, but Tomura had been begging since his 10th birthday earlier in the year, and Kurogiri caved to the constant begging.
Tomura was guilding Kurogiri to where they where heading, approaching the corner rather fast.
A woman walked straight into him.
Kurogiri was unbothered on the woman bumping into him, though he was more worried this woman would harm Tomura or him. He could’ve listened to the Master, he shouldn’t have let Tomura leave the stronghold, they should’ve stayed still.
Then, he heard your voice.
“Oof!”
Everything stopped inside of him. He looked down at you, recongising you.
Y/N L/N? The once silent voice in the corner of his mind spoke up.
He felt everything in his body been drawn to you. Even if he didn’t act on it. He felt a need to ask if you were alright, to ask if you were okay, to ask how you’ve been, to help you up. He wanted to protect you.
However, the dark shadow in his mind sat the small voice back down, shutting it him.
You stepped back from him, rubbing you head before looking up at you.
Gosh I’ve missed her eyes. As beautiful as ever. Said the small voice.
Shut up! Said the dark shadow.
“Sorry about that sir.” You said with your sweet voice. He felt so drawn to you.
He should apogoise to you. It was his fault. He shouldn’t had been walking as fast.
His thoughts were stopped when you looked at Tomura who was standing behind him.
Tomura. Tomura was more important than you. Tomura, Tomura Shigaraki.
He fell back into the mindset he has been in for the past years. Yes, that’s right. He didn’t know who you were, but you needed to get away from him and Tomura. You were just some worthless nurse from the looks of it. You as previous as Tomura was, the adopted child of All For One. You probably sided with filthy heroes, the same heroes like All Might who reduced the powerful All For One to a death bed.
You were nothing to Tomura and therfore, you meant nothing to him.
“It’s alright.” He said bluntly.
He was not going to give up anything to you, you filthy hero supporter. How dare you set your eyes on Tomura.
You walked past him, giving him nor Tomura the time of day.
The silent voice was screaming out to you, that annoying thing.
How dare it look out for you. You were nothing.
“You seem like you know that person, Kurogiri.” Tomura said, breaking Kurogiri from his thoughts.
He turned to watch you walk away.
Did, did he know you?
The silent voice seemed to know you, but did him, Kurogiri, know you?
No, he didn’t.
And so, why should be care what happens to you.
“I don’t remember her, but I feel as if I know her from somewhere.” He answered honestly to Tomura.
Kurogiri wasn’t going to be honest with himself sure, but to Tomura or All For One? Never.
Tomura scoffed. “Maybe she is your soulmate or something.”
Everything in Kurogiri’s body stopped. Soulmate? No, no he didn’t have one of those. He knew that much. But the mere thought of Soulmate seemed to bring a deep pain to him. He had a feeling it had an relation to you, but he didn’t know why.
“...I do not think I have a soulmate, Shigaraki.” Kurogiri answered the non question.
“Hmmm. I don’t have one either.” Tomura replied.
Kurogiri self sad those words. The world could feel lonely when one walks around with no soulmate, he knew that.
“Anyway, about that place I wanted to go to Kurogiri.” Tomura said, bring kurogiri out of his head.
Yes, he needed to focus on Tomura, not someone of the likes of you or his past. Tomura Shigaraki was the only thing that mattered.
---
All For One turned to the doctor. “What do you mean by they left?”
“They have seemed to have left the strong hold my lord.” The doctor answered his master.
“And why did it take you so long to notice they were gone?” All For One yelled at the doctor.
How could Kurogiri fail to listen to his order? This hasn’t happened before. Did the filthy Nomu get too attached to Tomura?
“I got an alert the nomu’s brain patterns were going off like crazy sir.” The doctor answered. “I checked the camera to see what could possibly have caused this issue and could not find him nor the child in the stronghold. All I can guess is that he saw either a place or someone who use to mean a lot to him before he died.”
All For One gripped his hand down. “Is there a way to fix this?”
“Making sure he stays away from those people or places as long as we can and deeper brainwashing is my guess my lord.” The doctor answered.
“We will have to do that then.” All For One answered with a sigh. “For the rest of the nomu’s, make sure their loved ones are killed so this can’t happen in the future.”
“Should we do the same with the Kurogiri nomu?” The doctor asked.
“No. He went to UA, meaning his close ones are either heroes or have connection to heroes. It would be too big of a risk. We are trying to keep me alive while pretending I’m dead. We can’t give it away that I didn’t die yet.”
The doctor nodded his head. “Understood sir.”
The doctor turned and made his way to the door before All For One stopped him.
“Doctor, where are you going?” All For One stated loudly. The doctor turned and saw how angry All For One was. “We are not done yet.”
The doctor gulped and smiled. “I’m sorry sir.”
“Bring Kurogiri and Tomura here to me as soon as possible. They both will be deeply punished for not following my orders. And so will you doctor, for not picking up on it earlier.
The doctor had a cold sweat on his back upon hearing his master’s words.
“Y-Yes sir, I will do that. My deepest apogosies my lord.” The doctor bowed to his master. “Is that all?”
All For One frowned. “Yes, you may leave.”
The doctor bowed again, and left the room as fast as he could.
What did her get himself into?
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Old-Timer
Chapter 2 - A new friend
It must be testament to how vulnerable you're feeling that your first instinct is to try and scramble backwards and away from the maker as he carefully lowers himself down onto one knee, his eyes drinking in each little movement you make, as though he's convinced that if he glances away, you might disappear into thin air.
“Well now,” he muses, watching you back yourself up into the base of a gnarled tree trunk, “What manner of wee beastie are you?”
Your body turns as rigid as the wood pressed to your spine when he shuffles closer to get a better look at you, blocking your view of the trees beyond his impressive girth. He must notice the trepidation on your face because he suddenly hesitates, his once eager expression growing soft. Somehow, despite the sense of powerlessness you feel now that you're face to face with a maker who stands at least three heads taller than Thane, you find yourself easily disarmed by the dashing smile he throws at you, and when he speaks, his voice is as low and gentle as the rumble of a faraway thunderclap.
“You're a comely sight to see in these old woods,” he utters gently, his knuckles resting on the soft grass near your shoes, “What's a pretty, little thing like you doing in a place like this, ey?”
Thrown, you're almost inclined to protest to his observation. Covered in streaks of mud from where you'd rolled across the ground, leaves and twigs sticking out of your hair, red-eyed and wounded... You feel about as far from 'pretty' as it gets and even open your mouth to say as much, but the maker opens his first, a curious frown tugging at his sleek, golden eyebrows. “Don't reckon I've seen anything like you before...”
One of his enormous hands lifts to his beard and he gives it a few, thoughtful strokes. “Hmm. You're no demon. N'you're too small to be an angel. Well, that, and -” He pauses, gesturing at you vaguely. “- No wings.”
In contrast to the maker's pensive expression, you adopt a look of bafflement. Either he's been living under a rock and doesn't know a human when he sees one, or -
...Oh.
A chill runs down the length of your spine and you swallow thickly as it occurs to you that you might have travelled further back in time than you'd previously thought.
Wetting your lips, you suck down a lungful of the cool, evening air, not missing how the maker's ears instantly perk up in anticipation. “I-I'm a human,” you manage to croak.
All of a sudden, you find yourself jumping out of your skin when the giant bodily recoils and his eyes burst open, wide as saucers. “Maker's beard!” he exclaims, an enraptured grin pushing at the bristles of his moustache, “You speak Common!?”
“Uh...” Falteringly, you place a hand over your racing heart and raise one, cautious eyebrow at him. “I suppose? I mean, i-if that's what we're speaking right now, then... yeah?”
Huffing out a soft chuckle, the maker tips his head to one side and mutters, “Well, blow me down...”
For several moments, he regards you in silence until the corner of his lips begin to quirk into a coy grin. “S'pose that means you understand me when I say you're about the bonniest little creature I've ever laid eyes on?”
Now it's your turn to bark out a quick laugh. “Ha! You're charming,” you tell him honestly, noting that his very broad, very bare chest puffs out at the praise, “But while the flattery is appreciated, I'm afraid I'm a bit... um...”
'Preoccupied' is probably the most appropriate word for it, but in lieu of a better explanation, you reach forwards and brush your fingertips delicately over the cuts in your leg, hissing through your teeth when even that barest of touches elicits a blinding flare of white-hot agony.
You've never seen an expression shift from warm and amused to sober and serious so quickly before.
“He hurt you?” the maker growls dangerously, shelving any intrigue he holds for his enigmatic discovery, at least for the time being. You find it rather touching that he looks so perturbed on your behalf.
'Huh. Makers,' you muse fondly. Even here in the past, it seems that they're a protective bunch.
Bracing your hands on the ground, you try to push yourself up onto your boots, but the wounds make such a feat more painful than you'd expected and you let out a grunt as you thud back down onto your rear, huffing in frustration before you start to try again.
However, you don't manage to get far.
Movement catches your eye and you glance up, surprised to find yourself presented with the maker's titanic hand, held with the palm pointed to the tree tops and his index finger extended out towards you.
Rolling your gaze up the length of his vast, muscular arm, you meet his eyes...
...and very nearly have the breath knocked out of you by the earnest glow radiating from them. Long, golden lashes sweep gracefully up and down as he blinks at you, and softly, almost in a whisper, he asks, “Need a hand?”
You're so taken aback by the hypnotic pull of his blue stare that you can only nod wordlessly and lift an arm, slowly extending your hand towards him until you can rest your palm on the pad of his forefinger.
The moment your skin connects, the maker seems to buckle and he drops his mouth open, letting a shuddering breath roll out from behind his tusks. You realise that he's moved his gaze down and adhered it to the sight of your hand sitting daintily on his fingertip, looking woefully lost amongst the expanse of rough-hewn skin.
For some time, the maker doesn't utter a sound, nor does he move until eventually, you have to clear your throat, and with a jolt, he gives his head a brief shake, roving his eyes up to meet yours once more. “You're... so small,” he says incredulously, as though he's only just noticed.
One of your brows slants upwards and you level him with a cool smirk. “Yes, well... I'd say that you're so big, if I didn't think you were the type of maker who would let it go to his head.”
He appears appropriately startled by the quip and for a second, you have to wonder if you've perhaps stepped over some invisible boundary by falling back on humour as a defensive tactic, but then, the maker's fluffy moustache quirks up around a grin and he says, “Oh, I think I'm startin' to like you, little one.”
For good measure, he makes sure to flash you a wink that has you ducking your head to hide your face. Still sporting that dashing smile, he raises his hand and tugs you carefully onto your feet. Well. Foot. You make the mistake of trying to place weight on your bad leg and it immediately tries to collapse out from underneath you.
“Wheyup! Easy there.” A thumb and forefinger promptly catch you around the midriff and prevent you from falling onto your backside again. The pads of hot, calloused fingers press into your torso with just the barest hint of pressure, as though the maker is afraid that you'll break if he squeezes any harder.
“I'm okay, I'm good,” you try to reassure him, “Just... need to get my balance, is all”
He looks far from convinced and furrows his brow, giving you a skeptical hum as he begins to turn you around.
At first, you try to resist, perhaps due to some long-buried instinct telling you that having your back exposed to a complete stranger is a terrible idea.
You can practically hear the frown in his tone when he murmurs, “Stop squirming, let me see.”
Swallowing past an enormous lump, you force yourself to keep still whilst the maker drops his face closer to inspect your injury.
All is silent for a few minutes, and you're about to go and ask if it looks as bad as it feels when he suddenly blows a long, drawn-out whistle from his lips. “Shouldn'ta let that demon sod off so lightly,” he grumbles to himself, curling his free hand into a fist and then raising his voice to tell you, “Bad news is, you're still bleedin'. It's slow, but we'll need to stop it, soon.”
“Shit,” you mutter, “What's the good news?”
The maker's warm breath hits the base of your neck as he sighs softly. “Good news is, now we match.” He loosens his grip, prompting you to twist yourself around and raise a curious glance at him as he wordlessly lifts a hand and taps his left shoulder, drawing your attention to a trio of long, pale pink scars that start at the front of his clavicle and sweep over the bulging bicep before disappearing somewhere behind it.
“Ouch,” you grimace sympathetically, “How in the world did that happen?”
Eyes dropping shut, he looks about as proud as a peacock, sticking out his chest until it's almost obnoxiously swollen and replies, “Same way as yours did! Stalker got the jump on me 'bout two thousand years ago. He left his mark, but don't you worry – I left plenty of my own.”
“Glad to hear it.”
With a wistful sigh, the maker's chest deflates and his eyes blink open and return to your leg, a scowl immediately darkening his chiseled features. “Course, that was the day I learned never to give 'em the opportunity to get close..” As he speaks, you notice a few wisps of blue magic trailing off his fingertips like smoke, which he promptly flicks away with a grunt.
“Yeah, well. Believe me,” you huff, gesturing to the back of your leg, “If I could use magic too, I wouldn't have let it get close enough to do... this.”
“Wait. You can't use magic?”
You shake your head.
“None at all?” he urges.
“Unless you count that one card trick I know, then... Nuh uh.”
“Well, I'll be darned...” His blue eyes sparkle with boundless curiosity and his jaw falls open, ready to start bombarding you with an array of questions, but at that moment, a gasp gets stuck in your throat and your face is warped by a sudden grimace, despite your valiant efforts to hide it, and just like that, the maker's jaw snaps shut.
Finding out who and what you are will have to wait, it seems. Right now, no matter the depths of his intrigue, the most pressing matter is that there's somebody who needs his help. And Stonefather strike him down if he isn't a maker with a damn sense of gallantry. Pressing his lips together, he studies you for a few more seconds before suddenly giving a decisive nod. “Right. I've wasted enough time yapping. Before anything else, we need to get those wounds seen to. I haven't had much practice with healing spells myself,” he admits reluctantly, “But we have a shaman back in the village who's better at them than most.”
Wait... Your heart does a strange little buzz. Did he just say a shaman?
Could he be talking about Muria? You have to admit, you could really do with seeing her calm, familiar face right about now – even if she won't recall you. And besides, if she's here, then... perhaps Eideard might be too. You hardly dare hope.
The maker must have misconstrued your anxious expression for fear, because his fingers close around you a fraction more tightly, no doubt to discourage you from trying to flee. “Now, don't you start fretting,” he says in a rush, “You'll be sticking close to me, I won't let nothing and nobody hurt you, understand?”
His conviction is inarguable and for added measure, he thumps a fist against his broad chest, a clear demonstration of the promise he intends to keep. You find it easy to believe him. Death would probably scold you for being so trusting, but then... Death isn't exactly here.
And besides, for even the smallest chance at seeing Eideard again, you're willing to take a risk in trusting this herculean maker.
Speaking of whom... He's fixed you with what you assume is meant to be a stern frown, but the severity of the line between his brows is superseded by an underlying desperation that bleeds into his voice and his eyes, as though he really doesn't want you to say no.
“Listen, m'not leavin' you out in these woods, not like this... I don't want to have to force you but... I'll not be takin' no for an answer.”
As if he really thinks you'd rather take your chances out here alone than go with him to Tri Stone.
Gritting your teeth through another, sudden wave of prickling heat that shoots up your leg, you heave a dramatic sigh. “Well, I guess if I really don't have any say in the matter...”
“'Fraid not,” the maker replies, drawing solace from the slight tilt of your lips, so much like the smile of a fellow maker.
With a final shrug, you take a step back and gesture to the west. “All right then. Lead the way, I'll follow on behind you.”
All at once, the maker's brows furrow so heavily that his luminous, blue eyes almost disappear beneath them.
“...What?” you ask after a few seconds of being frowned at. Again.
In response, he scoffs in such a way that you feel you must have personally offended him somehow. “You're not walking,” he declares, his hand reaching for you.
Caught off guard, you stammer, “Oh, I – I really don't mind,” retreating backwards until the titanic appendage inevitably catches up with you and he proceeds to wrap his thick, immovable fingers around your body, lifting you effortlessly off your bad leg and into the air.
Once he's holding you however, he seems to falter, his expression evening out as he peers down to where you're dangling, small and injured between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long though, for he soon shakes his head and states, “If you think I'm letting you walk all the way back to my village on that duff leg, you've got another thing coming.”
“But I-”
“-Ah! No,” he cuts you off sharply, bringing you up to his eye-level as he cups a palm beneath your legs, lowering you onto it with a gentleness that shines right through the facade of his gruff tone, “You keep standing on that leg and you'll only hurt yourself more.”
Frankly, you're too weary to argue with him, and you can't say you mind that you're no longer standing on a leg that feels as if it could buckle out from underneath you at any second. Perhaps you should just be grateful that you're being spared a painful walk. Embarrassed to be so helpless, yet resigned to the fact, you expel a defeated huff and allow him to settle you down into his cupped hand, sliding the other one underneath it to keep you steady in a manner that reminds you of how you might carry a butterfly, mindful that every twitch of your fingers might cause it to get scared and fly away. He remains like for some time, hunched over himself with you caught in the hollow created by his palms and the breeze playing through his golden tresses. It suddenly becomes very difficult to keep your eyes from wandering down to his pronounced collar bones, so it comes as somewhat of a relief when he finally gets to his feet.
With slow, measured steps, he strides through the copse of trees and on towards the trail leading through Baneswood, but rather than lift you up onto his shoulder as you expect him to, he instead lowers you to press you flush against his bare chest.
The breath leaves your lungs in a tiny wheeze.
A veritable blanket of soft, silken chest hair instantly begins to tickle at the your face and you become painfully aware that directly in front of you is a half-naked giant, adorned in nothing but a pair of leather trousers and steel-capped boots, a fact that makes it very difficult for you to concentrate on the question he abruptly poses to you.
“So, what species did you say you were?”
You wonder if he has any idea that you can hear and feel every beat of his powerful heart as it thumps away just above your head. “Huh? What? Oh, uh, I – I'm a human,” you fumble, easing yourself backwards so that a tuft of his chest hair stops fluttering across your bottom lip.
“A... a hoo – man?” he echoes uncertainly, oblivious to the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, “Never heard of 'em.”
That, at least, is enough to distract you from the strangely intimate situation. “Huh? Wait, really?” With a grunt, you manage to stretch your injured leg out across his palm and peer up at the underside of his beard. “You've never heard of humans? Humanity? Er, homo-sapiens?”
The maker simply shakes his head once and replies, “Nope.”
Slowly, you draw in a faltering breath and venture one step further. “...Not even E-Earth?”
The anticipation of seeing him lift his eyes to the treetops in contemplation is unbearable.
Mouth hanging open enough for you to get a glimpse of his tusks, he utters a pensive, “Uuuuh,” and then lowers his gaze once again, lips pressed together into a grim line, “Sorry, haven't the foggiest.”
“I... oh...” You fall silent, peering down at your hands. “Okay.” So... Once again, you may well be the only human in existence.... You aren't sure why that fact turns the hole in your stomach into a bottomless pit - it isn't as though this would be the first time you've existed in a universe without humanity in it, after all.
You're too busy staring blankly at the gold-draped chest in front of you to notice that the maker's mouth is flapping open and closed repeatedly as he tries to find a word that won't cause the frown on your face to turn any deeper. Clearly, he must have said the wrong thing, and now the pretty stranger sitting in his palm is... sad? He guesses you're sad, or something of the like, provided your expressions and emotions match up in the same way that his fellow makers' do. Perhaps he's somehow offended you by claiming to have never heard of your species. 'Fix this,' a small voice at the back of his mind insists whilst he stares down at the crestfallen hunch of your shoulders.
“That being said, I, err...” He tries, glancing to the side when you look up at him expectantly, finding that he's incapable of meeting your gaze whilst you're looking so despondent. “Could just be I've never heard of you. I'm not... precisely what you'd call a worldly maker. Hardly been far out of Tri-Stone, 'cept on a few occasions. And, heh, well. I think I'd remember meeting someone who looked like you.”
“Ha.” Though you offer him a polite smile, your mind only half on the maker's soothing timbre. The other half is busy puzzling over how in the world you're ever going to get back to your own time. Even if you didn't have your fellow humans, you at least had Death and the friends you've made on your journey across the universe. At least there, you were closer to home. Here, separated by countless eons, you can't help but feel more lost than you've ever felt before.
Meanwhile, the maker watches your chest rise and fall with a deep sigh.
Damn. Still a frown. No matter, he can be nothing if not persistent. Not many have been able to resist his charm, and there's still a way to go before he reaches the edge of the Stonefather's Vale. He keeps trying. “You know what? I'm betting our elder will have heard of you.”
“Elder?” Like a flipped switch, you bolt upright in his palm, ignoring the spear of agony that tears at your wounds because you dared to move too quickly.
The maker raises an eyebrow at your sudden exclamation, perplexed by the jarring and unexpected shift in your demeanour. “Uh... Aye?”
Noting his bewildered expression, you make a conscious effort to reel yourself back, but deep down inside, your heart is jumping apprehensively. So far, he's mentioned a shaman and now an elder, and there's only one elder maker you know of.
“Eideard,” you breathe, too softly for him to catch.
Tilting his head to the side, he twitches his ears forwards and asks, “What was that?”
You very nearly open your mouth to say your old friend's name a little louder, but something gives you pause and you slowly let your jaw click shut once again, uncertainty creeping in to settle over your brain. How prudent would it really be to let on that you've technically already met this elder and shaman? Do the rules of time travel apply outside of science fiction novels and theoretical physics? How will the knowledge that you're from a different era affect the flow of time? How will it alter the universe, if it does so at all? What if you change something now that has a drastic effect on the future?
Just trying to make sense of it all is starting to give you a headache, so you decide upon the option that won't raise too many questions that you, quite frankly, don't have the energy to answer right now.
Besides, better to be safe than sorry. Offering the maker a casual shrug, you finally say, “Nothing.”
----------------------------
Night has almost entirely fallen by the time you emerge from the gorge that leads from Baneswood into the Stonefather's Vale. It's just dark enough now that you've begun to see tiny pinpricks of stars sweeping across the vast horizon and as your gaze rolls over the valley, you suddenly come to a pause when it lands upon a hill to the north, just poking out above the cliffs that form a hem around the vale. At first, you're puzzled, tilting your head and squinting through the dim light. 'Where is Stonefather's Peak?'
The towering mountain that once cast its shadow across the entire village is... gone? But how? You could have sworn it used to be standing right where that hill is.
“Oh. My. God,” you whisper, letting your mouth drop open as the realisation hits you.
'That hill is Stonefather's Peak!'
“You must be a long way from... wherever home is, eh?”
Tearing your gaze off the distant, juvenile mountain range, you card a hand through your hair and chuckle dryly, “Oh, buddy. You have no idea.”
“Buddy?” he echoes, tipping his head sideways so that his hair falls smoothly over one, bulbous shoulder.
“Buddy? Oh, it means, uh, like a pal, or a friend.”
“Friend?” he asks hopefully as a small smile begins to emerge from underneath his moustache.
Exhaling in amusement, you wave your hand dismissively and sigh, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
The maker raises his chin high into the air, sporting a proud grin and picking up his gait.
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Wolfie’s Fic Recs | Mission Impossible AU Fics
MISSION IMPOSSIBLE AU FICS - Our favourite bad guy has won over our hearts and our panties. And it’s only natural we feed our fantasy with some Alternate Universe fics, right?
Author’s note: All below fics have clear ties to either pre-, during or post-Mission Impossible timelines. If you’re looking for ye good ol’ super smuttiness without too much plot you can visit my The Grand Library of Kink Fic Rec list. ❤️
Pre Mission Impossible
A drunk Bachelorette party in Paris takes an Unexpected turn when one insecure girl literally falls head over Louboutin heels for a man who is most definitely not just another security guard. [Miniseries. NSFW] By @nuggsmum
Good Girl was my first long thriller piece and it was just as exciting to write as I hope it is for you to read. A young woman starts as an escort to pay school bills. But after meeting one curious customer, she finds herself dragged down into a world of mobsters and New York big city crime. [Multichap. NSFW]
“Next time you cool yourself down by splashing cold water in your face… wear a bra.” -- Wise words August, wise words. This sexy multichap follows Orchid as she finds August is more than just a CIA colleague to share the sheets with. Losing Control by @writingforhenry [Multichap. NSFW]
I adored this heavenly fic by @killjoy-assbutt-1112. It transcends earthly love rather beautifully, and even as I was re-reading it for this fic rec list I felt the tears well in my eyes. So you’re warned; bring tissues. There Cannot Be Peace [Long fic. NSFW - graphic]
Going from motivation to mission, let’s use The New Order by @littlefreya as a smutty little bridge to events during MI: Fallout. In this fic you learn about the one August left behind while he was tearing the world apart. And boy..is that woman a feisty one. [Miniseries. NSFW]
During Mission Impossible
Indulging in the spy versus spy trope for a bit I wrote my shortest multi-chapter yet: A Devil’s Duet, starring ballerina Anna who cross-plays our grumpy mustachio man, August. [Miniseries. NSFW]
Falling helicopters, quarrelling spies and then there’s you, caught somewhere in the middle of it all. @thecavillchronicles‘ fic tells a tale of broken bones, wounded hearts and ..Rebirth. [Long fic]
August sure has a weird concept of how he should Protect You. This fic by @buckysgoldenheart gives you possessive, but also slightly dorky August. And then there’s also some Scotland-getaway smut. You hungry for some moustached mountain-man yet?
Post Mission Impossible
Ingvild is a cold eyed killer. But so is he. Together they walk The Way To Hell, by @littlefreya. If you’re into murder babies and lots of icy cold snow forests with some dubcon smut: this is a must read - I mean it. [Multichap. NSFW]
Find August, save August, kill Ethan - how hard can it be? Quite hard apparently, and it’s a good thing The Apostles are a team, including Ayami, Mr. Instant Coffee and let’s not forget about those brilliant looking explosions. This fic read like a movie and I absolutely recommend it to all MI lovers out here. Ethan Hunt Must Die by @thetaoofzoe [Long fic. NSFW]
'Target - August Walker. Find and Take Alive.’ The Hand And The Hammer by @thetaoofzoe follows you as you struggle to decide why exactly you’re chasing August. For your employer..or for yourself? [Long fic. NSFW]
You give one night to August to keep Ethan safe, but August is determined to have more. Devil’s Bargain by @navybrat817 is perhaps a bit on the fantastically smutty side of AU follow-ups to Mission Impossible, but alas, let us indulge! [NSFW]
A bruised, broken and lost August slowly retraces his life before the fall, in The Specter by @its--fandom--darling. Get ready for soft!August. [Miniseries]
John, a.k.a. August, decides to lay low after his failed mission to take down Ethan Hunt and the world. But UK suburbs and holding on to a girlfriend proves challenging when said girlfriend has an even hotter daughter. Get ready for some American Beauty vibes in Lust by @toomanystoriessolittletime [Long fic. NSFW]
--
If you have any good recommendations that fit in this list, please add in the comments or reblog! ❤️( Fan art by me 😊) Have a good weekend my lovely ones!
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WCW Monday Nitro 09/09/1996
Shit be exploding, so you know what time it is.
Yes sir.
Once again we are not given a location this week, which generally means the town is too small-time for the big shots at WCW to even consider giving a shout out to. My research tells me this broadcast comes from the Columbus Civic Centre in Columbus, Georgia.
As always we are introduced to our first hour announce team, Schiavone and Zbyszko.
Tony is looking quite smart this evening. Larry as expected has a horrific multcoloured abomination on underneath his jacket. It’s basically his gimmick a this point so whatever.
They talk about how the balance of power has shifted to the nWo and Larry says Giant is “the biggest traitor since Benedict Arnold”, nice ancient reference there, Larry. We get a recap of last week’s awesome show-ending brawl.
Once they’re done wrapping this up, Goldberg’s music plays. What? I check my file - yes, definitely 9th September 1996. Has Goldberg time travelled back to 1996 and changed history by debuting early?
Well, either that is one hell of a disguise or no, actually Goldberg’s theme music was first used by this Japanese guy called Pat Tanaka. It’s really weird seeing this random fella walk out to Goldberg’s music. The crowd boo mildly - I guess just because he’s Japanese? I don’t remember there being any storyline reason to boo him, anyway.
Pat’s opponent is... this.
Looks like a mascot from a early/mid-90s video game brought to life. If this is Super Calo then I am curious as to what regular Calo is like. I am unsure as to what makes this version ‘Super’, but maybe we’ll find out in the upcoming match. Mike Tenay joins the announce crew because it is Calo’s debut and Tenay is the only one likely to know anything about him.
Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo
I was kind of hoping Tanaka would start the match with a spear and then jackhammer Calo into oblivion, but no such luck.
As one would anticipate from a man dressed like a stereotypical kung-fu master in an 80s movie, Tanaka starts the match off with some kicks.
Calo jumps around pointlessly and then gets kicked in the face. Bants.
Tenay tells us Calo’s name and look comes from the “top rap group” in Mexico. He does not name this group. Confusingly wikipedia claims Calo is named after a Mexican rock group with the same name, but his image is meant to convey a rapper. So, just... what? Also what rapper has ever looked like Super Calo? In Mexico is that how rappers dress?
Well anyway this odd fellow somersaults over the ropes onto Tanaka outside of the ring.
The screen then cuts to this.
Then we’re back to the match. OK then.
Tanaka hits Calo with a powerbomb, which leads to Tony talking about him being “so schooled in the martial arts”. Yes, because we all know that classic martial arts move the powerbomb. Often followed by a leg drop and a scorpion deathlock.
The ending to this match is beyond ridiculous.
First, Tanaka puts Calo onto the top turnbuckle.
Neither man seems to know what is meant to happen next, so they awkwardly wrap their arms around each other.
Tanaka then lifts Calo up like he’s going for an inverse piledriver and falls backwards.
Apparently he knocks himself out, gets pinned, and loses.
What an idiot.
Super Calo defeats Pat Tanaka via Pinfall.
Nothing too super about our friend Calo in this one I’m afraid. His victory came largely because Tanaka is a super dunce.
We got some lads in the front row who are big fans of the classic moustache.
They seem quite pleased that Calo emerged victorious.
Just under seven minutes in and we throw back to Mean Gene in the locker room with Rick Steiner. This should be good.
Shirts hanging out of the lockers behind them, as you do.
Gene asks Rick Steiner about Nick Patrick’s questionable officiating - referring to the incident last week where Luger was disqualified in seconds for basically nothing. Rick says that he had Luger, and Gene saw it. Total bullshit as the match had barely started, and Gene does point that out.
Luger walks into the frame as we see last week’s replay. Rick is continually going on about how he was going to win, sounding like a mentally challenged three year old. On the other hand this is a guy who also genuinely thinks he’s a dog, so... I should probably be impressed that he is able to form words and put them into a somewhat coherent structure.
Gene says that Steiner is “a little confused” in the understatement of the century,
Luger tells Rick that he’s “a great tag team wrestler” but he feels like he has the edge in a singles environment. Rick continues to fail to understand basic english and keeps repeating “I can beat you, ask Sting” and then starts calling for Sting.
Gene then ushers Rick away like an unruly child as Luger walks off as well. Gene says that Luger was alluding that Rick “doesn’t have it upstairs”, pointing to his head. Wow, what a dick. Luger didn’t say anything like that. All he implied was that he was a better singles wrestler than Rick. Not sure where Gene has gotten his interpretation from, but my guess is he just wants to stir the pot as usual.
Next it’s nWo announcement time.
Just the usual t-shirt ad with Nash saying “all proceeds go towards the Ric Flair retirement fund”. Joke’s on him, that fund must have accrued some serious cash before it was finally paid out.
We’re back and...
Somebody buy these poor kids some real nWo t-shirts.
Where did these people come from? Did they decide to stop by Nitro after a corporate dinner or something?
Are these pilots in the audience as well? Wtf? Why are all these people coming to the show dressed in their work clothes? Is this a common thing in the States?
Oh, hey, guess what - Glacier debuted. I would say “remember all that hype” but if you’ve been reading this sad collection of nostalgic drivel then you will indeed remember the many Glacier adverts that have been on every Nitro broadcast since May or so. We’re now in September and Glacier finally had his first match... on WCW Pro.
Seriously.
WCW Pro is like... Sunday Night Heat or Velocity in WWE terms. It’s below WCW Saturday Night for fuck’s sake. Tony calls it “one of the most eagerly anticipated debuts ever” - which is why he made his first appearance on WCW FUCKING PRO. Oh WCW, what are you like?
Larry says Glacier will be “a force to be reckoned with”, which, spoiler alert. turns out to be the opposite.
Oh good, these two walking charisma vacuums.
And these two lumbering idiots. WCW, the best wrestling on the planet. How could WWF in 1996 find no way to entice people away from Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo and The AFC vs the Nasty Boys? Seriously. It isn’t that difficult.
The AFC do their usual schtick of singing the Canadian national anthem badly and the crowd get angry because ‘Murica fuck yeah and whatever. The Nasty Boys say “fuck this” and attack the AFC after about 10 seconds of this bullshit, getting the match started.
The Amazing French Canadians Vs The Nasty Boys
You don’t care about this match. I don’t care about this match. Let’s just skip to the end.
Knobbs whacks the eyepatch guy with the flag the AFC brought out. Saggs pins for the win.
The Nasty Boys defeat The Amazing French Canadians via Pinfall.
Mean Gene comes scurrying out to interview the Nastys, for some reason.
Saggs says everybody has been pointing the finger at the Nasty Boys, accusing them of being with the nWo (can’t imagine anybody really cares but OK, sure). Saggs says the Nasty’s are only worried about the tag titles which are in WCW, ergo they aren’t interested in joining the nWo. Does he not realise that faction affiliation is irrelevent as far as challenging for belts is concerned? I mean, Hogan is literally WCW Heavyweight champion at this point in time.
Knobbs says that the Nasty’s don’t care about the nWo, they’re in WCW and they’re coming for Harlem Heat to take the tag team titles. Short and to the point, which is fine by me, even if the Nasty’s appear to be under the mistaken impression- that joining the nWo would invalidate them from challenging for the tag titles.
We’re back from a commercial break to find Scott Norton and Sgt Craig Pittman in the ring.
Sgt Craig Pittman Vs Scott Norton
The commentators bill this as a “hold versus hold” match and I’m not sure what this means, as I was under the impression every match is hold versus hold. But whatever.
After some back and forth Pittman decides that it’s time to ram his head into Norton’s sternum.
It looks pretty painful and not especially effective, but Pittman enjoys it so much he does it again.
They head to the outside of the ring. Norton gets whipped against the guardrail, the entirety of which moves upon impact, but then Norton regains control by slamming Pittman’s shoulder into the ring post.
Norton locks in the armbar but the Sarge will not give up. Long gets onto the ring apron to beg Pittman to give in, but he won’t. WCW, for reasons beyond my understanding, is very careful about protecting Sgt. Craig Pittman. He never gets pushed, as far as I remember, but this man WILL NOT QUIT.
Then...
Ice Train wanders out wearing this abomination. Seriously - what the fuck? It’s like a demin vest with a backpack built in. It’s something you would expect to see an eight-year old girl in the mid-90s wearing over the top of a t-shirt or something. What clothing brand figured that this design was suitable for huge, beefy dudes? I don’t know, but they clearly have a customer in Ice Train.
Train throws in the towel for Pittman.
Scott Norton defeats Sgt. Craig Pittman via Forfeit.
He enters the ring and stares down at Norton, who is looking at Train’s vest top and moobs like “dafuq?”
The two former amigos have a staredown which doesn’t lead anywhere.
Pepboys Power Pin of the Week is a submission. Go figure.
We head to the locker room where Gene-o is with Ric Flair, Arn Anderson and Lex Luger.
Three of these men are dressed appropriately. The other is Lex Luger.
Apparently Sting is supposed to be a part of this interview as well but is nowhere to be found. Luger assures Flair & Arn that Sting is in the building, but the Horsemen are having none of it and are concerned that Sting doesn’t have his head in the game. Flair starts going crazy and practically flings himself into an alternate dimension with his erratic movements.
Like a jet propeller is being put directly in front of his face.
Anyway eventually these two sad sacks come lumbering in...
Mongo looks like he’s about to explode, whilst Benoit as usual appears barely awake. Mongo yells about not being able to count on Luger and Sting. Luger reiterates that Sting is in the building somewhere, he’s just not around for the interview. The Horsemen do seem overly paranoid here - how hard would it be to track Sting down and talk to him if they are this pissed off?
Arn says he’s called ahead to Winston, Salem (where Fall Brawl/War Games is being held) to pre-book himself a hospital room as he assumes he’s going to need one. Seems like a somewhat pessimistic thing to do, but is it even possible to pre-book hospital room? Arn is talking like he’s booked a hotel room for the night. Strange lad. He also suggests Hogan uses battery acid to burn out his eyes which... I mean, don’t give the guy ideas, Arn.
Interview ends with everybody talking over each other and Flair wooing a lot - so, the same as most Horsemen interviews.
People in the crowd are holding these signs which say “nWo - you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming!” - indeed, Hogan Vs Piper is coming.
We get a recap of this thrilling DDP/Eddie/Chavo storyline which nobody cares about, but why this is recapped is beyond me as the next match has nothing to do with any of those three.
Instead, out comes “the desparado” himself, Joe Gomez.
Somebody throws a wad of paper at him as he enters. Obviously not a fan.
His opponent is Juventud Guerrera, who Tony repeatedly refers to as Juventud Guerrero.
As Juvi enters he runs past these ladies, who appear both baffled and unimpressed with him.
Cold.
Joe Gomez Vs Juventud Guerrera
The match starts off okay, but descends into disaster fairly quickly as Juvi starts trying various lucha things which poor Joe is clearly not comfortable with. First Juvi stands on the apron, jumps onto the ropes as Gomez slowly walks towards him and does this...
It’s clear from this angle alone that there is no way in hell Juvi is going to reach Gomez. In fairness to WCW they switch camera angle just in time to make it look slightly less terrible, although I imagine it was more down to luck than skill. Nonetheless Gomez at least tries to sell the move, falling backwards theatrically.
Weeee! Points for effort if not execution.
This happens next, and thanks to Uproxx “Best and Worst of WCW Monday Nitro” series (check it out, it’s great) I have a GIF to put into pictures what I would struggle to put into words.
Speaks for itself.
After this Juvi seems to want to go for a hurricanrana from the top turnbuckle but I‘m not sure if they botch this as well or it was the plan, but Juvi ends up backflipping away from the turnbuckle and then catching Gomez with a weak looking dropkick as he jumps towards Juvi.
Juvi just about manages to hit the finishing move...
But even that looks a little bit dodgy. At least Joe just had to lay there for this one. Ref counts to three and mercifully this one is over. Not sure if Gomez or Juvi are to blame for this shitshow, but either way I advise never putting them together again.
Juventud Guerrera defeats Joe Gomez via Pinfall.
For some reason Mean Gene is on the ramp to interview Nick Patrick. Oh good, more of this storyline.
Before they start the interview though, as Juventud walks past Gene and Patrick, Gene says “very good match there on the part of Juventud Guerrera”, then gives Juvi a disdainful look and mutters “guy just kind of... wanders around here”. LOL. Why is Gene throwing shade at poor Juvi? “Guy just wanders around here”, like he’s a lost child or something. I guess Gene is still salty about the interview with Juvi that went wrong a couple of weeks ago, but come on, that was hardly Juvi’s fault. Obvious Gene is still holding a grudge though.
I don’t think anybody really wants to hear from these two ballbags but here we are anyway.
Gene is accusing Patrick of making too many controversial calls for it to just be coincidence, whilst Patrick is accusing Gene of being a shit-stirring cock cheese who needs to get a life. Neither are lying but nobody really cares either. What is funny is that Okerlund is very haughty and dismissive of Patrick - until Patrick threatens to take Gene to court - at which point Gene stutters “well I-I hope that doesn’t happen” before saying “thank you very much Nick Patrick, sir, thank you” to Patrick as he walks off. Pathetic.
Meanwhile Hogan, Hall, Nash and the Giant are outside in the pouring rain putting those nWo flyers with the “you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming” slogan on random cars. This seems like a total waste of time as by the time the car owners get back to their vehicles the rain would probably have destroyed those flyers anyway. Do these guys really have nothing better to do? Tony tells us the nWo are “literally” in the parking lot - as opposed to what, being there in spirit?
Ted DiBiase is the smartest of the lot as he 1) has an umbrella and 2) isn’t wasting his time putting up useless flyers in the pouring rain. He’s talking to somebody in the car, and the announcers are shitting themselves as to who it might be, as they tend to do. For all they know DiBiase might just be talking to the driver.
“HERE’S A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS, RICK AND SCOTT!”
Just Rick tonight. He comes out doing that sad half-bark he does whenever something is troubling him.
His opponent, of course, is Flexy Lexy.
Rick Steiner Vs Lex Luger
These two are not exactly known as ‘ring generals’ so I am not expecting a classic here. Let’s see, though. Perhaps we will all be pleasantly surprised.
After various arm drags, headlocks, shoulder blocks, and so on, this happens.
Uh...
Yeah. Rick is basically molesting Luger in the ring and keeps this up for a disturbing amount of time. I guess it’s meant to show his amateur wrestling background but it basically just looks like sexual assault. Rick’s hands are going to places they really should not.
Hour two begins with the usual fireworks. Bischoff, Heenan and Tenay come in on commentary for the rest of the show.
Rick hits Luger with a nice powerslam, and Randy Anderson cannot bear to watch the impact. The crowd bark their approval which, personally, I don’t think is helpful. Rick’s clinical lycanthropy is only going to get worse if people bark at him when he does something good. Or bark at him in general, really.
More cuddling. Back away, Rick. Even Randy Anderson is telling him to cut it out at this point.
Luger takes control with a powerslam and signals for the rack. However, before he can attempt his finishing move...
This dicksplash comes running out waving his arms around. Looks like he’s doing the sieg heil there but fairly sure it’s just the timing of the screenshot.
Anyhow, Patrick tells Luger to follow him out the back, yelling something about the nWo beating up Sting.
Considering Patrick’s recent behaviour, Lex, it might not be wise to...
OK. Never mind. Of course Luger goes running after Patrick, abandoning the match entirely and getting himself counted out.
Everyone looking towards the entrance way like “where’s he going?”
Rick Steiner defeats Lex Luger via Countout.
We get a shot of DiBiase talking to the mystery man in the limo. Sting’s voice is heard but it is blatantly piped in from some other promo. He says he’s “tired of the DTA stuff, don’t trust anybody”, so I guess he’s not a fan of Stone Cold Steve Austin. DiBiase pretends to talk to the pre-taped Sting voice until Lex shows up.
A guy who is clearly not Sting gets out of the limo and starts beating up Luger whilst Bischoff screams “NO! NO!”
I have the advantage of hindsight and my monitor is probably bigger than most people’s TVs back in 1996... but still, it’s really obviously not Sting. Were people genuinely fooled by this?
The nWo along with “Sting” beat Luger down and leave him laying in a broken heap in the rain...
It has not been a good night for Luger. First he got yelled at by the Horsemen, then he spent ten minutes getting inappropriately touched by Rick Steiner during their match, then he gets smacked around by the nWo and left on the ground in the pouring rain. Bad times for sure. Although if you’re stupid enough to follow Nick Patrick anywhere...
Luger does manage to get back up but ends up just kind of wandering around in the rain looking confused whilst the nWo flee, leaving the limos parked outside the building.
These bois are not impressed by what they have just seen. Tenay looks like a dad who is about to grab his belt and put a whippin’ on somebody. Bischoff is indignant. Heenan wears the expression of a man who was just forced to sit through every Raw from 2015. Pure torture.
Bischoff says he has an update which is literally “we don’t know where [the nWo] are. I’m sorry. I don’t know”. Well thanks for that. Very helpful.
We get a long recap of last week’s angle including more footage of the amazing all-out brawl that ended the show. Then we get another nWo advert for their t-shirt.
A bunch of random jobbers are outside with Luger and Rick Steiner milling around the limo yelling out “DIBIASE!” - as if he’ll just pop up and be like “sup bois?” - pointless endeavour. Rick Steiner is the only one smart enough to bring an umbrella outside. Let that one sink in. Luger chucks a bunch of stuff out of one of the limos onto the floor which seems unnecessary.
Out comes pre-Flock Billy Kidman. The commentators could not care less, just droning on about Sting’s supposed “defection”.
The other combatant in this contest is Cruiserweight champion Rey Mysterio Jr.
Rey Mysterio Jr Vs Billy Kidman
The announcers spend the entire match in ‘sad voice’, like their dogs have all collectively died. It’s really annoying.
The match spills to the outside very quickly. Rey gets the advantage and rolls Kidman back in. He attempts to jump off the ropes from the apron, but Kidman knows what’s coming and meets Rey with a dropkick to the chest.
Kidman slams Rey in the centre of the ring, runs over to the turnbuckle and leaps off.
Just a two count though. Rey wins the match soon after this by flipping off the ropes onto Kidman.
It looks weak but whatever. This wasn’t anything special.
Rey Mysterio defeats Billy Kidman via Pinfall.
We come back from a commercial and the Dungeon’s of Doom’s “music” is playing, and I put that in inverted commas because it isn’t really music, just a pseudo-creepy OTT villainous laugh accompanied by some kind of chant. Whatever. Normally any sign of the Dungeon is enough to make me want to hang my head in despair, however!
If Meng is involved, it might be somewhat entertaining. Just to note those aren’t two random arms sprouting out of Meng’s shoulders – the Barbarian is behind him.
The announcers are still going on about how tragic Sting’s supposed betrayal is – and Bischoff apologises for “not giving Rey Mysterio the attention he deserves in his match”. I mean, kind of tough to take that apology seriously considering how often this has happened and will continue to happen until Nitro goes out of existence. It is the only time I can recall any commentator in WCW actually apologising for the routine ignoring of the cruiserweights in favour of talking about/complaining about the nWo, though.
These two are the opponents. Yeah, Public Enemy, they definitely deserve that pyro. Sure. Look at them waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care.
By the way, the commentators are still going on about Sting. I wonder if we’ll get another apology for ignoring this match as well? Not that I’d necessarily blame them here.
Some diehard wrestling fans here. I think we saw them previously – seemingly someone in production has taken a liking to these ladies. They look like they got lost on their way to a PTA meeting, but fuck it, might as well enjoy themselves now. Watch out for the dude behind you though, ladies. That smile worries me a little.
The Faces of Fear Vs Public Enemy
We go to a commercial break, and as soon as we come back Bischoff says “I hate to keep repeating this, but apparently Sting has joined forces with the nWo”. Bullshit, if you hated it that much you’d have shut up about it by now. I mean, jeez, we get it.
This contest is just a brawl, as you’d expect. Not exactly a match for the ages, but all of a sudden, randomly…
This dude on the left appears and begins running/skipping around the ring.
The fuck? It’s like Rockstar Spud’s demented uncle or something.
He briefly chases Jimmy Hart, then just… vanishes? Oh, and by the way, the commentators make no mention of this. They do not acknowledge this at all. Why? Because they’re talking about everything except the match itself. Literally, I’m not kidding, it’s like this match is not happening. It’s like listening to a radio show or a podcast spliced together with unrelated WCW footage.
Wait, what? What’s happening now? The match is ongoing and they just cut to the back. Judging from the faces of these lads you’d think someone died. It’s a sombre scene to say the least – but seriously, why even have the match in the ring? What’s the point? The commentators are acting like it isn’t happening and we cut to an interview as the match is happening. Bischoff doesn’t even note that we’ve cut away from a match in progress, he just says “take it away Gene”, like this is totally normal. Whatever, I guess. It’s not like I’m desperate to see the Faces of Fear versus Public Enemy, but what a bizarre way to structure… everything.
Gene asks Arn to explain what happened in the parking lot earlier. Seemed quite self-explanatory to me and the commentators have not stopped talking about it since it happened, so the viewers really don’t need any extra information.
Arn says he doesn’t give a shit about Luger losing a friend, or that he’s lost a team mate, he’s just shocked. He brings up Sting’s loyalty to WCW.
They actually move to a split-screen here – I guess someone in the production truck remembered there is actually a match going on. It wouldn’t be fair to deprive the dozens of Faces of Fear/Public Enemy fans the chance to see their favourite grapplers go at it.
Anyway, Arn says he has a sick feeling in his stomach, he’s shocked, and he’s out of words. He’s said quite a few already, though, so not really.
Flair stands there with his arms folded, eyeing the audience like a disappointed father.
Luger says he doesn’t have any answers, and that his “best friend in the whole world” stabbed him in the back. He then says he knows where Sting lives and where he works out, and he’s going to go and find him “right now”. Sounds like Lex is planning to murk Sting. However, he should keep in mind this is a guy who only last week tried to murder somebody by chucking a rock through the window of a limo, then stole a police car. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why Sting isn’t in jail. Regardless, I wouldn’t be chasing after him without a good plan.
Flair screams that he’s “sick of it” and just generally yells about how they’re going to beat up the nWo at War Games (including Sting). Arn says “it’s a fight to the death – yours, not ours”. I suppose that was worth emphasising? Also Arn has a tendency to see these matches as ending in death, even though it never comes close to that.
We return to the Faces of Fear/Public Enemy match. By “we” I mean the audience – the commentators are still talking about War Games. I genuinely don’t think they have said anything about the match – oh, wait a minute, Bischoff does mention the match, finally. Although he says the teams are “literally fighting for their lives” which is not exactly accurate. What is up with these people thinking matches are going to end so tragically?
Anyway, the brawling continues for a while and eventually, somehow, Rocco Rock ends up lying on a table. Barbarian heads for the top turnbuckle.
Guys, I don’t foresee this ending well. Seriously, what is the absolute best result of this? Rocco (who can clearly see Barbarian on the turnbuckle) for some reason lays there and lets Barbarian jump on him. It’ll be brutal for both. Or, Rocco moves and Barbarian crashes through the table. Either way Barbarian doesn’t win in this scenario.
Uh oh. Jimmy Hart is absolutely useless at holding Rocco down, kicked away like an insect as Rocco sits up.
That is a fucking sick bump. It’s funny because Barbarian barely takes any serious bumps at all, on Nitro at least, then he decides to say fuck it and leaps to the concrete through a table because YOLO I guess?
Well anyway he dead. Rocco brings a second table into the ring.
Looks pretty old. Nick Patrick wags his finger in disapproval, but incredibly that isn’t enough to persuade Public Enemy to stop. They lay Meng on the table, then Rocco goes to the top turnbuckle for a moonsault…
He almost misses the table entirely, only catching Meng with his legs. The table is weak enough that it breaks despite the soft contact.
You’d think that would be the spot that ends the match, but no. Meng gets up like nothing happened and starts brawling with Rocco again. Barbarian is also somehow revived and back in the ring fighting with Grunge. This is weird because the outside table spot with Barbarian getting wiped out, and then Meng getting put through the table by Rocco’s moonsault, felt like the end sequence of the match. Now it’s like we’re back at the start again. Keep in mind the match has been going for about 10 minutes now. That’s at least 7 minutes longer than is ideal for these teams, really.
Whilst Rocco and Barbarian are hugging it out in the corner, Meng puts the Tongan Death Grip on Grunge and now this one is over.
No explanation as to what the fuck was going on with that random ginger guy running around the ring earlier by the way. Oh well. During the replay Heenan accidentally calls Meng “Haku” and then goes silent immediately. Oops.
The Faces of Fear defeat Public Enemy via Pinfall.
Suddenly Okerlund appears at ringside, accompanied by the Dungeon of Doom.
Maxx, Jimmy Hart, Big Bubba, Gene, Kevin Sullivan, Hugh Morrus and Konnan. To quote Rufus from Final Fantasy 7 – “what a crew”.
Sullivan is no longer painting his face with those stupid markings, but for some reason is now wearing a white headband. Does he think he’s the Karate Kid now?
He also starts making this derp face - and this isn’t just a screen grab catching an awkward expression momentarily, he’s making this face on purpose.
For some reason we go to Jimmy Hart first, who tells the Giant “it’s the beginning of the end for you, you just don’t know it yet”. I’m sure he’s quaking in his boots.
Big Bubba then rants about Glacier, talking about him saying he’s coming for “6 or 7 months” and asking if he’s not debuting because he’s afraid. Slight exaggeration on the 6 or 7 months from Bubba, but to be fair it does feel like those vignettes have been running for at least that long. Bubba actually doesn’t seem to be aware that Glacier debuted on WCW Pro, but it’s WCW Pro, so... understandable. Bubba calls the Dungeon of Doom “the masters of intimidation”…
What he means is that Meng is the master of intimidation. The others aren’t exactly adding much to the equation. Maxx is standing off to the side looking distinctly unimpressed by the entire thing.
With that said, bored does seem to be his default expression regardless of what is happening. I imagine he’d have the same expression even if Bubba was in the process of sprouting three heads whilst doing a kossack dance.
After calling Gene “homes”, Konnan calls Sullivan a “hardened veterano”. He then says Sullivan has seen and led gang wars from coast to coast.
Yes, Kevin Sullivan wearing that silly white headband is exactly what I think of when I think of leaders of gang wars. Sullivan’s ‘wut?’ expression here says it all. I’m not sure you can call the Dungeon of Doom/Alliance to End Hulkamania Versus Hogan and Macho Man a “gang war”. I’m not sure two people can even constitute a gang. Also Sullivan may be worried Konnan is unintentionally (?) implicating him in genuine gang wars… which probably isn’t in the Taskmaster’s best interests.
Konnan challenges the nWo to come out and confront the Dungeon, who he calls “the toughest set”. Yeah, sure. The challenge is not accepted, because the nWo are for sure terrified of a “gang” featuring the likes of Maxx, Kevin Sullivan, Big Bubba and Hugh Morrus.
Sullivan says that Savage thinks he’ll owe the Dungeon “a debt” for carrying him out from the ring last week. I doubt it in all honesty – maybe if they’d actually done something to help him before he’d been beaten down and spraypainted. Carrying him out after the fact didn’t really help much.
Anyhow, Sullivan says Savage can repay this fictional debt by first beating John Tenta, because why not I guess, and then by getting rid of the Giant. That doesn’t really seem like a balanced deal. We carry you backstage after you’ve been beaten up, you make it even by beating John Tenta and the Giant. Hmmm.
Time for some nWo propaganda.
Hogan tells us that they “aren’t here for a stinkin’ reason” – directly contradicting Nash and Hall, who had previously made it clear they’d come in specifically to take over WCW. He then randomly says “we’ve got our boss with us” and points to Ted DiBiase, who’s sitting in a chair behind them.
Homely. DiBiase looks like he’s being held prisoner, but whatever. Hogan says DiBiase makes Ted Turner look like a “pauper”. Honestly I could try to recap this whole thing but it’s really just a bunch of random sound bytes ripping on WCW for the most part. They talk about wanting “their own tag team tournament” for some reason. They also want a segment (on Nitro, presumably) where they can “highlight” their talent. What they actually mean is a segment highlighting Hogan, as we’ll discover going forward. Scott Hall says “nWo 4 life” with the hand sign (might be the first instance of this?) and they all end the segment laughing like it was an amazing joke.
I was a satellite dish owner back then – or rather, my parents were - but no WCW PPVs in the UK, sadly. We only got a butchered hour-long version of Nitro on TNT UK during 1996 & 1997. I didn’t find out that I’d been watching an edited version of the show until many years later. At least now I can sit back and relive the glory of the Faces of Fear Vs Public…. eh, maybe TNT UK were doing us a favour after all.
Back with your bois at the announce desk. Tenay once again has that “stern dad” look, whilst Heenan seems to be whimsically remembering something from years gone by. Take a guess as to what Bischoff is talking about?
A) The upcoming main event
B) Meltzer being wrong about everything
C) Blue Chew
D) Sting’s betrayal
If you’ve been following along thus far, you’ll know the answer. The lad does genuinely hate big Dave though, and loves that Blue Chew. Come to think of it, what is the main event? I can’t even remember. Sting’s supposed betrayal has been hammered into my brain so many fucking times at this point I can barely conceive of any other event occurring at any wrestling show.
Chris Jericho’s music plays, but…
It’s John Tenta? Still got that stupid haircut by the way. Seriously, fish man, you’ve made your point. Get that shaved.
But yeah, I’m confused here. I thought Jericho was coming out. But hold on, that’s Jericho’s second theme, “One Crazed Anarchist”, aka the Pearl Jam ripoff, not the one he’s using at this point in WCW, which I believe is the Journey ripoff. So John Tenta is in fact the OG “One Crazed Anarchist”. For the record, the theme suits Jericho far more than it suits the former Shark.
As he comes out Tenta says “Savage, you’re not putting me down”. You think so, John?
What exactly has that guy in the hat been up to? That is not the look of an innocent person.
Ohhh yeahhh, it’s the Macho Man. The commentators are pretending that the result of the match is in any doubt, which I suppose they have to do.
John “anti-fish” Tenta Vs “Macho Man” Randy Savage
Savage storms to the ring, but that turns out to be a bad idea as Tenta stomps on the Macho Man’s back as he slides in and then clobbers him with a forearm to the back.
Bad strategy, Macho. Tenta’s moobs though… whoa.
That’s an interesting choice of attire for a wrestling event, madam.
Tenta works over Savage in the corner for a bit. Savage then begins to make a comeback, before for some reason attempting to slam Tenta…
Goes about as well as you’d expect. Macho really needs to work on his strategy.
Bischoff actually specifically says here that Heenan accidentally referred to Meng as “Haku” earlier and wants to make it clear Meng now works for WCW and not the WWF. I guess they were really taking this kind of thing seriously due to the lawsuits flying around at this point in history. Funny though, as you hear these kinds of slip-ups all the time. I mean, if TNA or AEW were sued for every time a commentator accidentally used a competitor’s ex-WWE name there would need to be a legal department created specifically just to deal with the fucking volume. At least Heenan didn’t call it “WWF Nitro”.
Tenta hits Macho with a decent looking drop kick – quite impressive considering his weight. Outside of the ring Savage hits Tenta with a steel chair…
He isn’t disqualified because…? He whacks Tenta twice more with a chair. This is not a no-DQ match, but it is WCW, so fuck the rules unless we need them for storyline purposes, right?
Flying elbow drop!
Macho goes up for a second, but then Teddy Long comes to ringside yelling “Macho!” – what could the so-called “godfather” want with Savage? Also where’s my man Ice Train at? Come to think of it, I just remembered what he was wearing earlier… best for him to stay backstage.
Savage still hits the second elbow drop. Long is gesticulating wildly at Savage and yelling something about the nWo. Savage leaps over the top rope with nice agility.
But before we go any further…
Son, I am disappoint. I can’t even say “A for effort” because that is the lowest tier of effort.
Anyway, Savage follows Teddy to the outside of the arena where Teddy announces “YOU GONNA GO ONE-ON-ONE WITH THE UNDERTAKER PLAYA!”
Actually, they run towards a limo.
The limo drives off as soon as Savage approaches it. What was the point of that?
Flair and Mongo randomly appear as the limo drives away.
There’s another limo there, but only a box of spraypaint inside it. There are a ton of WCW guys out there now – the Horsemen, the Dungeon, Public Enemy, Juvi, Super Calo, Savage… basically everyone who was on TV tonight. They start spraypainting “WCW” on the limo windows… or rather, they try to. Due to the fact it’s been raining and everywhere is wet it ends up just looking like a green smudge. As an aside, if that is in fact not an nWo limo, somebody is going to be in for a surprise.
For some reason the commentators are all standing up. Tenay is looking more evil every time he’s on camera. It’s like he wants to reach through the camera and strangle each and every viewer.
Seriously though, he is repeatedly making a “pissed-off dad” face.
“Dad, I borrowed your car…”
“Um… and… I got a speeding ticket…”
“And there’s a dent on the front as I kinda sorta knocked over the mailbox…”
Grounded forever.
Anyway, once they all sit back down Heenan goes on a rant about the nWo which concludes with “if we don’t stop them now then they can’t be stopped”. If only you could glimpse into the future and nWo 2000, Bobby.
Oh, by the way, I guess John Tenta won the match against Savage by count out? It wasn’t announced or shown, but Savage jumped out of the ring and never returned, so…
John Tenta defeats “Macho Man” Randy Savage via Countout.
I guess Tenta was right, Savage didn’t put him down after all. Score one for the fish hating weirdo.
Double A suddenly appears on set. Heenan gives Arn his headset. Can’t help but think it’d be better for Anderson to be in the ring with a mic, as the fans in the arena can’t hear any of this… but whatever.
Arn says that the world is “in shock” and “outraged”. The world is probably a bit of a stretch, but OK. Flair turns up as Arn is talking, as do Benoit and Mongo. Arn says that this all began ten years ago with the original Horsemen, and that they paved the way and showed the nWo how to do it. Technically true. Arn says the nWo want to be the Horsemen “when they grow up”.
Tenay continuing to give that evil stare, even at Arn. Bischoff looks kind of sad.
As an aside, I may have mentioned it before, but I really like this shirt design:
Bischoff begins talking about making mistakes, but Flair interrupts him. Flair screams so loudly that the headset seems to take some damage as the volume decreases slightly. Flair explains War Games – although if you don’t know what it is by this point then what have you been doing with your life? – and says Hogan won’t leave War Games alive. Spoiler alert: he does.
Bischoff then talks about how maybe bringing Hogan in to WCW was “a mistake” and that the Horsemen “haven’t been given their just due”. The same exact sentence could have been said in 2000 and been even more relevant.
WCW then ends the show with a replay of Luger getting beaten up by “Sting” and the nWo. I’m sure he appreciates that. A good thing they reminded us, as I think a whole ten seconds passed at the end there without mention of Sting’s betrayal and my memory had started to go hazy.
#wcw#wcwnitro#nwo#nwo4life#Sting#luger#flair#horsemen#outsiders#wtfwcw#lolwcw#stinger#mondaynightwars#moobs
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xOi9ywcQBk
The winners were streamed a while ago, but the youtube video is out now! Thank you for all the Brine Crystal Monarch love! :D
I'm genuinely shocked I got that far holy shit- ;-;
To celebrate, here's a happier ending to the Monarch's story!
The Brine Crystal Monarch has been taken off the endangered list!
Funds for their protection and research sky rocketed after a team of marine biologists were helping a monarch remove its crystals, and decided to chisel in the message "We need your help!" on the salt. The photo of this monarch bearing these words went viral, and researchers were able to construct what are now known as "Crystal Salons". The project was a huge success! Humans have finally been able to rekindle our trust and friendship with the Monarchs!
Monarchs now know how to locate these salons (well equipped facilities just next to the brine pools) and are teaching their young to visit them when in need of assistance. Scientists and artists alike have also begun an annual "Monarch Festival", where contestants compete in friendly competition for the best crystal sculpture on a Monarch's back! The sculpture must remove enough weight, offer enough shelter for smaller fish, and be sturdy enough to last well.
Do the Monarchs know what's going on? Absolutely fucking not! From their perspective, it just seems like humans have stopped being assholes, and the crystal mining process is taking longer than it used to. Oh, and sometimes that strange human with the moustache and that human with the beard scream at each other. Something about "cloud style is out of fashion" and "gothic architecture is the new trend"...? Eh, whatever that means, it's okay! These salons provide new services like head scratches, medical care, and tasty treats! Sounds good to these spoiled fishies! "Monarchs" indeed, the world is treating them like royalty.
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@lonelyeyesweek
Day 1 - First Meeting
Peter was very reluctant to go to the Magnus institute funding party; uncle Nathaniel informed him that one of his new duties would be to make business with James Wright and he really didn't want to do that. A beholder… What a nightmare.
I would've stayed at home
'Cause I was doin' better alone
Peter was very reluctant to go to the Magnus institute funding party; uncle Nathaniel informed him that one of his new duties would be to make business with James Wright and he really didn't want to do that. A beholder… What a nightmare.
The party was unfortunately the most informal way to meet the man, otherwise he would be forced to enter a small room with the watcher to make sure he didn't dry up his family money for an indefinite amount of time.
So he was really dreading the moment he would be meeting this man, Simon kept telling him that James was an old friend and that it would be fine, that he was actually funny beneath all the politeness, however he wasn't so sure about that.
Due to Simon’s and his uncle’s influence he has a very loose idea of some boring old man, a type of academic with a nondescript look that he will forget as soon as he leaves.
With any luck he would just make his acquaintance today and then he may go from the party, Peter preferred to be at home instead of dilly dallying with the masses. As much as he likes to observe people, he likes it better when it's on his own terms and when he is not forced to be part of an event.
So he goes with very little hope for the night, the only positive is that he may get some free food and some alcohol, albeit champagne will not do much for him.
The moment Simon sees him, he zeroes on him and stays nearby talking about his trips to Europe. He also tells him about a few sacrifices he made that actually seemed rather interesting. Still Peter preferred the ones he committed at the ocean, but he knew the man was always more partial to the sky so its not surprising they are all on that vein.
“What about you Captain? You have a few voyages under your belt now lad, how did those go? Were they to your liking?” And the answer to that is a bit complicated, Peter is still getting used to handling a ship, his crew hasn't been properly trained yet to keep themselves in check so he has to… ugh make a few rules.
The other problem is that most of his crew is formed of older, more experienced sailors. Peter is 26 and unfortunately has a rather… soft looking face, he has been trying to grow a beard to at least make himself look a bit more rugged or older looking, but that will take time and he just has a five o’clock shadow for now. It will take him months to have anything resembling what he wants. The graying hair does work a bit better, that he can count for at least.
He is considering hiring someone to relay his messages to, so that way he can stay away most of the time and he can practice his solitude in peace. He really would love to not be perceived until he looks like he wants.
“Its ok, I still need to figure out a few things to be honest, I would love it if the crew was a bit less…”
“Talkative?”
“Friendly” Simon nods at him and pats his shoulder before going back to another story of a trip he made like 250 years ago. It is quite interesting, albeit Peter gets struck with how old the man is. Most of the time he can forget it, easy to do when Simon is so lively, but when he tells him these stories…. hard to ignore in all honesty.
Picking up an offered champagne glass he listens distractedly wondering when he will meet the man organizing this whole charade.
The older man talks to him but at some point his sentence drifts off and he looks behind him with a grin. A bit lost and now concerned, those grins never end up well for him, Peter turns back to check what exactly was his companion watching.
The answer comes to him like a hit to the face.
An older man talking and entertaining several people at the same time, Peter doesn't realize that he was gripping his glass very tightly until Simon waves and calls for the man over.
He wasn't boring looking like his uncle or very, very old like Simon. He must be in his fifties, he was dressed up impeccably with a black shirt that had his sleeves rolled out to his elbows, a deep green vest with golden details and dark green pants.
The man also has a pencil moustache and a few moles near his jaw, which made him stand out. He was also a bit shorter than him, but most people are so that doesn't surprise him.
The air of surety, of knowing he had made him feel bigger than he was however.
Peter swallows and feels his face warm up for reasons he can't comprehend.
When the man turns around towards Simon, he can see his eyes-
Grey.
Peter never looks anyone to their eyes and yet, and yet-
For a second it feels as if the man also froze looking at him, he had a look of….surprise almost?
But it was only for a second, the next thing Peter knows is that the man starts to approach them while he is struggling to not disappear in a puff of smoke. Oh, Forsaken protect him.
“Hello Simon” His voice is very low and amused, oh fuck.
“Hello James!! It's been a while hasn't it?” Ja-
James?
“You are James Wright?” Peter cuts off the man before he answers back to Simon and he realizes that he is an idiot, shit-
No wonder he was so eye-catching then.
…
For some reason James' lips twitch upwards as if he was trying not to smile at something. Peter has no way to know what is so funny.
“You must be Peter Lukas then? Nathaniel… told me about you, its a pleasure to meet you” Peter smiles his usual vapid smile to keep him from prying, he already feels exposed and kind of confused about the man. Better to make this quick and go.
“Yes, uncle mentioned you too, albeit he did not do you justice” ???? What the fuck is he doing, what is wrong with him??? Why did he say that??
Peter feels his hands sweat and his face warm up, he is praying he is not red in the face.
James looks perplexed and he feels Simon staring at him with the biggest grin ever as if he was having the time of his life which knowing him, he probably did, he loves drama after all.
“Is that so?” The man crosses his arms and Peter has to keep himself from staring at the flex of it he has to.
What the hell is wrong with him?
“Yes! He made you sound like a boring old man to be honest, but you are quite the opposite, you look very-” Peter spends a lot of time alone, meaning he doesn't properly talk with people. His usual mechanism of defense is to talk so much that everyone just lets him be.
That translates into him not having a filter, because of that he just says what is on his mind, even if he knows he shouldn't. In this case it is a shot in the foot and he has no idea why, why is he reacting like this? The man is-
Is just a bit good looking thats all!! No need to be so nervous.
“...Good” His face is burning, Peter knows he must be red all over.
He is an embarrassment to the family name, he has to go, he has to go now. How is he going to face him to do business oh shit-
James for his part seems to look at him with something akin to wonder an a bit of curiosity, while Simon-
Simon for his part is sighing mentally about his nephew’s taste in man. Very on brand for a Lukas, albeit Jonah seems to be quite taken aback.
Peter might look like Mordechai but they are not alike at all.
“Well thank you Mister Lukas”
“Peter is alright” Why won't he shut uppppp, what is wrong with him? This has never happened before, a little bit more and he will spontaneously combust.
James smiles at him and something in his chest squeezes. Is he dying? Is his heart giving out on him so soon?
“Well Peter, it was lovely meeting you. I can't wait to make business with you. I'm sure we will get along… very well”
“I can't wait” !!!!!! He wants to die.
Peter is going out to sea for the next 4 months just to get rid of whatever this is.
James grins at him and is about to leave, making him let out a breath of relief when he turns slightly.
“Say… I was going to ask Simon to drink with me after the party, in my office. Would you like to join us?” No!
“Sure” The man gives him a smug look and goes.
Simon pats his back.
“You need to get better at flirting, albeit i do believe you impressed him quite a bit, he usually ignores all the Lukas that come to make business with him”
“Im going to kill myself” He hates his life so much.
“Ah lad don't be like that, its just a few drinks, it doesn't have to go anywhere else”
Several years and flings with the man later. Peter is left with only grief at James sudden passing. They had something of a thing going on, not really labeled, since neither liked that. But the man suddenly broke things up and Peter in his anger left for months on end.
By the time he came back he found out James died and he had a new replacement.
Elias Bouchard.
He hates him on principle.
Peter is cold with him at every little meeting, speaks just as necessary and goes before the man even attempts to chat him up. At least he has his own loneliness, the only thing that truly lasts for him.
It sings out to him, like a siren song, it's easier to get lost on it, to just… become colder and harsher. What else should he do? It's not like Peter could ever love someone like that again.
Or want to.
“-ter, Peter!!”
“What do you want Mr Bouchard?” The younger man was glaring at him and it feels unfair, he should be the one glaring.
“I was asking you if you intend to stop being difficult and listen to me for once! I swear i get you lonely ones love playing at the grief stricken partner, but its been months already im getting tired of trying to talk to you like pulling teeth. Listen- i know i was kind of an ass, but really i needed to do the switch and i was worried a bit about people talking about some favouritism-” What the hell is he on about now??? Also how dare he!
“What- are you talking about? I'm not faking- what are you-!? Listen, I'm not up for games, let alone your games. I have better things to do than be your little entertainment, give me the papers to sign and I will be on my way, off of your life-” Elias gets up and slams his hands on the desk making him flinch.
“That attitude!! I don't want you out of my way!!! I said what I said as James because I was going to change bodies and people were talking about our relationship too much, it would look odd when I became Elias and we hooked up again!!”
Peter freezes.
“What- what do you mean became Elias?” The man who is not Elias??? Narrows his eyes and then suddenly looks surprised and confused.
“You don't know-”
“What do you-”
“How can you not know I told you- i-” Elias? Drifts off and looks to the empty room with a blank expression.
“I forgot to tell you”
“Um-”
“I thought i told you after- oh, oh fuck we ended up sleeping together after sacrificing that woman at the restaurant, i got distracted and-”
Peter starts to piece together a few things.
“James…?” Elias flops on his chair covering his face and doing a muffled scream into his hands.
“I can believe i forgot i got so excited that you let me tie you up that i completely forgot” Peter’s face burns.
“I-”
“Yes, yes it's me, I thought you were being difficult not that you- oh my god you actually were grieving me weren't you? You sap” His face turns smug, and it's so familiar-
The eyes-!
“Yes, those are really mine”
“You-!” Peter wants to punch him.
“Me?” Elias already closes his eyes expecting a punch. Yet he side steps the desk, comes closer and pulls him up to his feet by his tie.
“If you- you want to choke me-” He shuts him with a kiss. It takes a bit to register on the other’s mind because once he does he grips his hair and pulls them closer practically melting against him. Peter doesn't stop kissing him, cnat.
“You twat-” In between kisses he curses him out, he was making the rounds across his neck, decided that he was going to leave pretty little marks for everyone to see. Elias? James? Doesn't seem to mind much.
“Sorry-”
“You- fucking- bloody- ass!!” A bite close to the jugular has him moan a bit, Peter’s hands go to grip his thighs and the other catches his meaning because he lets him lift him up. He carries him to the small couch and drops him there with an ompf-
“Hey-” That he interrupts when he climbs on top of him and starts to kiss him again with a very clear intention in mind.
“Oh…” Yes, Peter is glad he can use forsaken to soundproof the room, he had no intentions to let the other be quiet.
Now that he is not upset, angry or… turned on, Peter lays his head on top of Elias' chest, while he explains the whole being Jonah Magnus, and thinks that he is very handsome.
Not in the same way as James was, no, but he was still very handsome.
“I was leaning more into pretty but unassuming, but thank you for the vote of confidence for the new body” What a smug prick.
“He is not…?”
“God no, only fragments or echos, the real Elias is very dead, its just me”
“Jonah?” Elias nods at his question.
“Basically”
“Huh” The shorter man’s hands play with his hair making him nuzzle his neck. He thinks about it for a bit, but decides to go for it, after all he has gotten this far anyways “Pleasure to meet you Jonah”
The other stays quiet for a bit.
“Pleasure to meet you Peter”
Their relationship is not conventional or normal by anyone's standards, but…
It works.
Somewhat.
“So… I got you so distracted you forgot to tell me huh?” Elias sighs.
“I can show you exactly how enticing you looked to me to make me forget, do not tempt me” Feeling his face heat up he tries to play it off.
“Maybe when we are in an actual bed and want to experiment a bit” Elias chuckles and then turns into a full blown laugh that makes him feel the rumble of it against his ear.
“I can't believe this, but i missed you” He hears Elias heart speed up while admitting that to him, it makes his face warm up.
Peter knows he missed him too, but he wont admit that, too out of character. So instead...
“Will take that with me, feels delicious”
“Oh hush, you already cannibalized yourself, don't be a prick”
Yes, he definetly missed this bastard and he will have so much fun re-aquitaining to him properly. They are closer in age now, Peter’s body is a bit older than Elias now, just 6 years, but it feels good.
This time people will give Elias looks instead of him, Peter’s gray hair and beard made him look older.
“You are impossible Peter”
“Stop reading my mind then” Elias sighs and kisses the top of his head hesitantly.
“Don't make it so easy then” Peter lets out a breath.
Prick.
"Never"
"Rude, what a rude person you are" Peter nuzzles him and that shuts him up.
Better.
#lonelyeyesweek#lonelyeyesweek2021#james wright#simon fairchild#elias bouchard#lonelyeyes#peterelias#peter lukas
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Drunken Truths
After having some wine and enjoying themselves, Mobius reveals how he truly feels about Loki. Loki does not take the news well.
Had it been a day? Three? Seven? Loki had not gotten used to how time worked in the Time Variance Authority. He had yet to sleep, so it could have been only a few hours for all he knew. It didn’t matter anyway. He could no longer return to a home that had been destroyed. A world he helped to destroy.
All he could do was work on the ridiculous case of finding his own variant until he knew enough to take over the Agency. Even though this version of himself could not have been as skilled or intelligent as Loki, it was proving to be harder than he expected. It might have been a variant, but it was still a Loki. There had to be something.
Mobius sat across the table from Loki. The files became a jumbled mess between them as they dismissed anything irrelevant. Some agents passed by them, but they were all busy in their own worlds. The only thing that mattered around the table was Loki and Mobius. They occasionally made small talk, but they were both focused on their own documents. Someone had to find something.
Loki didn’t realise he was tired until his eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. The next thing he knew, his head was on the desk and he was back in Asgard. It only lasted a moment, but he was there, drinking with Thor while they were still on speaking terms.
He was awoken by a nudge.
“How about we get you somewhere more comfortable to rest,” Mobius said softly. “Come on. We’ll go to my place.”
Loki scrunched his nose and sat up. “You have a place? Here I was thinking your entire life was a less interesting version of robots that only did what they were told by the giant lizards.” Loki smirked up at Mobius. They caught each other’s eyes.
“Very funny. Now move unless you want to stay here.”
Mobius led Loki through the authority to a door that seemed no different to any other. They hadn’t even left the building. It was nothing but the same brown and yellow architecture. No wonder the agents were the dullest people Loki had ever experienced.
“Do you ever get to see the sun here?” Loki asked as they reached a door.
“Not really. But don’t worry. We get plenty of sunshine when getting variants.”
That was great news for all the agents who actually went to the missions. Mobius grabbed his key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He stepped aside, allowing Loki to walk in first.
Loki didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was not what he saw. It was the same monochromatic scheme and files of paper he had been seeing anywhere else. There was no sign that Mobius was living there apart from a few cans of that ridiculous drink he always had and a few more jet ski magazines. Loki walked through, hoping to find a glimpse of comfort.
“It might not be the lush palace you’re used to-“ Mobius was saying.
“Oh, no. Gosh no. It is truly horrendous,” Loki started before remembering who he was talking to. He smiled back at Mobius. “But I suppose it will be suitable. For the while.” Mobius chuckled and made his way into the den that was the kitchen.
“Thank you for being so considerate. Here.” He returned with two glasses of red wine, offering one to Loki. Loki smiled and took the glass, sipping it. Even the wine was disgusting. Still, it was better than nothing.
Half of the bottle must have disappeared between the two of them, washing away any distaste they had with each other. Eventually, they stumbled their way through the living room and to the bedroom that was barely large enough for the perfectly made king-sized bed. Mobius fell back onto the bed and Loki straddled him.
Loki's lips crashed onto Mobius, hungry for the connection. He curled his fingers under Mobius’ collar, pulling him closer. Mobius’ earthy scent grew stronger. Loki felt Mobius’ hands move to his lower back, securing him. Loki was enjoying it. He could feel that Mobius was really enjoying it.
Every moment they moved brought a small release to Loki. He didn’t have to think about what he was doing. There was no master plan. It seemed like it was the first time in his life that he could just be. What was it about the strange, tender man that did this to Loki?
It could have been the wine, the stress, or the fact that it had been - Loki didn’t even know how long – since he had been held that way, but Loki wanted more. He tore away Mobius’ jacket and moved his fingers down to his pants.
Mobius gently kissed Loki’s neck and moaned, “I love you.”
Loki immediately stopped. He sat up more and stared into Mobius’ pale blue eyes. What trick was this man doing? Mobius just stared back with a look unfamiliar to Loki. It was… warm, pure, maybe even loving. That look slowly turned into one of concern. Mobius coughed and sat up more.
“Sorry. That was too soon. Forget I said anything,” Mobius mumbled. He sat up to kiss Loki’s lips, but was pushed back down.
Loki couldn’t forget that. It was exactly what he needed to hear. It felt wrong. It was wrong. Loki shuffled off of Mobius. He put on his best chirpy voice.
“Well, that was a nice distraction, but I really need to get back to it. We won’t be finding a Loki variant in this dump. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you there.”
He managed to make it out of the room before he heard Mobius calling out for him to wait.
Loki fled to the archives. It must have been late, or early, as there were no one else around. Perfect. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, but Loki searched up and down the aisles.
I love you
Loki could count on one hand the amount of people who told that to him, and nearly half of them were his so-called family. He took deep breaths, reading the same file name for the tenth time. He thought Mobius was a decent person, but he had been wrong many times before. What would he even get from saying that Loki? Did he think it would magically make Loki more compliant? Well, he clearly didn’t know Loki as well as he as he thought.
There was always the possibility that he meant it. That somehow in his naïve stupid head, he thought what he was feeling was love. It was like a kicked dog who kept returning to his master. The poor little thing didn’t know what he was getting himself into.
The squeaks from the end of the aisle alarmed Loki that he was no longer alone. Loki didn’t look up from the file.
“Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, I would love it if you actually did something to help me,” Loki muttered.
The footsteps got louder until it stopped just when Loki could smell him. Mobius exhaled. He used that ridiculous soft voice he often used when he was talking to Loki – as if he was talking to a child.
“Look. I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I don’t regret what I said, but it was too soon and not in the right way. I suppose I just got a little too excited. I mean, look at you, can you really blame me?”
Loki turned and started walking down the aisle, but still felt Mobius following him. It truly was pathetic.
“I get it. It was the heat of the moment. You would have the same thing to anyone who snaked their way into your chambers.”
“No. It’s not that. Loki, Look at me.” The file was snatched away from his hands. Loki sighed and looked up at the moustache. It was strange seeing it now that he knew what it felt like against his skin.
Mobius pressed his fingers against Loki’s chin, forcing him to look up until he could see the gentle blue eyes staring back at him. “I really do care about you. I thought I knew everything about you, but you are so much more than I expected. After all the crap that you went through, you’re still trying to be a better person. You’re talented, you’re intelligent, you’re just,” Mobius hesitated for a moment, “you’re just incredible.”
For the first time in his life, Loki didn’t know what to say. There was something different about how Mobius spoke. He honestly believed what he was saying. That just made everything worse.
“I get it. I know everything about me, but you know practically nothing about me. Well, my name is Mobius. My favourite colour is yellow, I like jet skis and I think you’re really cute.” Loki forced back a smile. “Just come back to bed.” Mobius moved his hand down to Loki’s, but before he reached it, Loki fought back.
He grabbed Mobius hand and twisted it so the agent was forced to turn around. He stepped closer behind the blonde, Loki’s lips only inches from Mobius’ ear.
“I am a god,” Loki grunted. “You are nothing but a mindless drone. Do you really think you can trick me with this nonsense? I can see through deceits much greater than yours.”
“What deceit? Loki, this is ridiculous. Let go of me.” There it was. The same warmth and concern he always had in his voice. Loki shouted in anger as he threw Mobius onto the floor. Mobius groaned and tried to get up, but was stopped by Loki pressing his foot onto Mobius’ chest, forcing him back down.
“Stop lying to me,” he yelled. Mobius just stared back as Loki took deep breaths. “You know nothing about me. You can’t love me. I know I’m greater than all the cretins you have put up with, but do not mistake that worship as love, you… you idiot.”
Mobius still didn’t fight back, but he kept his eyes steady on Loki.
“Are you done?”
Loki removed his foot from the agent. Mobius groaned while getting up. “You’re right. We really need to get back to work.” He started to walk down the aisle.
“Mobius,” Loki called out. The agent turned back to face him. As Loki spoke, he heard his voice break in a desperate attempt to be believed. “I’m just doing this to protect you. You know that, right?”
Mobius chuckled and shook his head before pushing his hands into his pocket.
“I really appreciate it, Loki, but I think we both know I’m not the one who needs protecting.” With that, he left, leaving Loki among the shelves. Alone.
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Gangster in Distress
Summary: Tommy was only interested in Y/N to seal a deal with her father. He thought she was a spoilt, rich girl... until a mishap with some thieves makes Tommy reconsider.
A/N: I just rewatched the movie Ever After with Drew Barrymore and let’s just say it heavily inspired this fic....
It was often that Tommy would sacrifice his own family to ensure a deal or stop a war. A key example being when he convinced John to marry Esme, preventing a battle with the Lee family. Tommy was rather good at pushing his family to the forefront of his problems. Now though? Now it was Tommy’s turn.
Tommy desired to extend his gin business through London and beyond. The only issue being a Mr Walter Brown. Mr Brown ran an immensely successful distillery in the heart of London and Tommy knew striking a deal with him was his only route to a new found fortune. He had met with the man once at his home, the house exceeding even Tommy’s manor. They had spent a long time coming to a suitable deal. The man had no need for money nor protection, although Tommy tried to persuade him. It was a lost cause; the man’s fine suit and multiple men lingering by the door could have told him that. There was nothing the Peaky Blinders could offer him that he didn't already have, Tommy still persisted.
The meeting had lasted three hours before Tommy watched the man stand up and glance out the window behind him, the view obscured from Tommy. Mr Brown rubbed his white moustache and sighed, resting his gaze back on Tommy. He explained to him that he had a daughter who he wished to see married, and to a financially secure man. Of course Arthur and John were out of the question and Finn was too young for the woman. This left Tommy to take the bullet. It certainly felt like a bullet when the daughter had slammed the door, storming out of her father’s study just after she was told the news. Perhaps it would be for the best, he would have some company and Charlie a mother figure. Not forgetting their union would make Tommy very rich.
The deal was settled and they would be married the next month, giving Y/N and Tommy some time to get to know each other. He made frequent trips to London to become acquainted with his bride-to-be, the two of them left alone in one of the parlour rooms. The first few times she had sat like a petulant child, ignoring his attempt at conversation, and not being afraid to tell him what she thought of the arrangement. Her expensive gowns and shiny jewellery reminding him of the two different worlds they came from. It was on the fourth visit when he became impatient and decided to move their relationship forward and to try and seduce her. His hands on her waist and wandering lips warranted a red cheek and a view of Y/N’s back as she huffed out of the room.
The next time he came, he made sure to bring Charlie. She would have to meet him eventually and he could only hope she wouldn’t bring up his actions with a child in the same room. It was fair to say she much preferred the boy’s company, immediately grinning Charlie and bringing out a story book to share with him. It was this moment where Tommy couldn’t completely resent the arrangement. Charlie liking her was more important than him liking her. And after Y/N had taken him to the stables to meet her horses, Charlie would barely release the woman. It was there where Tommy had attempted to apologise for his behaviour the previous visit (not really because he was sorry, but more to remain on good terms with her father). It was also here that when Y/N had distracted Charlie with her most beautiful mare, told Tommy if he tried anything again she wasn’t afraid to use the hunting gun and shoot it at his unmentionables.
---
The wedding hadn’t been anything special to Tommy. He had already had his dream wedding with Grace and Y/N had refused to have a big attendance, although this didn't stop her from wearing a very extravagant dress. The ceremony was limited to only Y/N’s father, Charlie and Aunt Polly. Polly had returned to Birmingham the same afternoon, after their lunch, with Charlie. Mr Brown had retired to his room which left the newly weds alone. Except their anticipated wedding night consisted of Y/N leading Tommy to a guest room and shutting herself into her bedroom.
Tommy spent the next few days, finalising some business and plans with his new father-in-law, while Y/N was busy packing her bags to move into Tommy’s manor with him and Charlie.
The rain was heavy on the day they were to drive back. Despite still being angry at her father, she gave him a tight hug before rushing into the vehicle, out of the rain. It was a long car journey back to Birmingham and Y/N had taken to sulking with her arms crossed, staring out of the window for the first hour.
Tommy sighed and pursed his lips, “We should at least try to be civil, you know.” By the look on Y/N’s face, he knew his words would cause them to argue. He didn't care though, arguing would be better than sitting in silence for the rest of the trip. He also couldn’t take another minute of watching the woman fidget in her seat, he knew she was itching to speak.
Y/N kept her gaze out of the window, “You and my father dealt me off like i’m a fucking horse. I don’t have to be nice to you.”
Tommy clenched his jaw, feeling desperate for a cigarette. ”Your father wanted what was best for you.” He heard Y/N let out an amused huff.
“Oh and you’re my knight in shining armour? Lucky me.” Tommy turned to look at her before focusing back on the road. He chose not to say anything, “I don't even see why I had to marry in the first place. I was fine staying with my father.’”
This time Tommy felt amused, “Hmm and doing what exactly? Perching on your little pedestal and looking pretty?" He hid his smirk when Y/N turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. He quite liked riling her up.
“I’m not just some spoiled little girl, so stop treating me like one.” She crossed her arms again and huffed.
“If you didn’t act like one, perhaps I wouldn’t treat you like one.” Tommy retorted.
"Your perception of women is abhorrent. Just because I'm pretty and like to dress nicely, does not mean you can belittle me. And if you continue to do so, we are going to have problems." Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you ought to tread carefully, you are looking at the future owner of the Brown distillery. My father may have made a deal with you that doesn't mean i can't change it when i'm in charge."
Tommy felt a smile growing on his face, "You would deny your own husband?" It widened when all Y/N did was smirk at him. The silence grew again before Tommy asked, "You think you can handle running the business?"
Y/N smoothed down her hair that had gone fluffy from the rain, "You may think i just sit around, but I am very much involved in the distillery. I'm more than capable of running the business."
Tommy quickly glanced at her again, finding a sense of respect he didn't expect to feel.
When Tommy didn’t reply, Y/N scrunched her nose up, "I do hope you're not a husband who will deny me of such a job.” Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Good, because I wouldn't have listened anyway."
"And what shouldn't a husband deny you of?" Tommy questioned in a teasing tone.
"Hmm,” Y/N grinned. “A good husband should let me do exactly as I please. He will let me work, go to the market, run through the garden without shoes, gallop through the field on a horse, or do absolutely nothing all day."
"And, what about a good wife?"
Y/N stroked her chin in thought and looked at Tommy "Well, I guess that's for you to decide."
Tommy didn’t answer her. "You like horses?" He said a few moments later.
"Love.” Y/N smiled and looked out the window dreamily, the rain still hitting the window. “I grew up with my grandparents in the countryside, they were from my mum's side, who, well, were not rich like my dad’s. We spent all our time on the farm and from the moment I first laid my eyes on the beautiful horses, that was it."
Tommy smirked, "So the city girl is actually a farm girl?" Y/N’s response was a roll of the eyes. "The horses you showed Charlie were incredible." His words seemed to divert Y/N back into her bratty state, she crossed her arms again and glared at the man, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I had to leave them behind."
Before Tommy could respond, the car jolted. He lost control for a moment before managing to stop the car. Trees surrounded the pair and Tommy recognised the road built through the forest. He wasted no time to jump out and check each wheel, finding the problem on Y/N’s side, a small hole visible. Y/N rolled down the window, "What happened?”
"The tyres burst, I must have hit a stone or something." He stood back up wiping down his suit. "Come on." He opened the door to her side and gestured for her to get out.
"What?"
"The house isn't far from here, we can go by foot." Y/N looked at him in shock.
"It's raining and muddy!" She made a motion to her dress, to which Tommy rolled his eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out, dragging her to the boot of the car. He pulled out one of the smaller luggage bags and pushed it in her arms before looking at her pointedly, "You said you grew up on a farm."
"Past tense, Thomas!" She huffed and re-positioned the bag, watching Tommy grab the two larger ones. He led them around the car and they walked barely a metre before a man with shoulder length grey hair came out of the trees pointing a gun at the two. "Don't be leaving so quick now." He let out a whistle and more men came from the trees, all with guns. Y/N gulped and raised her hands in the air, subsequently dropping her bag, the contents spilling over the floor. She heard Tommy curse and watched him put the luggage down more carefully than her.
"Y/N go back in the car." Not having to be told twice she rushed back to the passenger side. Feeling nervous when the men advanced on Tommy, a fist fight, four on one beginning.
Before she could open the door, one of the men had grabbed her, making her yelp and shove him to the ground. She tried to hit the next man who made a grab for her but he caught her arm and held it behind her back. It took three men to stop her struggling, pulling her to where their leader stood. They held her there, Tommy a few metres opposite her being held in a similar position, a cut on his forehead and a bruised eye. The two watched as the thieves began rifling through Tommy’s car and her luggage on the floor.
One of them held up a rather beautiful, expensive looking dress adorned in jewels. “Excuse me!” Y/N spat, missing Tommy closing his eyes in annoyance. ”That was my mother’s dress, you give that back!” She felt the men tighten their hold on her. The leader smirked and stalked over to her. He lifted one of his ring covered hands and caressed her cheek. "Feisty little thing.” He whispered.
Tommy began struggling, "Let her go.” He demanded, voice strong but eyes tired. “Your fight is against me not her." Y/N could only then see that the two men knew each other. The man removed his hand and walked closer to Tommy. He relented and told the men to release her.
Y/N pushed her way out of their arms, shivering from the rain and annoyed at the mud tracing up her skirts. She raised her chin to the leader, "I demand that you give me back all of my things. And since you shot through one of the tyres and have my driver captured, a horse for the journey back." All of the men’s eyes widened at her order. The leader titled his head, and grinned sarcastically.
“Princess,” He spread his arms out in front of him, ”You may have anything you can carry." His men chuckled around them. Y/N raised her eyebrows, a devious look in her eyes as she glanced at Tommy, who was staring at her in disbelief.
“Do I have your word on that, Sir? She asked.
The man bowed his head, “On my honour as a Gypsy.”
Y/N nodded once. She walked past the Gypsy, staring at him as she passed. Walking straight over her clothes on the floor, Y/N made her way to Tommy, the men who were holding him backing away. She lifted his arm up and bent down, huffing as she lifted her husband across her back. The Gypsy man opened his mouth in shock, watching as Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile and a slight curtsy before making her way down the road, holding Tommy on her back.
A ruckus of laughter erupted from the group of men at the sight. Even the leader couldn't help but laugh loudly at the daring girl. "Come back!” He paused, chuckling, “You may have a horse."
Y/N sat in front of Tommy on the horse as they rode to the manor. He knew that this reckless but incredibly clever woman would cause him a great deal of trouble, he just couldn’t bring himself to resent it anymore.
I can just imagine Y/N telling John this story and Tommy having to kick him out because of all the teasing...
#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders x reader#tommy shelby#tommy shelby one shot#peaky blinders one shot
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You have selected Ashkaari to join your party!
@little-lightning-lavellan inspired me to do this with one of my Dragon Age ocs and this was so much fun!
(everything below cut)
Ashkaari (born 9:12 Dragon) is a Qunari rogue and former assassin. She is a companion and a romance option for a female Inquisitor in Dragon Age: Inquisition.
Her Ability Tree includes rogue specific abilities, her starting weapon are two dual wield blades. Ashkaari's Ability Tree includes the assassin specialization, always ready to strike from the shadows to protect the Inquisitor and the party.
Combat comments
Kills an enemy
• Parshaara!
• And down they go!
• Another one on the list!
Low Health
• My blood's supposed to be INSIDE me!
• Lend me a hand will you!?
Low health (companions)
• (The Inquisitor) The Inquisitor is in danger!
• (The Inquisitor, if romanced) Vashedan- hold on I'm coming!
• (Cole) Cole, take a breather!
• (Dorian) Moustache needs some restin'!
• (Iron Bull) Big guy's in trouble!
• (Sera) You'll be no use to the Jenny's dead!
Fallen companions
• (The Inquisitor) No, you don't get to die! Not now!
• (The Inquisitor, if romanced) Kadan! No, no, no!
• (Solas) Baldy's down!
• (Sera) The Jenny's out!
• (Varric) Damn it they got the dwarf!
• (Dorian) Mage down!
• (Iron Bull) Asshole! You still owe me gold!
Location comments
Cradle of Sulevin
Inquisitor: There’s an altar.
Ashkaari: Could be a trap, watch yourself.
Crestwood
(Finding the family of nugs in the Flooded Caves)
Inquisitor: The nugs seem to like it down here.
Ashkaari: I remember I ate a nug once.
Inquisitor: Really?
Ashkaari: It wasn't that good.
Ashkaari: (if Inquisitor is a dwarf) Maybe you could cook one better.
Emerald Graves
• Big place, huh?
Emprise du Lion
• Has anyone actually seen a lion here? No? Maybe because it's so damn cold!
• (If in romance with the Inquisitor) If I'm stealing blankets tonight, blame this place.
Exalted Plains
• I don't get why humans dislike elves, but I certainly get why elves would dislike humans.
Storm coast
• You should pick different locations. Preferably those without rain. My make up's getting all smudged.
Companion comments about Ashkaari
Blackwall: I don't quite know what to make of Ashkaari. She seems.. lost in a way. But she is nice.
Varric: Birdy? I caught her playing with the children the other day. She gave them piggy back rides and stuff like that.
Sera: Ashkaari? (Laughs) Woof.
Solas: Ashkaari has great interests in foreign cultures. Fascinating to see.
Dorian: (laughs) Honestly, Ashkaari is just funny to watch sometimes. Absolutely ruined Cullen's office the other day.
Iron Bull: Wanna know something about Ashkaari? I found out she doesn't know what her name means. Ironic, considering it's quite descriptive of her. "One who seeks." But I'm not sure if she even knows what she's seeking.
Cassandra: A clever rogue, perhaps even a little too clever. I'd keep her on your good side Inquisitor.
Josephine: Dedicated. Very dedicated. Her loyalty absolutely lies in the Inquisition. Other than that she has very fascinating tales about her misadventures.
Tresspasser
If Ashkaari is romanced by the Inquisitor, she can be found in the Winter Palace with a cat. Where she will jokingly state "Now we have a child the next step must be marriage right? (laughs)" where the possibility of a proposal could rise.
If the Inquisitor proposes, Ashkaari will be taken aback, but happily accept after she realizes the Inquisitor's serious.
If the Inquisition is disbanded, she'll stay with the Inquisitor, building a cabin in the Hinterlands together sometime later.
If the Inquisition is turned into a peacekeeping force, she'll remain with the Inquisition. Though, the Inquisitor is the bigger motive for her stay.
If not romanced, Ahskaari will still be sitting next to the cat in the Winter Palace.
If the Inquisition is disbanded, she'll build a cabin somewhere deep in the Hinterlands together with Scout Harding where she'll live, a sort of nostalgic feeling of her time in the Inquisition.
If the Inquisition is turned into a peacekeeping force, she'll remain with the Inquisition.
Trivia
• Ashkaari's greatest fear is the future
• She left the Qun when she was around 17.
• Is a big cat lover.
• If the Inquisitor doesn't romance her, it is revealed during banter that she has a relationship with Scout Harding.
• She is a lesbian.
• At Skyhold, she can be found outside the tavern.
• Enjoys playing with kids at Skyhold. (It's mainly the kids sitting on her shoulders as she runs around.)
• Unlike Iron Bull, you don't have to to get the Necklace of the Kadan for her, however she will always refer to you as Kadan
#this was fun!#but also i havent written in 50000 years so this was lowkey fun#gotta write more#dragon age#my art#ashkaari#qunari#qunari oc#my writing#dragon age inquisiton
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