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banannabethchase · 1 year

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Matt is bored. Bored Matt is chaos Matt. Bored Matt decides to play Truth or Dare with the roster, because apparently it's 2008 and I'm writing classic tropes out of nostalgia.

Alternate titles: 23 times Matt Jackson asked somebody "truth or dare" and the 1 time somebody asked him back Truth or dare as introspection A fictionalization of those times in high school where you dare everybody to kiss each other and you end up making out with your best friend Matt Jackson Is Bored And That Means Chaos

I hope you enjoy. This is for an old Marianas Trench lyric prompt meme for the prompts "Just spin the bottle" and "truth or dare."

Mini Playlist: Pony - Ginuwine Bad Dog - Neon Hitch Truth or Dare - Marianas Trench Wildfire - Marianas Trench

Matt is bored. And he knows that, when he’s bored, bad things happen. Well. Fun things. But bad things. Most recently he held a pie eating content, and that ended up with a $1,500 cleaning bill Tony was not pleased about.

“You’re all twitchy,” Nick says. “Why are you all twitchy?”

Matt shrugs, trying to get comfortable. It fails. “My leg has a mind of its own. I can’t make it stop.”

“Are you about to have a terrible idea?” Nick asks. He studies Matt. “Please don’t do the thing you did in TNA.”

“That’s absurd. I would never do that again.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Except for when you did it in New Japan.”

Matt considers it. Promotion wide Spin-the-Bottle was fun, but expected. Matt lets the idea form in front of him: spin the bottle is so out of date. He’s got a better idea.

“Oh, no, don’t make that face,” Nick groans. He drops his head in his hands. “What did I do in a past life to get you as my brother?”

“Sainthood, probably,” Matt says. He’s not bored anymore. He’s excited. “I’ll be back in a minute. Maybe.”

Nick throws a shoe at his back, but it’s not one of the thumbtack ones, so Matt considers it a win.

He googles, “Truths and Dares,” and collects things he thinks might work for the particular demographic he works with. He types some in the notes app, because the wifi in this venue is notoriously weak. He feels a little bad for the first people he runs into. They’ll be the guinea pigs to determine the most interesting options.

Orange Cassidy is refilling his water bottle in the hallway when Matt slides up next to him. “Hi!” Matt gets a nod in response. “Truth or dare?”

Orange lowers his glasses, staring blankly at Matt.

“Truth or dare?” Matt asks again. Maybe he didn’t hear.

“Um. Truth?”

“Who do you think is,” Matt checks his phone, “the hottest person at work?”

“Luchasaurus,” Orange replies. He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t think. Just answers.

“Oh,” Matt says. “Okay. Not my type, but I appreciate the fact that you aren’t worried it might make you a furry.”

“The heart wants what it wants,” Orange says, sliding his glasses back on. “So does the dick.”

Matt shrugs. “Fair. You know where the rest of your buddies are?”

“Got food,” Orange answers. “Went out.”

Matt watches him walk away. “Okay,” he says. “Good question. Backup in an emergency.” He’s a little perturbed that the Best Friends clan might not be an option, but there was no guarantee Danhausen would take his dare to paint Trent’s face to match his, so he cuts his losses. He’ll hit as many people as possible, and will intentionally not think about the person who he’d like to ask a Truth the most.

While looking at his phone, he almost trips over something. “Hey!”

“Stop staring at that phone,” says Christopher Daniels, looking like a disappointed dad. “You kids…”

“I’m thirty-seven,” Matt snaps back. “Truth or dare?”

Christopher blinks. “Excuse me?”

Matt is wondering if his experience with truth or dare with his friends as a kid was a more unique experience than he’d thought. “Truth or dare,” he repeats. “Did they not have that when you were a kid?”

“One of these days I’m going to kill you,” Daniels grumbles. “Do I have to?”

“You don’t have to,” Matt says, making sure to get his eyes all big and moony, “but it’s fun.”

“Don’t – quit looking at me like that. Who do you think I am, Page?”

“It doesn’t work on him anymore!” Matt fires back. It’s only a second later that he realizes he just gave away his secret weapon. “Never mind. Are you doing it or not?”

“Dare,” Daniels says, like it’s torn out of him. “If it’ll get you to stop.”

“I dare you to go up to the first person you see and twerk on them.” He wiggles his phone. “I will provide the music of your choice.”

“Twerk?!” he half shrieks. “Matt, I am fifty-two fucking years old. I don’t twerk.”

Matt frowns. “Let me look something up.” He googles it for a while. “Okay, internet says you have to do a Truth.”

“I’m not telling you shit, because you’ll ask about upcoming contracts.”

Matt shrugs. “Fair.” He scrolls again. “Okay, if you say no to both, I think you have to kiss me.” Technically, the rule is the person is “out”. But Matt isn’t comfortable letting people have an automatic escape from his game, and if they really don’t want to kiss him, he obviously won’t make them. Plus, Daniels is a bit of a sucker for stupid dares, and Matt’s interested to see how far he can push him.

Daniels’ jaw tenses. “Fine. Tell me who I’m twerking on.”

The first room is Tony’s office, and Matt could almost skip with glee. “What song do you want?”

“I hate you,” Daniels grumbles. “Put on Pony by Ginuwine.”

“Good choice!”

Daniels walks into Tony’s room like he belongs here. Matt peeks in after him. Tony looks up from his computer. “Hi, Chris, what’s up?”

With a sigh, Daniels nods to Matt, who cues the music. In a feat of almost miserable effort, Daniels wiggles his butt in a shameful facsimile of a twerk.

“That’s enough,” Matt says, as gently as possible. He looks over at Tony. “I – I don’t want to put you through more.”

“May I ask what is going on?” Tony says. “Actually…” He pauses, pressing a button on the phone. “Okay, the call’s muted. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Matt shrugs. “I’m playing Truth or Dare. You, Tony?”

“Truth.”

Matt huffs. “Boring. Who’s your favorite wrestler on the roster?”

Tony looks at Matt like he’s a particularly pathetic street rat. “Kenny. You know that. We’ve talked about it.”

“It’s in your book,” Daniels offers.

Matt walks out of the room, defeated. He screwed himself on that one.

“Hell fucking no.”

“Please?” Matt asks, chasing after Ethan Page. “Come on!”

“No,” Ethan says. “I am not playing Truth or Dare.”

“If you say no, you have to kiss me.”

Ethan turns around. “You are a fucking demon.”

“So will you play?” Matt asks. He turns on the eyes.

Ethan laughs, directly in his face. “Truth or dare? Okay. Truth.”

“Uh,” Matt scrolls his phone, looking for something decent. “Who is your least favorite person –”

“You.”

“I didn’t finish!”

“Sucks for you,” Ethan says. He walks backward. “Thanks for the game, Matt. Hope you lose your next match.”

Matt kicks a trash can, stubs his toe, and limps off to catering, where his mood immediately turns. There’s a lot of people in here.

“Hi.” Matt sits down next to Tay and Anna. “Truth or dare?”

They turn to each other, look at each other for a moment, then turn back to him. In perfect sync. Matt is mildly terrified. “Truth,” Anna says.

Tay laughs. “Baby. I say dare.”

“Okay, Anna,” Matt looks through the list, “if you had to punch anybody in the room, who would it be?”

Anna scans the area, tapping her chin. Her eyes land on the Blackpool table. “Yuta,” she decides. “He’s too, I don’t know, pleasant. A fist to the face would make me like him more, I think.”

“Weird logic, but okay.” Matt turns to Tay. “With their consent, of course, kiss somebody in the room.”

Matt is expecting a peck on the cheek, probably for Anna. Maybe a tiny kiss for Sammy, if he comes in.

Nope.

Tay stands, grabs Matt’s face. “You?”

He should have seen this coming. “Fine.” Tay plants a kiss directly on his mouth. It’s over before he realizes, and he doesn’t even get a chance to kiss back.

“Interesting choice,” he says, trying to put his face back where it belongs. “Um, why me?”

“You were the closest,” Tay says, shrugging. “And Sammy’s on the other side of hotel, so…”

“Oh,” says Anna, interrupting, “Jack’s here.” She waves him over, and he slides in next to her, arm around her waist. “Hi. Matt’s doing Truth or Dare.”

Jungle Boy tilts his head to the side. “Dare. Obviously.”

Matt thinks about it. “I dare you to do a lap dance on somebody in the room who isn’t Anna.”

“Lame.” He looks around. “I get to choose the music?”

Matt nods. “Provided by me, of course. Just let me know what song and I’ll play it.”

Jack looks from the Blackpool table, over to The Firm’s table. It is only then that Matt realizes how much his adult life feels like high school. “Yuta!”

“What?”

“Can I give you a lap dance?”

Yuta wrinkles his nose. “No. Unequivocally no.”

“Please?”

“Still no. Let me eat my lunch.”

Jungle Boy turns back to Matt. “Well. Sucks for you.”

“What?”

“Babe,” Jungle Boy says, turning to Anna, “what’s the sexiest song?”

“Bad Dog by Neon Hitch,” she answers automatically.

Matt shrugs. He doesn’t know the song, but the title is…well, to quote Isiah Cassidy, sus. “Odd choice, but to each their own.” He chooses the song on Spotify. “Who are you lap dancing?”

“You, obviously.”

Thus begins 3 of the strangest minutes of Matt’s thirty-seven years. Jungle Boy isn’t exactly full of rhythm, and he doesn’t exactly have the ass to make this a particularly riveting lap dance. But it’s something to do, and Matt’s doing a great job of getting people to play his game, so he figures he doesn’t have anything to complain about.

The song ends, and Jungle Boy stops dancing and immediately goes stiff again. He sits back next to Anna. “Okay. I’m going to, uh, eat my dinner now.” He nods at Matt. “Later.”

Matt stands up. “Later. Uh, if they try to kill me,” he nods over to the Blackpool table, “call Nick or something, okay?”

“Sure,” Anna says, but she’s texting, and he’s pretty sure she didn’t even hear him. Oh, well.

He plops himself next to Wheeler Yuta, who pauses midchew. “Hi.”

Yuta swallows, eyeing Matt. “What are you up to?”

“Why do you think I’m up to anything?”

Yuta gestures to Jungle Boy, Anna, and Tay. “Well, for starters, Tay kissed you, and then Jungle Boy did a weird little stripper dance on you.” He shrugs. “Common denominator is you, man.”

“Okay, fine. I’m playing Truth or Dare.”

“Dare,” Yuta says automatically. Mox laughs, dropping his head, while Claudio rolls his eyes over a bowl of soup.

“Kid, you gotta stop giving Matt an open invitation. He’ll take it.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Matt. “Won’t he?”

“That was once, and we were high on adrenaline after Double or Nothing,” Matt fires back.

Mox shrugs, grinning as he shovels more pasta into his mouth. “Fun, though.”

Yuta looks between the two of them, strangely intrigued. “You guys have kissed?”

“Yes, not the point,” Matt says. He’s got to focus Yuta back so he can knock out the rest of the cafeteria before people start to leave. “Okay, dare? Um,” he searches online, but gives up quickly. The world in front of him gave a decent prompt. “I dare you to shove all of that loaf of bread in your mouth.”

“This is my bread,” Claudio grumbles.

“Tough shit,” Yuta says, and immediately shoves the whole hunk in his mouth. Like it’s nothing. Matt wonders what the hell the Blackpool Combat Club gets up to when they’re not in combat. Yuta’s chewing is a little labored, but he manages to chew and swallow it without much problem after a few moments. He swallows once more, then sticks out his tongue.

“Ew,” Matt says, wrinkling his nose. He turns to Claudio. “Truth or dare?”

“Not him yet,” Yuta says. “If Mox kissed you, can I kiss you?”

Matt blinks at him. “Um, that was back in 2019, so it’s not like a, a BCC initiation.”

“Oh, not because of that. Mox and I are in a battle to determine who is the best kisser and you’d be an impartial judge.”

Matt has the impulse to ask what in the eff that means, and also, again, what the fuck is Blackpool doing on company time, but he refocuses. He has a match soon. He can’t waste time. “I mean. I ask you for a favor, you ask me for one.” He points to the water. “Just, I don’t know, rinse your mouth out a little first.”

Yuta nods, chugs about a gallon of water and shakes his shoulders out. “Alright.” He leans down and kisses Matt gently, a sweet press. It feels almost blasphemous to call this brush of lips the same as whatever the fuck he and Moxley did behind a giant poker chip way back then.

Yuta’s smiling when he pulls away. “Good?”

“Very different from Mox,” he muses. “For instance, you don’t taste like cigarettes.”

Mox drops his fork. “That can’t count.”

“It does,” Matt says and, just to be annoying, “and Yuta’s not all sweaty.”

“I’d just made my debut on a fuckin’ lit stage! In May!”

Matt shrugs. “Yuta wins. Now, Claudio, Truth or Dare?”

“No, no, no,” Mox interrupts again. Matt’s going to get nowhere. There’s only so many hours in a day. “I get another shot. That other kiss was years ago.”

“Oh, my god, fine,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. “Kiss me, you fool, or whatever. Clock is ticking.”

Mox leans in and presses a kiss gentler than Matt’d thought him capable of. But he still wouldn’t call it gentle. Mox kisses with single minded hunger, lips demanding and firm. They don’t taste like smoke, though Mox tastes a bit like chicken soup. He pulls away. “There. Better?”

“Better,” Matt says, “but you taste like soup this time, so I’m still gonna have to give it to Yuta.”

“Hah!” Yuta barks, and straight up points a finger in Mox’s face. “Told ya!”

Mox rolls his eyes. “Asshole.”

“Claudio, truth or dare?” Matt says.

“Truth.”

Matt scrolls his phone. “What’s your favorite fantasy?”

“Winning the world title,” Claudio says, almost automatically.

“I think – well, I guess it’s answerer interpretation, isn’t it.” Matt stands. “Thank you for your time, boys, as weird as it was.” He pauses. “Uh, Claudio?”

“Yes?” He doesn’t look pleased.

“Do you have stakes in the weird kissing battle between…” He trails off, pointing to Mox and Yuta, who have gone back to eating their lunch like they hadn’t just asked Matt to settle a bet between the two of them.

Claudio sighs. “Yuta won in my final review, too.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. Alright.” He walks over to the Firm’s table, where Stokeley Hathaway looks highly displeased at his arrival. “What?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

At least it’s moving quick than BCC. “What’s your greatest fear?”

“Being stuck in conversations with idiots my whole life,” Stokely fires back.

“I’ll take it. You,” he turns to Lee Moriarty, “truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Read out loud the last text message you sent.”

Lee pulls out his phone. “No, but you can if you want,” he reads. “To Big Bill, if it matters.”

“Thank you. Mr. Bill.”

“You can call me Big Bill.”

Matt nods. “Okay. Big Bill, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Matt scrolls the list. “Oh, this one is fun. Yell out the first word that comes to mind at the top of your lungs.”

“Potpourri!” Big Bill booms, and it staggers Matt. For just a second though.

“What the fuck goes on in that big ass head of yours?” Stokely asks, shaking his head. He turns back to Matt, somehow looking disappointed. “Alright. You finished?”

Matt nods. “Yep.” He walks to the exit, and runs right into Samoa Joe. “Oh, hi! Truth or dare?”

“Why?”

Matt shrugs. “I was bored. Truth or dare?”

Joe practically levels him with a stony star. This might have been a mistake. “I will throw you across this room.”

Matt seriously considers trying again. He has that street match later, anyway… But no. Bad idea. “Alright, suit yourself.” And he makes his way down the hallway.

He gets to his normal locker room, the one he now shares only with Nick, since Kenny came back. Since he left. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Nick says. “You seem a little less jittery than before.”

“Truth or dare is fun,” Matt says. “Speaking of which.”

Nick sighs. “Yeah, okay. Dare.”

“Ooh! You’re being fun today.” He scrolls the list, and finds the perfect one. “Oh, this is good. Show me the most embarrassing photo on your phone.”

Nick whines. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Or, I could just grab your phone and -” Matt darts out to grab Nick’s phone, but he pulls it away at the last second.

“God, okay, fine,” he whines. “Give me a sec.”

A minute so later, which Matt spends searching for other good dares and truths, Nick sighs. “Here.” He turns the phone around and shows it to Matt. It’s not that embarrassing – a photo of a particularly messy botch from the previous match with Death Triangle.

“Oh, that’s not bad.” He pats Nick on the cheek. “Thanks, baby brother.”

They gear up and walk down to Kenny’s dressing room, where he’s half asleep on the couch. “You awake, buddy?” Nick asks, reaching out to gently shake Kenny’s arm.

He wakes up slowly. “Time to get ready?”

Matt nods. “You forget your alarm again.”

“Apparently,” Kenny mumbles. “Sorry about that. Won’t be long.”

It isn’t. Kenny is ready in a couple of minutes, and they are ready for their match. Matt gets a Brutalizer, Nick gets a boot to the face, and Kenny probably breaks his ass pulling off a risky One Winged Angel. But they won. Even though Matt tapped, they still won.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Kenny says, patting Matt’s shoulder a little too hard. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Nah, you’re good.” Matt rolls his shoulder. “And I tapped! I almost made us lose.”

“I had your back,” Kenny says. “Besides, all that matters is that we won. One more in two weeks.” He winces. “I think I’ll enjoy that time off, actually.”

Matt hums in agreement. The ache in his shoulder is almost completely done by the time the clock hits ten. Kenny’s ass is solid, pun intended, Nick doesn’t have anything worse than a lump in his forehead, and Matt decides that he’s allowed to turn his attention back on his own brand of nonsense now.

“Hey, I’m not gonna bother with the trainer. I’m already feeling better.” He grins. “Anybody want to come with me to play truth or dare?”

Kenny shakes his head. “I want to go monitor Rampage, make sure everything closed out Dynamite okay.” He wiggles, wincing. “And maybe sit on some ice.”

“And I,” Nick says, “will do anything in my power to avoid being involved in your weird…” He trails off, making a bizarre hand gesture. “Well, your whatever it is. So I’m going with Kenny.”

Matt shrugs. “Suit yourself. But first, Kenny,” he grins, like everything is the way they were before the injuries, “truth or dare?”

“Die in a fire.”

“Not an option,” Matt says. “Truth or dare?”

“Fine,” Kenny says, slowly lifting himself off the table. “Truth.”

“Who on the roster would you let kiss you, if they asked nicely?”

Kenny considers, wincing as he takes his first few steps. “Jesus, don’t drop ass first on a table.” He takes a few steps, and loosens, just a little. “Probably Rush,” Kenny decides. “I like his hair.”

Matt nods. “Cool. Interesting choice. Not where I would have gone with it.”

On the way to main locker room, he bumps into the Dark Order.

“Great timing,” he leans against the wall, legs out to make sure the Dark Order don’t make the mistake of thinking that they can escape this conversation. “Truth or dare. Let’s start with Silver.”

“Dare,” he says. He looks way too excited. “You gonna make me suck a dick? Lick somebody’s stinky butthole?”

Matt involuntarily scoots a little further away. “Gross, no. What in the world do you guys get up to?”

“So much,” Uno says, sounding dazed.

“Silver, I dare you to text ‘I love you’ to whoever posted most recently in your Instagram feed.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Silver says, pulling his phone out from his trunks. Matt reminds himself to never shake his hand without Purel on hand. “Hello, Miss Grande.” He types it out, presses send and shows Matt. “Maybe she’ll pick up some tickets to the gun show and get up on this.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s married now,” Reynolds muses. “I choose truth.”

“Who’s your least favorite member of the Dark Order?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” Alex waves it away. “Five. He was the worst.” He pauses. “Actually, wait. I think my least favorite is Ten now. Because of, you know, the whole betrayal thing.”

John exhales. “I never thought I’d see the day when Five wasn’t last in something.”

“So, Uno, how about you?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you, to,” Matt checks his list again, wishing he could just memorize the whole thing, “to send a sext to the last person in your phone, alphabetically.”

“Oh, well, that’ll be,” he holds up his phone, “Wheeler Yuta.”

“This’ll be fun,” John says, “tell him you want to use his abs to do laundry.”

Uno makes an appraising noise. “Honestly, that’s better than what I was worried you’d suggest.”

“I was gonna say ‘ask him to suck your Moby dick’, but I figured that was over the line.”

“Good call,” Matt says. Uno types and sends the message. “Keep me posted. It’ll be fascinating to see where this goes next.”

He makes his way down to Death Triangle’s area, but they’re gone. No sign of them. “Hello?” he calls into the locker room. “Anybody else in here?”

“Hello hello,” says Bryan Danielson, popping out from the showers. He’s fully dressed, though, so Matt doesn’t need to have a panic attack about that. “Need something?”

“I’m playing truth or dare,” Matt says. “Which one?”

“Truth, I guess,” Bryan says, fixing his hair in the mirror.

“Who’s your favorite person on the roster?”

Bryan keeps adjusting pieces of his hair as he thinks. “Probably Mox,” he decides. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” Matt says, and he salutes, which he couldn’t explain if a knife was to his throat.

He walks to the other side, expecting to see it empty, but Hook is sitting there with Top Flight. “Oh – didn’t think anybody else was in here.”

“We’re trying to chill,” Dante says. His eyes are closed as he leans against the locker. “So, if you’re here to kick our ass or yell at us, wait, like, ten minutes.”

“Not any of that,” Matt says. “I’m playing truth or dare. Want to play?”

Hook takes a headphone out, considers Matt. “Truth,” he says. Matt thinks this may be the most Hook’s said directly to him. Like, ever.

“Okay, um,” he gives up on his phone, because he genuinely has a question, “favorite wrestler of all time?”

“My dad,” he answers. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t explain, just relaxes back against the lockers. But his eyes stay open, this time.

“Alright, Dante,” he nods to him. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare. I’m always up for something stupid.”

Matt breaks into a slow grin. “Go up to Danielson – he’s on the other side – and start dancing on him.”

Dante sighs. “Should have seen that one coming. Alright, fine. Let’s go.”

Hook grins and breaks out his phone, recording it as Dante walks over. Danielson is on his way out, but Dante catches up to him and immediately starts doing what appears to be the Dougie. Bryan is not phased, and simply walks out.

“That was anticlimactic,” Matt mutters. “Alright, Darius. What’s your poison?”

He tilts his head a little. “Truth.”

“Did you consider leaving wrestling after your accident?” But it wasn’t Matt who asked. It was Dante.

Darius’ eyes widen. “Not for a second.” He looks at Dante, who’s slumped, just a little. “Hey, bud, I promise. I wasn’t going to leave.”

“But you could have,” Dante says. “You probably should have.” His eyes are suddenly big and sad, and he looks so, so young. He remembers getting that same look from Nick all those years ago, when things weren’t going well and Matt was about to quit.

Matt stands, shuffling out, because he’s not needed for this. He hears the cheers from the Rampage taping going off, so he guesses he’s shit out of luck for anybody on that show. He ducks into the corners of the dressing rooms and the prep rooms, looks for Swerve and his guys, but nobody’s there. He peeks in catering again – no one. Everybody’s either working or back at a hotel.

He catches Wardlow on his way back toward his EVP room, and taps his shoulder.

“Hey.” Wardlow turns to him. “I like the haircut.”

Wardlow touches it, fingertips pulling at strands that are no longer there. Matt remembers doing that when he and Nick first started for TNA, when they made them Max and Jeremy. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Did I miss something?” Wardlow asks, looking around. “This for your vlog?”

“No,” Matt says. “I got bored and I’m asking everyone. Getting some good gossip.”

“Like what?” Huh. Matt had not pegged Wardlow for a nosy Nancy, but Matt Jackson is always willing to dish out the knowledge he obtains.

“Well,” Matt says, “I learned that Jungle Boy can’t do a lap dance to save his life.” He thinks about other interesting details. “Oh, and Hook’s favorite wrestler is Taz, which is expected, but nice. Wheeler Yuta can shove, like, a whole loaf of bread in his mouth at once.”

Wardlow nods in approval. “Okay, that one’s actually kind of impressive.”

“I know,” Matt says, “Like, I know a lot of bread is air, but a lot of bread is, well, bread.”

Wardlow laughs, something that is both confusing and comforting to Matt. He feels unlikely to be powerslammed into the wall. “Alright. I pick truth.”

“What do you think is your biggest mistake?” It’s a rough question, but Warlow seems…well, he seems like he might need it. MJF wasn’t particularly kind to him, and Samoa Joe was a giant jerk tonight. Nobody checks on Wardlow. Somebody should talk to him.

Wardlow sighs, leans against the wall. “Well,” he say, “I’d say helping MJF all that time. I made the mistake of putting money over morals.” He smiles. “Not doing that again.”

“Well, thank you for your candor,” Matt says, doing his best to be chivalrous. “I won’t share that if you don’t want to.”

“I mean, you can,” Wardlow says with a shrug. “I feel like most people can assume, at this point.”

He waves Matt off, wishing him a happy new year, and Matt makes his way back to his room. There’s only one person left from Dynamite that he really, really wishes he’d caught. And it’s only then that Matt realized this was all an excuse. His shoulders slump, like a marionette with cut strings, and he pushes into the EVP room with Nick with the energy of a dying plankton.

“You look miserable,” Nick says, a little too cheerfully. “You get punched in the face for daring somebody to, like, make out with you or something?”

“I did not dare anybody to kiss me, thank you very much.” He decidedly does not mention the thing with Jungle Boy. Or Tay. Or the little thing with Yuta. Or the thing with Mox. Which sort of wasn’t a kiss, as much as a mouth attack. “And no, it’s because it’s been a long day and I’m tired.”

“That’s not your tired face,” Nick says. “Actually. That’s, uh. That’s your weird little temper tantrum face.”

“Shut up,” Matt says, He dips his head, trying to cover whatever Nick thinks he can read there.

“Who was it?” Nick asks, too knowing as always. “Which sane person decided not to play your game?”

“Samoa Joe, but that’s not the issue,” Matt says. He can feel that Nick is going to keep pressing, kep asking. So he caves. “I couldn’t find Page.”

“Ethan?”

Matt lifts his head up. “No.”

Nick exhales, slumping against his chair. “Man, you really are a glutton for punishment.”

“It’s a game!” Matt doesn’t know why he feels so defensive about this. “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Nick claps him on the shoulder. “You really miss him, don’t you.”

“I don’t want to,” Matt mumbles. “But yeah. I guess I miss what we all used to have, you know?”

They sit silently for a little, packing up slowly, until Matt realizes he hasn’t eaten since five.

“Catering might still be open,” he says. “I’ll bring you a cookie.”

The walk to the catering area is quiet, since anybody who isn’t working Rampage is gone or packing up, and he’s halfway through a tray full of a smattering of snacks when he hears it. The familiar tap on the tile floors.

“Hangman!” Matt scrambles to his feet, practically tripping over them to get out of the cafeteria and out to Adam. “Adam! Wait!”

He turns around slowly. Hesitantly. Matt doesn’t like it. “Matt?”

“Yeah, hi,” Matt says. He skids to a stop in front of Adam. “Hi.”

“You said that already.”

Matt can’t help but smile. “I know. Um, truth or dare?”

Adam sighs. “Not again.”

“It’s not spin the bottle this time,” Matt blurts out. “So you don’t have to kiss me.”

“I didn’t have to kiss you that time,” Adam says, leaning against his wall. “But, truth.”

Matt feels something well in him, some kind of bold tenacity. Adrenaline spikes. “Do you hate me?”

Adam slips a little bit. “What?”

Matt nods. “That’s your truth. Do you hate me?”

He’s quiet for a minute, for long enough that Matt is regretting this whole thing. Then, “No.” He adjusts his hair, tightening the bun. “No, Matty, I don’t.”

The nickname is like a kick to the heart. Or a jumpstart. Matt risks stepping closer.

“Now I get to ask you, right?”

Matt tilts his head. “You ask me?”

“That’s how the game’s played, isn’t it?” Adam asks. His fingers are pulling at his belt buckle. He’s nervous. “The last person to go always gets to ask whoever they want.”

“Nobody else has cashed in on that today, but, yeah.” Matt feels a little breathless. “Yeah, you can ask me.”

“Truth or dare?” His voice is low, breathy. Matt remembers that tone of voice. Remembers when it used to meet him in the middle of the night in a shitty hotel room, used to sweep him off his feet backstage.

“Dare,” Matt whispers.

Adam steps toward Matt. “Kiss me.”

Matt nods, feeling something tighten in his chest, something that’s been begging to get touched for years. He tilts his head up, and it’s like coming home. Adam’s fingers thread through his hair where it’s fallen out of the ponytail; he slides them against the base of his head like he always used to. Matt sighs into it, settles his hands on Adam’s hips, pulls him closer. Adam makes this little sound against him as he licks at Matt’s lips. Like Matt could ever resist that sound. He goes up onto his toes trying to get better leverage, and presses Adam up against the wall. Adam’s hands lose some of their demure hesitance, and they grip at the back of Matt’s shirt. It feels like an invitation, so Matt slides his hands up Adam’s shirt, pressing at the familiar skin there.

He's missed this. He’s missed Adam. He’s missed feeling like there was something other than the ground to anchor him.

Matt fumbles with the door and twists the knob, and he pulls Adam with him into whichever room this is. He doesn’t care where it is – he just needs to be away from any questioning eyes. He realizes with a hazy sense of stupid that this is, indeed, Kenny’s dressing room. And Matt doesn’t care.

Adam’s making those little, desperate noises again, the ones that get Matt hard in his pants so fast he gets dizzy, and Matt’s only option is to scrabble at Adam’s shirt and yank it up over his head.

“Missed you,” Adam growls, biting along Matt’s jaw. His hands have found their way up Matt’s back, under his shirt, burning a path where his fingertips skitter and scratch. “Want you.”

Matt can’t do much other than make a weird little murmur in response, and he hopes it’s enough to tell Adam that he wants him, too. He pulls back, just a little, and hears Adam make a half pathetic desperate noise.

“I’m coming back,” Matt says, and he pulls of his shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room. He grabs at the hem of Adam’s shirt, already messed up, and yanks it up. “Rawhide Kid?” he asks. “What…?”

“It’s a gay cowboy,” Adam says, with a little laugh. “Strangely appropriate for right now, huh.”

Matt nods in agreement, then steps back into Adam’s space. He goes for Adam’s belt, doesn’t know what he’s getting, but he wants anything Adam is willing to give. Adam’s belt flies across the room, Matt’s pants fall, and Adam grabs him around the waist. He hauls him up and presses him up against the door as he pulls the pants off his leg. Matt’s vision nearly whites out.

“Forgot you could do that,” Matt laughs, head tilted back as Adam bites a bruise into his skin. “And I’ve bulked up.”

“I noticed,” Adam says. He moves down to Matt’s bicep, nipping. “Been lifting?”

“Uh huh,” Matt says. He rolls his hip up against Adam, desperate for friction. He’s rewarded with Adam’s low laugh, the kind Matt only gets to hear with they’re like this. “Come on, take your pants off.”

Adam turns and, with a hand on Matt’s back, carries him to the couch. He drops Matt, and it gives Matt a truly magnificent view of Adam looming over him, undoing his belt.

“Got anything?” Adam asks. “It’s not back in our Ring of Honor days, not sure if spit’s gonna do the job.”

Matt feels a zing of heat course through him. “Uh, this is Kenny’s room, so if you go through his stuff, he’s bound to have something.”

“Right,” Adam says. “Going through my professional ex’s stuff so I can fuck my other ex. Totally normal.”

“Shut up and get in me,” Matt demands. Adam does shut up, but not without an eye roll. Matt doesn’t agree with Adam – spit’s worked fine for him the last few times – so he works himself down on his own finger while Adam searches.

“Okay, I think I found – oh, holy fuck.” Adam sounds like the breath has been punched out of him. “Oh, god, you look so pretty doing that.”

“Had to,” Matt gasps, writhing against the press of his own finger inside him. “You were taking too long.”

Adam hums in interest, then leans down, batting Matt’s finger out of the way. “Let me.” He presses a kiss to Matt’s bare thigh, then slicks his fingers. He’s always so gentle, this way. Kisses up and down Matt’s body, peppered to his lips, his chest, his legs. He starts off slow, takes a while to go rough enough, fast enough for Matt. It’s not in his brand to rush things, he thinks.

“More,” Matt gasps, “please. More.”

“Well, only ‘cause you beg so pretty.” Adam gently slides a second finger into Matt, twisting them so it sends shockwaves up Matt’s spine. He can’t help it – he grinds back down on Adam’s fingers, letting out a desperate moan. “Forgot how loud you get when I’m inside you,” Adam murmurs. He moves up Matt’s body, pressing a kiss to his lips like he’s drowning for Matt’s oxygen. “What do you want?”

“Wanna – wanna ride you,” Matt gasps, grinding down with each thrust from Adam.

Adam laughs. “I could make a cowboy joke here.” He teases a third finger around Matt’s rim, then slides it in easy, drawing out a sound of desperation from somewhere inside Matt’s chest. “But you seem otherwise occupied.”

Matt can’t speak anywhere, just lets out a bunch of vowels, and Adam laughs again. Matt will do anything to keep that there. He leans up, moaning at the way it shifts Adam’s fingers inside him, and pulls Adam to him. Adam slides his fingers out.

“Why the eff would you do that?” Matt asks, and he sounds petulant even to his own ears.

“Because you want to ride me, and that’s not gonna work if I’m stuck doing this standing crouching thing.” He flops down, hard, next to Matt, and rips open the condom, rolling it over himself. Matt’s about to die a little, when Adam pats his thighs. “Ride ‘em – ”

“Oh, no,” Matt says, throwing a leg over Adam’s. “No stupid jokes. We’re stopping that right now.”

“Just one?” God, Adam looks cute when he pouts, lips all pink and eyes shiny blue-green.

Matt decides argument is unnecessary, grabs Adam’s cock, and lowers himself down. It’s a strategy that’s never failed.

Adam drops his head backward with an audible thunk. “Christ on bike,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “I forgot how good you feel.”

Matt’s eyes flutter shut as he does his first rocking. “I didn’t forget you,” he mumbles. There’s certain things you can’t replicate on your own, no matter how hard you try. “You – oh – always fit me so good.”

Adam hums in agreement, starting with slow, tantalizing circles of the hips. Matt rocks, memorizing everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever have this again and, last time, he didn’t know it was the last time. This time, he’s prepared.

Adam slides a hand up to the back of his neck, into his hair. He pulls Matt down to kiss him, deep and dirty, and he picks up the speed of his thrusts. This is what Matt really missed – the way Adam just lets it go, gets a little wild with everything he gives. Matt starts by trying to lead, at least a little, but Adam’s desperate with it, and all Matt can really do is grip the back of the couch and press open mouthed kisses to Adam’s gasping mouth.

His cock is caught between their bellies, catching on Adam’s skin, and it’s too much and not enough at once. He presses his lips to Adam’s forehead. He doesn’t know how to tell him what he’s feeling. He hopes he can show it.

Adam slows down a little, one arm braced on the couch and the other around Matt’s back. Matt remembers all of this. They’ve just never had the chance to do this in such a nice room. Before he can catch himself. Matt laughs.

“What?” Adam asks, laughing along with Matt.

“Just – Kenny’s room,” Matt says. “I don’t know. It’s funny.”

Adam hums, but he must not be feeling the humor, as he speeds up and gets his hand on Matt and very suddenly Matt has other things to focus on.

It hits Matt like a train, when he comes all over Adam’s hand. Adam groans, “Fuck, you’re so, I…” But he trails off into a wordless moan as he comes, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Matt forgot how good Adam looks like this.

He’s got a giant smile on his lips as he eases his eyes open. “I missed you,” Adam half slurs, reaching up to brush hair from Matt’s forehead. “God, I missed you.”

Matt shifts, hips screaming at him, and flinches when Adam slips out of him. He’ll be feeling that tomorrow, that’s for damned sure. “I missed you, too.” He’s not sure what happens next, the reality of this crashing over him when Adam stands.

“Don’t panic,” he says, looking more confident than Matt feels, “just throwing this away.” He walks into the bathroom and comes right back out. “I’m not running out on you.”

“Oh. Cool. That’s good.” Matt really, really doesn’t know what comes next, but he’s been getting yesses almost the whole day so he figures luck is on his side. He reaches out, and Adam dives into his arms, pressing Matt to the couch. Matt settles into it, feels cozy when Adam nuzzles his neck and throws his legs over Matt’s lap.

“Forgot how cute you are, after,” Matt murmurs, arms around Adam’s shoulders.

“Shut up and let me cuddle,” Adam says back, but there’s no fire behind it, no anger. They stay there for longer than they probably should, testing the silence from time to time with little nothings, comments.

Well, until they hear footsteps. Matt manages to get his jeans and boxers back on, Adam his boxers only, by the time the door opens.

“What – what the hell?” Kenny doesn’t look angry, exactly. Anger would look a lot less confused. “I really hope I don’t know what you just did.”

“Take a wild guess, Kenneth,” Matt says, pulling his jeans on over his boxers. “Not like I haven’t run in on you and, well a lot of people, come to think of it.”

“How am I being slutshamed when you two are the ones fucking on my couch,” Kenny mutters.

“I’m not shaming that you’re a slut,” Matt says, shirt back on. The neck hole is super stretched, though. Hopefully a good wash will fix it. “I’m just commenting on it.”

“Can we stop saying that word?” Adam asks. Matt turns to see him doing his belt, and it sends that zing up his spine again. “And, uh, hi, Kenny.” He puts out his hand, winces, then pulls it behind his back.

Kenny shakes his head. “I don’t need to know the details.” He walks over to his stuff. “Oh – did you.” He cuts himself off, head snapping up. “Matt, did you steal my lube?”

Sheepishly, Matt finds the lube where they’d thrown it. “Here.”

Kenny makes a strange noise as he sort of tosses it in his hands, then throws it into his bag. “Don’t give me the condom back, for the love of god.”

“Already gone,” Adam says, grinning. “Thanks for the assist by the way.” The bastard winks at Kenny, Matt’s wondering if he’s physically able to get hard again just from that.

Kenny makes that weird noise again. “I should be annoyed by this.”

“Maybe,” Matt says, “but you hate being annoyed at me. It’s inconvenient.”

In tandem, Adam and Kenny groan in frustration. The cut it off at the same time, looking at each other in surprise.

“Moving on from that,” Adam says, starting to blush. “Anybody see my shirt?”

“Back of the couch,” Matt and Kenny say at the same time.

“Alright, well, I hate that,” Adam says. “Give it to me.”

Matt snorts. “Here.” Adam takes the shirt and pulls it back on, much to Matt’s chagrin. “So,” Matt says, “I was, like, in the middle of dinner when I heard Hangman walking down the hallway, so I’m starving. Anybody want to get food?”

“Shouldn’t this be weird?” Adam asks. “I mean,” he points between the three of them, “with everything, this should be weird.”

Kenny’s smile is more gentle than Matt would have expected. “Let’s save awkward for tomorrow. I didn’t get dinner either.”

Matt begins a spirited argument with the two of them about which is better, Denny’s or IHOP, and, for the first time in years, he feels whole.

The afterglow, though. That gets ruined fast.

“Where the eff were you?!” Nick asks, looking panicked in the hallway. “You haven’t answered your phone in, like, forty-five minutes!”

“I was busy,” Matt says, and he watches Nick get it as his eyes go to where Adam’s and Matt’s hands are linked.

“Oh, here we go,” Nick says, but he’s smiling, so Matt thinks he might be okay.

“Goin’ to IHOP,” Adam says. “Wanna come with?”

“What if we go to Cracker Barrel?” Matt asks, the idea fully formed before he was finished speaking.

Kenny puts his hands on his hips. “Huh. You know, I haven’t had Cracker Barrel in, what years.”

“Me either,” Nick adds.

Adam beams over at Matt. “Cracker Barrel. Just like old times.”

#Matt Jackson #HangMatt #There's too many people I'm not tagging anybody but the cow eyed menace #in which Sara writes #wtf i like wrestling now???

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ibijau · 3 years

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Lapse in memory pt 3 / on AO3

aka the fic where nhs is cursed into amnesia a few years post canon, and came to lxc for help

The worst part of Nie Huaisang’s amnesia, Lan Xichen soon decided, was the realisation that he should have seen long ago that there was something wrong with Nie Mingjue’s little brother.

Although the other man had apparently always possessed frightening self control which made it difficult to know how much his current loss of memory impacted him, he used that control in a manner very different from what he had done after the death of his brother. Instead of displaying eternal sorrow and helplessness, Nie Huaisang was acting exactly the same as he had done before his life took a turn for the worst. He smiled, and chatted with people as if things were perfectly fine, only to break down once alone with Lan Xichen, asking when this person had died, whether that remark had been a joke or a reference to a true event.

If he hadn't known better, if he hadn't been shown the other side Lan Xichen might have fallen for that new comedy as he had fallen for the old one. Nie Huaisang was good at this.

In fact, as Lan Xichen started remembering over the following days, he was good at many things.

For example Nie Huaisang was smart, it turned out. After a decade of lies, Lan Xichen had forgotten that, too used to a man who barely managed to pick his own outfits without needing three different opinions, and would make four mistakes in a two digit addition. And indeed, when it came to cultivation, or when Wei Wuxian tried to discuss his ideas about what curse might have hit him, Nie Huaisang was clearly lost. But when the topic interested him, when someone mentioned art or literature, he spoke expertly and always made excellent points.

Because he had his own duties to attend, and he aimed at being a better sect leader than he had been in the past, Lan Xichen spent little time with Nie Huaisang at first, and thus rarely enjoyed his conversation. Since the other man couldn’t be allowed to wander freely when there was still the possibility that all this was only a deception, Lan Xichen assigned one of his young disciples he trusted the most to stay with Nie Huaisang and make sure he didn’t misbehave. Almost immediately, he started hearing about the heated debates that Lan Jingyi and Nie Huaisang got into over classics, over art, over just anything that could be debated, and quite a few that shouldn’t. Lan Xichen had offered to find another person to keep Nie Huaisang company, only for Nie Huaisang to protest he was having great fun with Lan Jingyi.

It surprised Lan Xichen at first. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a man who enjoyed confrontation.

But he had once been a boy who did. Nie Mingjue used to complain at length about that, as did Lan Qiren when he’d had the dubious pleasure of teaching him. Nie Huaisang once had opinions on just about everything, especially if it could get him out of doing something he didn’t enjoy. Lan Xichen had found it amusing for a long time, and even he had been tricked into the odd argument here and there. But then there had been the war, there had been the constant worsening of Nie Mingjue’s temper, and Nie Huaisang’s tendency to argue over everything hadn’t felt so cute anymore.

After those difficult final few months, it had been a relief, in a way, when Nie Huaisang’s grief had made him so mild and pliable. He had never objected to any advice given to him, agreeing to everything and anything that Nie Mingjue’s sworn brothers suggested. If Lan Xichen hadn’t been so devastated by the loss they had both suffered, perhaps he would have noticed something was wrong.

Perhaps it was guilt, then, that soon pushed Lan Xichen to rearrange his schedule so he could spend a little more time with Nie Huaisang every day. He refused to let him down again. Or perhaps it was selfishness, the joy of having an old friend back in his life, someone who didn't know about his failings, and didn't judge him for being imperfect.

"Imperfection is more fun," Nie Huaisang claimed one evening, as they sat together inside the Hanshi's courtyard, watching a pair of swallows build a nest under the rafters. "I like you better when you're not trying to be Zewu-jun. Zewu-Jun is a very boring person, while Lan Xichen is delightful company. Do you remember how we used to laugh sometimes when I came here to study? You did such a good imitation of your uncle. And you'd help me with my homeworks, and I'd let you have candies… wasn't that more fun than being perfect?"

"I miss those days," Lan Xichen admitted, something he had never told anyone except Jin Guangyao, once. He'd instantly regretted it back then, realising that Jin Guangyao had never had a chance to enjoy a carefree youth. He didn't regret telling Nie Huaisang who laughed so hard he startled the swallows, making them fly away for a moment.

"Of course you miss that! Well, I'm back now, and until I'm better I can give you a taste of how it used to be. If I make you laugh enough, you'll stop being angry at me, right?"

“I’m not angry at you,” Lan Xichen said, which to his surprise wasn’t even a lie. This young and innocent Nie Huaisang, whose biggest crime was cheating during exams, who hadn’t yet discovered his own viciousness through fighting with Nie Mingjue and then for him, who could be irritating but always remained endearing… how could Lan Xichen have been angry at him?

“But you’re angry at the man I’ve become,” Nie Huaisang said.

Lan Xichen looked at him, that handsome young man sitting just a little too close, leaning somewhat toward Lan Xichen and yet tense enough that at the first sign of anger he’d probably leap away and disappear, the way he used to do with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Xichen wondered again how he had forgotten how observant Nie Huaisang could be. He should have known. The moment Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji told him that something terrible had been done to Nie Mingjue’s body, Lan Xichen should have guessed that Nie Huaisang knew as well, and that he’d be doing anything to avenge his brother.

“I think I’m more angry at myself than at you,” Lan Xichen said. “What happened, what you’ve done, it was… Maybe you really had no choice, or you thought you had no choice anyway, and I’m not sure I have a right to judge you. You… you still don’t remember, do you?”

“No. I don’t think I want to,” Nie Huaisang said. He started playing nervously with his sleeve, having forgotten his fan somewhere, and hesitantly spoke again. “I don’t think he wanted to remember either,” he whispered. “Him. Me. I… I don’t think it was an accident, Er-ge. I think I forgot on purpose.”

Startled by the confession, Lan Xichen stared again at Nie Huaisang who avoided his eyes. He looked pale, and started shaking slightly, as if again expecting a burst of anger that didn’t come. Lan Xichen was too stunned for that.

“When did you start suspecting this?”

“Right away,” Nie Huaisang confessed, nervously playing with his sleeve, pulling and tugging at the fabric. “It was just too odd that there was nothing at all about those lost years. I found some recent correspondence which let me know I wasn’t on very good terms with you, Jiang Cheng and Jin zongzhu, but that was it. And I know myself, Er-ge. I’ve kept a journal of everything I do since I was seven. Everything important, I write it down so I remember, I should have had a trace of those missing years.”

Lan Xichen nodded. Nie Huaisang had mentioned that habit of his, back when he was studying in the Cloud Recesses. Back then he’d complained that too little happened and he had nothing to write down, but also that homework and studying took so long he almost didn’t have time for his diary. Lan Xichen hadn’t realised that the habit was such a serious one, and he’d never heard Nie Huaisang mention it again as an adult, so he hadn’t thought to ask about that.

“Could it be that you simply stopped doing this?” Lan Xichen asked.

Nie Huaisang shook his head and frowned.

“It’s not just a hobby. My memory isn’t great, I really forget things if I don’t write them down. Everything important… in code if it's too important, of course, I’m only a little stupid. And I hid the journal, and kept all of them, from the very first. I’m the only one who knew where they’re all kept, but when I went to check, many of them had been destroyed, or at least moved somewhere else. Everything after the Sunshot Campaign is gone. Maybe he hoped to forget the war too.”

Not so much the war as what had happened just before it, Lan Xichen thought. He’d heard about the way hostage juniors had been treated by the Wens, and the horror of the Xuanwu of Slaughter killing people in that cave. Nie Huaisang had never wanted to talk about that, Lan Xichen recalled. He usually loved to complain, but on that particular topic he’d always close off or change the subject.

Aside from the death of Nie Mingjue, the terror of the evil Xuanwu had to have been the worst moment of Nie Huaisang’s life.

Without thinking Lan Xichen took Nie Huaisang’s hand, hoping to comfort him. Nie Huaisang startled and trembled, but didn’t try to remove his hand.

“I think it’s like you said,” Nie Huaisang explained, looking pleadingly at Lan Xichen. “That he did certain things because he thought he had no choice. He… I… if someone harmed da-ge, then I’d want to harm them back," he hissed with such rage that Lan Xichen shivered, reminded of the man Nie Huaisang had indeed become. "Even if it was san-ge! I can’t believe he’d do something like that, he’s always so nice, but it doesn’t matter. If I had been sure he’d hurt da-ge, then I… I would…”

“I know,” Lan Xichen said, squeezing Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I think I had regrets of a sort though,” Nie Huaisang said. “The way it seems to me… I didn’t regret that these things had been done, I didn’t regret that people had died or been hurt, but I didn’t want to live with the weight of that either. I think… I’m a little bit of a coward, Er-ge. I’m fine with knowing I did horrible things, I just don’t want to know what they are, because that way it’s not really me who did them. So I can see why I chose to forget, and I also don’t want to remember.”

Had it been anyone else, Lan Xichen would have found that person cowardly indeed. Just as he bore the guilt of his failures and strove to do better, he would expect others to face their own faults, take their punishment, and try to improve in the future. But Nie Huaisang wasn’t just anyone, and Lan Xichen pitied him too much to wish for his suffering. Nie Huaisang had already been punished enough for what he’d done, having lost his brother, having lost all his friends, having lost the respect of his sect.

Having lost himself, too.

“It’s fine if you don’t remember,” Lan Xichen said. “You can stay here with us. Wei Wuxian seems happy enough to have you around, Lan Jingyi loves having someone to argue with… even uncle said the other day that it’s been a while since he’s had a decent opponent at weiqi.”

“And what about you?” Nie Huaisang asked, his cheeks a little pinker than they ought to be. “Are you also happy to have me here?”

“I am,” Lan Xichen replied, surprised to find that this, too, was the truth.

Partly because he’d always been a little too fond of Nie Huaisang, back before the Sunshot Campaign changed everything and forced him to set aside most of his personal attachments to better serve his sect. Partly, also, because he liked this current Nie Huaisang, who wasn’t quite as naïve and self-absorbed as he’d been as a boy, but lacked the cruelty years of solitude and resentment had taught him.

This was Nie Huaisang as he would have been, had the world been a little kinder. A clever young master who watched the world around him and understood people a little too well, but loved fun too much to ever do anything with what he learned, as long as his loved ones were safe.

“I’m glad to be here as well,” Nie Huaisang said.

He shuffled a little closer until he could rest his head against Lan Xichen’s shoulder. It had been years since anyone dared to be so carelessly intimate with Lan Xichen, who found he didn’t mind. Not if it was Nie Huaisang.

“You know, I’ve talked with Wei-xiong today, about this,” Nie Huaisang continued. “About what happened to me, and why, and how. He thinks it’s a curse, and there’s probably a condition that would allow it to be lifted. There usually is, after all. But I think if I really did this to myself, I'd have picked an impossible condition, because I wouldn't want to be saved from it. So I might stay like this for the rest of my life.”

“And you’ll be welcome to stay here that entire time,” Lan Xichen promised without thinking, squeezing Nie Huaisang’s hand again.

“That sounds really nice. I think I’ll take you on your offer, Er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said with a smile that Lan Xichen would have kissed if he’d dared. Later, while lying in his bed, he would wonder if he should have tried, only to eventually decide it would have ruined the moment.

Perhaps someday, in the future, thing would take that direction. For now they both had too much to deal with, too much to learn again about each other. It was fine. Lan Xichen was content to remain like this, sitting close together, holding hands, and watching those swallows finish their nest.

Just this was already more than he’d ever imagined he would get.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #if I had a tag for that story I don't remember it #but it started as a prompt fill so I probably didn't have a tag for it lol #nhs amnesia

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

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Hate to Date Ch.6 | Brittana

A/N - Exciting news, we're out of lockdown and I'm back to work. Not exciting news, I’m back to work LOL. As always, thanks for the reviews and those who have bought a coffee for me through ko-fi! Both instantly make my day & encourage me to keep up with these weekly updates so I really appreciate it!💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

It takes a whole ten seconds after Brittany closes the car door behind her before Puck’s hitting Santana with a barrage of questions. Santana does her best to ignore them because she knows Puck’s been dying to hear about their trip, but Brittany hasn’t even pulled her suitcase from the trunk yet and she can totally hear them still.

“Aren’t you going to help her or something?” Santana asks instead.

“Aren’t you? You’re her girlfriend.”

“You’re the guy. Isn’t lifting things meant to be your specialty?”

Puck narrows his eyes, “That’s not very girl power of you.”

Santana just huffs her way out of the car, but by the time she gets around Brittany’s already got her suitcase out. The blonde gives her a questioning look as Santana lingers by the trunk.

“I was coming to see if you needed help,” Santana explains.

Brittany chuckles, “Little late for that.”

Santana feels her face flush with embarrassment. Damn Puck making her look like an idiot.

“Besides, I’ve seen how you are around a suitcase,” Brittany smirks. “Probably best if I do the heavy lifting.”

“Nice one!” Puck calls out.

When Santana turns to flick him off, she finds that he’s halfway hanging out of the driver’s side window watching with interest. Brittany only laughs as she pulls the handle up on her luggage.

“You’re both dicks,” Santana grumbles as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“I mean, she’s not wrong though?” Puck reasons.

Santana just cuts him with a steely glare and that shuts him up real quick.

“Anyway, it’s been fun. Thanks for the ride again, Puck,” Brittany says before turning to Santana. “And I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Santana nods, “Yeah. Same time, same place.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” Brittany quips before waving goodbye and heading inside her apartment complex.

Puck’s still hanging out the driver’s side window looking back and forth between Santana and Brittany’s door with a slack jaw. Santana rolls her eyes at him as she pulls open the passenger door.

“What’s happening tomorrow?” He asks eagerly.

Santana sighs, “Can you just get in the car? You’re too damn big to be hanging out there like that.”

The reluctance to answer has Puck acting even more giddy. It’s a classic Santana tactic: deflect and insult. Puck listens anyway though and gets himself inside where Santana busies herself with buckling up.

“So what’s happening tomorrow?” Puck asks again.

“We’re working on that assignment together for Prof Martinez’s class,” Santana finally answers. “Because someone decided to fuck around with the teams now I have to actually spend time with her instead of lie about it.”

“Oh, boring,” Puck frowns and goes to start the car.

Santana looks back curiously, “What’d you think we were doing?”

Puck starts to smirk.

Santana scrunches her nose, “Actually, nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“I’m just joking!” Puck laughs. “But seriously, will you tell me about your trip now? I was a little nervous that one of you wouldn’t be coming back.”

“What? Why?”

Puck shrugs, “I don’t know because you hate each other?”

Santana pauses, “I don’t know if hate’s the right word anymore.”

“You’d probably trick her into boarding the wrong plane or something. Is that not hate?”

Santana smirks, “Now that would’ve been funny.”

“See?”

Santana shakes her head, “I don’t know. She still frustrates the hell out of me and I find a lot of things she does super annoying, but to say I hate her doesn’t really fit anymore.”

Puck looks at her curiously, “You feeling okay? Did you finally get your heart back from Lima?”

Santana laughs, “You know Lima doesn’t have it.”

Puck chuckles along with her, “Well something big must’ve happened there if you’re changing your tune like this.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Santana replies. “I guess – I don’t know – I understand Brittany a little more? That doesn’t mean we’re going to braid each other’s hair anytime soon.”

“Right. What about your fam? How’d they feel about her?”

“We did what we were supposed to do. Mom likes her, Abuela not so much.”

“Shit,” Puck cringes.

“Yeah. It’ll work out though,” Santana answers. “This was a good start, we just need to put more time into it. I’m getting into that firm.”

“Hell yeah, you are!”

“In the meantime though, I’ve gotta up my game,” Santana says. “I can’t have people thinking Brittany’s a better girlfriend than me.”

Puck quirks his brow, “And how are you gonna do that?”

“Well after spending all this time with Brittany, I’ve learned me two things,” Santana smirks. “She’s a pushover and she’s a total sucker for the romantic shit, like the kind of shit that’s in movies. You know, real cliché stuff. Just look at the stuff she does for me.”

“Okay?”

“I just have to do it better than her,” Santana says simply, “I have to be thoughtful and sweet and take her by surprise. I’ve gotta be one step ahead at all times! And maybe I can embarrass the crap out of her in the process? It’s a win/win for me.”

Puck looks skeptic, but Santana’s already crafting her game plan.

Santana spends all night watching cheesy rom-coms just to get some inspiration, because as it turns out – she’s not really familiar with romantic gestures. She’s never really needed them because hooking up isn’t about romance and that’s how she likes it. But this fake relationship thing is really pushing her out of her comfort zone – good thing it’s all an act.

Puck joins Santana after getting back from weight training and together they make a list of all the possible ways Santana can fake-woo Brittany. Puck jots down a couple ideas for himself, lord knows he needs all the help he can get!

The only downside of a rom-com marathon is that most of the movies are predominately straight and Santana struggles to relate. Meanwhile, Puck’s trying to hide the fact that he’s tearing up during certain scenes.

Despite the string hetero content, Puck does end up getting his hands on a bootleg copy of Imagine Me and You. Now it’s Santana’s turn to pretend she’s not tearing up and Puck wastes no time in teasing her about it.

Santana decides she’s going start off slow with something simple; bringing Brittany snacks for when they study together later on. Where it lacks in romance, it makes up for in thoughtfulness so Santana’s sure it’ll be a winner.

She’s already stopped off somewhere on her way to cheer practice to get what she needs just incase she runs late again. At least if Coach Roz goes on another rant again, Santana will meet Brittany bearing gifts.

It’s a pretty perfect plan, but what Santana doesn’t expect is to find Brittany waiting outside of the gym for her. Apparently, the blonde had a similar idea in mind and has beaten Santana to the punch.

Not with snacks, but with something much more valuable.

“Uh hey,” Santana eyes her hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

Brittany lifts the cup in her hand, “I got you this.”

“You got me a coffee?”

“Yeah, I was in the area and I knew you’d be coming here for practice.”

Santana’s brows furrow, “Did Puck put you up to this?”

Brittany frowns, “What?”

“Nevermind,” Santana shakes her head and moves closer to take the cup. She stares down at the lid and looks to Brittany, “What is it?”

“Coffee?” Brittany answers. “Strong and as black as your heart.”

“Just how I like it,” Santana lies as she masks her disappointment.

She braces herself for the bitter taste, hoping her facial expression doesn’t give her away. Surprisingly though, it tastes nothing like she expected it to – it’s sweet, just like she actually likes it.

Brittany starts to smirk, “Plus a box of sugar and bunch of milk.”

“How’d you know?” Santana asks. “I pay the barista extra to keep her mouth shut.”

“She did, but I’ve seen the inside of your purse,” Brittany chuckles. “It’s nothing but sugar packets and tiny creamers. Plus I’ve spent the last couple of mornings with you, I’ve noticed things.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Who knew this leather-jacket-wearing badass cheerleader secretly likes her coffee super sweet?”

“Exactly. It doesn’t fit the aesthetic,” Santana brushes off. “I can’t have that little detail about me getting out. What would people think?”

Brittany quirks a brow, “Do you really care that much about that?”

“Don’t you?” Santana says simply.

Brittany shrugs, “It’s just coffee. So what?”

Santana pauses. Sometimes Brittany can make the hardest things sound so simple and Santana can’t tell if it’s because Brittany’s naïve or Santana’s just so used to overcomplicating things. It doesn’t matter, she’s not getting into it right now.

“Thanks for this,” Santana replies. “I’ll see you after practice.”

Brittany bites her lip as she nods, “Yeah okay. See you later.”

Despite having a duffle bag full of all kinds of snacks, Santana holds off for the time being. It’s too close to Brittany’s little act of kindness and she can’t have the blonde thinking that she’s inspired Santana’s gesture.

So, she waits a few more days because timing is also important. Being surprised with snacks doesn’t mean a thing if you’ve just ate, so Santana keeps that in mind as she falls back into her usual routine of classes, cheer practice and studying.

The opportunity doesn’t arise until the following week.

Apparently one of Brittany’s classes has a test scheduled at the end of the week and it has the blonde stressed out more than usual. Santana only knows because Puck mentioned something about Brittany rescheduling a tutoring session which rarely happens.

So Santana thinks it’s finally her time to shine and really show off how thoughtful she can be!

As Santana makes her way inside the library with her bag full of goodies, there’s this big grin on her face because not only is she going to show Brittany she’s got some competition on the best girlfriend front there’s also quite the crowd around.

Again, it’s a win/win for Santana!

She finds Brittany in her usual spot at the back of the study area and makes her way over. Students studying at the various tables around watch as Santana saunters down the aisle in her cheer uniform. Santana can hear the whispers starting up and tries to keep from smirking at how good this is going to make her look.

“Hey,” Santana greets once she gets to Brittany’s table.

Brittany’s taken by complete surprise as she looks up. Santana can tell because the usual confidence is no where to be found, in it’s place is astonishment.

“Uh hi,” Brittany finally greets. “What are you doing here? Is it 3:30 already?”

“No. I was just in the neighborhood,” Santana shrugs as she takes a seat in front of Brittany. “Thought you might need a little afternoon snack break.”

Brittany looks questioningly until Santana starts pulling out various treats she knows Brittany loves. There’s a theater box of DOTS, a packet of Goldfish, a Mounds bar, and a few other goodies that are the healthier side.

“Awh, that’s so cute!” A girl from the table beside them coos before turning to her partner. “Where the hell are my snacks?”

The guy just frowns at Santana, “Thanks a lot.”

“Step your game up,” Santana tells him before turning back to Brittany. There’s a pleased smile on her face but she wants to hear it from Brittany herself, “You like?”

Brittany’s hesitant to answer but when she does, she can’t help but smile, “I like. I actually forgot my lunch today so this is perfect.”

Santana pumps her fist triumphantly before realizing people are still staring.

“You know, how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to give you all this stuff?” Santana admits. “I felt like a hoarder having to hide them in my room so Puck wouldn’t eat them.”

Brittany chuckles, “I don’t know how I’ll be able to top this.”

Santana smirks; that’s exactly what she likes to hear.

“Woah, who hit the jackpot?” Puck says, surprising the both of them as he comes up to the table.

“Jesus! Where’d you come from?” Santana gasps. “You know this is the library, right?”

“Yes,” Puck rolls his eyes. “I was studying with some guys from the team since Britt cancelled on me but I see why she did now.”

“Oh no, I didn’t know she was coming here,” Brittany explains quickly.

“It was a surprise,” Santana says proudly.

Pucks brows rise as he reaches for one of Brittany’s snacks, but Santana’s quick to swat at his hand.

“Paws off,” She tells him. “I got that for her, not you.”

“Damn chill,” Puck frowns as he holds his hand.

Brittany only chuckles at the pair, “Thanks for this. It’s been a much needed interruption but I do have to get back to studying.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” Santana nods as she goes to stand. She looks around to see if people are still watching and starts to grin when she finds that they are. “I’ll just be at practice, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay,” Brittany smiles back.

“And I’ll just be over there,” Puck adds as he heads back to his table leaving Santana alone with Brittany.

“Thanks for the brain food,” Brittany mentions again. “Very sweet of you.”

Santana only shrugs although there’s a bashful smile on her face, “You know me, super thoughtful.”

“Uh-huh,” Brittany smirks before pulling her down gently for a kiss on the cheek. It takes Santana by surprise a little, but Brittany’s lips linger by Santana’s ear as she says. “I know you’re just trying to work the crowd. You’re not fooling me.”

Santana eyes go wide but she keeps a poker face, “Can’t have them thinking you’re the best girlfriend around.”

“Can’t help it if it’s true,” Brittany chuckles before letting Santana go. In a much louder voice she waves goodbye, “See you later, Fluffbottom!”

Santana pastes on a fake smile, but she can’t exit the building fast enough. The cringey terms of endearment are such a low blow!

With Brittany onto Santana’s little plan, the blonde starts to up her game too. Over the next couple of weeks, the two go back and forth just trying to one up the other in romantic gestures. They sort of make a game out of who can pull the biggest awh from the spectators that always flock the couple.

Currently, the score is pretty even but Brittany’s never too far behind.

Santana doesn’t get it, but she tries harder anyway.

The next time Brittany decides to show Santana that she’s always one step ahead of her, it’s during one of the basketball games Santana cheers for. At first, Santana didn’t even notice her in the crowd because when has Brittany ever come to a sporting event?

In fact, it’s probably the last place she’d ever expect to see Brittany.

And yet, there she is…waving eagerly with Puck by her side to get her attention.

“Awh! Santana, your girlfriend’s here to watch you cheer!” One of the girls on Santana’s squad coos. “That is so cute!”

“Yeah,” Santana answers as she keeps her eye narrowed on Brittany. “Real cute.”

It’s not until after the halftime performance that Santana’s able to make her way over to Brittany for the first time since spotting her. There’s this smug grin on the blonde’s face and Santana struggles to keep from rolling her eyes at the sight of it. She just knows Brittany’s mentally adding a point to their ongoing tally.

As Santana reaches the bottom of the bleachers, Brittany’s about halfway down the steps. Puck’s not too far behind, his entire face painted in white and Columbia blue for the occasion.

“Well this is a surprise,” Santana says once she’s close enough. “You never come to these things.”

“That’s because I’ve never dated a cheerleader before,” Brittany quips.

“I invited her,” Puck admits.

Santana looks between the two of them skeptically, “I get why Puck’s here, but you? Do you secretly like women’s basketball or something?”

Brittany shakes her head, “I don’t know a thing about it.”

“Then why are you here?” Santana questions.

“Like I said, you’re my reason.”

If anyone else was listening in, they might’ve found Brittany’s statement a little cute. Maybe if Brittany wasn’t Brittany, Santana might’ve found it cute too but she knows the blonde’s true motives. She knows she’s just trying to work the crowd so it rolls right over Santana’s head.

Instead, she looks from Brittany to Puck.

“I’m starting to question where your loyalties lie, Puckerman,” Santana tells him.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t think she’d actually say yes! I was just being nice.”

His hands are instantly thrown up in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

“He didn’t do anything. I was already thinking of coming,” Brittany interrupts with a sweet smile. “I figured I might as well add supportive girlfriend to the long list of things I’m great at and this was the perfect opportunity.”

Santana laughs off the jab, “Perfect girlfriend my ass.”

“I think it was pretty smart thinking on my part,” Brittany replies as she nods over to the entryway. “Did you know Eddie would be here?”

Santana glances in the coach’s direction and does her best to hide the fact that she forgot all about him possibly being around. “Duh. Of course he’d be here, he comes to most games.”

“Guess I should start coming to most games too then,” Brittany suggests. “Keep up appearances.”

Santana hates that Brittany’s got a point. Now’s about the time Santana would move on to the next girl and Eddie’s sure to be taking note so he can report back to Maribel. Damn Brittany and her quick thinking!

“Sure whatever,” Santana brushes off. “I need to get back. I hope you enjoy the rest of show.”

“I’ll try,” Brittany smirks before lifting the book in her hand. “I’ve got this just incase.”

“You brought a book to read at a game?” Santana tries not to laugh. “Can you at least try not being so nerdy? It’s hard to pretend to like you if you’re making it so easy for me to make fun of you.”

Brittany sighs through her smile, “It’s only a precaution incase I get bored.”

“Bored? Our performances aren’t boring,” Santana tells her. “What’s boring about a full twisted layout?”

Brittany only shrugs, “I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s a dope move that requires skill and talent.”

“So something you can’t do?” Brittany smirks.

Santana fakes a laugh, “You’re so funny.”

“What about the skirts? You like them, right?” Puck suddenly asks Brittany, still hung up on finding the games boring.

Santana nods along with him, “Everyone likes the skirts.”

Brittany’s eyes rake up Santana’s lithe frame slowly while Santana poses.

If there’s anything Santana’s more confident in, it’s her looks. She’s hot and she knows she’s hot, it’s not even about being conceited it’s pure fact. That combined with the power of a cheerleading uniform has never failed her, so it’s only a matter of time before Brittany’s admitting defeat.

When their eyes finally meet, there’s a smug grin on Santana’s face but Brittany is expressionless.

“It’s okay,” Brittany tells them with indifference.

Puck’s jaw drops, he’s practically besides himself with the news, while Santana only stares. She might not be able to read Brittany most of the time, but what she has become good at is noticing a blatant lie.

And it’s okay is one of them.

It’s like Santana’s finally found a weakness in Brittany’s front because why lie about it? If you think someone’s hot then say so, it’s no big deal – at least, to her it’s not. You don’t have to like people that you find attractive, clearly, so what’s Brittany’s deal?

Maybe it’s the lack of flirtatious banter or the build up of sex deprivation, but testing Brittany’s willpower sparks Santana’s interest and gets her thinking of a slightly better game.

“So this does nothing for you?” Santana asks again with a little shake of her hips.

In all of her years as a cheerleader, she’s never met anyone who could resist. Even without the uniform, Santana’s just got this confidence about her – this undeniable sexual magnetism – that kind of makes her irresistible.

Like she’s always said, she can’t help that she’s attractive. It truly is a gift.

Even Puck looks to Brittany for an answer. Funny thing though, Brittany doesn’t take the bait. Instead, she just maintains eye contact with Santana – unyielding and a little unnerving.

“Honey,” Brittany says sweetly. “If you’re looking for someone to drool over you keep looking.”

“Wow,” Santana laughs. “Some girlfriend you are!”

“I’m not that shallow,” Brittany quips. “I don’t care about what you wear. I’m more interested in your heart.”

“God,” Santana scrunches her nose. “Who knew you were such a cornball.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Brittany chuckles. “But seriously, you can’t distract me with a short skirt.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” Santana challenges with a smirk.

Looks like Brittany’s a harder one to crack than she thought.

Thankfully though the odds are in still Santana’s favor because what holiday is only weeks away now?

Valentine’s Day.

And it’s never too early to start the scheming! Santana’s been going pretty soft in the weeks following the game Brittany surprised her at, but it was all for a purpose. She’s letting Brittany create a false sense of security, she’s letting her think she’s totally got this in the bag. And when Brittany least expects it, BAM! Santana will pull out all the stops!

That’ll definitely put an end to the Brittany’s so thoughtful, Santana you’re so lucky! The roles will totally be reversed and that’s the ultimate win – another she can add to her figurative trophy shelf!

And although Santana won’t be getting laid this year, which is so depressing, the thought of being dubbed the best girlfriend ever over Brittany is pretty up there.

So when Valentine’s week finally rolls around, Santana’s as eager as ever. She has the heart-shaped chocolates, she has the cute stuffed animal in it’s little red bowtie, but most importantly – she has the outfit.

And the outfit is everything.

“Woah,” Puck skids to a stop when he finds Santana in their kitchen dressed in her short candy striper dress. “Where are you going looking like that?”

Santana smirks as she finishes off her breakfast, “I’m going to see Brittany.”

“Dressed like that?”

“Yup.”

Puck tears his eyes away and looks at Santana like she’s crazy. “You know she’s in class, right? Not camped out a strip club.”

Santana brushes him off, “Obviously. It’s all apart of the plan.”

“What plan?” Puck laughs, “Give the girl a heart attack?”

“Sort of,” Santana starts grinning devilishly. “I’m gonna break her.”

Puck rolls his eyes, “This about the skirt thing again?”

“Yes!” Santana groans. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Brittany won’t admit that she finds me attractive?”

“Maybe she doesn’t.”

Santana eyes him like he’s lost his mind.

“Impossible,” She says.

Puck shakes his head, “This is trouble. You know that right?”

“It’s just a game between friends.”

“But you two aren’t friends,” Puck laughs as he makes a coffee.

“Shit. You’re right,” Santana pauses to think before shrugging. “Well then this is purely for my enjoyment. I haven’t had sex in like a month or made out with a hot stranger. I’m not allowed to flirt with anyone because technically I’m taken. The only joy I have left is being better than Brittany and or embarrassing the hell out of her so just let me have this.”

“Do whatever you want, Lopez.”

“Thank you,” Santana smiles angelically. She reaches for her basket of Valentine’s Day goodies, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go make some jaws drop.”

Puck only lifts his mug of coffee in salute as his best friend leaves.

So far, Santana’s outfit works like a charm. She kind of missed the way heads would roll for her whenever she walked by. She doesn’t really get that anymore with a girlfriend around and god, has she missed this attention! With Brittany, the compliments are all for show so it doesn’t really do anything for her but this – the helpless bystanders she leaves drooling in her wake?

There’s nothing fake about that.

Now when it comes to making her entrance, Santana’s a little merciful.

At first, she considered interrupting the class but she knows by now Brittany wouldn’t like that too much since she’s the biggest nerd she’s ever met and takes class super seriously. So instead, Santana waits in the hall until class finishes up. It’s an even better plan than the first because not only will she take Brittany by surprise, she’ll have an audience too without the threat of a professor telling her off for an interruption.

Santana counts the minutes, eagerly awaiting the class’s dismissal.

As the first few students start trickling out, Santana moves to stand taller – ready for showtime. There’s a sultry look on her face – one that’s been known to make knees go weak – as Brittany finally makes an appearance.

This time, Brittany’s the one taken by surprise; so much so that she does a double take when she sees Santana standing there.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Santana greets in a seductive tone.

It takes a second for Brittany to answer, her eyes struggling to stay on Santana’s. The brunette’s already taking this as a big win.

“It’s…not Valentine’s Day yet,” Brittany finally replies although she’s still visibly stunned.

“I figure I’d start early,” Santana flirts shamelessly with a soft touch to Brittany’s arm. “My girl should get a week’s worth of Valentine’s fun. Don’t you think?”

Brittany gulps, “Well…I was sort of waiting until the day to give you my gift.”

Santana smirks; she swears sweat is starting to bead around Brittany’s brow. The will power is definitely strong though, Santana can give her that!

“That’s okay,” Santana bites her lip seductively. “I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait.”

Brittany’s eyes flicker to Santana’s lips then back to meet her eyes. Something flashes in those dazzling blues and it’s like a trance has been broken. Brittany moves to stand a little straighter, her hands falling to Santana’s hips – strong and sure – as she begins to match Santana’s smirk.

“It’ll be so worth it,” Brittany flirts just as shamelessly which makes Santana falter. “Although, I don’t have anything like this is my wardrobe.”

“Only a select few have been able to pull it off,” Santana replies.

“I bet,” Brittany comments. “Looks like a lot of laces and buttons to get around.”

Santana falters again; she didn’t expect Brittany to take her words so literally but it kind of does something to her. It gives the slightest tug to something growing restless within her. But she shakes it off, keeps her eye on the prize.

“It’s quite time consuming. Have to be good with your hands,” Santana tells her.

Brittany cheeks go a little red at that and Santana quickly capitalizes on the moment.

“On top of the goodies I’ve brought, I also have these,” Santana says as she lifts her little basket. “Chocolates, every heart-shaped candy I could find, a teddy bear…”

“Looks like you’ve really outdone yourself,” Brittany notes with a peek into Santana’s basket. “How will I ever top this?”

There’s the slightest bit of sarcasm there, but Santana smirks anyway.

“You know…that’s the second time I’ve heard you say that. You might want to admit defeat while you still can.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Santana.”

“That’s the only kind of game I like to play.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “Okay.”

Santana wavers, “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brittany chuckles.

“But – “

“I really have to get to my next class,” Brittany explains as she takes Santana’s basket while pressing a kiss to her cheek. “This was cute though.”

Cute? Puppies are cute. Kittens are cute. Hell, some babies are kind of cute. But this? Santana wasn’t going for cute. She was aiming higher than that! Much, much higher!

“Wait,” Santana calls out just as Brittany’s take a few steps down the hall.

Brittany turns, looking back at her expectantly.

“You’re talking about the basket right?” Santana asks, “The basket is cute?”

Brittany sighs tiredly although the smile is still there. Her eyes dip down to Santana’s exposed legs, that short, ruffled skirt, the corset and the amazing things it does to her cleavage then back up again.

“The outfit’s not bad too,” Brittany tells her with a smirk before turning away.

Not bad, Santana thinks. It’s not the statement she would’ve gone with but it’s a step up from cute so she’ll take it. The expression on Brittany’s face when she first saw Santana was way better though.

Santana spends the rest of Valentine’s week doing cute little things here and there, but she kind of regrets starting off so strong with the outfit when the actual day comes.

It’s so typical of her to jump straight to the knockout punch instead of doing things slow and steady. She’s never had the patience for that and it’s biting her in the ass now, because all she has left up her sleeve is this giant heart-shaped balloon that she made Puck buy the night before and a bouquet of flowers.

She’s just hoping the simplicity of it is enough to get a good reaction out of the crowd, because walking towards their first class of the day together with a big ass balloon is already turning some heads. Not in the way heads turned for her on Monday, but hey – at least she has range.

When she finally does reach the lecture hall, it’s no surprise that Brittany’s already seated inside.

“Really Santana?” Professor Martinez sighs when Santana struggles to get the balloon through the door. “Don’t you think that’s a little distracting?”

“You know what else is distracting?” Santana quips as she sets her eyes on Brittany. “The adoration I have for my girlfriend.”

“Here we go,” Professor Martinez laughs. “I almost like it better when you two were constantly fighting.”

Santana brushes him off as she makes her way to Brittany, “This is for you.”

Brittany looks up at her reflection in the shiny red of the giant balloon, “Of course it is.”

“And also these,” Santana then presents Brittany with the bouquet. “I went with something a little out of the ordinary, you know, thinking outside of the box. I know how much you appreciate – “

“I’m allergic to sunflowers.”

Santana’s heart drops, “What?”

“Yeah,” Brittany leans back. “Deathly allergic.”

“Shit,” Santana instantly jolts away from her but Brittany starts to laugh. “Wait, seriously?”

“No, not seriously,” Brittany giggles as she accepts the gifts. “Who’s allergic to sunflowers?”

“Uh, I don’t know!” Santana frowns. “I’m sure someone out there is.”

Brittany quiets down, “Sorry. That was a little mean.”

Santana shakes her head as she takes the seat beside Brittany.

“And people say I’m mean,” She says.

Brittany leans over and kisses her cheek, “I don’t think anyone says that.”

Santana lets out a laugh, “You say that.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Brittany shrugs. “Anyway, since we’re doing gifts already I can take you to part one of yours after class?”

“Part one?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany hums. “It should be ready by then. Part two needs a little more time.”

Santana gets to thinking what Brittany could possibly have planned, but Professor Martinez interrupts with the beginning of his lecture. Once again, Santana’s lack of patience has her completely distracted all class.

“It’s in the art wing?” Santana questions as she follows after Brittany who has been tight-lipped since the end of class.

“Looks that way,” Brittany chuckles. “You’ll find out soon enough if you just quit asking questions.”

“I can’t help that I’m impatient.”

“Sure you can.”

Santana sighs and continues following Brittany until they reach their destination just a few minutes later. It’s a narrow hallway with a line of wooden doors and they’re stopped at the very first one.

“It’s in there?” Santana asks.

“Yup,” Brittany grins. “I’ll have to blindfold you though.”

“Kinky,” Santana smirks.

Brittany blushes through an eye roll, “Just turn around so I can put this on you.”

Santana continues joking as she turns for her, “I should’ve known, the quiet ones are always the kinkiest.”

“I’m not quiet,” Brittany replies as she tightens the blindfold around Santana’s head.

“I mean,” Santana snickers, “Just wanky.”

“Can you see anything?”

“Obviously not.”

“Perfect,” Brittany says and takes Santana by the hand.

Santana can hear the door creak open and she’s instantly hit with the scent of flowers. The blindfold’s kind of pointless now because the floral aroma gives away the surprise almost instantly, but just as she’s about to say something – Brittany pushes her to sit down.

Now, Santana’s been blindfolded a handful of times in her life. Santana’s also been pushed to sit down a handful of times in her life too. The combination of the two - historically for her – has lead to some pretty steamy times.

Obviously that won’t be the case here, but God does she wish it were.

The thought makes her wonder if it would matter if the person on the other side of that blindfold was still Brittany, but she doesn’t get to come up with an answer as the blindfold is soon pulled off.

Santana blinks at the sudden bright light to find that she’s surrounded by flowers. Like, a ton of them! They’re in buckets, in pots, in glass vases and in…red solo cups?

“I ran out of space,” Brittany comments when she notices Santana looking confused.

“Right,” Santana breathes out and as she turns to admire the entire room she’s even more surprised by what else she sees – a bunch of people staring back at her through a glass window.

That’s when she realizes that Brittany’s led her to an art display case, a display case that nearly everyone in the entire building walks by on their way to and from class. Santana quickly plasters on a smile while she’s on display in front of the crowd as Brittany comes to wrap an arm around her.

“Didn’t think you were the only one with a few tricks up her sleeve, huh?” Brittany whispers through her smirk.

“How’d you even get access to this case?” Santana wonders. “Don’t you have to book them like three months in advance?”

“I know a guy,” Brittany teases. “Now wave to our audience. They’re all here to witness this, they’ve known about it all week.”

Santana fights the eyeroll and waves, “You know, just because you fill a room full of flowers doesn’t mean you win this.”

“They’re not just any flowers though. I did my research,” Brittany defends. “They’re the lesbians of flowers.”

Santana looks around the room and deadpans, “Oh wow.”

“Didn’t know that was a thing, did you?”

“I can’t say that I did, no.”

“Just wait until part two of your gift,” Brittany tells her.

Santana looks back at her hesitantly, “When’s that gonna be?”

Brittany begins to smirk, “When you least expect it.”

Yeah, Santana’s really regretting starting off the week strong now.

When you least expect it ends up meaning later that day during Santana’s cheer practice.

They’re out on the field for training because Coach Roz loves reminding everyone how much of a privilege it is to be able to practice in a heated gym. Apparently when she trained for the Olympics, their gym didn’t have heating so now once a month they train without heating too.

With it being the middle of February in New York, it’s fucking cold. Santana’s past complaining about her tits freezing off and is now just trying to get the hell out of there as fast as she can now that practice is finally over.

She almost gets away with it too, until all the lights in the stadium suddenly turn on causing everyone to stop and look around.

Santana’s been on edge ever since the whole Lesbians of Flowers incident took place earlier in the day, so she eyes her surroundings suspiciously – waiting for Brittany to fall from the sky dressed like cupid or something ridiculous and over the top.

What she doesn’t expect is to see the school’s Glee Club take the stands with Brittany leading them.

“Oh no,” Santana mumbles as microphone feedback echoes throughout the field. “She better not.”

“Attention all Lions,” Brittany’s voice booms over the loud speaker. “As a final Valentine’s Day treat, I’ve enlisted some friends to help me dedicate a little song to my favorite person ever.”

Santana’s face suddenly feels red hot. She barely feels the cold February air now as everyone turns to look at her. If there’s anything that embarrasses her more, it’s being serenaded in public – especially without any alcohol involved.

“This one’s for you, Sweet Cheeks!” Brittany says before the Glee Club starts up with their harmonizing.

As soon as they start singing Britney Spears’ (You Drive Me) Crazy, Santana doesn’t know whether to laugh or take offence. The song choice is actually kind of perfect for them in the literal sense as Santana gets to listening to the lyrics.

Obviously not every line is accurate, but Santana finds herself giggling as the performance goes on. Brittany’s totally feeling it though; dancing along with the Glee Clubbers in her own way although she looks so out of place next to their bland, choreographed steps.

She actually ends up dancing down the bleachers and Santana eagerly awaits a misstep, but it never happens. Leave it to Brittany to be able to dance down bleacher steps while other people usually struggle coming down the things normally.

Slightly out of breath, Brittany skips over to Santana with the smuggest grin yet.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” She says.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Santana replies.

“What’d you think about my part two?” Brittany nods over to the performance still going on.

“Definitely not what I had in mind,” Santana chuckles.

“I’ve paid them to repeat the performance until I give them a signal.”

“Give the signal now then,” Santana urges with a laugh.

“No way, I love this song!” Brittany starts to shimmy her shoulders, “Picked it out myself, you know. Britney’s kind of iconic.”

“Brittany likes Britney,” Santana quips. “Why am I not surprised?”

The blonde rolls her eyes, “You can go ahead admit defeat now.”

“I’ll be doing no such thing,” Santana crosses her arms. “Game’s not over until I say it is and since public humiliation is apparently on the table – “

“A sing-o-gram is hardly public humiliation,” Brittany argues.

“Maybe if they weren’t tone deaf losers then sure.”

Brittany puts a hand on her hip, “That was mean.”

“Just keeping it real,” Santana shrugs. “But seriously. Make them stop.”

Brittany sighs, “Fine.”

Suddenly, she takes Santana in her arms and dips her. A kiss lands on her cheek but to everyone else still watching them it looks as if it’s made contact with Santana’s lips. Santana hangs onto Brittany’s jacket for dear life, just hoping that the girl doesn’t drop her.

She doesn’t and soon Santana’s being stood upright again. The smug grin is back again as blue eyes sparkle with mischief.

“That was your signal?” Santana questions when she realizes the singing finally stopped.

Brittany shrugs, “Felt like it fit the moment.”

“Didn’t think it was a little dramatic?”

“My adoration for you is a little dramatic,” Brittany quips.

Santana just shakes her head and laughs. She knows just what to do to give Brittany a taste of her own medicine. Like the blonde, Santana just has to wait until she least expects it.

The moment happens to arise a couple weeks later when Puck mentions something about Brittany inviting him to some big Brainiacs’ match.

“I can’t go though,” Puck tells Santana. “Got a hot date.”

“Right,” Santana replies – the gears already turning.

“You busy?” He asks. “Maybe you can go instead?”

Santana smirks, “I’m one step ahead of you.”

It’s pretty short notice, but Santana acts fast in gathering her necessary supplies. The pure embarrassment she felt on Valentine’s Day fuels her as she breaks out the posterboard and markers. She even takes it a step further and scours Brittany’s social media for some headshots, anything that won’t go all pixelated on fabric. She narrows it down to a select few and gets to work. In all her years as a cheerleader, Santana’s become well acquainted with showing a little spirit and her decorating skills are on point!

When the night of the match finally comes, Santana arrives to the building in her freshly bedazzled t-shirt donning pictures of Brittany’s face along side a giant Number One Nerd as well as a poster decorated in a similar fashion. There’s no denying who Brittany’s number one fan truly is.

“Santana!” Tina greets her at the entrance. “Hi! This is a first. Oh wow, I love your shirt!”

“Just being a supportive girlfriend,” Santana grins – loving the publicity she’ll be sure to get with Tina around. “I never get a chance to go to Brittany’s matches with cheer practice. Thought I should go all out.”

“It’s a tough match tonight,” Tina tells her. “I’m sure you know that already. The Brainiacs will be grateful for the support.”

“Brittany will crush it,” Santana replies confidently.

When Santana gets inside, she quickly finds a spot near the front so Brittany won’t have any trouble spotting her in the crowd. Not like she could when Santana’s holding a bright blue poster.

She walks the narrow aisle like a tightrope and settles in an empty seat between two older couples. They’re probably here to support someone on either team or maybe just here because they lost a bet – who knows. Santana, however, is here on a mission and there’s nothing more exciting than the suspense in embarrassing the crap out of Brittany.

Once the match begins, an announcer strolls out to introduce the teams.

Santana doesn’t pay him any mind or the geeks that slowly start making their entrance until she hears Brittany’s name. She’s on her feet in an instant as she goes into full cheerleader mode.

“Go Brittany!” She calls out – her voice louder than the sound of applause – as she waves her poster excitedly. She can feel those around her staring, but she doesn’t care because the look of complete disbelief on Brittany’s face is even better.

Suddenly the couple next to her stands and starts to cheer, “Go Brittany!”

Santana eyes them curiously, wondering if she just started something or they’re just chiming in along with her. They’re just as loud, if not louder, but what’s even more curious is the way Brittany shies away from the attention.

Still though, Santana continues to wave as Brittany walks across the stage to her seat. It’s not until Brittany’s seated that Santana tops off her antics by blowing her a kiss then watches with a satisfied grin as she sees Brittany’s face go red.

Safe to say, Santana won this round.

Despite the fact that academic decathlon club is just a glorified way of saying trivia team, Santana’s kind of surprised by how well Brittany actually does. The girl hasn’t missed a question yet which is saying something because Santana hasn’t heard of half of the things these questions consist of.

Another thing that sticks out to Santana is the fact that Brittany’s the only girl on the team. She wonders what that must be like, especially considering most of the guys on Brittany’s team seem really…fucking pretentious.

Their team captain? An absolute dickhead, Santana’s sure of it judging by the way he didn’t clap for Brittany’s correct answer. Some team captain he is and the others just follow his lead.

And Santana doesn’t know why, but seeing the way they interact with Brittany just makes her want to cheer even louder. She doesn’t even care when the rest of Brittany’s team glare at her, she’ll probably never see them again after this.

“Go Brittany!” Santana yells when Brittany answers correctly again. This time she makes eye contact with the couple next to her and explains, “That’s my girlfriend.”

The woman blinks, strangely similarly to Brittany, “I didn’t know Brittany was dating anyone.”

“Brittany’s dating someone?” The man next to her asks. “What happened to Artie?”

Santana tilts her head to the side, “Who’s Artie?”

The couple share a look while Santana starts connecting the dots. The woman’s blonde hair and striking blue eyes, the man’s t-shirt donning Brittany’s name and face – which she didn’t realize until now.

Suddenly, it dawns on her.

“Wait. Are you,” Santana stammers. “Are you Brittany’s parents?”

The woman smiles as she nods, “I’m her mom, Whitney. This is Pierce, her dad.”

The man next to her waves, “Hi. I’m Pierce.”

“I just said that,” Whitney whispers to him.

“Did you? I didn’t hear.”

Santana’s stunned, unsure of what she’s meant to do. She already introduced herself as Brittany’s girlfriend but Brittany doesn’t need a fake girlfriend – does she? And who the hell is Artie?

She’s starting to panic a little as Brittany’s reaction earlier starts to make sense. All this time, Santana’s been sitting next to her parents and she couldn’t do a thing about it! And when it comes to parents, she’s not like Brittany. She’s never been the girl people take home to meet their parents!

This is unknown territory and she can’t believe she’s even thinking it but where’s Brittany when she needs her?

“And you are?” Whitney asks – breaking Santana out of her thoughts.

Santana blinks, “Sorry?”

“Your name, dear.”

“Oh!” Santana blushes, “Duh. Sorry, I’m Santana.”

“Pretty name,” Whitney compliments.

“Santana,” Pierce repeats the name like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

Santana nods, wondering if she should be giving them the well-rehearsed spiel about their relationship or if she should just wait for Brittany. She’s really at a loss here and keeps looking to Brittany for some type of signal, but the girl is too focused on the trivia.

“So you have classes together?” Whitney asks, “You and Brittany?”

Santana swallows dryly, “Yeah. We have a couple together.”

“That’s nice,” Whitney replies. “You know our Brittany is the first in the family to go to college? Technically she’s gone to two so that’s even better.”

Santana’s brows rise at the information, “I-I didn’t know that, no.”

“She’s really something special,” She tells Santana. “We try to go to as many of her matches as we can. She’s just so smart.”

“We don’t know where she gets it from,” Pierce jokes. “Definitely not me.”

Whitney sighs through her smile, “It did take us all by surprise.”

Santana briefly remembers her and Brittany’s conversation on their flight back to campus. There was something about Brittany being left behind, about people not seeing her potential and giving up. It makes her wonder if her parents were lumped into that group, although it’s hard to imagine such a nice couple doing something like that to Brittany.

When the match ends awhile later – another win for the Brainiacs – Santana anxiously awaits Brittany’s entrance. So far the conversation with Brittany’s parents never exceeded surface level stuff which is a relief but she can tell there are questions and she doesn’t think she can answer them on her own.

“Mom, dad,” Brittany greets. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“We thought we’d surprise you since we’ve missed your last couple of matches,” Whitney says.

Brittany nods and looks to Santana.

“We had similar ideas,” Santana explains. “Being that I’m a supportive girlfriend and all.”

“I see,” Brittany catches on and wraps her arm around Santana’s waist. “It was a great surprise.”

Whitney and Pete look between the two and start to smile.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were dating someone, Britt-Britt?” Pierce asks.

Santana’s brows rise at the nickname, “Yeah Britt-Britt. Wanna keep me a secret?”

Brittany forces a laugh as she subtly pinches Santana’s side.

“Kidding,” Santana amends.

“I was going to tell you this weekend,” Brittany explains to her parents. “I’ve been really focused on preparing for this match. It’s been a pretty busy week.”

“That’s okay, dear,” Whitney replies. “We just want to be kept in the loop.”

Brittany frowns, “Yeah sure. Well, we’ve got to get going.”

“What?” Santana quirks her brow.

Whitney and Pierce respond similarly, “You don’t want to go for dinner or ice cream or something? You know, like we used to?”

“Santana and I have plans already,” Brittany tells them. “Maybe tomorrow though if you’re still around.”

Whitney and Pierce exchange a look, “We were going to drive back tomorrow morning.”

“Right,” Brittany shrugs. “Well maybe next time then.”

Santana watches as Brittany begins saying her goodbyes to her parents. She can sense the awkward tension and it makes her feel weird for intruding, but it doesn’t last long as Brittany loops her arms with hers and drags her away.

“Uh, what was that about?” Santana questions when they’re outside. “You don’t want to hang out with your parents?”

Brittany ignores the questions as they get to walking, “Sorry if they were annoying or anything.”

Santana grows even more confused, “They weren’t. They just want to cheer you on. How's that annoying?”

“I forgot I was talking to the captain of the cheer squad,” Brittany deflects again with a smirk.

“I'm not captain.”

Brittany looks to her, “You're not?"

Santana shakes her head, “Nope. People suspect favoritism when your step dad is the football coach.”

Brittany scoffs, “What's he have to do with cheerleading?”

“Exactly,” Santana says before getting back on topic. “Anyway, your parents seem sweet.”

“I guess.”

Santana looks at her, “No?”

It takes Brittany a second to answer, “They just, they haven't always been there for me growing up. They had no problem handing me off when something more important came up, you know?”

Santana shakes her head, “What could be more important than their kid?”

“Beats me,” Brittany shrugs. “But I guess they're trying to make up for that now.”

Santana nods, noticing the forlorn look on Brittany’s face and how misplaced it looks. Her comment gets her thinking about her dad and how he wasn’t around that often either, but he never let her forget how proud he was of her accomplishments. Even if he wasn’t around a lot, Santana never doubted how he felt about her.

With Brittany, she doesn’t think she returns the sentiment.

“Well, that's pretty fucked up,” Santana admits. Brittany looks back at her questioningly but Santana only shrugs, “I'd totally be there for my kid especially if they were half as smart as you.”

Brittany starts to grin and that forlornness suddenly disappears and morphs into something Santana’s a lot more familiar with.

“Didn't know you knew how to give compliments,” Brittany quips.

Santana rolls her eyes, “And there you go making me regret it.”

#Hate to Date #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #Enemies to Lovers #Fake Dating AU

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Text

Silver is the New Sexy (Kili x Reader)

Requested by: @elles-writing

Heyy, I've seen your asks and requests are open, so I thought I'd send request in. Can I request Kili x female reader, where the reader looks older than is hers actual age, and being insecure about that, so Kili comforts her?

AN: Here you are!! Hopefully I captured it right! ☀️

It was one simple task. ONE. Of course, that meant nothing, when said task was to be completed with Dwarves – especially the Erebor strain.

Y/n had always looked older than she actually was. It never bothered her much, growing up, for it allowed her, Kili and Fili much access to restricted liquor. However, now that womanly aesthetics, and the desire to posses them, had sunk in, she despised it above all else.

As a precursor to finding a contingent group of Dwarves, to aid in the journey of reclaiming Erebor, Thorin, rather reluctantly, mind you, had allowed the youngest four of his company to set off on their own mission.

It seemed simple enough – extract information from a few rangers at the Prancing Pony Inn. However, as mentioned before, when travelling with Dwarves, nothing was ever simple.

Walking into the tavern together, Kili, Y/n, Fili and Ori soon found the rangers. They brooded in a corner, and spoke in low whispers. A classic aesthetic, Y/n thought. She was already bored of their antics.

Now, being the only girl in the group, Y/n felt it her duty to carry out said flirting.

Whipping her head all around, as to let her locks fall loose, Y/n made herself more presentable. Kili watched on, with an evident swallow of his nerves.

Quickly creasing his brows, he held her arm in place, as to stop her preening movements.

“Perhaps we should organise another plan,” Kili said, speaking to the group as a whole.

“We barely organised this one,” Fili pointed out, glancing between his brother and Y/n.

“I agree, besides, we have no time left to think of a new approach,” Y/n added on, looking over her shoulder.

Clenching his jaw, Kili slowly let go of Y/n’s arm.

Shaking her hair out one last time, and smoothing down her tunic, Y/n turned around to face the boys.

“Okay, how do I look?” she asked.

“Good enough to talk to some sleazy men,” Fili remarked.

“You look most lovely, Miss L/n!” Ori asserted, nodding his chin high in resolution.

“Aw,” Y/n cooed, placing a hand over her chest. “There’s nothing better than being complimented on how good you look, when it comes to manipulating men.”

Jealous of the attention she gave Ori, Kili quickly darted his eyes between them both. He then landed them on Y/n, and sputtered a response aloud.

“Indeed! You look like a prostitute!” he attempted to flatter.

An awkward tension quickly befell the four. Y/n creased her features, and pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Well, anyways…” Y/n quickly changed the topic, turning on her heels. “I ought to get started. Thorin wants us back very soon in the morning.”

“Good luck,” Fili whispered, pushing her along by her back.

Watching as the girl weaved in and out of the tavern, the three boys stood in a line.

“Prostitute? Really?” Fili flatly repeated.

“It was all I could think of!” Kili defended himself, with a folding of his arms.

“You’ll never braid her hair at this rate,” Ori remarked, pursing his lips to one side.

Scoffing, Kili sent the youngest Dwarf an offended look.

“Be quiet, you,” he said. “You’re not even old enough to court!”

“Exactly,” Ori knowingly replied, “but YOU are, which makes it all the more sadder that you can’t even compliment her.”

Growling, Kili rolled his eyes.

“Just you watch,” he said, nodding his head resolutely in Y/n’s direction. “By the time we reclaim Erebor, Y/n will have a thousand braids in her hair!”

“No doubt,” Fili said, smirking. “However, we’ll just have to see if you’re the one to put them there!”

As Fili and Ori fell into snickers, Y/n made her way on over towards the rangers. At the same time, a nearby bartender, cleaning a tankard, eavesdropped on the Dwarves’ conversation.

“If you’re sending that lass on over there, to use her womanly charms on that lot,” he spoke up, “then you’re in for a rude shock.”

All turning their heads over their shoulders at once, the three boys furrowed their brows at the taller, and older man.

“Why’s that?” Kili asked.

“Let’s just say,” the man began again, chuckling, with a raise of his brows, “that those particular rangers like their women the way they like their bounties; above eighteen-years-old, and men.”

As the realisation slowly dawned on them, the three Dwarves widened their eyes. In unison, they each all quickly shot their attention back up front. They then observed Y/n attempt to flirt with a group of men most inclined to not find her attractive.

“We have to save her!” Kili frantically said.

“Aye, already on it!” Ori answered.

Looking all around themselves for the shorter Dwarf, both Kili and Fili were confused, as they found him nowhere in sight.

Lifting their heads, they each groaned in anxious dread. Ori was already making his way on over towards the hidden table, as to take Y/n’s place in the position of flirting.

Hastily, the brothers ran after Ori, for they knew one of them had better handle it.

“Are you sure?” Y/n confusedly asked the table. “B-Because I’m offering? You really aren’t interested?”

“Look, lady,” one seethed, squeezing his tankard tighter. “Whatever you’re selling, we don’t exactly have the currency for!”

Afraid they were poking fun at her appearance, and not at all realizing their underlying subtext, Y/n hardened her features.

“Well, no need to have your heads so far up your-“ she had gone to say.

However, Ori had swiftly jumped in, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he calmly said. “What seems to be the problem here?”

Y/n didn’t know if the question was directed at her, or the table. Though, before she could figure it out, Ori had directed his attention at the men, whose eyes all brightened at the sight of the young Dwarf.

“Well, well, well,” one man said. “And who might you be?”

“Ori,” he replied, smiling brightly.

All at once, every man on the table turned their attention to Y/n. Before she could question aloud, Ori had placed a façade on, and scowled at her.

“Get out of here, old lady!” he shouted, understanding the table’s silent thoughts.

Dropping her features, Y/n gaped down at Ori. Old lady? What? She was barely a few years his senior!

Sensing an underlying charade nonetheless, Y/n scoffed in offence. Glaring down at Ori, Y/n warned him both in and outside of the game.

“Alright, but this isn’t over,” she lowly warned.

With that, Y/n gave a gulping and tightly grinning Ori a threatening raise of her brows, before she left the table.

Rushing past both Fili and Kili, with a clearly set jaw, and angered gaze, Y/n made her way towards the wooden steps, which led upwards to the rooms.

“Are you alright?” Kili asked in concern.

“Wonderful,” Y/n tightly replied. “Just apparently look as old as an Elf, without the charm.”

Watching, as the young woman headed upstairs, both Fili and Kili glanced between one another. The older brother then slowly bared his teeth in wincing cringe, and hissed.

“That’s your chance, if you’re wondering,” Fili advised, nodding his head between his younger brother, and the stairs.

Gulping heavily, Kili looked up the steps once more. Setting his jaw, he too ascended them, with only the thoughts of Y/n on his mind.

Sat on the bed, with her legs folded beneath her, Y/n held a mirror. She inspected every fine line, and little feature, which made her appear older than she actually was.

With a growl tearing through her throat, she threw the mirror across the bed.

At that moment, a small knock had come from the door. Turning her head, she glared at Kili, though, she meant him no harm.

“I’m pretty sure that’s bad luck,” Kili remarked, pointing at the now cracked mirror.

“It makes no difference to me, and my cursed genes!” Y/n complained, using a fanatic hand gesture to elaborate. “Can you believe what that little horse turd said? He called me OLD LADY! I’m barely older than HIM!”

“He called you an old lady?” Kili snickered, trying his hardest to bite back a grin. However, his humour did not slip Y/n’s attention.

“What? You think this is funny?” Y/n seethed, deepening her glare.

At once, Kili’s features dropped, and he turned ghostly.

“No, no! Of course not!” he promised, quickly crawling into the sheets. “I would never think you silly! Or your skewered vision of yourself…”

“My what?” she bit back, growling at him.

“I-uh! Just mean, that you…well, you know,” Kili fumbled, trying to come up with an elaborate answer. “You’re already so pretty, I just don’t understand why you’d fixate on small details?”

“The small things add up,” Y/n replied, pulling at the skin surrounding her eyes. She completely missed his compliment – too caught up in her own insecurities.

“Well, yes, they do,” Kili lightly chuckled – reeling it in, however, the moment Y/n’s burning gaze snapped to him. “Look, Y/n…I just don’t think you should waste so much energy fussing over your appearance. So, you look a little older than what you actually are, so what? It’s paid off before, has it not? Many in the company take you seriously, more than they do me, Ori or even Fili!”

Nodding her head from side to side in thought, Y/n considered his words.

“Besides,” Kili casually pressed on, with a drawl of the words, “aging isn’t a terrible thing in itself. In our lifestyle, it’s a blessing to have made it so far, as to even develop silver hairs, or fine lines in the first place!”

Knowing his words were true, Y/n allowed a chuckle to break through. She dropped her head, to stare at her legs, and racked her shoulders with every little laugh.

“Yes, that is true,” Y/n laughed.

“Exactly!” Kili pressed on, pointing across at her.

Studying her features, Kili warmly smiled. He then reached a few fingers into her hair – the hair he craved so deeply to braid – and twirled the strands around.

“And anyways…silver is the new sexy,” he allusively drawled, waggling his brows up and down.

Before she could laugh at his flirtatious comment, she gasped. Reaching her own hands up into her hair, she yanked on the locks.

“I have silver stands?!” she exclaimed in horror.

Keeling back in laughter, Kili quickly shook his head.

“I’m only teasing!” he promised.

Now, slowly allowing a smirk to grace her features, Y/n playfully glared at Kili, and punched his shoulder.

“Not nice,” she remarked.

“No, but you are,” Kili said, in a completely earnest voice, as he revered her with adoring eyes, “to look at, I mean.”

Softly smiling back, Y/n observed her own friend. How lucky was she, to have such a dear companion in her life? She never had to feel insecure when he was around, for he saw past the very same things she scrutinised herself for.

“Thank you, Kili,” she quietly said, feeling a whole lot better.

“Of course,” he replied, smiling in response.

If he thought she was pretty, then she thought so too.

#Kili x reader #lord of the rings #lotrdaily #lotr movies #the hobbit #mirkwood #hobbit #hobbit x reader #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #company x reader #thorins company x reader #Kili #fili #ori #dwarves #dwarves x reader #filinx reader #ori x reader

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years

Text

Lightning in a Bottle | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Music is Edmund’s love language, apparently.

Request: Hey! Could you possibly do a cute high school au with Edmund? Maybe they’re both crushing on each other and everyone knows except themselves, anything you wanna do really haha 😂 thanksss :)

A/N: Thanks for the request!! God, I love Edmund so much. And here, we have indie boi Ed. This oneshot is inspired by Electric Love by Børns. (Specifically, the video linked) This is one of my favorite songs, and I thought it fit the indie-main-character-high-school vibe :) I didn’t really nail the “everyone knows but them” thing, but still crushes! Enjoy ~

masterlist | here is a playlist of the songs in the mixtape mentioned | read on ao3

Edmund Pevensie was obsessed with listening to music, particularly with old musical technology. While it wasn’t uncommon to have a fascination with cassette tapes or vinyl records, it hit a special chord within Edmund’s heart. Something about listening to music, old and new, on the outdated tech made the music sound better, hit harder, and stick in his mind better. He was the type of guy who took the AUX on long car rides to play one of his thousand Spotify playlists.

Another notable thing about Edmund was that he was very intelligent with very high standards for himself. He was a natural at academics, having been in advanced classes since he was young, and he was the guy everyone hated in math class. After dozing off in class, and mouthing off to the teacher every now and again, he still came out as the teacher’s favorite and a straight-A student.

The majority of the time, though, he tended to keep to himself. While he was genuinely liked by his peers and was rather charming, he didn’t really consider anyone his friend. Unlike his older brother, Peter, he liked to remain closer to the shadows with earbuds in his ears. He knew he could never fill his brother’s shoes; Peter had basically come into Cair Paravel High School to be captain of the soccer team. He was so good that even though his grades were subpar at best, he received a full-ride scholarship to Archenland University to study sports medicine and play on their soccer team.

Then there was his older sister, Susan, who won her Student Body President campaign by a landslide. Everyone liked Susan; she was patient, gentle, and got along with pretty much everyone. She too got a pretty large scholarship to Beruna State College and is double majoring in child education and European history.

Finally, there was Edmund’s little sister, Lucy. She was only a freshman at Cair Paravel, and very into student council. Edmund thought she was practically made to be an ASB kid; she was excited, friendly, and much too kind. Lucy made the switch to high school seamlessly and had a big group of friends by the time the final bell rang on the first day.

Edmund was a senior now and he couldn’t wait to get out of high school. The people were unintelligent, he was constantly compared to his siblings and he was ready to start his life. Edmund had high ambitions to become a lawyer, specifically criminal law. He didn’t really have much to leave behind at this school, so he was just trying to get through it as soon as possible.

One thing he would miss was the quiet girl that sat behind him in his music appreciation class. Edmund didn’t really want to take the class, but at the last minute, he discovered he needed to fulfill an arts credit to graduate. He appreciated music and liked easy classes, so he chose this one. Little did he know it was mostly analyzing classical pieces.

Y/N was super cute in Edmund’s eyes. She always mumbled sarcastic comments whenever their easily excitable teacher, Mr. Tumnus, would stretch when over-analyzing a stanza of music. By the time October passed, Edmund had grown quite fond of the girl. She almost always was reading a comic book of some sort instead of paying attention in class. Y/N even ended up lending Edmund a few for his viewing pleasures; he always made sure to return them in the exact condition he received them. Batman seemed to Y/N’s favorite.

Y/N loved watching Edmund write. He held his pencil wrong and always had ink smudged all over his hand. Maybe it was because he was a leftie, or maybe it was because he wrote too fast. Probably a little bit of both. His handwriting was also weirdly slanted to the right, which didn’t make any sense to Y/N. He was left-handed but his letters slanted to the right? Not the mention how half of it was in cursive and half of it was in print. It was definitely messy but, oddly enough, still intelligible.

“What are you listening to?” Y/N asked Edmund. “Better not be Christmas music. Christmas was last month.”

Edmund pulled an earbud out of his left ear and turned so he was sitting horizontally in his chair. He leaned an arm on the top of her desk and grinned. “Currently, I’m listening to Can I Call You Tonight? By Dayglow. What are you reading?”

“Currently, I’m reading Volume 1 of The New Teen Titans,” Y/N copied Edmund. “I’ve never heard of Dayglow, are they good?”

Edmund smiled, offering her his earbuds. “Listen and see for yourself.”

As she listened Edmund searched her face for any clue to what she’s thinking. Her face housed a small smile so he concluded that she enjoyed it. Once the song ended, she took out one of his earbuds and placed it on her desk.

“I like it,” She concluded, listening to the next song.

“Good, so do I. It fits my mood for today.”

“What’s got you so happy today? You have a great way of showing happiness, by the way.” Edmund was dressed in all black with his hood up. Edmund rolled his eyes.

“What I can’t be in a good mood?”

“I never said that, Pevensie. You just look very Edmund-y today.” Y/N pulled the other earbud out of her head and held them out to him.

“No, keep listening. I’ll play some music for you throughout class and maybe you can tell me what you think at the end?” He pulled his hood off of his head and smoothed out his hair. “And what do you mean Edmund-y?”

“I don’t know, all black, hood up, dead look in your eyes.”

“I don’t have a dead look in my eyes!” Y/N giggled at her own joke. “Just for that, I’m going to take this.” He snatched the open comic book that laid open on her desk.

For the remainder of the class, Edmund dictated what Y/N listened to from his phone. He played everything from The Beatles, to The 1975, to COIN, to Duran Duran. Every now and then, Edmund would peek his head back to see her eyes glued to the back of his head. Her body swayed to the music almost lazily, and a smile graced her features. For some reason that made his stomach feel fuzzy.

She returned his earbuds at the end of class, and he returned her comic.

“That was fun,” Y/N complimented, shoving her materials into her bag. “I like the get better song you played.”

“I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers,” Edmund corrected her as they left the classroom. Music Appreciation was the class of the day for them, seeing as they were seniors who left at lunch, so the two started making their way towards the parking lot.

“You have to meet your sister right?” Y/N asks, pulling out her I.D. so she could leave campus. “The really sweet freshman girl? Honestly, you two are so different I wouldn’t have guessed you were siblings.”

“Oh, Lucy, yeah. We grab lunch every Thursday before I drop her back off for the remainder of her classes.” The two showed their I.D.’s to the campus aid and walked into the parking lot.

“That’s sweet. We should grab lunch sometime, or something. It could be fun! We could do our analysis questions about Bach.” Y/N started to walk in the opposite direction and Edmund felt his cheeks warm. Luckily, Y/N’s back was now towards him.

“Yeah, sure. Don Giovanni, right?”

Y/N’s laughter could be heard as she grew further away. “That’s Motzart, Pevensie!”

Edmund shook his head and met Lucy. She was leaning against his car looking bored.

“Who was that? Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy asks, opening the door once Edmund unlocks the car. This made his cheeks flush more.

“No, she’s just the girl that sits behind me in Tumnus,” Edmund puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not, Lucy. It’s just hot in the car, it’s been sitting out here for ages.”

One day in the middle of March when Y/N walked into Music Appreciation, she noticed a small rectangle box on her desk. Upon opening it, she found a cassette and a note. The note looked as if it was typed using a typewriter.

Y/N,

I’m not very good when it comes to words, but I’m good when it comes to music. Hopefully, this says it all. Enjoy, my love.

Side A //

Electric Love / Børns

I Love You So / The Walters

Fallingforyou / The 1975

Your Song / Elton John

Someone To You / BANNERS

Side B //

Babe, Can I Call? / The Hunna

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy) / The 1975

Luv, Hold Me Down / Drowners

love somebody like you / joan

TV Dream / Larkins

Y/N didn’t recognize most of the songs, but just reading the titles made her blush.

“Mr. Tumnus? Did you happen to see who left this on my desk?” She held up the cassette so he could see. He shook his head.

“No, sorry.”

Other students started to trickle in and soon the bell rang, no trace of Edmund. It wasn’t uncommon for him to skip this class, it was basically pointless, but it made Y/N sad every time he wasn’t there.

The door swings open and a drenched Edmund steps into the classroom. Without even looking up, Mr. Tumnus addresses him.

“You’re late again, Mr. Pevensie.”

“Sorry, I got stuck behind a group of Sophmore girls who wouldn’t move.”

“In the rain?” Mr. Tumnus raised an eyebrow.

“No, if it was in the rain I would be wet right now, sir.”

He plopped into his seat and started raking his hands through his wet hair. His cheeks were slightly rosey, as were his nose. His lips were pinker than usual and they stayed slightly parted. Hair stuck to his forehead as he ran his fingers ran through it and the hair on the nape of his neck dripped down his back. Y/N had to stop herself from staring at him with her jaw unhinged.

“What’s that?” He whispered, noticing the open present on Y/N’s desk. He had taken up sitting horizontal in his chair at all times so he could more easily talk to Y/N.

“It’s a mixtape. It was left on my desk when I got here,” Y/N responded and handed him the note. Edmund took it and began to read; his eyes scanned the paper and his lips moved slightly as he read. Y/N couldn’t help her this time, so she allowed herself to stare. His lips were always so pink and so puffy. She fantasized about how soft they must be.

“Wow, looks like someone really likes you,” He comments, placing the paper back on her desk. “Do you have a cassette player?”

Y/N didn’t even consider that. Who the hell has a cassette player in the year 2020? Apparently, her answer was evident on her face, and Edmund chuckles. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a walkman and a pair of earbuds.

“Here, you can have mine. I got a new one last month and I don’t really use this one as much.”

Oh, Edmund has a cassette player in the year 2020.

Y/N smiled, taking the player from his hand. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on those songs. Whoever made that has good taste, you’re lucky.”

When Y/N got home tonight, she took out her walkman. It sat easily in her palm, just big enough for the cassette to fit inside. On the bottom, “E.P.” was scratched into the plastic. She smiled and put her mixtape inside.

As she listened, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Edmund. They had grown much closer in the past few months, even going lengths to hang out outside of school. Y/N learned that not only was Edmund extremely intelligent, but he was the funniest person Y/N had ever met. He always had a sarcastic comeback or joke to offer her, no matter the subject. He had also let many of his walls down, letting Y/N get to know him better. It all felt so comfortable and natural. No longer was he just the cute guy from Music Appreciation, but he was the pain in the ass that Y/N had fallen for. And Y/N had fallen hard.

Against her first impression of the mixtape, Y/N had actually heard all of these songs. After the first day in January, Edmund had lent her his earbuds near-daily and she would listen to whatever he played for her. Her eyes widened.

Why would Edmund carry around a cassette player he didn’t use? And to school for that matter? And the note; it was typed because Edmund had such distinct handwriting! Y/N rewound the cassette and listened to it again. Why didn’t she realize in the moment?

“Hello, Y/N,” Edmund greeted in the parking lot the morning, he happened to park next to Y/N. He gripped the coffee in his hand and got his backpack in the trunk. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Tired, I stayed up, like, half the night listening to that cassette I got yesterday.” Y/N slung her own backpack over her shoulder. He closed his trunk and locked his car.

“Yeah? And what did you think?” The two started walking towards the building.

“I thought that the songs all sounded oddly familiar.”

Edmund took a long sip of his coffee. “Like you’ve heard them before?”

“Mmhm,” Y/N hummed and walked onto campus. She held one of the straps of her backpack as she walked. “Almost as if this dumbass guy I know played them for me a while back,” Y/N’s voice was teasing and light.

“Yeah? Who is this guy?” Y/N stopped walking and looked up at Edmund.

“Thanks for the mixtape, Ed.”

“Whaaaat...just because this guy has great taste in love songs doesn’t mean it was me. I’m flattered though, really,” Edmund took another long sip of his coffee.

“Oh, what a pity. I actually got excited when I figured out it was you. Considering normal people don’t just carry cassette players in their backpacks. Especially not ones they don’t use anymore.” Y/N’s voice was thick with sarcasm.

“Excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve kinda liked that Edmund guy for a while, but he doesn’t like me back so…”

“You like me back?” Edmund was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yes, babe, I like you back. I have since October since I started letting you borrow my comics,”

Edmund placed his coffee on a bench and pulled Y/N closer to him by the hips.

“October, huh?” Y/N smiled bashfully at Edmund’s tone but nodded.

“What? You’re cute, I couldn’t help myself. Plus, now you make me cute mixtapes.”

Edmund leans down and places his lips against hers. They were just as soft as she had imagined. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers quickly finding the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls away and leans his forehead against hers.

“Be my girlfriend, then?”

“You nerd,” Y/N took a small step forwards and pecked his lips again. “I would love to.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #king edmund the just #king edmund #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #modern au #fluff #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #skandar keynes #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction

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artfully-charming · 3 years

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Bling Empire Review

I know I’m like a month late writing this case study, but I didn’t have the time when I first finished the series. Anyway, I have some thoughts while watching the show, which I think are interesting discussion points. This post is long, so if any of you actually reads the whole thing, kudos to you!

1. Apparently rich, gaudy (East) Asians is the current Asian stereotype in US (Western?) media

If you truly know, most super rich Asians don’t show off their wealth the way these people do. Hell, if anything, many of them try to hide it as much as possible, especially the older generations. It’s mind-boggling to me sometimes that this is the only view that some people may have of rich Asians or Asians in general for that matter. These people are a very small subset of the much bigger rich Asian population and the reason why this is now what people know is because of their often times embarrassing antics and ostentatious display of wealth. Sure it sells, but I think it partially also contributes to the recent steep increase of attacks against Asians around the western world, along with so many other reasons. I’m of the opinion that shows like these are in no way helpful to anyone who’s watching; if anything, I think it’s quite harmful. When a minority is painted as a singular stereotype, it’s always harmful.

2. Kevin relies on his good looks alone

We all know that Kevin doesn’t have that much going on above (or at least that’s what he wants us to think of him, so he almost fully relies on his good looks. I guess his naïveté of the upper class world helps him become the new toy and the person to shower with gifts, but I’m not sure that people would’ve warmed up to him that much if he wasn’t good looking. Idk, I get weird vibes from him and I think he’s way more complex than what he’s letting on.

3. Cherie proposing

Not going to beat a dead horse, the whole thing is embarrassing for everyone involved. No one would admit it, but it’s YIKES.

4. Jamie just being there

The only reason I’m writing about her is that a friend of mine said Jamie’s personality reminded me of her. Now that I’ve watched the show, I’m quite offended lol she got no personality

5. Plastic surgery nightmare

You’d think with the supposed wealth of these people, they would’ve gone to either better surgeons or make their surgeries look better because they currently all look like the characters in the recent Cats movie.

5. Anna vs Christine

I’m not a fan of Christine per se, but their rivalry is a classic example of born into wealth vs marrying into wealth. Christine tries very hard to be queen bee, to be accepted in the circle that she married into, and she uses her money and every other mean necessary to get to where she wants. She craves validation from Anna in her core, because Anna is this larger-than-life, born-into-wealth princess. She wants to prove that she’s as rich as Anna and can do anything Anna can do, but I think she’ll never truly be there because she’s desperate. Having said this, regardless of what one may think of her, the story about how she lost contact with her parents and how she married into the Chius family shows enough determination and discipline on her end. I think she sort of had a rough life, and she now wants to proclaim to the rest of the world that she’s made it. She’s far from perfect, but I can appreciate her hustle.

As for Anna, her being born rich makes her think that she’ll always be better than Christine. I appreciate her wisdom and for the most part I think she’s a good person, but she’s just as petty as Christine methinks. She’s older than almost everyone else, and I think she’s mostly bored with nothing to do, hence her getting into these “fights” with Christine. I think she never had a financial hardship since she was bored, so she seems like a trust-fund kid still after all these years. Her life revolves around spending money for the sake of spending money, and I’m not sure how much she still enjoys the things and experiences she’s bought.

6. Anna with Kevin and Florent (is that his name?!)

I think their relationship shows how when you’re new blood in this type of circle and you’re fun, these people will have no problem showering you with gifts because they have the money and what else will they do with their money?! Anna is generally generous, and she enjoys seeing her money being used to spoil those around her that she likes. Florent as her French gay best friend truly enjoys all the finer things in life in exchange of his loyalty and companionship. Many of these people are lonely, and if you’re not a user and you’re open to listening to them and accompanying them, I think they’re happy to not only spoil you but also to open doors for you. It’s important to get these people to like you and trust you and to hopefully never cross their line.

7. Christine with her in-laws

Sure she married rich, but do y'all see how hard that marriage is? I recently commented on a post by @call-me-your-ala that talks about why some still erroneously think white men are still the only high value rich men and I mentioned that many Asian men are rich rich. But their families are extremely difficult to penetrate and please. Even once you get in, you’re held to an impossible standard and you still need to do many awful things to be the perfect daughter-in-law. Honestly, Christine’s story of how she took the blame for her husband is quite heartbreaking. She was blamed all those years for not being able to bear a child, a son specifically. That’s happening in the 21st century!! And I’m sure this isn’t just in Asian families. Marrying rich has its price too, and I hope each one of us realizes the trade-offs and don’t think everything is just roses all the time.

If anyone actually reads this, I’m curious what you think of the show. I can’t fully talk with my friends from a hypergamous standpoint, so y'all ladies are my only hope lol

#review #bling empire #level up #upper class #hypergamy

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deltaengineering · 3 years

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What remains of Fall Anime 2020

You might have noticed that I haven’t been keeping up with my season impressions, mostly (but not exclusively) because it’s really boring to come up with new ways to say “it’s isekai, which means it’s garbage for stupids”. So here’s what I ended up finishing, in ascending order of goodinosity.

Hypnosis Mic -Division Rap Battle- Rhyme Anima

Ostentatious rap battles in an insanely stupid universe are very fun. The thing is that this doesn’t want to be a good anime, it wants to sell us on these characters, and the characters are pretty terrible on account of all of them being one-word gimmicks. So, let’s give them three rounds of introductions and have them solve lame, generic crimes for 8 episodes instead of setting up the rivalries that everyone suddenly has later, when the show gets good - because it does start delivering towards the end, and becomes really all I wanted. So I can’t even say I’m disappointed, but the first half of the show is almost entirely worthless. 4/10

Assault Lily Bouquet

I don’t want to be the guy that’s all “I’m mad at this show not catering to what I want”, but I do have to say that Salt Bucket is much better at being a goofy, lighthearted yuri comedy than it is at action (though there are a few choice cuts) and at having an engaging storyline. This is again just an ad for some game or other, so it’s no surprise it has about two dozen characters too many, but it also has quite a lot of superfluous plot - so much so that I suspect it was initially planned to be twice as long. Apart from that, it’s cool and all that some Gainax old hand got to make his own Gunbuster-like, but it’s just not very good at that and all I wanted was Kaede antics and bath scenes, of which 1 per episode is clearly too few. 5/10

The King's Avatar 2

King’s Avatar got a sequel and overall I have to say, I kinda like it more than the first season even though it looks much less ambitious and even the character designs were changed towards the bland. But I honestly don’t care much about the esports aspect of this and much of S2, especially in the back half, is more about schemes and social engineering - as close to an Eve Online anime as we’re ever going to get, I guess. It’s still very chinajank (why the hell does every episode come with a redundant chibi summary of itself, etc), and while I can’t call that “good” it does remind me of a time when I wasn’t filled with useless knowledge of anime tropes and was just enjoying the weirdness. Also, Ye God’s antics is as close to “looking for anime with OP MC” as I’m comfortable with getting. 6/10

Heaven Official's Blessing

Now how about some Chinimation that isn’t very janky? I only became aware of Heaven Official’s Blessing when it suddenly rocketed to the top of the MAL charts, so I gave it a looksie and oh boy. The first few episodes of this show are flat out gorgeous, quite funny and very very gay. So I was ready to agree with MAL for once, except it then launches into an arc that mostly consists of our dudes sitting in a dark pit telling each other stories that aren’t very interesting and seem barely related to the setup. Yeah, the back half of this just isn’t very good at all. And the subs are hot garbage. Still, the beginning is so impressive that I would recommend this show despite the middling rating it’s about to get. 6/10

Ochikobore Fruit Tart

You know the problem that these 5girls4koma stories have, where one of the characters is an annoying pervert, yeah? Well, in Fruit Tart every character is that character, and they’re rather cultured as well. Yes, it’s often of questionable taste and it has a terminal case of 4koma storytelling but dammit if I didn’t enjoy it. It certainly helps that this show’s greatest asset by far is Broko and it seems to be aware of this, because there’s a lot of Broko material. It would have probably have gotten a 6 but the last episode is just so... maximum Fruit Tart. I’m down for some trash if it’s as well made as this, and I do like my kiraralikes spicy, so thumbs up over here. YMM definitely V on this one. 7/10

Majo no Tabitabi

Speaking of things that are hard to recommend despite me liking them a lot, Elaina here challenges the very notion of what a TV show even is supposed to be. I assume most people tune in every week expecting to get something roughly similar. Not so with this one, you could get everything from slice of life antics to Higurashi-style gore, or reasonably deep character study to pervert comedy. I would say that the only unifying thread is the presence of Elaina, who is a very fun character, but there’s an episode she’s not in, so there you go. But I’m a connoisseur of the weird and I also have to say that I enjoyed every episode in its own way. Also, each episode stays remarkably consistent by itself, and in the end it wraps it all up with a sort of neat “life is like a box of chocolates” thematic bow, which isn’t earthshatteringly profound but hey, it’s there. Just don’t go in with expectations, especially not expectations based on the first episode. 7/10

Love Live! Nijigasaki

It’s Love Live. Good old reliable Love Live. Really not much to say about this one, any discussion of what makes this different from previous iterations is going to end up in minutiae only people who already watched this could possibly care about. I do have to say that while the musical numbers are as good as Sunshine’s were towards the end and there’s also a lot more of them, “looking budget deficient outside the CG” is the one thing I didn’t expect from something that’s ostensibly a Sunrise premium product. So boo on that one, apart from that it’s idols (an anagram of solid). 7/10

Garupa Pico Oomori

The chibi SD shorts based off Bang Dream are still better than the main show. Even if S3 was actually quite good, this is just the best thing you can do with 30+ characters that aren’t that deep. Garupa Pico specializes in absurd humor setpieces that at points is better at being Pop Team Epic than Pop Team Epic itself was. Take that, memelords. 7/10

Fire Force S2

Fire Force is just weird, man, and it’s sort of great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a property of this magnitude show this much of the ol idgaf spirit. How about an episode where the A plot is the most evenhanded exploration of religion i’ve seen in anime, and the B plot is about blowing up a tryhard edgelord by exposing him to panties? How about a subplot where Batman and Thor infiltrate the vatican to kill the pope, only for that to lead into a gay rape backstory, only for that to be resolved by dank weed and dismemberment? It really is quite a thing, as they say. Now, Fire Force certainly delivers hard at points, but it’s also very scattershot, even if S2 is somewhat more consistent than S1. The weakest parts are unsurprisingly still the ones where it’s remembering its fighting shounen template, and that’s not only because I don’t like that, it’s also because it’s particularly and consistently bad at scheduling these huge, simultaneous multifight setpieces it often crescendoes with. But hey, at least these tend to look super cool. In short, Fire Force is a land of contrasts and still the only fighting shounen I give a damn about. 7/10

IDOLiSH7 Second Beat

Did you know that I think Idolshi7 is the best one of all of these huge-ass commercial idol franchises? Yeah, I think it’s better than Love Live, and as of Fall 2020 also the better looking one because Troyca still delivers where Sunrise apparently can’t. I guess still don’t like the music much, thankfully there isn’t a lot of that. It also still specializes in gigantic drama, and to its credit S2 is now much better at either getting to the point or at least making it silly and fun. You show that door who’s boss, Sou. Still fantastic Tsumugis all over the place as well, in fact I think I like all the characters now. Even Banri gets his big moment in this season! Yeah, this stuff is pretty cool. 8/10

Adachi and Shimamura

So here’s the AOTS, and it’s the lovechild of Bloom Into You and Tsuki ga Kirei. While it definitely isn’t as good as either of these two, because it lacks the “about more than just teenagers being hyperbolic about a crush” part from Bloom and the part where it has an actual ending from TgK, it carves out its own niche with its loopy, almost stoned tone that’s full of side weirdos and yuri hyperspace. It’s also uniquely focused, with a tiny core cast and even Shimamura doesn’t really matter all that much. This is all about Adachi, and thankfully Adachi is amazing. Amazingly awkward, that is. It’s very cute. So yeah, this is a bit too lacking in substance to aspire to classic status, but it’s a great time nonetheless. 8/10

#anime #review #fall2020 #Hypnosis Mic -Division Rap Battle- Rhyme Anima #Assault Lily Bouquet #The King's Avatar #Heaven Official's Blessing #Ochikobore Fruit Tart #Majo no Tabitabi #Love Live! Nijigasaki #Garupa Pico Oomori #Fire Force S2 #IDOLiSH7 #Adachi to Shimamura

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des-draws · 4 years

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1-A autistic hcs!

Alright it’s already past midnight here but. I’m still posting this.

Back in my 1-A pride hcs post I also mentioned my autistic hcs, and said I might elaborate on them in April. But because I am a master of procrastination, of course I left it for last minute.

But either way, here you go; over 3k of projection and infodumping. I’m gonna leave an AO3 link in the replies if it’s easier for you to read there.

(general tw for some mentions of ableism, and specifically tw for ableism/child abuse/ende*vor in the very first bulletpoint)

Todoroki

Ende*vor absolutely refused to believe that there could be something “wrong” with the one supposed to surpass All Might, and so he ignored any and all traits Todoroki would show, punished him for the ones he couldn’t ignore, and chalked up the meltdowns he caused him to Todoroki being a brat.

As such, Todoroki spent a lot of his life masking and hiding and suppressing himself.

Thankfully, much like with everything else, after moving to the dorms he’s starting to unlearn all that internalized shit and instead accept himself for who he is- including indulging in suppressed stims, special interests and other autistic behaviours in a safe, accepting environment.

He’s found that cold soba is apparently a samefood for him- he knew he liked it enough to eat it all the time without getting bored of it (not that he actually does, since with their hero training a balanced, diverse diet is important), but he didn’t know there was a word for that.

Monotone voice and trouble with facial expressions, you know how it goes. He actually tries to use the “correct” tone and make the “correct” expression, if only so that the people he’s supposed to protect don’t think of him as “aloof”, but he gets easily tired of going back to the masking. He cares, he cares so much, this is just not one of the ways of showing it that comes to him naturally.

Can people please stop talking in metaphors and idioms around him and expect him to know the translation to everything. Thank you.

He’s reluctantly letting himself indulge in his recently discovered special interest on a certain manga series; he’s been buying the volumes, and at some point Sero found him reading one and they started bonding over it. Now Todoroki goes to Sero when he feels like infodumping- though, he has to be careful not to spoil anything. Sero is a way behind since he doesn’t go through the volumes like someone’s chasing him. He has, however, helped Todoroki make a blog where he can infodump about it, spoilers and all. He’s quickly becoming “fandom famous”, Sero says- and even though Todoroki’s not sure what that means yet, he’s very happy to see others as into the series as he is.

Iida gives him stim and fidget toys all the time- Todoroki is reluctant to keep them as the other says, since he could buy them himself, but Iida insists. Todoroki especially likes the tangles. He’s building himself quite the collection.

He’s also invested in some high-quality sound-cancelling headphones. Long overdue, but better late than never.

Favorite stim: TBA, although clenching his fists around his thumbs is something he’s always done- even before he had a name for it, or knew why it was so comforting.

Midoriya

His special interests are Quirks and All Might (the Hero Persona™ rather then the person)! He can infodump about different quirks and theories on how to use them and “what if x quirk exists how would that work” for hours. He’s spent entire evenings arguing on forums about which of All Might’s hero outfits was most efficient and useful for what was needed. Inko, on more than one occasion, had to lure him out of his room with the promise of a rare comic book so he would eat something.

On that same vein, he is appalled by some of his classmates’ hero costumes. He’s too polite to be that crass about it out loud, but in his brain he’s always going “what in the everloving fuck is this???? Who let a teenager go into battle naked???? Did she just go ‘oh yea give me a pair of gloves and boots and I’m set’ and they let her??? Who agreed to this?? Nothing tracking her vitals, nothing keeping her warm in fucking December????? This is just irresponsible”

So you can imagine the rants he goes into when one of them does ask him for advice on how to update their costume.

He likes visual stims a lot- you know that thing where you shut your eyes and wave a bright phone screen in front of them? He loves that

Having trouble emotionally regulating means lots of crying. Not a bad thing, just. A thing. That a lot of people don’t expect when they first meet him.

Inko has always tried her best to accommodate him, but there’s only so much to do when they’re just getting by. He’s very understanding though. She gets into making DIY stim toys for him, and as he grows up he joins in and it’s a very pleasant pastime for the two of them (to the point that he’d rather keep them as mementos of the time spent together than use them for stimming).

Favorite stim: Hand-flapping and back-and-forth rocking!! Classic and good!

Iida

No volume control we die like men (he’s trying to work on it but a lot of the time he’s louder than he realizes. His friends never fault him for it tough.)

Always loved putting his toys in a line- lines are neat! Don’t you see how tidy everything looks now? This is fun! Unfortunately, kids his age didn’t have the same opinion and just chalked it up to him being a “neat freak”.

The kind to separate his food into sections. He had to get used to eating with company in school, since no one wanted to sit with him during lunchtime before, lest they be subjected to his “bizarre eating habits”.

His family is, thankfully, very supportive and accommodating. They were a little worried when he moved into the dorms, but he reassured them that his classmates are just as accepting and understanding. And besides, he’s not the only “out” neurodivergent kid around anymore!

Has copied the language habits of his parents around Important Customers and never stopped. No one in his family talks quite as formally as he does in casual settings, but hey, better to be too formal than too informal and be considered rude, right?

Owns quite the collection of stim toys. Cubes, squishies, tangles, slime, kinetic sand- you name it, he has it! It’s not so much for himself, since he has a few favorites and sticks to them, but keeps the rest more so for anyone else that might need them.

He’s partial to the fidget pen- he likes fidget cubes too, but they’re usually a little small for his hands and harder to work with.

Doesn’t use memes quite right, but is always eager to learn where they originated from. Kaminari (always good-heartedly) never misses an opportunity to explain them to him, and gets so proud when one of Iida’s attempts lands.

He was kind of worried he’d look out of place on stage in the Cultural Festival, but with his friends reassuring him it’s alright, not only did he go out there, but had lots of fun as well!

Very routine focused. He loses half an hour of sleep and he’s already thinking about re-structuring his entire schedule.

Orange juice is a samefood. That boy need his orang juice

Special interest in the mechanics that go into hero costumes and quirk-assisting gadgets. It’s why he was so eager to accept help from Hatsume during the sports festival (he has mixed feelings about this one), and he’s sure they would work well together if only she stopped trying to make him a test subject.

It’s also something he and Midoriya can spend hours going back and forth about. Iida doesn’t usually lose track of time, but he can’t help it when such an interesting conversation is happening!

Screw “quiet hands”. In this house we wave our hands around intensely enough to almost smack someone (“but not actually smack them!! Always be aware of your surroundings!!”)

Favorite stim: Believe it or not, running! The wind resistance, the stomp of his feet, is all Very Good!!

Kirishima

He used to chew stuff a lot- first as a way to get used to his new, sharper teeth, and then because he just liked how very stimmy it is! But he’d also chew stuff that’s not really supposed to be put your mouth so his moms helped him find healthier stim alternatives, since actual chewelry were either a) not stimmy enough, b) wrong texture or c) destroyed too quickly and he’d just go back to chewing unhealthy stuff.

Since he’s grown enough to not go through chewelry at a breakneck pace, he keeps a couple at hand for when he’s studying- helps him focus! He was kinda embarrassed to bring one to his and Bakugou’s study sessions at first, but after Bakugou admitted that he’s also autistic he started keeping one on his person during them- assuring the other that he’s taking proper care of washing it and everything.

He used to bite on his hands as well- still does when he's under extreme stress (imagine summer camp/AFO showing up at Kamino levels of stress) even though he's grown out of it for the most part.

Hyper-Empathy Station. Makes him good with people (and animals) but leaves him exhausted more often than not.

“Hey don’t you get tired of sticking your hair up like that every d-” “It’s routine bro you can’t just quit it that would be chaos”

Whether he wears it up or not, his hair always seems to be a very good tactile stim, both for him and, surprisingly, Bakugou. When it’s up, the pointy spikes are very satisfying to run one’s hands over, just rough enough to slightly scratch the palm, but just light enough to not completely bring them down. When it’s down, Bakugou doesn’t miss an opportunity to touch it, which works for Kirishima too, since having people run their fingers through his hair is very relaxing to him.

He Cannot handle kinetic sand and most slimes. It either feels grainy and dry or too wet and sticky. The crunchy sound sand makes when it’s cut is like nails on a chalkboard in his head. It’s just not for him.

Gullible. Please be nice to him he just wants to believe in the good in everyone

Special interest on Crimson Riot!! I mean, come on; basing his hero persona on him, naming himself after him? Turning to interviews of his in moments of doubt and uncertainty, finding comfort in media about him? Yeah

Has a couple Comfort Sweaters™ and a single comfort plushie- a shark one, the first gift his Ma got him when she met his mom. It’s been patched and stitched up dozens of times, and barely holds itself together, which is why he never takes it out of its safe place in the closet unless he’s seriously in need for some comfort and has already exhausted all other options.

Bro, We Are Autistic . Its Ok To Stim Around Me . Im Ur Best Friend . I Love You . ... Bro, We Are Infodump ing Now . . No Dont Stop Bro .. Bro ...

Favorite stim: Bumping his hardened fists together!! Sometimes he’ll simply rub his hardened knuckles back and forth together- it’s more discreet, and while not as satisfactory, still good for emotional regulation.

Bakugou

Branded a problem child early on, Bakugou had the majority of his meltdowns called “tantrums” instead. So he decided that if everyone treats him like a brat, he might as well be one.

Even before he started losing his hearing, he had some auditory processing issues- which is why he hates hates hates when Midoriya mutters (and similarly, why he didn’t immediately turn his back to Kirishima- the guy talks loud and clear like 95% of the time. Bakugou can appreciate that, even if he won’t say it).

Face blindness is inconvenient as all hell, which is why he gives people ridiculous nicknames: connecting names to faces is difficult enough, and at the beginning he doesn’t really care to try and memorize them anyway, so he just finds a prominent characteristic to remember each of them by.

[Insert Smart Guy Meme] “You can’t be deceived by fake politeness and sarcastic compliments if you react aggressively to everything people say to you”

Loves his routine and having everything planned. If you drag him into something out of nowhere and disrupt his schedule he will be mad at you for a week minimum (something his friends found out the hard way)

Prolonged human interaction is absolutely exhausting, more than any quirk training exercise, and he gets cranky at the speed of light when he reaches his limit. As time goes on he does find a few people (first Kirishima and then progressively the rest of the Bakusquad) that aren’t as exhausting for him to be around for longer and longer. He still needs his alone time, but now he knows that he can recharge around them as well, if he feels like having company.

Drumming is Very Good stim-wise. So is spicy food, which is why he likes it so much.

Pressure stims are The Worst for him- weighted blankets, tight vests, anything at all that might constrict him in any way? He Will react like cats do to cucumbers. The only exception is that once in a while, when he’s exhausted but can’t seem to ground himself enough to drift off, he’ll ask Kirishima to just. Lie on him, also like cats do, just until he falls asleep.

This is a No Socks Zone. These foot prisons are absolute sensory hell, and with how sweaty he gets it’s only made worse.

How Can People Talk About Emotions While Simultaneously Looking Each Other In The Eye This Feels Disgusting I Will Blow Something Up: an autobiography

Favorite stim: Tiny explosions popping in his palms. Sure, grand light shows are fine and all but small ones, just big enough to feel through the roughed-up skin of his palms have a certain calming effect. Sucks that people immediately jump to assuming he’s threatening them when he’s just trying to cool down.

Tsuyu

Very blunt. She doesn’t mean to be rude, but sometimes it comes across like it when she’s only trying to be honest and offer advice.

Raptor hands 24/7. what an icon

Has trouble with physical contact in the sense that she’s??? not really sure how to do it??? She offers hugs and hands to hold left and right but it always feels like she’s just. doing it. Like how one would tie a loose shoelace or button up a shirt. It’s not like she hates it, but her nonchalance when someone does hug her makes people assume she’s being cold- which is not the case at all! She’s just offering comfort in a way she knows other people will understand even if it’s not really doing much for her.

Jelly is a samefood! She likes sour apple jelly the best

Kind of a black-and-white mind. She’s working on seeing the world in shades of grey though, since she saw how her Absolute thinking can impact her friends.

Low/no empathy. She hates that to some people’s eyes that automatically makes her a bad person. Kindness is a choice, one that she doesn’t need empathy to make every day.

Favorite stim: Her near constant kero-kero-ing is very much a vocal stim, as well as echolalia!

Yaomomo

Makes her own stim toys using DIYs rather than her quirk, and is very eager to make any personalized ones for her friends!

She also likes experimenting with what kinds of textures she can make using her quirk.

Has a semi-popular account where she uploads videos of her playing with slime and kinetic sand regularly.

Much like Iida, she adopted the more formal ways of speaking from her parents and house staff and has trouble toning it down (not that anyone faults her for it).

Very picky about who touches her. She genuinely does not want to come off as the Snobbish Rich Girl but sometimes when someone touches her with no warning or consent she feels like crawling out of her skin

In the exact same vein, she was extremely hesitant to admit that the futons at the training camp drove her up the wall with that hellish texture. She didn’t want to be the nitpicky one and make a new one using her quirk, either. If anything good came out of the disaster that was the training camp, it was that she didn’t have to sleep on it another night, she thinks (and then feels terrible about it).

Her special interest is tea! Like, actual tea that you drink. Just look at how she lights up when she gets an opportunity to talk about it, or make some for others!! It’s also a samefood for her- she tries to be diverse, but there are a couple with juuust the right combination of smell and taste that she will always go back to.

Sometimes she won’t even drink any- just the process of making it is extremely comforting.

Favorite stim: Double-sided sequins! Tactile-visual stim combo!

Koda

Largely nonverbal. Talking to people is too stressful 99% of the time. Animals are way better listeners anyway.

No volume control we die like men part 2 (but it’s the complete opposite from Iida, in that he can never seem to raise his voice enough)

Likes his peace and quiet, and can easily go into sensory overload if one too many sounds are happening at once. He wants to invest in some headgear for his hero costume that helps him tune out distracting sounds so he can focus on matters at hand while still being able to hear and help those in need.

A plushie hoarder if I ever saw one. His room is the Ultimate Comfort Corner.

Favorite stim: Humming to himself. Reluctant to do it in the presence of others, but increasingly comfortable around friends.

Aizawa

Samefoods with those juice pouches he always keeps around

Permanently exhausted due to having to interact with people

Talks in a monotone and has trouble making expressions

His sleeping bag is very good pressure stim. It’s also very hard for him to replace it, because it has to be Just Right, so by the time he does find one that is Just Right, the old one is practically falling apart.

The only reason he’ll sleep in a bed is if Mic is there to share it with him. Otherwise it’s too cold and exposed and weighted blankets can only do so much.

He kinda misses the time before he got top surgery for the sole reason that binders offered a very comforting pressure stim. However, he acknowledges that it’s for the best he got it, since a lot of the time he’d bind for longer than it’s safe. He was lucky to still have the option of getting surgery.

(this has been a safe binding psa, please don’t do what he did)

He does however, tend to wear a tight, though still breathable undershirt at near all times.

As much as he complains about Mic’s mustache, he actually likes it. He tried to kiss Mic once when he shaved it for the first time in forever and instantly went “yea no. This isn’t working. Feels wrong and bad, Put It Back™”. Didn’t kiss him again until it grew back.

Everything Happens So Much

He talks back to cats. Like, actually meows back at them. Very good echolalia, makes Mic’s day to walk into a scene like this

Favorite stim: Petting cats! The fur of different breeds offers a variety in texture and when they start purring a very good auditory stim is added to the mix! And when they sit on him and add a pressure stim? Cats are the whole package!!

That’s all (for now?) Thanks for reading!! Hope you had a nice Autism Acceptance Month!!!

#autistic headcanon #autism acceptence month #bnha headcanons #aizawa shouta #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #iida tenya #asui tsuyu #yaoyorozu momo #kouda kouji #des writes sometimes

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thenameisel · 3 years

Text

(It's been years since I wrote, but this game, well, gave the inspiration to do so again. So if it's a little long, and I tend to write on mobile... so forgive me. :) )

The Titan walked along the pebbled shoreline, an orange thermos in hand. It was a particularly large thermos, of the kind one uses to carry enough beverage of choice for multiple people. But in the Titan's hand it looked perfectly normal. An oversized thermos in an oversized hand.

A Ghost glittering golden floated sedately along side, occasionally pausing to scan a particularly interesting pebble.

The sun had not quite yet set, however thick clouds threatening rain obscured the little light remaining, making for quite a dreary evening.

Ahead, a half dozen Fallen bickered over a collection of washed up junk, looking for anything salvageable. Each in turn looked up from their work, eyeing the newcomer warily. Their movements were fluid, but jumpy. A weird bobbing grace. Suddenly, all heads come up in unison, many hands reaching for almost as many weapons.

The Titan snorted a short laugh as the Ghost vanished. "We're not interested in your junk. Just let us pass."

Either the Fallen didn't understand, or, more likely, had no reason to trust the statement. After all, what Guardian would walk past a group of humanity's foes without beating them to a pulp? One of them took a step forward, lifting a lance into an aggressive position. The Titan sighed, shrugged in mild disappointment and looked around for a flatish rock. Finding one, a hand came up in a classic 'one moment' gesture, and the thermos was placed on the rock with the utmost care.

As the Titan stood upright, the massive hands started to spark with Arc energy.

"Allrighty. Let's do this."

Further along, up in a nook on a bluff, a Hunter lay in wait for prey. There had been a tip off about a smuggling ring making a trade somewhere in this area, and a master of shadows had been sent to intercept it. Once in the area, a suspicious beacon had led to a particular stretch of beach, and an inlet hidden by tall rock walls, with plenty of nooks someone could hide in.

One such had proven particularly useful. It was a good perch, well up above the small sheltered area, just enough space to lay prone. Dressed all in dark colors, the figure was almost invisible in the fading light. A matte black Ghost rested beside, a single eye as intent on the empty beach below as the Hunter's two. Rifle in hand, the pair lay in wait for something to happen. When it did, it most certainly wasn't what they were expecting.

"Those Fallen down the beach are making noise again." The Ghost whispered. "Something's got them mad."

"Think it's the smugglers?"

"Maybe."

So they settled in to wait again, but the noise got loud enough that the two could pick out distinct words. "No, not the smugglers." The Ghost said disappointed. "Their clamering about killing someone."

The Hunter groaned, face in the dirt. "Ok. I guess we should go see what's going on. If someone needs help..." The statement remained unfinished.

A soft glow emitted from the Ghost as it gained height, and the Hunter stretched muscles sore from laying in wait. Suddenly the noise from the Fallen was punctured by the crack of Arc energy, and the outline of the inlet's entrance was lit with blue light. The noise of Fallen gunfire returned the assault.

"Damn it. That's going to warn off the smugglers."

"Oh look on the bright side!" The Ghost chipped in cheerfully.

"And what would that be?"

"I think I know who that is!"

Another groan and the Hunter, head shaking, jumped out of the nook to the beach below. The Ghost chirped happily and followed. There had been the beginnings of a smile on the Guardian's face after all. They may have lost their intended prey, but one of another kind had just blundered into their sights.

The Titan continued down the shoreline, thermos in hand. Behind, a half dozen Fallen lay, a few barely clinging to life. The remains of the Arc onslaught sparked among the scrap.

"There's an inlet up around the next bluff" the Ghost said, popping back into reality, "I'm picking up a faint beacon. It's not one of ours."

"Oh?" The Titan said, "That sounds interesting. Shall we take a peek?"

The Ghost made a simple affirmative sounding tone, then paused. After a moment a second, slightly more complex and happier sounding tone was emitted, before vanishing in a flurry of sparks.

The Titan chuckled quietly. That Ghost tended to be a somber fellow, and that was practically joy. So something was definitely up.

The bluff ahead jutted almost out into the water, only a narrow band of large rockfall skirted it with just enough pebble shore to pass. Good spot for an ambush. Not that something like an ambush was concerning to a Titan. But it wasn't to be, and the way was uneventful. However, there had been a distinct feeling of being watched. But that wasn't a bother either.

Round the corner, and into the deeper gloom of the inlet. A few strides in and visibility was getting very poor. The Titan methodically peered into the shadows, though there really wasn't much use, as the day was ending and the black of night was coming fast. An oversized hand was raised, palm up, requesting some additional light.

Before the Ghost could materialize however, a shadow detached itself from the bluff wall, launching itself at the hulking form.

The shadow hit broadside full force, but the Titan's stance held. Bellowing, one hand desperately clinging to the thermos, the other pulling at the dark form, which had worked up to the wide shoulders.

"WATCH MY TEA!" The voice thundered through the inlet, echoing across the walls, disturbing sleeping birds, loosing rocks and who knows what else.

"Well stop thrashing about!" The Hunter said, now balanced in a squat. Dark gloved hands quickly worked around the edges of the Titan's helm, trying to find the latch.

There was a shout of triumph, which quickly became holler of shock as a massive hand came up, managed to grab a good fist full of cloak, and pull the Hunter from the perch.

"Enough of that!" The Titan held the Hunter in the air at arm's length. Legs came up however and wrapped around the large arm. A wriggle, and the Hunter dropped free, but cloak-less.

With a grunt the Titan tossed the dark fabric towards the triumphant shadow.

At some point their Ghosts had materialized, circling the pair. The golden one's eye rippled in humor as it surveyed the scene. The black one made cheerful burbling noises while circling what was apparently old friends.

"Allright allright." The Hunter laughed "I'll get you next time. But seriously, what is with the tea? I have never seen you out of the Tower without your helmet. You refuse to take it off! And yet, you always bring tea!"

"It's for after."

"Leave it in your jumpship!"

The Titan thought for a moment, studying the thermos, as if looking for damage. "Perhaps."

"You're ridiculous. You know that right? Ridiculous."

"Am I?"

There was pause, then a moment of realization, and a large hand produced from a belt pouch a fist sized paper wrapped package and tossed it to the slender form.

The pair were illuminated solely now by their Ghosts. On odd match, one small, slender and graceful, the other large, hulking and intimidating. One in shades of black, the other tan and navy. The Hunter unwrapped the package partially.

"OooOooH. Sweet! You know I love these things!" Inside was a popular street food from the Tower. A deep fried bun filled with herbs and cheese. It was a food that was cheap and traveled well. The fact they were high calorie helped too, what with the running around Guardians did.

"So." The Hunter said, finding a low rock to sit on, and removing a blackened matte helmet. However the face stayed hidden in the shadow of the hood. "What you been up to lately?"

The Titan looked around for a suitable seat, and finding none, shrugged and went to sit right on the ground. The movement wasn't the slightest bit graceful, especially not in all that armor. It was a little better than collapsing, complete with an expected curse. A suitable flat rock was found within reach for the thermos.

"Well. The usual mostly. But, oh boy, do I have a story for you!"

"Oh?" The word came out around chewing.

It had become tradition between the pair for the Titan to 'happen' to have the Hunter's favorite snack handy. It started a few years back, the then already veteran shadow had taken an odd liking to the hulking new light, and much enjoyed stealing parts of meals to get an outburst.

Sometimes, instead of outright theft the Hunter would swap out the contents of Titan's lunch for a box of crayons. That always got a good rise and threats in return. Eventually, the Titan's laid back nature won out, and instead there were often extra buns tucked away to keep the Hunter at bay. Turns out a well fed shadow causes less grief!

"Well. I was in the Tower last week when we had that crazy snow storm. I was waiting on a scouting party to return. You know how it is sometimes. I was doing my part, guarding the walls, and bored out of my mind. So bored I would have happily run a Rumble. And you know I hate those." Massive hands idly stacked pebbles. "So bored that when we saw a notice for a new Crucible event we jumped on it."

"A new one?" The Hunter leaned forward, interested.

"Yea! This one was called 'Removal'"

"'Two four person teams compete for the fastest time.' it said." The golden Ghost chimed in. "'Why not?' we thought, 'might be fun? Might be a variation of Control?'"

The Hunter chuckled. The Titan took over the telling again.

"So, we grabbed a couple more Titans, those two big Exos, I think you've met them, and somehow along the way we managed to gain a Warlock. Not really sure. I tried looking for you but I think you were off somewhere that day. Anyway, we march up to the main courtyard, and there's already a good collection of people who must have heard about the new event. Both Guardians and lightless. So we shouldered our way through the crowd."

"Of course you did."

"Well we were didn't want to be the last to try this 'Removal'! Anyway. We get through the crowd, somehow kept the Warlock with us too, and there we are the four of us in front of Lord Shaxx, and besides us another four, a Titan, two Hunters and a Warlock. Now Lord Shaxx is standing there, hands on hips pleased as punch."

The Titan paused for dramatic effect, "'GOOD TO SEE SO MANY TURN UP FOR THIS NEW TRIAL!'" The Titan boomed, imitating the Crucible handler's exuberant speech. "'ALWAYS GOOD TO SEE SOME ENTHUSIASM! AND I THINK WE HAVE OUR FIRST COMBATANTS!'"

The Hunter laughed again at the apt impression, dusted crumbs off and waited for the Titan to continue.

"Lord Shaxx looks us over. 'REMOVAL IS ABOUT CLEARING AN AREA. WORKING AS A TEAM QUICKLY AND EFFICIENTLY AS POSSIBLE.' Then he hands me, no joke, a darkness damned SNOW SHOVEL. I think he's kidding. Maybe he's lost it. He proceeds to hand snow shovels out to the others. All the time going 'ONE FOR YOU, ONE FOR YOU.' I'm just staring at mine, and at Lord Shaxx, confused out of my mind."

"And you fell for it."

"...What?"

The Hunter's head shook back and forth. "You fell for it. He tried that a couple years back with another big storm. Back before your Ghost found you."

The Titan's shoulders sank in disappointment that the storey wasn't new.

"Continue!" The Hunter urged, seeing the dejection. "How did it go? I still want to hear this!"

"Uh well…" another pause as the Titan gathered enthusiasm again.

"Well. Once we all had shovels, one of the Hunters threatened our Warlock with it. That was pretty funny. But I stepped between them and the Hunter stopped right quick.

Lord Shaxx sent us off to two of the larger jumpship landing terraces on the wall. You know the ones, big parking areas. Now I think ours was quite a bit bigger, but was higher then the other team's, which was right beside and below us, and I think they had more drifting. So I guess Lord Shaxx thought it fair. There were the usual extra Ghosts watching, no doubt streaming this…. Match."

At this point the pebble stack had become a small wall.

"So?" The Hunter asked, leaning forward. "Who won?"

"Neither." The Titan grumbled. "It started out well enough! We three Titans were clearing snow, quick as we can, just barreling through it. The Warlock helped here and there, but was mostly doing that thing where they heal you. Turns out it works just as good on sore muscles as bullet wounds. Unfortunately though the other team's Titan was a Sunbreaker. Apparently melting the snow was a viable tactic. And somehow is getting through the snow faster than we are!"

"Those Exos…." The Hunter asked, "They're big, but Sentinels right?"

"Yea. Totally useless in that situation. My Arc too. But we keep shoveling. But they keep out pacing us. Then the Warlock has a bright idea. Sounds good at first, so we go for it. Instead of piling the snow neatly we start chucking our snow onto their terrace. Oh boy that made them mad. Especially when the three of us heaved a large bank over and buried the same Hunter that threatened our Warlock earlier. That felt so good."

The pair laughed. "Unfortunately it went downhill from there. Lord Shaxx had already warned us a few times that we were… bending the rules. But as we stood there laughing at the Hunter, a flaming hand shot out of the snow bank and well…. I was the only one who never heard the gunshot."

"No… it came to that?" The Hunter asked, hanging on the Titan's words.

"It certainly did." The golden Ghost chirped. "I put my Titan's head back together just in time to witness it devolve into a fist fight."

"Lord Shaxx was so mad!" The Titan declared. "So mad. He's yelling at us over the loudspeaker, demanding we stop. Threatening to come in person. But, well, you know how it can be once the blood is pumping. I'm honestly not sure which of us jumped down first.

The Warlock pulls out a bow, starts firing on the opposing team, aiming for whoever's pointed a gun at us. I grab the Hunter who shot me, who's still stuck in the snow bank. I turn for a throw off the tower and my head slams right into the Sunbreaker's fist. That makes me drop the Hunter and we start pounding each other.

Pretty sure I broke a nose and who knows what else right through the helmet. Caved it in pretty bad. Still standing, still returning blows though. Suddenly hands that even I find big pull us apart.

'ENOUGH OF THIS FOOLISHNESS!' Lord Shaxx is bellowing. 'THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN EXERCISE IN COOPERATION!'

We're just standing there, Ghosts patching us up and he's lecturing us about not being so quick to blows, teamwork, and something and something else. I honestly can't recall a lot of the rant, my head was still swimming from first being brought back, then the fist fight. But I was maybe a little tiny bit sorry. The goal was to clear snow. Nothing else… but then again we weren't told fighting was off the table. I still say that Hunter started it by threatening our Warlock at the beginning."

"So then what?" The Hunter asked, putting the helmet back on. "Did he run any more 'Removal' matches?"

"Oh no. No way. After a good 10 minutes of lecture Zavala himself arrived. Started lecturing Lord Shaxx about his ideas. Said if he ever made mundane labor a competition again, he'd take the Crucible away from him. You'd think that would shut him up. Oh boy an argument started and to be honest, we took our leave then and there. Didn't matter, we all got stuck with snow clearing duty for the rest of the week anyway."

The Hunter chuckled, standing up. "That's kind of what happened last time. Zavala banned it, guess Lord Shaxx didn't take the order to heart."

"Where you headed next?" The shadow asked, playfully patting the massive forms helmet. Even sitting, the Titan's head came up to the smaller one's chest. "I've lost my prey for the night, you got any I can tag along for?"

"Oh definitely!" The Titan said happily, standing up and rolling shoulders before retrieving the thermos. "There's been reports of hive activity nearby. I was sent to scout it out. Maybe cause some damage. I bet with your help the two of us could clear it right out!"

"That works for me! Lead on!"

One large figure was seen leaving the inlet. The armor was tan and navy, holding a large orange thermos, barely visible in the small amount of light a glittering golden Ghost provided.

An odd matte black shadow, much smaller than it should be and sporting a cloak, flickered along the bluff wall not quite in time with the figure.

Every once and a while the golden Ghost would stop and sink to scan an interesting pebble. And every once and a while a Ghost shaped shadow that seemed to glow ever so slightly would dart ahead or lag behind, making the ever so quietest happy chirps.

#fiction #fanfic #destiny 2 #titan #hunter #my writing #oh its been TOO long #yea i dont know formatting #too bad #ghost

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ericmhe · 3 years

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Godzilla Singular Point

I'm not much of a “binger” for the most part but I got the whole series Godzilla: Singular Point watched in about 4 days I think. Let's start positive: I think the 3D models for the monsters work a lot better than most anime 3D models, they're still fairly apparent but it seems like they blend with the rest of the art alright. The designs are mostly fairly good too, there's some ugly ones in there but I kind of don't mind them? Monsters can be ugly sometimes and not just cool looking, a few here and there in the cast doesn't hurt anything. It's nice to see some nods to the more obscure kaiju too, there's a lot of interesting and fun monsters from Toho's old movies and it gets a little tiring to be hit with nonstop Godzilla-Mothra-Ghidorah-MechaGodzilla incarnations every single time there's a new take on Godzilla. I like a lot about the premise, the apocalyptic rise of kaiju around the world as they bring their habitat/environment with them into our world, terraforming it into a world of monsters. It's not new by any means, but it's usually not the approach taken witht the Toho monsters and it's a good excuse to fit a lot of them into a setting quickly. The end credit sequence is pretty great, I hit 'watch credits' every time on my watch. Heck, the whole series might be better if it was more like its own end credits.

I think Godzilla: Singular Point could have been better, but we've also seen worse recently. I've only dabbled in storytelling but I suspect a lot of its problems come from overcompensating, specifically: “Godzilla movies/media are dumb” being met with “Oh yeah, well how about one based on theoretical quantum physics” just didn't work out. I actually think what they use in the series is a fine technobabble excuse for the monsters having powers and durability beyond science, but I also don't feel like kaiju media really needs that excuse. It's fine though, I think the sheer quantity of the technobabble is the biggest problem with it. I've been listening to discussions of theoretical multi-dimensional physics for a while now, so I think I might have been better prepared than average but it's still a chore to get my head around so I know it's going to lose a majority of the general population. One big question I have is why did they give the main characters the wrong interests? Yun, who is into future predictions deals with the monsters, and Mei who is studying theoretical impossible animals deals with the future predicting technology end of the plot... I could get that if the idea was to raise tension by making the wrong people have to work outside their field of expertise, but that's not what happens, they're both pretty good “omnidisciplinary scientist” sorts who don't have much problem learning a whole new field. Honestly they really should have been assigned the other interests though, Yun studying fantastical creature ideas and Mei the future stuff.

While I like the premise and some of the stuff they do with the monsters, there's also a lot that's disappointing – The Kumonga-Megalon-Hedorah hybrids really need some explaining. Why are there three monsters in one species? Just to reference as much old material as possible at once? As far as I'm concerned Anguirus is the stand out star of the series and they kill him far too quickly. The series could also be called a fairly cozy catastrophe too, for the most part the worst thing happening for most people is losing their internet connection, kind of seems like a monster apocalypse should have a bit more than that going on. That said it's not nearly the disappointment that the Polygon Pictures trilogy is, which managed to take the most interesting and unique premise the Godzilla franchise has ever had and do basically nothing with it.

I might give Singular Point something like 6 out of 10, and I think a second season might have enough room for improvement that I'm not against it.

For the heck of it:

Shin Godzilla: The most common criticisms are right (dull, Godzilla has no personality, the humans are more random bureaucrats than characters), but so are most the common praise (topical in its way, punchy with its political critique, holy hell that weapons upgrade on Godzilla). Which one outweighs the other is a simple matter of personal preference. I don't have super strong feelings about it and it will be one of my least re-watched Godzilla movies ever, up with Godzilla's Revenge.

Polygon Trilogy: AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRG. The only things worth watching are Godzilla Earth avenging Godzilla filius and Ghidorah's destruction of the spaceship (wasn't it Atrium or something? I'm feeling too lazy to look it up) but unfortunately there's an awful lot of crap around those bits. Ok, I exaggerate a little but not much. I kind of appreciate how they tried to subvert the classic “your life goals or your love interest” kind of scenario, but she wasn't much of a character so it didn't have much impact to kill her off and the main character is an unlikable jerk too.

Legendary's Monsterverse: Godzilla 2014: Too much of its run time is boring for me to recommend it but the monster stuff is too well done for me to ever dismiss it outright.

Godzilla King of the Monsters: I get why people have a problem with it, but I appreciate the story between Godzilla, Ghidorah, Rodan and Mothra enough to forgive it and it's my favorite of the Monsterverse. I don't have as much problem seeing the monsters through the weather effects as some people seem to, the only one I really can't follow is when Godzilla drags Ghidorah into the Gulf of Mexico. It does cut to the humans too much during the monster fights, but it's also trying to connect the stories. The goal of the human characters lines up with Godzilla's well enough that they can be considered to be on the same side, and that's why we see things like Godzilla charge Ghidorah, then cut away to humans where Ghidorah's heads slam into the earth somewhere in the background. It's fairly flawed, but...

Godzilla vs Kong: Holy shit over-correction much? I think it might actually work better as a stand alone movie than a continuation of King of the Monsters, yet it actually can't because of some elements like the Ghidorah heads. Notice how they say one skull holds the pilot, there's another skull in Mecha Godzilla? - clearly supposed to be the side heads incinerated by Burning Godzilla not the one Godzilla tore off in the Gulf of Mexico – not sure why everyone misses that. ANYWAY, it's a fun movie that gets to the main event as fast as it feels like it can and the monster action is solid. With the one exception that I really hate Godzilla being portrayed as defenseless against Mecha Godzilla – outmatched and needing help is fine, but utterly unable to do anything but get stomped is just not enjoyable to me. As soon as Kong comes to help double team Mecha G it gets a lot better though. - Quick note, why did “Team Kong” see any reason to sic Kong on Mecha G? We the audience know that since the robot is possessed by Ghidorah that once it kills Godzilla it'll go on to wipe out all humanity and anything else it comes across, but does “Team Kong” know it? If Kong knows it, would he care beyond Jia? I mean, it doesn't matter but it does nag me a little bit.

I honestly thing the basic story teased at the end of King of the Monsters in the news reel stuff sounds like a better movie than Godzilla vs Kong turned out to be but I'm fine with what we got for the most part. Except why did they dump all the other monsters? They've come up with all these interesting new monsters and they have Rodan and what-not and they just say they all haven't been seen? It's the most disappointing part of the Monsterverse so far if you ask me.

#Godzilla #Kaiju #Godzilla Singular Point #Singular Point #Godzilla vs Kong #Godzilla King of the Monsters

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tortue-souris · 3 years

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Parchment + candles + corduroy + violin + library +leather + canvas + feather + shadow + clock + orchestra + fire + tweed + dust (but if you really are bored you can do all of them or come to my flat to wash the dishes 😈😈😈)

THANK YOU FOR ASKING ME I HAD FUN (nope) :D

parchment: what area of philosophy interests you?

Philosophy ? What is that ? Never heard of such a thing

candles: favorite quote?

Depends on my mood haha. Today I’m gonna go for this one from Anouilh’s Antigone :

“La vie n’est pas ce que tu crois. C’est une eau que les jeunes gens laissent couler sans le savoir, entre leurs doigts ouverts. Ferme tes mains, ferme tes mains, vite. Retiens la. Tu verras, cela deviendra une petite chose dure et simple qu’on grignote, assis au soleil.”

corduroy: any big past regrets?

You mean Many big past regrets? Yep.

violin: favorite composer? favorite piece of classical music?

It’s suuuuch a hard questiiooon dammmnnn my favorite piece of classical music would be between Tchaikovski famous violin’s concerto of course and Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue so pick one of these pieces and one of these composers to answer the question sowy :’)

library: preferred study environment?

It used to be my room, 100%, wouldn’t work anywhere else but that was when studying meant learning by heart, so now that I have some actual research and stuff to do and I apparently can’t get ANYTHING done when at home I’d say the 2nd floor of the INHA library... it feels so special and secret and magical !

leather: favorite book(s)? what makes them special?

Favorite and very special books are the Pierre Bottero serie “Ellana”, they left such an impression on the child I was haha, I cherish their story, their universe, their characters...!

canvas: is there any work of art that resonates with you? why?

I hate u :’)

It’s hard to chose but honestly Chardin’s paintings get me everytime. I knoooow they have “nothing special” at first sight but they’ve always made me feel something I cannot describe with words... It’s like it’s not those big paintings with epic actions and History that make you go “waow impressive” but it’s taking you by its sense of truth, idk the atmosphere, the games of textures and colors... It’s so real and surreal at the same time... Like ordinary life, but with a veil of... I don’t know nostalgia I think ? Like a memory in a way. A very small detail you would pass by without noticing but once it became a memory, or once a memory is attached to it, you notice it, and it has this special kind of glow to your eyes... Anyway Chardin was the best to turn everyday life into a work of art and that is truly inspiring and special and ahhh i love it. It’s probably why I also love Manet so much, but I’m particularly fond of his less known paintings, his still lifes, just look at the pictures below it makes me feel very emotional (yes it’s just a lemon im aware of that)

Here is Chardin La Tabagie (it’s very small) (It’s in the Louvre) (the picture is unfair to the beauty of this work)

And here are two of my favourite Manet works but the picture don’t do them justice either :’(

But it was honestly very hard to chose and you can check Odilon Redon for works that I adore without being able to tell why, some Vallotton in the same spirit... And then I could have talked for ages about Titien of course cause aaahhh... the light, the skin, the atmospheeeere... And don’t even get me started on sculptures cause that would be endless. Honestly can I answer this question twice or maybe 15th times ? xD

feather: favorite poet? favorite piece of poetry?

I don’t read enough poetry to have a favourit poet im afraid :( (omg not having a favourite piece of poetry ? I would be SO disapproved by the Baudelaires)

shadow: what makes you feel nostalgic?

PAR EXEMPLE AU HASARD REGARDER SPIRIT ToT

Top five : thinking of my childhood and the games we were playing, hearing a piece I played with my orchestra, eating something that tastes like my childhood (like LAIT CONCENTRE SUCRE), have a drink or a diner on a terrace in Paris (my heart is dying now), and... life in general haha

clock: early bird or night owl?

Early bird... but... old owl :p

orchestra: describe the songs on your most played playlist

Well it doesn’t work very well with me because I don’t listen to music that often and when I do it’s often do discover new stuff or to listen to a whole album or random playlists... So if I look at my “on loop” playlist on spotify it really doesn’t make any sense... And since I don’t have the app I cannot have access to my top 2020 titles... But I’m pretty sure that would be Pomme everywhere XD These days I listen to Arlo Parks a lot cause I’ve just discovered her and I love what she does :D

fire: which of the seven deadly sins do you find yourself leaning towards?

I think we would both agree about that : definetely gluttony xD But wrath is coming close too :(

tweed: any languages you want to learn/are learning?

Hmmmmmmm perhaps arabic ?

dust: biggest fears?

SPIDERS O.O MORE RECENTLY : LOSING THE SENSE OF TASTE THAT WOULD BE LIKE DYING TO ME O.O FAILING O.O héhé

Well THAT kept me VERY BUSY so THANK YOU and also NOPE SORRY I can’t come to wash your dishes because TONIGHT I have to watch RATATOUILLE with my SILLY VIEILLE CHOUETTE DE SOEUR :p

So now I tag oh no wait it’s not one of them :p

Bye bye vieille chouette ! SEE YOU SOON !

#it actually took so long omg haha now i have to clean my fridge AND my shower AND hover my flat AND prepare my stuff to come home yeeeeeet

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angryhausfrau-writes · 3 years

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I Travel Troubled Oceans - Chapter 2: The Heist

Charles was, in fact, difficult to persuade of the plan. Sure, he wants money just about as much as any of the rest of the crew. But he's also pretty fucking pissed at Eleanor Guthrie.

Although the prospect of getting one over on her – and ruining another one of the people responsible for sending him to jail and getting filthy rich in the process – is a strong incentive. And Jack's always been good with words. Persuasive, one might say. Charles is stubbly, slightly recalcitrant putty in his hands.

So they all troop down to the nearest YMCA so Charles can take a shower. And Anne shoplifts him some slightly more upscale slutty clothes, because God forbid the man ever actually wear a shirt. But he looks like a halfway respectable stripogram by the time he shows up to Eleanor's little birthday party – a fashionable two hours late so the party's in full swing and he doesn't look desperate. Though Eleanor will probably still read him that way. A pathetic sad sack crawling back to her on bended knee, ready to beg forgiveness and willing to do anything to get back in her good graces now that his former crew is a wreck and Flint's run off to America.

Eleanor thinks she's got Charles right where she wants him – under her two-thousand dollar heels. But that doesn't mean it's not a scene worthy of the fucking Baftas when she sees him come through the door.

Jack and Anne and the new guy are posted up in the kitchen, dealing to all the posh little fucks looking for a bit of white gold to get the party started right. Just killing time until Charles makes his move and he and Eleanor head to the bedroom.

And minimalist open plan living being in fashion, even in these old Victorian piles, they can hear every fucking word of the happy little reunion from a whole half a house away.

“Why Charles,” Eleanor practically purrs – and it's the purr of a Jaguar, lethal and expensive. “Whatever are you doing here.”

It's not a question.

Charles forces himself to look down at his feet. As if he's weak. As if he's ashamed.

“Eleanor.” He makes it sound anguished instead of angry. “I had a lot of time to think while I was away.”

Because Eleanor and her lot threw him away. And who knew Chaz was such a good actor? There's none of the violent, simmering fury Jack knows he feels over the betrayal. His tone is contrite and he must look suitably groveling, because Eleanor lets him continue.

“I started thinking about what was important – what was good in my life.” Namely her. And what he'd do to get her back. Though that goes unsaid, because there's such a thing as laying it on too thick, even for Eleanor fucking Guthrie.

And they – Jack, mostly Jack, who'd coached Charles through the whole interaction - must have struck just the right balance of pathetic groveling and virile masculinity with that little performance, because Eleanor says, “Why don't we discuss this somewhere more private, Charles?”

A few minutes later, Jack gets a surreptitious eggplant emoji from Charles's burner phone – the prearranged signal that he's successfully convinced Eleanor to sleep with him and that they're free to comb the house. Jack sends a winky face in response and then he, Anne, and the new guy split up to search for the cash.

Knowing Charles – and Eleanor – they'll probably be tied up for a while. Charles almost definitely literally. But that doesn't mean they can dawdle.

Anne takes to rifling through the bedrooms, disturbing several couples – and more – in the throws of passion. But she's always been good at intimidating idiots to stay out of her way – and so obviously on a mission that they don't do more than voice a few token protests. Plus, she's good enough at what she does – and they're so wrapped up in their drugged out fucking – that she's in and out before some of the participants even notice she's there. But, as Jack learns from her regular updates of terse “NO” and red “X” texts, she has no luck finding the cash.

Jack hadn't really expected Eleanor or Woodes Rogers to keep the cash in a random bedroom, where any horny houseguest could stumble upon it. So that just leaves the master suite – empty, what with Eleanor having taken Charles to the room that apparently serves as her bedroom cum sex dungeon, if Max's deeply - horrifyingly deeply - detailed description is to be believed. (Privately, Jack thinks Eleanor may have gotten just a little bit too invested in the whole Fifty Shades trend. But bored horny women are bored horny women, regardless of bank account balance, apparently.)

And Woodes Rogers is otherwise occupied downstairs, courtesy of the new guy, who's apparently caught his eye and is being rather badly flirted at, if the increasingly frantic texts Jack keeps getting are any indication. Jack feels bad, he really does – ok, not that bad, he'd do the same thing on purpose if Woodes Rogers was into queens. But he likes a little bit of rough - not that Jack can blame him – and the new guy seems to be doing it for him, even if he's got a pretty boy face. And this is probably the best chance they're going to get of having the house to themselves for the search. So he tells New Guy to stick it out and if Woodes Rogers starts getting too sleezy to make a break for it. They'll all meet at the rendezvous point at the kebab shop in the West End anyway, it doesn't matter if they don't all go together.

Plus, it'll help take the heat off if they just look like regular party goers instead of co-conspirators in a heist.

But Jack doesn't have a lot of extra time or attention to spare for New Guy's plight. Because Anne's struck out in the master bedroom, except for some rather tasteless but presumably expensive jewelry. And Jack's searched the study - a big, stupidly imposing room that practically screams “compensating” - and he's come up with zilch. A fucking goose egg, outside of a moving bookcase that hides a humidor. Probably Eleanor's.

So he moves on to the library, the last place the cash could reasonably be without them having to try and search the fucking basement.

It's probably the least used room in the house. Because sure, Woodes Rogers is a lawyer of some description and Eleanor an accountant. But the paraphernalia for that kind of stuff gets kept in blinding glass and steel corporate offices. This room is for impressing the impressionable. And it's absolutely stuffed to the fucking rafters with first editions of classics and entire sets of encyclopedias that Jack would bet real money have never even been opened by their current owners.

There are also several oil paintings in heavy gilt frames – perfect for hiding a wall safe. And if that doesn't reveal anything, there's always the horrifically overbearing desk situated in pride of place in front of the enormous bay windows. Jack can just see Eleanor there, sitting in the high backed antique chair like it was a throne, dispensing her version of mercy on groveling penitents.

Jack wonders if she ever made Max fuck her in that chair. That feels like something she'd be into.

And with that lovely thought, Jack turns to search the nearest painting – a drab toned portrait of a man who is presumably one of Woodes Rogers's antecedents. Blugh. But, heinous crimes committed during his life or no, he isn't the final resting place for stolen goods.

Jack turns to the next painting and the next with no more success. The final painting – one of hounds on the hunt – doesn't reveal the cash, but it does reveal some rather racy photographs of Eleanor and one of her previous lovers (neither Max nor Charles, so Jack doesn't remove them) in what is apparently Woodes Rogers's pathetic attempts at a black mail collection on his wife. It's quite sad really, so Jack just takes a snap of it for Anne – who'll undoubtedly show it to Max, who'll get a kick out of it - and moves on to the desk.

There, he strikes gold. Or cash, really. There's a hidden compartment in the bottom of the desk drawer with a lock on it – as if that could stop Jack. Or anyone with better fine motor skills than a toddler. It only takes him a few minutes and an unbent paper clip to open the catch.

And there lays the cash.

Jack signals Anne and the new guy to come help, since there's approximately a metric fuckton of it. Someone who's not Jack is going to have to practically crawl inside the desk to get it all. But they've found it, finally.

Thank Christ.

Jack starts laying bundles of cash into the bottom of his traveling case – one of those hard-sided suitcases that businessmen so love to use. And he's honestly not sure if that's going to be enough. But fortunately, the new guy had the foresight to bring a ratty backpack along and between the two bags and the three of their pockets, they get it all stowed away.

Jack texts Charles a Jolly Roger to let him know he can wrap things up with Eleanor and all that's left now is to get away clean.

Which is almost easier done than said. They walk out the door, times staggered enough that it doesn't look like they're all leaving together, and no one notices a thing. It's all very anti-climactic, honestly. The movies always make this part seem so exciting – car chases and shoot outs and etcetera. But they just walk right out the front door, completely invisible to the partiers still inside the house.

Jack leaves last, so he's only about a half block away when Charles finishes their little distraction off with a bang. They'd planned it all out – how to make it look like Eleanor had the upper hand in the breakup this time, so she wouldn't look too hard at the evening and link the theft back to Jack or Anne. How to make sure that Eleanor was left physically and emotionally satisfied enough that she never seeks Charles out for another night of fun. How to make her feel in charge and in control and like she's throwing Charles over, instead of them conning her.

And frankly, the bits Jack can hear are a masterstroke. Charles is pathetic and groveling in a way that is genuinely unappealing – but that apparently gets Eleanor's rocks off, because she's got the most self-satisfied fucking smirk on face, the one he imagines she wore the entire time Charles was in her bed. And Eleanor stands at the top of the stairs, framed by the open doorway, lauding her everything about herself over Charles as he begs her to take him back. Which she does not deign to do at all.

All the other party goers have gathered around to witness the carnage and Eleanor's not even pretending to feel sorry about making such a scene. This – this is what she's been looking for ever since Charles gave her the boot – coincidentally right before he went away on that two stretch. And she's milking her ability to get one over him in that same way for all it's fucking worth.

“We're done, Charles.”

She says it with the cold finality of a vault door swinging shut. And she sweeps back into the house, surrounded by the ranks of simpering sycophants. Leaving Charles curled into himself on the cold pavement.

#black sails #max/anne #jack/charles #fanfic #chapter 2 #i travel troubled oceans

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inheritorofmemories-archive · 4 years

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Twitter is not a good place and I have opinions.

Okay so, just visited Twitter to see how they like The Old Guard and please remind to never go there for anything more than artist’s posts and memes.

(This is more of a rant than a cohesive explanation of my thoughts but I won’t lose my time on Twitter for that and I still need to talk about it, so we’re here. Okay, here goes-)

Of course spoiler warning for the whole movie.

"it's bad, it's not creative, it's boring, there's no story apart from bad guys pharma and good guys mercenaries."

Did we watch the same movie?? It's like those Mad Max Fury Road reviews who kept saying "they leave and come back, no plot har har I’m very funny" when the whole point of the movie is about staying where you live and make this place better, not abandoning it because you risk abandoning your true self with the land (amongst other things the movies tries to say).

Yeah maybe the story is a bit seen, pharma and all. But the whole plot revolve around the Old Guards and their emotions. It's about a tired warrior finding hope, and a young immortal finding her place, and how to deal with loss and grief and solitude, it's about finding purpose in helping other because that's what human do, help each other. It's a lot more than fight scenes and bad pharma (which, maybe it's an old trope but it's still very true to this day, please keep portraying pharma CEO as comically bad because they are!)

It's like men can't understand a story unless there's lots of death and unnecessary trauma. Can't you enjoy a story about found family and hope and kindness for one another like everyone else?

Here are the critics I saw, and why I think it’s bullshit, point by point because I’m petty like that:

The characters are flat and two dimensional: I mean, no? Sure, Joe and Nicky are not the center of attention, and we see Booker tired and a traitor, and the human ones are bit glossed over (though we see enough to understand them, Copley and his wife, the scientist that thinks she’s helping humanity, etc.), but Andy and Nile are fully developed? What else do you need?

Andy is a very old, very tired immortal that has a very complicated past (that we see a lot of) and her motivations, state of mind and thoughts are well explained (they all say she’s old, and tired, we know about Quynh; hell, Andy’s first line is about that) and we know she lost purpose, and she finds it within the film! She changes! Her character evolves in interactions to other but mostly Nile. Speaking of her- i know I’m repeating myself but what else do you need to consider a character not flat? She loves her family but doesn’t run to them because she’s not an idiot. She’s a fighter, a marine, a very competent one at that, but she still gets scared by being an immortal, she asks questions, she’s compassionate, she feels! All while being a bad ass fighter. She has agency, makes her own choices and choose her way, she has motivation and she know what she brings to the team and is not afraid of saying her thoughts and needs.

And even Booker and Nicky and Joe have full character, even if shown less. We have Booker’s back story, and we know he cares a lot despite all his hurt (he says he did it to help Andy die, which was still wrong and selfish, but he was genuinely trying to do something because he hurt so much). Nicky and Joe have a softer side, and sure it’s mostly conveyed through their own love story but they hug the other Guards and Nicky brings food for Andy and Joe jokes around (still thinking about that “faster than the elevator” line). Yeah it’s not a deep character study but it’s more than about half action movies today, and it’s enough in the story to make me care about all of them, even Copley. Although a lot of that may come form the actors too.

The fights scenes are bad: apparently they’re boring and do not do justice to the comics. I can’t speak for the last one, but boring? Again, did we watch the same movie? Yeah, there’s no big explosions and fire everywhere and collapsing buildings, but they’re not boring. I’m sorry my tastes are superior but I’d rather be shown the talents of a covert team of immortal warriors though discretion and efficiency. Why would they need explosions when they can juggle swords, axes, rifles and guns so smoothly you don’t even see a shift in their stance? See first fight in South Sudan. Why would I need collapsing buildings when I can have a team of fighters swapping weapons together like nothing? That scene at Merricks’s building where they all reload and change guns and the camera turns around and panel over all of them? That was dope and a very creative way to show how smooth they work together (with Nile added! So way to go to show the new group dynamics.) through a smooth and continuous camera movement. I could go on, but where did you see the boring fight scene. Yes there’s no cool lights and tricks a la John Wick, but if it did they would have complained it was a rip off, so...

The cinematography is bad: Just because it’s more understated doesn’t mean it’s bad. Yes, there’s no neon lights or cool shots like other might have (looking at you John Wick, since everyone seems to compare the two movie) but it serves the story. It’s because it’s so simple visually that you can get into the feelings and story. You don’t look at the light, you look at the actions and the faces. And honestly, I think it suits the Guards better. They look timeless, they fit in everywhere. A photography that’s striped down to the necessary only serves the story. I don’t see them in safe houses with a bunch of lights and modern furniture, just like I don’t see expensive shots and over the top choreography for them. As I said, they’re a covert team, they’re smooth and efficient, I like that the photography align on that and show them in simple shots.

tl;dr: Just because it’s simple doesn't mean it’s bad, sometimes that's what you need to work with the story and its characters and themes.

Not enough story and too much nothing to fill in: I mean, they die 12 minutes in, you get all the stakes, antagonist and themes in like 20 minutes, what else do you need? There’s break in the actions to expose plot and concept, but it never feels wrong or too much of a info dump, it’s fluid and natural because we’re following Nile into the immortal world.

Bad Pharma is Bad: Yeah, let’s talk about that. (Cautions, purely opinions, no real arguments to change someone’s mind here) I don’t care if it’s cliché, not when pharma in the US keep rising the price of Insulin every month, not when pharma all over the world send their faulty medicine to third world country because there’s no one that cares enough there, not when you know they purposefully don’t finance HIV researches because triple therapy gets them a lot of money, not when you hear about the experimentation and how they get their resources and literally everything that I’m not getting into right now. Who cares if they’re show as bad people once again, they are! You think CEO care about anything but money? If it feels wrong in the movie it’s because it is wrong.

Tell me no one in our world would kidnap and torture immortals to find their power. And don’t talk to me about bad representation of CEO and exceptions, I don’t care. One exception doesn’t make all the other suddenly better or worth the wrong they’re doing. So yeah, give me more cliché good guys fight bad CEO, I love it.

They did not use their concept enough: Again, where? To me, they did all they could with that concept, you get all the things you can only get with the concept, interesting and fun one. They are still afraid of dying one day, and even if they’re not (i.e. Andy or Booker) their brand of immortality doesn’t mean they’re not afraid of being captured: the Quynh scene happens literally just before Nicky and Joe are kidnapped exposing us the stake of being immortal, talk about good script work, right? Talking about fun trope: you have the millennium old couple that use to kill each other but now love each other, the classic ennemies to lovers we all love, you have the strategy of using your immortality to your advantage and destabilize your opponent: Nile walking into Merrick’s building and getting herself killed on purpose only to stand again and use the guard’s shock and lack of preparation against them, you have the fun references to real historical figures that comes with immortality: Rodin, Napoleon, etc...

I’ll link to this video I found that talks about this better than me, but basically, they did use their concept, a lot, and well.

The music: I can’t really say anything about that one. Maybe you don’t like the style they used, and that’s fair. To each their own. But it wasn’t too much like other Netflix’s movie (Looking at you 6 Underground. Four (4) song of the same artist in one movie?) but again, it’s Netflix, they use modern songs in their soudtracks, you should expect it. I didn’t bother with the lyrics accuracy to the actions, but each time the music fit well in tune and mood of the scene. And the actual score made for the movie was really good, not too much but still supported the actions and dialogues on screen like it should.

And my favorite yet, we’ve already seen it. I don’t have any smart answer to that apart from I’m sorry you’re a cishet, but found family is the superior trope and I hope you can one day see it too. Who cares if we’ve already seen it, it’s a different flavor! It’s no X-Men flavor, it’s Old Guard flavor and I love it. Have you heard of the Hero’s Journey? How Lord of the Ring, Star Wars and Harry Potter all have the basic same plot? And yet you can like all three of them for different reasons? Because they’re not the same flavors? Well, apply that to the immortal group of fighters and enjoy it.

Okay, that’s most of my thoughts on the film for now, but to make it short: it’s good and those people can’t appreciate good things that are more feelings and humanity than fist fights and nihilism. How dare a movie say we’re good and need each other and not end in a pathetic discovery that all the word deserves to burn.

#tog #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #quynh #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastian le livre #kaysanova #andromaquynh #yeah most of the critics were form old dude that can't fathom why someone would feel emotions and seek help #and want to have good people around and help the rest of the world #can you tell i'm salty this fine evening?#it doesn't have to be bourne or james bound or john wick or whatever to be meaninful stfu #em speaks #I have opinions okay and I keep forgetting that Twitter is the sewer of the internet

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whirlybirbs · 5 years

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✶ ┈ PART TWO !

summary: loki meets the grandmaster and you intervene. the agreement (it’s really not an agreement, okay, more of a cause of circumstance) of parading as a married couple happens and neither of you are very excited about it. pairing: fake!wife reader x loki, set in ragnarok. a/n: hehehe here’s another 1.7k of these two. READ PART ONE HERE.

The third time you meet Loki, he’s strapped to that contraption the Grandmaster uses to intimidate the new fighters.

You’ve had a long week.

You’d woken up in a trash heap, bruised and sore and somehow alive. You’d decided, wholeheartedly, not to think too much about it -- not that you had an option. After stumbling over an entire mountain of inter-galactic trash being deposited by the varying collapsing stars around the planets atmosphere, you were quickly descended upon by a terrifyingly pretty woman with a tight braid and white symbols painted down her cheeks.

She smelt like booze and swaggered like a practiced warrior.

You didn’t trust her.

“You a fighter?” she’d called out, tilting her head.

“Where am I?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Sakaar,” she chirped, “Now, are you a fighter? Yes or no?”

The moment that followed was tense -- a bit like a standoff.

“... Depends.”

“Hm.”

She’d caught you in the neck with a tracker then, a smirk on her face the whole way. In one swift move, she’d thumbed open the control device in her hand and sent you convulsing to the ground.

“The Grandmaster likes the pretty, clever ones.”

Her condescending smirk was the last thing you saw before you blacked out.

You woke up in the same chair Loki’s strapped to currently, bleary eyed and confused -- that man, The Grandmaster as he called himself, had decided rather quickly that he liked you. Perhaps it was your sudden decision to praise him and his choice of make-up.

(That was a great way to make friends in the bathrooms of bars -- surely compliments are universal.)

“Who are you, then?” he asks with a slow smile.

“I’m a Doctor,” you say slowly, “I study astrophysics.”

The smile drops immediately.

“Boring.”

He’s about to wave his hands, then, send you off to some horrible fate, you’re sure.

“A-And I tell stories!”

(That wasn’t really a lie -- you had a minor in classics. If you recited the plot to Hamlet to any of the colorful people in this penthouse suite, you’re sure none of them would realize it. Perhaps being entertainment would be worth keeping you around until you figured out how the fuck to get back home.)

“Stories, huh?”

So, here you are now, swathed in Sakaarian socialites, faux-smiles plastered to your face as you giggle into your neon colored drink. Your gown is something deemed fashionable for this planet, all colorblocked and tight with high slits and low dips. Along your cheeks is the same stark white branding as the brazenly mean warrior-lady you’d first met on Trash Mountain. You realize, half-way through the application by one of the Grandmaster’s maids, that it’s a mark of ownership. It’s rather disgusting, the whole fact you’re someone’s property now -- but, you suppose that it’s keeping you alive and in this current state?

You really can’t complain.

Until you see Loki.

You choke on your drink.

You stand swiftly, leaving your martini and the gaggle of others behind as you move quickly upon the center of the room. The Grandmaster reels for a moment at the obstruction amidst his usual induction -- and your jaw drops.

“You.”

Quickly, the look of surprise morphs into one of anger and Loki’s eyes widen. You feel like you’re suddenly had all the words you’d thought about screaming in his face these last seven days pulled from your brain and all you can do is snarl and shriek:

“... You!”

Your finger jabs his chest, prodding at the green and gold armor there with such ferocity it’s no wonder you’re not stabbing him. For the first time, Loki gets a good look at you -- it’s clear you’ve somehow managed to worm your way into this “Grandmaster”’s circle; it’s commendable. For a Midgardian.

The Silvertongue, with every passing moment, is beginning to see his opportunity to do the same slip away.

“What? What’s the matter?” the Grandmaster coos, circling Loki to place his arms around your frame. You stiffen. Loki watches you swallow your anger. If he wasn’t strapped to a chair, maybe he’d find your discomfort amusing. However, Loki can’t help but avert his gaze.

Your anger is well deserved, really. He did throw you out of the Bifrost.

“... Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

Both you and Loki blink at the Grandmaster.

“... I’m sorry?”

“Star-crossed lovers.”

Your face twists into disgust as Loki blinks between the two of you -- confusion splits his features into an attempt of a charismatic laugh.

“Good sir, I believe you’re mistaken --”

“No,” he raises a finger, “I’ve seen this before. And you told me of your crash landing, my pretty little pet -- you said you lost your friends on the way. Lost a love… Raven haired and pale...”

You’d been entertaining the party with a poorly remember retelling of Romeo and Juliet to the Grandmaster’s court, but okay. It’s pretty clear the Grandmaster is making his over revisions as well.

Loki’s brow quirks.

There’s a moment pause. Then, the Grandmaster stops his blinking between the both of you and claps his hands. “But, if not -- I’ll have him executed. Your reaction was warrant enough. Can’t have my best storyteller off her game, can I?”

The maniac’s ability to bounce between party and murder is astounding.

Loki’s eyes are wide. His look is pleading.

You, in that moment, are put in the biggest moral dilemma of your life.

You can, of course, turn the other cheek -- but that means cozying up to the global terrorist who unceremoniously threw you out of the Bifrost to try and save himself from his own sister. On the other hand, you’d be letting Thor’s brother die all while losing your potential way off this planet. But, there’s no guarantee the trickster will help you. However, if there’s anything you remember from that one mythology class in college, it’s that gods tend to honor their debts.

Saving his life is a debt owed, right?

(And honestly? Letting Thor down and never seeing your parents again sounds pretty horrible.)

“It’s just… I thought you were dead.”

Loki, in that moment, is nearly impressed by your acting.

“I was worried sick,” you continue, clearly gritting out the last bit, “I… I was sure I lost you.”

“Fear not,” Loki’s mood swings then into one of pure amusement, smirk brandishing his features, “I apologize for scaring you, my sweet.”

“You know,” the Grandmaster’s face is twisted into a grin, “I have this six sense -- I can just… smell love in the air, or something. I knew it, I mean… Look at you two. God, it’s… adorable. Really. So, what is this, huh? Just a… a fling? Or --”

“We’re married.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Loki’s got the same look on his face.

“She’s the crowned Princess of Asgard,” Loki says then, slowly. His eyes are glued on the way you shrink away from the Grandmaster’s gaze, “My wife.”

“Ass-gard, huh? Wow.”

He hums.

Loki is suddenly realizing there’s a reason to why you’re doing this. You’d made it apparent in the Sanctum that you weren’t intimidated by the likes of him. Somehow, though, this Grandmaster figure has earned your evident anxieties.

(Maybe it was because you’d watched him roast a guy who made a poorly timed joke about the color blue on your second day here. The smell was awful. But, it’s not like you can tell Loki that -- you just have to hope that somehow this little improv plan works and you and Loki can somehow get the hell off this floating landfill.)

“And… what’s his gig, huh, my pretty?” he’s addressing you now, lips upturned in an expectant smile, “Besides… well.. good bone structure.”

“He’s a Silvertongue, Grandmaster,” you explain slowly, hands clasped in front of you, “In more ways than one.”

Loki suddenly feels a bit like a piece of meat.

You relish in his discomfort as the Grandmaster bursts into an excited bought of laughter.

“Oh, see! This is why I love you! You’re so clever,” he chirps, waving his hands, “Your wife, Mr. Low-key, is lovely.”

“Isn’t she?” he grits.

The Grandmaster is unphased. “Quite! Now, this is good, this is very good -- I mean, it’s evident your… sexual tension is there. I can’t see why you two would lie to me, y’know? That would just be… uh… a bad idea.”

Behind him, Topaz clacks the Grandmaster’s staff on the red and white floor. You swallow thickly.

“I could never lie about my love for him, Grandmaster,” you supply, a delicate hand moving to touch Loki’s cheek. His skin is cold, “It’s simply not in my nature.”

“Nor I,” Loki says sweetly, “We make a better pair than separate, good sir, I promise you that.”

The man claps with glee.

“I love this, two lost loves reunited,” he nearly cries, “Topaz, get these two their own room, will you?”

It works.

Somehow it works.

The penthouse apartment they set you and Loki up in is big -- it’s better than the slave quarters you’ve been sleeping in for the last week. The far wall is ceiling to floor windows. Outside, Sakaar flies by; it’s the first time you’re actually getting a good look at the planetside. It’s bustling and the sun is setting between two twin moons, bathing the capital city in pinks and oranges.

“You are idiotic, bug, to propose this little plan -- had you wanted to sleep with me, you only needed to say so; lest I would.”

You recoil in a snarl. Loki is staring at the room in disdain.

“I just saved your life.”

“That colorful maniac had neither the strength nor gall --”

“Oh?” you chirp, hands flying to your hips, “Really? Sorry -- when did you get here? Ten minutes ago? Yeah, nice, cool, I’ve been here for a week and I’ve seen him toast like, five people for fun. The smell is awful.”

Loki’s mouth snaps shut.

Who in the Nine Realms are you?

“Besides,” you snarl, “I’m not doing this for you -- I’m doing this to get home.”

“And who, pray tell, said I would help you, bug?”

You, then, engage in this game of chess again -- your movements are slow and calculated and predatory and Loki has to admire your ability to dish it out. Your fingers jabs his chest once, then again.

“I did,” you seethe, “When I made sure you didn’t get easy-bake-oven’d, asshole. You owe me.”

He opens his mouth, keen on biting into your argument, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Dinner is being served, Lord and Lady Loki!”

You both save it for another time and exit the apartment holding hands.

The third time you meet Loki, you’re married.

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x reader imagine #loki x fake!wife #loki x fake!wife reader #heehehehehe

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