#but i did read this post as ''my moustache'' and was VERY confused and concerned for a sec

[pandawithawand]

Been thinking about this post....

                                                          ~*~

Grian awoke with a gasp. His chest hurt where Sausage had stabbed him and he was breathless from the struggle of his final moments. He was disorientated, not recognising the void beneath Boatem until Mumbo Jumbo floated past him.

“Did you have fun?” Mumbo spoke suddenly, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“I...” How could Grian truly explain how he felt about what had just happened? “I think so, yeah.”

“Good. It’s important to have fun,” He shut his book and turned to Grian, “It can completely ruin your view of the game if- Hang on, do you have a moustache?”

“Do I?” Grian frowned. Surely the moustache would have gone? Right? Come too think of it, his top lip did feel a bit itchy. Did he still have a moustache?

Mumbo floated a bit closer and squinted at his friend’s face, “You do have a moustache! How did that happen?”

“Well, I did kind of die. I was allowed back into the world but I respawned with a moustache. Not entirely sure what it’s still doing on my face though.”

“Oh don’t worry about that; They carry over,” He shrugged nonchalantly, “If you don’t like it, just shave it. They usually don’t come back.”

“What do you mean usually? How do you know this?” Grian floated over to Mumbo, who was now looking rather sheepish, “Mumbo, how do you know this?”

“Well, I-I just kinda, um, know?” The tall man laughed nervously, glancing around, seeking a exit to the conversation, “Y-you don’t need to read into it or anything! I, uh, just know!” He tried to float away. Grian pulled him back.

“Mumbo, if someone died on that server but came back, they would come back with a moustache. That was constant, it happened three times. You have a moustache. Mumbo, have you died and come back?”

“Who, me? No, no, I-i’ve never done that before! Nope! This is completely my first life a-and one hundred percent my own soul and-”

“Excuse your own what?!” He gaped at Mumbo. Since when had Mumbo died? And his own soul! What did that mean? ”I hope that’s your own soul! Especially since you gave mine back when we jumped back into the Boatem hole!”

“Yep! T-this is my own soul! Why would you think otherwise? Hah hah. I-I gave your soul back and my own soul jumped right back into my body where it belongs! I totally didn’t lose my soul a long time ago! Nope, w-why would anyone think that? That’s a very weird thing to think.” Mumbo’s gaze was fixed straight up, defiantly not making eye contact. “Y’know Grian, I think that I should be going now and that you should forget all about this because It’s really not important. Like not important at all!” He started floating away, too fast for Grian to stop him this time, “Yep, I should be going. Goodbye Grian, I’ll talk to you later. I promise that you don’t need to think about this. Goodbye!”

And he was suddenly gone, leaving a very concerned and very confused Grian processing what had just happened.

[welcometowcwmondaynitro]

WCW Monday Nitro 09/09/1996

Shit be exploding, so you know what time it is.

Yes sir.

Once again we are not given a location this week, which generally means the town is too small-time for the big shots at WCW to even consider giving a shout out to. My research tells me this broadcast comes from the Columbus Civic Centre in Columbus, Georgia.  

As always we are introduced to our first hour announce team, Schiavone and Zbyszko.

Tony is looking quite smart this evening. Larry as expected has a horrific multcoloured abomination on underneath his jacket. It’s basically his gimmick a this point so whatever. 

They talk about how the balance of power has shifted to the nWo and Larry says Giant is “the biggest traitor since Benedict Arnold”, nice ancient reference there, Larry. We get a recap of last week’s awesome show-ending brawl. 

Once they’re done wrapping this up, Goldberg’s music plays. What? I check my file - yes, definitely 9th September 1996. Has Goldberg time travelled back to 1996 and changed history by debuting early?

Well, either that is one hell of a disguise or no, actually Goldberg’s theme music was first used by this Japanese guy called Pat Tanaka. It’s really weird seeing this random fella walk out to Goldberg’s music. The crowd boo mildly - I guess just because he’s Japanese? I don’t remember there being any storyline reason to boo him, anyway. 

Pat’s opponent is... this.

Looks like a mascot from a early/mid-90s video game brought to life. If this is Super Calo then I am curious as to what regular Calo is like. I am unsure as to what makes this version ‘Super’, but maybe we’ll find out in the upcoming match. Mike Tenay joins the announce crew because it is Calo’s debut and Tenay is the only one likely to know anything about him.

Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo

I was kind of hoping Tanaka would start the match with a spear and then jackhammer Calo into oblivion, but no such luck. 

As one would anticipate from a man dressed like a stereotypical kung-fu master in an 80s movie, Tanaka starts the match off with some kicks.

Calo jumps around pointlessly and then gets kicked in the face. Bants.

Tenay tells us Calo’s name and look comes from the “top rap group” in Mexico. He does not name this group. Confusingly wikipedia claims Calo is named after a Mexican rock group with the same name, but his image is meant to convey a rapper. So, just... what? Also what rapper has ever looked like Super Calo? In Mexico is that how rappers dress? 

Well anyway this odd fellow somersaults over the ropes onto Tanaka outside of the ring. 

The screen then cuts to this.

 Then we’re back to the match. OK then. 

Tanaka hits Calo with a powerbomb, which leads to Tony talking about him being “so schooled in the martial arts”. Yes, because we all know that classic martial arts move the powerbomb. Often followed by a leg drop and a scorpion deathlock. 

The ending to this match is beyond ridiculous. 

First, Tanaka puts Calo onto the top turnbuckle.

Neither man seems to know what is meant to happen next, so they awkwardly wrap their arms around each other.

Tanaka then lifts Calo up like he’s going for an inverse piledriver and falls backwards.

Apparently he knocks himself out, gets pinned, and loses.

What an idiot.

Super Calo defeats Pat Tanaka via Pinfall.

Nothing too super about our friend Calo in this one I’m afraid. His victory came largely because Tanaka is a super dunce.

We got some lads in the front row who are big fans of the classic moustache.

They seem quite pleased that Calo emerged victorious.

Just under seven minutes in and we throw back to Mean Gene in the locker room with Rick Steiner. This should be good.

Shirts hanging out of the lockers behind them, as you do. 

Gene asks Rick Steiner about Nick Patrick’s questionable officiating - referring to the incident last week where Luger was disqualified in seconds for basically nothing. Rick says that he had Luger, and Gene saw it. Total bullshit as the match had barely started, and Gene does point that out. 

Luger walks into the frame as we see last week’s replay. Rick is continually going on about how he was going to win, sounding like a mentally challenged three year old. On the other hand this is a guy who also genuinely thinks he’s a dog, so... I should probably be impressed that he is able to form words and put them into a somewhat coherent structure.

Gene says that Steiner is “a little confused” in the understatement of the century, 

Luger tells Rick that he’s “a great tag team wrestler” but he feels like he has the edge in a singles environment. Rick continues to fail to understand basic english and keeps repeating “I can beat you, ask Sting” and then starts calling for Sting.

Gene then ushers Rick away like an unruly child as Luger walks off as well. Gene says that Luger was alluding that Rick “doesn’t have it upstairs”, pointing to his head. Wow, what a dick. Luger didn’t say anything like that. All he implied was that he was a better singles wrestler than Rick. Not sure where Gene has gotten his interpretation from, but my guess is he just wants to stir the pot as usual.

Next it’s nWo announcement time.

Just the usual t-shirt ad with Nash saying “all proceeds go towards the Ric Flair retirement fund”. Joke’s on him, that fund must have accrued some serious cash before it was finally paid out.

We’re back and...

Somebody buy these poor kids some real nWo t-shirts. 

Where did these people come from? Did they decide to stop by Nitro after a corporate dinner or something? 

Are these pilots in the audience as well? Wtf? Why are all these people coming to the show dressed in their work clothes? Is this a common thing in the States?

Oh, hey, guess what - Glacier debuted. I would say “remember all that hype” but if you’ve been reading this sad collection of nostalgic drivel then you will indeed remember the many Glacier adverts that have been on every Nitro broadcast since May or so. We’re now in September and Glacier finally had his first match... on WCW Pro.

Seriously.

WCW Pro is like... Sunday Night Heat or Velocity in WWE terms. It’s below WCW Saturday Night for fuck’s sake.  Tony calls it “one of the most eagerly anticipated debuts ever” - which is why he made his first appearance on WCW FUCKING PRO. Oh WCW, what are you like?

Larry says Glacier will be “a force to be reckoned with”, which, spoiler alert. turns out to be the opposite.

  Oh good, these two walking charisma vacuums.

And these two lumbering idiots. WCW, the best wrestling on the planet. How could WWF in 1996 find no way to entice people away from Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo and The AFC vs the Nasty Boys? Seriously. It isn’t that difficult. 

The AFC do their usual schtick of singing the Canadian national anthem badly and the crowd get angry because ‘Murica fuck yeah and whatever. The Nasty Boys say “fuck this” and attack the AFC after about 10 seconds of this bullshit, getting the match started.

The Amazing French Canadians Vs The Nasty Boys

You don’t care about this match. I don’t care about this match. Let’s just skip to the end.

Knobbs whacks the eyepatch guy with the flag the AFC brought out. Saggs pins for the win. 

The Nasty Boys defeat The Amazing French Canadians via Pinfall.

Mean Gene comes scurrying out to interview the Nastys, for some reason.

Saggs says everybody has been pointing the finger at the Nasty Boys, accusing them of being with the nWo (can’t imagine anybody really cares but OK, sure). Saggs says the Nasty’s are only worried about the tag titles which are in WCW, ergo they aren’t interested in joining the nWo. Does he not realise that faction affiliation is irrelevent as far as challenging for belts is concerned? I mean, Hogan is literally WCW Heavyweight champion at this point in time. 

Knobbs says that the Nasty’s don’t care about the nWo, they’re in WCW and they’re coming for Harlem Heat to take the tag team titles. Short and to the point, which is fine by me, even if the Nasty’s appear to be under the mistaken impression- that joining the nWo would invalidate them from challenging for the tag titles. 

We’re back from a commercial break to find Scott Norton and Sgt Craig Pittman in the ring.

Sgt Craig Pittman Vs Scott Norton

The commentators bill this as a “hold versus hold” match and I’m not sure what this means, as I was under the impression every match is hold versus hold. But whatever. 

After some back and forth Pittman decides that it’s time to ram his head into Norton’s sternum. 

It looks pretty painful and not especially effective, but Pittman enjoys it so much he does it again. 

They head to the outside of the ring. Norton gets whipped against the guardrail, the entirety of which moves upon impact, but then Norton regains control by slamming Pittman’s shoulder into the ring post. 

Norton locks in the armbar but the Sarge will not give up. Long gets onto the ring apron to beg Pittman to give in, but he won’t. WCW, for reasons beyond my understanding, is very careful about protecting Sgt. Craig Pittman. He never gets pushed, as far as I remember, but this man WILL NOT QUIT.

Then... 

Ice Train wanders out wearing this abomination. Seriously - what the fuck? It’s like a demin vest with a backpack built in. It’s something you would expect to see an eight-year old girl in the mid-90s wearing over the top of a t-shirt or something. What clothing brand figured that this design was suitable for huge, beefy dudes? I don’t know, but they clearly have a customer in Ice Train.

Train throws in the towel for Pittman.  

Scott Norton defeats Sgt. Craig Pittman via Forfeit. 

He enters the ring and stares down at Norton, who is looking at Train’s vest top and moobs like “dafuq?”

The two former amigos have a staredown which doesn’t lead anywhere. 

Pepboys Power Pin of the Week is a submission. Go figure.

We head to the locker room where Gene-o is with Ric Flair, Arn Anderson and Lex Luger.

Three of these men are dressed appropriately. The other is Lex Luger.

Apparently Sting is supposed to be a part of this interview as well but is nowhere to be found. Luger assures Flair & Arn that Sting is in the building, but the Horsemen are having none of it and are concerned that Sting doesn’t have his head in the game. Flair starts going crazy and practically flings himself into an alternate dimension with his erratic movements.

Like a jet propeller is being put directly in front of his face.

Anyway eventually these two sad sacks come lumbering in...

Mongo looks like he’s about to explode, whilst Benoit as usual appears barely awake. Mongo yells about not being able to count on Luger and Sting. Luger reiterates that Sting is in the building somewhere, he’s just not around for the interview. The Horsemen do seem overly paranoid here - how hard would it be to track Sting down and talk to him if they are this pissed off? 

Arn says he’s called ahead to Winston, Salem (where Fall Brawl/War Games is being held) to pre-book himself a hospital room as he assumes he’s going to need one. Seems like a somewhat pessimistic thing to do, but is it even possible to pre-book hospital room? Arn is talking like he’s booked a hotel room for the night. Strange lad. He also suggests Hogan uses battery acid to burn out his eyes which... I mean, don’t give the guy ideas, Arn.  

Interview ends with everybody talking over each other and Flair wooing a lot - so, the same as most Horsemen interviews.

People in the crowd are holding these signs which say “nWo - you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming!” - indeed, Hogan Vs Piper is coming.

We get a recap of this thrilling DDP/Eddie/Chavo storyline which nobody cares about, but why this is recapped is beyond me as the next match has nothing to do with any of those three. 

Instead, out comes “the desparado” himself, Joe Gomez.

Somebody throws a wad of paper at him as he enters. Obviously not a fan.

His opponent is Juventud Guerrera,  who Tony repeatedly refers to as Juventud Guerrero. 

As Juvi enters he runs past these ladies, who appear both baffled and unimpressed with him.

Cold.

Joe Gomez Vs Juventud Guerrera

The match starts off okay, but descends into disaster fairly quickly as Juvi starts trying various lucha things which poor Joe is clearly not comfortable with. First Juvi stands on the apron, jumps onto the ropes as Gomez slowly walks towards him and does this...

It’s clear from this angle alone that there is no way in hell Juvi is going to reach Gomez. In fairness to WCW they switch camera angle just in time to make it look slightly less terrible, although I imagine it was more down to luck than skill. Nonetheless Gomez at least tries to sell the move, falling backwards theatrically.

Weeee! Points for effort if not execution. 

This happens next, and thanks to Uproxx “Best and Worst of WCW Monday Nitro” series (check it out, it’s great) I have a GIF to put into pictures what I would struggle to put into words.

Speaks for itself.

After this Juvi seems to want to go for a hurricanrana from the top turnbuckle but I‘m not sure if they botch this as well or it was the plan, but Juvi ends up backflipping away from the turnbuckle and then catching Gomez with a weak looking dropkick as he jumps towards Juvi.

Juvi just about manages to hit the finishing move...

But even that looks a little bit dodgy. At least Joe just had to lay there for this one. Ref counts to three and mercifully this one is over. Not sure if Gomez or Juvi are to blame for this shitshow, but either way I advise never putting them together again.

Juventud Guerrera defeats Joe Gomez via Pinfall.

For some reason Mean Gene is on the ramp to interview Nick Patrick. Oh good, more of this storyline.

Before they start the interview though, as Juventud walks past Gene and Patrick, Gene says “very good match there on the part of Juventud Guerrera”, then gives Juvi a disdainful look and mutters “guy just kind of... wanders around here”. LOL. Why is Gene throwing shade at poor Juvi? “Guy just wanders around here”, like he’s a lost child or something. I guess Gene is still salty about the interview with Juvi that went wrong a couple of weeks ago, but come on, that was hardly Juvi’s fault. Obvious Gene is still holding a grudge though. 

I don’t think anybody really wants to hear from these two ballbags but here we are anyway. 

Gene is accusing Patrick of making too many controversial calls for it to just be coincidence, whilst Patrick is accusing Gene of being a shit-stirring cock cheese who needs to get a life. Neither are lying but nobody really cares either. What is funny is that Okerlund is very haughty and dismissive of Patrick - until Patrick threatens to take Gene to court - at which point Gene stutters “well I-I hope that doesn’t happen” before saying “thank you very much Nick Patrick, sir, thank you” to Patrick as he walks off. Pathetic. 

Meanwhile Hogan, Hall, Nash and the Giant are outside in the pouring rain putting those nWo flyers with the “you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming” slogan on random cars. This seems like a total waste of time as by the time the car owners get back to their vehicles the rain would probably have destroyed those flyers anyway.  Do these guys really have nothing better to do? Tony tells us the nWo are “literally” in the parking lot - as opposed to what, being there in spirit?

Ted DiBiase is the smartest of the lot as he 1) has an umbrella and 2) isn’t wasting his time putting up useless flyers in the pouring rain. He’s talking to somebody in the car, and the announcers are shitting themselves as to who it might be, as they tend to do. For all they know DiBiase might just be talking to the driver. 

“HERE’S A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS, RICK AND SCOTT!”

Just Rick tonight. He comes out doing that sad half-bark he does whenever something is troubling him. 

His opponent, of course, is Flexy Lexy.

Rick Steiner Vs Lex Luger

These two are not exactly known as ‘ring generals’ so I am not expecting a classic here. Let’s see, though. Perhaps we will all be pleasantly surprised. 

After various arm drags, headlocks, shoulder blocks, and so on, this happens.

Uh...

Yeah. Rick is basically molesting Luger in the ring and keeps this up for a disturbing amount of time. I guess it’s meant to show his amateur wrestling background but it basically just looks like sexual assault. Rick’s hands are going to places they really should not. 

Hour two begins with the usual fireworks. Bischoff, Heenan and Tenay come in on commentary for the rest of the show. 

Rick hits Luger with a nice powerslam, and Randy Anderson cannot bear to watch the impact. The crowd bark their approval which, personally, I don’t think is helpful. Rick’s clinical lycanthropy is only going to get worse if people bark at him when he does something good. Or bark at him in general, really.

More cuddling. Back away, Rick. Even Randy Anderson is telling him to cut it out at this point.

Luger takes control with a powerslam and signals for the rack. However, before he can attempt his finishing move...

This dicksplash comes running out waving his arms around. Looks like he’s doing the sieg heil there but fairly sure it’s just the timing of the screenshot.

Anyhow, Patrick tells Luger to follow him out the back, yelling something about the nWo beating up Sting.

Considering Patrick’s recent behaviour, Lex, it might not be wise to...

OK. Never mind. Of course Luger goes running after Patrick, abandoning the match entirely and getting himself counted out. 

Everyone looking towards the entrance way like “where’s he going?” 

Rick Steiner defeats Lex Luger via Countout.

We get a shot of DiBiase talking to the mystery man in the limo. Sting’s voice is heard but it is blatantly piped in from some other promo. He says he’s “tired of the DTA stuff, don’t trust anybody”, so I guess he’s not a fan of Stone Cold Steve Austin. DiBiase pretends to talk to the pre-taped Sting voice until Lex shows up.

A guy who is clearly not Sting gets out of the limo and starts beating up Luger whilst Bischoff screams “NO! NO!”

I have the advantage of hindsight and my monitor is probably bigger than most people’s TVs back in 1996... but still, it’s really obviously not Sting. Were people genuinely fooled by this? 

The nWo along with “Sting” beat Luger down and leave him laying in a broken heap in the rain...

It has not been a good night for Luger. First he got yelled at by the Horsemen, then he spent ten minutes getting inappropriately touched by Rick Steiner during their match, then he gets smacked around by the nWo and left on the ground in the pouring rain. Bad times for sure. Although if you’re stupid enough to follow Nick Patrick anywhere... 

Luger does manage to get back up but ends up just kind of wandering around in the rain looking confused whilst the nWo flee, leaving the limos parked outside the building.

These bois are not impressed by what they have just seen. Tenay looks like a dad who is about to grab his belt and put a whippin’ on somebody. Bischoff is indignant. Heenan wears the expression of a man who was just forced to sit through every Raw from 2015. Pure torture. 

Bischoff says he has an update which is literally “we don’t know where [the nWo] are. I’m sorry. I don’t know”. Well thanks for that. Very helpful. 

We get a long recap of last week’s angle including more footage of the amazing all-out brawl that ended the show. Then we get another nWo advert for their t-shirt. 

A bunch of random jobbers are outside with Luger and Rick Steiner milling around the limo yelling out “DIBIASE!” - as if he’ll just pop up and be like “sup bois?” - pointless endeavour. Rick Steiner is the only one smart enough to bring an umbrella outside. Let that one sink in. Luger chucks a bunch of stuff out of one of the limos onto the floor which seems unnecessary. 

Out comes pre-Flock Billy Kidman. The commentators could not care less, just droning on about Sting’s supposed “defection”. 

The other combatant in this contest is Cruiserweight champion Rey Mysterio Jr.

Rey Mysterio Jr Vs Billy Kidman

The announcers spend the entire match in ‘sad voice’, like their dogs have all collectively died. It’s really annoying.

The match spills to the outside very quickly. Rey gets the advantage and rolls Kidman back in. He attempts to jump off the ropes from the apron, but Kidman knows what’s coming and meets Rey with a dropkick to the chest.

Kidman slams Rey in the centre of the ring, runs over to the turnbuckle and leaps off.

Just a two count though. Rey wins the match soon after this by flipping off the ropes onto Kidman.

It looks weak but whatever. This wasn’t anything special.

Rey Mysterio defeats Billy Kidman via Pinfall.

We come back from a commercial and the Dungeon’s of Doom’s “music” is playing, and I put that in inverted commas because it isn’t really music, just a pseudo-creepy OTT villainous laugh accompanied by some kind of chant. Whatever. Normally any sign of the Dungeon is enough to make me want to hang my head in despair, however!

If Meng is involved, it might be somewhat entertaining. Just to note those aren’t two random arms sprouting out of Meng’s shoulders – the Barbarian is behind him.

The announcers are still going on about how tragic Sting’s supposed betrayal is – and Bischoff apologises for “not giving Rey Mysterio the attention he deserves in his match”. I mean, kind of tough to take that apology seriously considering how often this has happened and will continue to happen until Nitro goes out of existence. It is the only time I can recall any commentator in WCW actually apologising for the routine ignoring of the cruiserweights in favour of talking about/complaining about the nWo, though.

These two are the opponents. Yeah, Public Enemy, they definitely deserve that pyro. Sure. Look at them waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care.

By the way, the commentators are still going on about Sting. I wonder if we’ll get another apology for ignoring this match as well? Not that I’d necessarily blame them here.

Some diehard wrestling fans here. I think we saw them previously – seemingly someone in production has taken a liking to these ladies. They look like they got lost on their way to a PTA meeting, but fuck it, might as well enjoy themselves now. Watch out for the dude behind you though, ladies. That smile worries me a little.

The Faces of Fear Vs Public Enemy

We go to a commercial break, and as soon as we come back Bischoff says “I hate to keep repeating this, but apparently Sting has joined forces with the nWo”. Bullshit, if you hated it that much you’d have shut up about it by now. I mean, jeez, we get it.

This contest is just a brawl, as you’d expect. Not exactly a match for the ages, but all of a sudden, randomly…

This dude on the left appears and begins running/skipping around the ring.

The fuck? It’s like Rockstar Spud’s demented uncle or something. 

He briefly chases Jimmy Hart, then just… vanishes? Oh, and by the way, the commentators make no mention of this. They do not acknowledge this at all. Why? Because they’re talking about everything except the match itself. Literally, I’m not kidding, it’s like this match is not happening. It’s like listening to a radio show or a podcast spliced together with unrelated WCW footage.

Wait, what? What’s happening now? The match is ongoing and they just cut to the back. Judging from the faces of these lads you’d think someone died. It’s a sombre scene to say the least – but seriously, why even have the match in the ring? What’s the point? The commentators are acting like it isn’t happening and we cut to an interview as the match is happening. Bischoff doesn’t even note that we’ve cut away from a match in progress, he just says “take it away Gene”, like this is totally normal. Whatever, I guess. It’s not like I’m desperate to see the Faces of Fear versus Public Enemy, but what a bizarre way to structure… everything.

Gene asks Arn to explain what happened in the parking lot earlier. Seemed quite self-explanatory to me and the commentators have not stopped talking about it since it happened, so the viewers really don’t need any extra information.  

Arn says he doesn’t give a shit about Luger losing a friend, or that he’s lost a team mate, he’s just shocked. He brings up Sting’s loyalty to WCW.

They actually move to a split-screen here – I guess someone in the production truck remembered there is actually a match going on. It wouldn’t be fair to deprive the dozens of Faces of Fear/Public Enemy fans the chance to see their favourite grapplers go at it.

Anyway, Arn says he has a sick feeling in his stomach, he’s shocked, and he’s out of words. He’s said quite a few already, though, so not really.

Flair stands there with his arms folded, eyeing the audience like a disappointed father.

Luger says he doesn’t have any answers, and that his “best friend in the whole world” stabbed him in the back. He then says he knows where Sting lives and where he works out, and he’s going to go and find him “right now”. Sounds like Lex is planning to murk Sting. However, he should keep in mind this is a guy who only last week tried to murder somebody by chucking a rock through the window of a limo, then stole a police car. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why Sting isn’t in jail. Regardless, I wouldn’t be chasing after him without a good plan.

Flair screams that he’s “sick of it” and just generally yells about how they’re going to beat up the nWo at War Games (including Sting). Arn says “it’s a fight to the death – yours, not ours”. I suppose that was worth emphasising? Also Arn has a tendency to see these matches as ending in death, even though it never comes close to that.

We return to the Faces of Fear/Public Enemy match. By “we” I mean the audience – the commentators are still talking about War Games. I genuinely don’t think they have said anything about the match – oh, wait a minute, Bischoff does mention the match, finally. Although he says the teams are “literally fighting for their lives” which is not exactly accurate. What is up with these people thinking matches are going to end so tragically?

Anyway, the brawling continues for a while and eventually, somehow, Rocco Rock ends up lying on a table. Barbarian heads for the top turnbuckle.

Guys, I don’t foresee this ending well. Seriously, what is the absolute best result of this? Rocco (who can clearly see Barbarian on the turnbuckle) for some reason lays there and lets Barbarian jump on him. It’ll be brutal for both. Or, Rocco moves and Barbarian crashes through the table. Either way Barbarian doesn’t win in this scenario.

Uh oh. Jimmy Hart is absolutely useless at holding Rocco down, kicked away like an insect as Rocco sits up.

That is a fucking sick bump. It’s funny because Barbarian barely takes any serious bumps at all, on Nitro at least, then he decides to say fuck it and leaps to the concrete through a table because YOLO I guess?

Well anyway he dead. Rocco brings a second table into the ring.

Looks pretty old. Nick Patrick wags his finger in disapproval, but incredibly that isn’t enough to persuade Public Enemy to stop. They lay Meng on the table, then Rocco goes to the top turnbuckle for a moonsault…

He almost misses the table entirely, only catching Meng with his legs. The table is weak enough that it breaks despite the soft contact.

You’d think that would be the spot that ends the match, but no. Meng gets up like nothing happened and starts brawling with Rocco again. Barbarian is also somehow revived and back in the ring fighting with Grunge. This is weird because the outside table spot with Barbarian getting wiped out, and then Meng getting put through the table by Rocco’s moonsault, felt like the end sequence of the match. Now it’s like we’re back at the start again. Keep in mind the match has been going for about 10 minutes now. That’s at least 7 minutes longer than is ideal for these teams, really.

Whilst Rocco and Barbarian are hugging it out in the corner, Meng puts the Tongan Death Grip on Grunge and now this one is over.

No explanation as to what the fuck was going on with that random ginger guy running around the ring earlier by the way. Oh well. During the replay Heenan accidentally calls Meng “Haku” and then goes silent immediately. Oops.

The Faces of Fear defeat Public Enemy via Pinfall.

Suddenly Okerlund appears at ringside, accompanied by the Dungeon of Doom.

Maxx, Jimmy Hart, Big Bubba, Gene, Kevin Sullivan, Hugh Morrus and Konnan. To quote Rufus from Final Fantasy 7 – “what a crew”.

Sullivan is no longer painting his face with those stupid markings, but for some reason is now wearing a white headband. Does he think he’s the Karate Kid now?

He also starts making this derp face - and this isn’t just a screen grab catching an awkward expression momentarily, he’s making this face on purpose.

For some reason we go to Jimmy Hart first, who tells the Giant “it’s the beginning of the end for you, you just don’t know it yet”. I’m sure he’s quaking in his boots.  

Big Bubba then rants about Glacier, talking about him saying he’s coming for “6 or 7 months” and asking if he’s not debuting because he’s afraid. Slight exaggeration on the 6 or 7 months from Bubba, but to be fair it does feel like those vignettes have been running for at least that long. Bubba actually doesn’t seem to be aware that Glacier debuted on WCW Pro, but it’s WCW Pro, so... understandable. Bubba calls the Dungeon of Doom “the masters of intimidation”…

What he means is that Meng is the master of intimidation. The others aren’t exactly adding much to the equation. Maxx is standing off to the side looking distinctly unimpressed by the entire thing.

With that said, bored does seem to be his default expression regardless of what is happening. I imagine he’d have the same expression even if Bubba was in the process of sprouting three heads whilst doing a kossack dance.

After calling Gene “homes”, Konnan calls Sullivan a “hardened veterano”. He then says Sullivan has seen and led gang wars from coast to coast.

Yes, Kevin Sullivan wearing that silly white headband is exactly what I think of when I think of leaders of gang wars. Sullivan’s ‘wut?’ expression here says it all. I’m not sure you can call the Dungeon of Doom/Alliance to End Hulkamania Versus Hogan and Macho Man a “gang war”. I’m not sure two people can even constitute a gang. Also Sullivan may be worried Konnan is unintentionally (?) implicating him in genuine gang wars… which probably isn’t in the Taskmaster’s best interests.

Konnan challenges the nWo to come out and confront the Dungeon, who he calls “the toughest set”. Yeah, sure. The challenge is not accepted, because the nWo are for sure terrified of a “gang” featuring the likes of Maxx, Kevin Sullivan, Big Bubba and Hugh Morrus.

Sullivan says that Savage thinks he’ll owe the Dungeon “a debt” for carrying him out from the ring last week. I doubt it in all honesty – maybe if they’d actually done something to help him before he’d been beaten down and spraypainted. Carrying him out after the fact didn’t really help much.

Anyhow, Sullivan says Savage can repay this fictional debt by first beating John Tenta, because why not I guess, and then by getting rid of the Giant. That doesn’t really seem like a balanced deal. We carry you backstage after you’ve been beaten up, you make it even by beating John Tenta and the Giant. Hmmm.

Time for some nWo propaganda.

Hogan tells us that they “aren’t here for a stinkin’ reason” – directly contradicting Nash and Hall, who had previously made it clear they’d come in specifically to take over WCW. He then randomly says “we’ve got our boss with us” and points to Ted DiBiase, who’s sitting in a chair behind them.

Homely. DiBiase looks like he’s being held prisoner, but whatever. Hogan says DiBiase makes Ted Turner look like a “pauper”. Honestly I could try to recap this whole thing but it’s really just a bunch of random sound bytes ripping on WCW for the most part. They talk about wanting “their own tag team tournament” for some reason. They also want a segment (on Nitro, presumably) where they can “highlight” their talent. What they actually mean is a segment highlighting Hogan, as we’ll discover going forward. Scott Hall says “nWo 4 life” with the hand sign (might be the first instance of this?) and they all end the segment laughing like it was an amazing joke.

I was a satellite dish owner back then – or rather, my parents were - but no WCW PPVs in the UK, sadly. We only got a butchered hour-long version of Nitro on TNT UK during 1996 & 1997. I didn’t find out that I’d been watching an edited version of the show until many years later. At least now I can sit back and relive the glory of the Faces of Fear Vs Public…. eh, maybe TNT UK were doing us a favour after all.

Back with your bois at the announce desk. Tenay once again has that “stern dad” look, whilst Heenan seems to be whimsically remembering something from years gone by. Take a guess as to what Bischoff is talking about?

A)     The upcoming main event

B)     Meltzer being wrong about everything

C)     Blue Chew

D)     Sting’s betrayal

If you’ve been following along thus far, you’ll know the answer. The lad does genuinely hate big Dave though, and loves that Blue Chew. Come to think of it, what is the main event? I can’t even remember. Sting’s supposed betrayal has been hammered into my brain so many fucking times at this point I can barely conceive of any other event occurring at any wrestling show.

Chris Jericho’s music plays, but…

It’s John Tenta? Still got that stupid haircut by the way. Seriously, fish man, you’ve made your point. Get that shaved.

But yeah, I’m confused here. I thought Jericho was coming out. But hold on, that’s Jericho’s second theme, “One Crazed Anarchist”, aka the Pearl Jam ripoff, not the one he’s using at this point in WCW, which I believe is the Journey ripoff. So John Tenta is in fact the OG “One Crazed Anarchist”. For the record, the theme suits Jericho far more than it suits the former Shark.

As he comes out Tenta says “Savage, you’re not putting me down”. You think so, John?

What exactly has that guy in the hat been up to? That is not the look of an innocent person.

Ohhh yeahhh, it’s the Macho Man. The commentators are pretending that the result of the match is in any doubt, which I suppose they have to do.

John “anti-fish” Tenta Vs “Macho Man” Randy Savage

Savage storms to the ring, but that turns out to be a bad idea as Tenta stomps on the Macho Man’s back as he slides in and then clobbers him with a forearm to the back.

Bad strategy, Macho. Tenta’s moobs though… whoa.

That’s an interesting choice of attire for a wrestling event, madam.

Tenta works over Savage in the corner for a bit. Savage then begins to make a comeback, before for some reason attempting to slam Tenta…

Goes about as well as you’d expect. Macho really needs to work on his strategy.

Bischoff actually specifically says here that Heenan accidentally referred to Meng as “Haku” earlier and wants to make it clear Meng now works for WCW and not the WWF. I guess they were really taking this kind of thing seriously due to the lawsuits flying around at this point in history. Funny though, as you hear these kinds of slip-ups all the time. I mean, if TNA or AEW were sued for every time a commentator accidentally used a competitor’s ex-WWE name there would need to be a legal department created specifically just to deal with the fucking volume. At least Heenan didn’t call it “WWF Nitro”.

Tenta hits Macho with a decent looking drop kick – quite impressive considering his weight. Outside of the ring Savage hits Tenta with a steel chair…

He isn’t disqualified because…? He whacks Tenta twice more with a chair. This is not a no-DQ match, but it is WCW, so fuck the rules unless we need them for storyline purposes, right?

Flying elbow drop!

Macho goes up for a second, but then Teddy Long comes to ringside yelling “Macho!” – what could the so-called “godfather” want with Savage? Also where’s my man Ice Train at? Come to think of it, I just remembered what he was wearing earlier… best for him to stay backstage.

Savage still hits the second elbow drop. Long is gesticulating wildly at Savage and yelling something about the nWo. Savage leaps over the top rope with nice agility.

But before we go any further…

Son, I am disappoint. I can’t even say “A for effort” because that is the lowest tier of effort.

Anyway, Savage follows Teddy to the outside of the arena where Teddy announces “YOU GONNA GO ONE-ON-ONE WITH THE UNDERTAKER PLAYA!”

Actually, they run towards a limo.              

The limo drives off as soon as Savage approaches it. What was the point of that?

Flair and Mongo randomly appear as the limo drives away.

There’s another limo there, but only a box of spraypaint inside it. There are a ton of WCW guys out there now – the Horsemen, the Dungeon, Public Enemy, Juvi, Super Calo, Savage… basically everyone who was on TV tonight. They start spraypainting “WCW” on the limo windows… or rather, they try to. Due to the fact it’s been raining and everywhere is wet it ends up just looking like a green smudge. As an aside, if that is in fact not an nWo limo, somebody is going to be in for a surprise.  

For some reason the commentators are all standing up. Tenay is looking more evil every time he’s on camera. It’s like he wants to reach through the camera and strangle each and every viewer.

Seriously though, he is repeatedly making a “pissed-off dad” face.

“Dad, I borrowed your car…”

“Um… and… I got a speeding ticket…”

“And there’s a dent on the front as I kinda sorta knocked over the mailbox…”

Grounded forever.

Anyway, once they all sit back down Heenan goes on a rant about the nWo which concludes with “if we don’t stop them now then they can’t be stopped”. If only you could glimpse into the future and nWo 2000, Bobby.

Oh, by the way, I guess John Tenta won the match against Savage by count out? It wasn’t announced or shown, but Savage jumped out of the ring and never returned, so…

John Tenta defeats “Macho Man” Randy Savage via Countout.

I guess Tenta was right, Savage didn’t put him down after all. Score one for the fish hating weirdo.

Double A suddenly appears on set. Heenan gives Arn his headset. Can’t help but think it’d be better for Anderson to be in the ring with a mic, as the fans in the arena can’t hear any of this… but whatever.

Arn says that the world is “in shock” and “outraged”. The world is probably a bit of a stretch, but OK. Flair turns up as Arn is talking, as do Benoit and Mongo. Arn says that this all began ten years ago with the original Horsemen, and that they paved the way and showed the nWo how to do it. Technically true. Arn says the nWo want to be the Horsemen “when they grow up”.

Tenay continuing to give that evil stare, even at Arn. Bischoff looks kind of sad.

As an aside, I may have mentioned it before, but I really like this shirt design:

Bischoff begins talking about making mistakes, but Flair interrupts him. Flair screams so loudly that the headset seems to take some damage as the volume decreases slightly. Flair explains War Games – although if you don’t know what it is by this point then what have you been doing with your life? – and says Hogan won’t leave War Games alive. Spoiler alert: he does.

Bischoff then talks about how maybe bringing Hogan in to WCW was “a mistake” and that the Horsemen “haven’t been given their just due”. The same exact sentence could have been said in 2000 and been even more relevant.

WCW then ends the show with a replay of Luger getting beaten up by “Sting” and the nWo. I’m sure he appreciates that. A good thing they reminded us, as I think a whole ten seconds passed at the end there without mention of Sting’s betrayal and my memory had started to go hazy.

[sixmapleleafs]

bedtime // frederik andersen

Summary: A special bedtime story for your four kids turns into a night of reminiscing and possibly an addition to the family...

The kids cheered in front of the TV as Freddie blocked yet another shot from the opposing team, he’d had an amazing game and the kids had been cheering him on from the couch since it was a school night. The microwave dinged behind you and you grabbed the now warm milk, pouring it into your daughters sippy cup, walking out of the kitchen into the family room in order to make your presence known.

“Ok kids” you said making them look at you, “time for bed” they all whined causing you to chuckle, “its a school night and it’s already past your bedtimes”.

“But mommy, daddy’s not home yet” your seven year old son says.

“I know Ethan but he will be home soon and I’ll make sure he tucks you in when he is, ok?” He nodded his head pulling himself up and running past you as you picked up your three year old daughter, handing her the sippy cup.

“Can we have a bedtime story, mamma?” She asks you.

“Yeah! In you and daddy’s bed!” Your five year old son, Nathan, shouts excitedly as he jumps up from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Your daughter says from your arms as she claps her hands as best as she could.

“Of course baby, get Ethan and Harry to help you pick one” you say nodding towards your oldest son who was still watching the post game stuff that was playing on the TV. Harry looked up at you and nodded when you gave him a look silently asking him to help his youngest brother. He was just like Freddie in almost every way, a gentle giant and already an amazing goalie at only age 9, he was also a giant mommas boy and you’d found him playing dress up with his little sister or partaking in her tea parties many times.

You headed upstairs with your daughter in your arms making your way straight to your room since she was already in her pyjamas. The boys come running in, Nathan has a large book in his hands that you don’t recognise from their bookshelves.

“What have you got there baby?” You ask him as they all climb into the bed. You grab the blanket that was folded at the end of the bed, getting ready to pull it up over all of you as you get comfortable in between the four of them, so they can snuggle into your side.

“We found it earlier and we didn’t know what it was” Harry explains as he takes the book from his brother and hands it to you. That’s when you see it. It was your wedding album. You hadn’t looked at it in years. You ran your fingers over the gold lettering that spelt out Frederik and Y/n.

“It’s daddy and I’s wedding album” you tell them as they look at you confused.

“What’s a wedding album?” Nathan says looking at you with his big brown eyes.

“Well in this book is all the photos from the day we got married, from start to finish, it’s all in here” you told him and a giant smile broke out onto his face.

“I want to see your wedding mommy, can we look through it?” Haley says from beside her oldest brother and you smile brightly looking over at her.

“Of course, if that’s ok with the boys?” They all nod and smile as they snuggle closer together on either side of you.

You opened the book, waving your hand as dust flew into the air, you hadn’t realised it had been so long since you last opened it. The first four pages were covered in signatures and messages from everyone who came to the wedding. You smiled as you read a few of them quickly. You turned the page and the words the groom were written in the same gold lettering as the front of the book.

The next few pages had photos of Freddie and his groomsmen, there were loads of shots the photographer had taken of Freddie getting ready in his suit and styling his hair. The next page had pictures of Freddie and his family, a few with his dad and his brother then one with all the men from his extended family. There were a few of Freddie and the boys all together in their suits, then one of just Freddie and Auston, who was the best man of course. The kids immediately burst into laughter when they saw the picture.

“Look at uncle Auston’s moustache” Ethan said in between laughs and you laughed along with them, remembering how Auston proudly wore that moustache everyday with no shame. You had no idea why he had decided to get rid of it to be honest.

“He was daddy’s best man, in fact mommy and daddy introduced him to Aunty Elise that day and now they’re married” you told them, referring to how you had introduced them at the wedding and they’d immediately hit it off.

“And we’re getting another cousin soon” Harry said making you chuckle.

“Mhm any day now there will be a third baby Matthews” you told him as he smiled before returning his attention back to the book in front of you. “Doesn’t daddy look handsome?”

The kids all nodded in agreement and Harry joked about how he looked like he was the prince of Denmark making you all laugh. It was a common joke in your family that Freddie looked more like royalty that the actual royal family. You turned the page, the bride was written in gold in the middle of the page and you smiled as you remembered the day and how you felt getting ready to marry your best friend.

“Are these pictures of you mamma?” Haley said and you nodded, turning the page.

The first photo was of you getting your hair curled as you sat surrounded by your mother and grandmother, both of them smiling with tears in their eyes as they looked at you. It was a beautiful shot and you were thankful that the photographer had managed to catch that moment.

The next one showed you stood in the middle of all your bridesmaids, standing in your matching robes and styled hair with your make up done perfectly.

“There’s all your aunties with mommy whilst we were getting ready” you told them as they looked intently at the photos on the page. “And there’s grandma and great nana” you said pointing at the photo.

You turned the page, showing them the photos of you with Freddie’s mom and sister and they all immediately pointed and asked if that was mormor and you nodded. Next there were pictures of you in your dress looking in the mirror as you teared up.

“Why were you crying mommy?” Nathan asked you looking concerned.

“Because I was really happy baby” you explained and he nodded, his face relaxing as he looked away again. “Look there’s grandpa, that was the first time he ever saw me in my dress” you said as you pointed at the next picture.

“He’s crying like you” Haley pointed out and you chuckled, “was he really happy too?” She asked and you nodded. You turned the page again.

“What’s a first look?” Harry asked reading from the page.

“It’s when the bride and groom get to see each other for the first time on the wedding day, it’s just them and they get to share a moment together before the wedding begins” you explain, “sometimes they give each other gifts but daddy and I decided to write letters to each other and read them before we saw each other”.

The next pictures revealed exactly what you had just described, you and Freddie stood back to back reading the letters. The photographer had captured a shot of each of you smiling, then tearing up, then reaching down to your side to grab each other’s hand.

You remembered how Freddie had spun you around to face him, taking in every inch of you in your dress. His eyes had filled with tears and he’d crouched down covering his face with his hand as his emotions took over him. It was one of the rare occasions where you had seen him cry, since that day he’d only really cried like that when each of your kids were born. You remembered how you had reached out to rub his shoulder giggling even though your own tears were threatening to spill over. He’d stood up and immediately wrapped his arms around you, telling you he loved you and he was the luckiest man alive. The photographer had captured every moment.

“Now daddy’s crying” Ethan said with a laugh, snapping you out of the memory.

“Daddy never cries” Nathan pointed out and you nodded.

“It was a very emotional day baby, everyone cried even daddy” you explained smiling softly at your son, suddenly feeling extremely grateful for your family in that moment.

“You look so pretty mamma” Haley said running her small figures delicately over the photo of you in your dress.

“She looked like a princess” you heard Freddie’s voice from the doorway, he was wearing his game day suit and leaning against the doorframe to your bedroom.

“Daddy!” Haley squealed as she climbed down from your bed and ran into her fathers arms, he immediately lifted her up and she wrapped her small arms around his neck, the sight made your heart melt as he carried her back over to the bed.

“Congrats on the win dad, you played really good” Harry said.

“Thanks bud, did you guys watch the whole game?” He asked as Nathan moved from the spot beside you where the two of them had previously been and Freddie scooped him up in his other arm. He sat down beside you, the kids getting comfortable in his lap as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

“We all wore our jerseys too daddy” Haley said bringing her fathers attention back to her, she’d had him wrapped around her finger since the day she was born, in fact since the day you found out you were having a girl and Freddie had immediately started painting the nursery pink and buying her little outfits. Freddie chuckled as he kissed her forehead.

“How long were you stood there?” You asked him.

“Since you called me handsome” he said with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, not being able to stop the smile from spreading across your face. You continued looking through the album until you got to the last page and noticed the kids were struggling to keep their eyes open. It was well past all of their bedtimes and you looked up at Freddie to find him already looking at you smiling softly.

“C’mon lets get them in bed” you said but he didn’t budge, instead he leaned down to kiss you softly.

“I love you” he said and you smiled bringing him into another soft kiss.

“I love you too” he kissed your forehead before you were burst out of your little love bubble by Harry.

“Ewwwwww” he said making you giggle and blush a little bit, you didn’t think he had been paying attention to the two of you.

“Come on big man, it’s time for bed” you said as you carefully moved Ethan so he was standing, he was seconds away from falling asleep but he followed his brother down the hallway anyway.

Freddie picked up the younger two and carried them to their beds. You followed Harry and Ethan to their bedrooms, tucking Ethan into his bed and kissing his head softly as he mumbled a goodnight and love you. You moved next door to Harry’s room where he was already tucked into bed waiting for you to say goodnight as he did every night, you kissed his forehead and said goodnight before closing the door quietly. You walked down the hall to Nathan’s room where he was already snoring softly, you kissed his forehead gently so you wouldn’t wake him then headed to Haley’s room.

“I love you daddy” you heard her say in her tiny voice, you peaked your head around the door to see Freddie’s large frame knelt beside her bed, her small hand was in his giant one and she had her Carlton the bear stuffed animal under her arm.

“I love you too princess” he said placing a small kiss to her forehead.

“Goodnight mamma” she said causing Freddie to look over at you, a content smile on his face. He looked truly relaxed. Like this was where he was meant to be.

“Goodnight baby” you said as Freddie stood up, switching the nightlight beside her bed on as he did so.

You made your way into your en suite bathroom, Freddie not far behind you. You both brushed your teeth in a comfortable silence before he headed towards his closet to get changed into something he could sleep in.

When you finally made it under the covers you were hit by how exhausted you really were, you closed your eyes and were just about to fall asleep when you felt Freddie’s strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You looked up at him sleepily and he pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

“Thank you” he said quietly and you looked at him confused.

“For what?”

“For giving me all of this, our family. I love you so much and I never want you to feel like you aren’t appreciated because you are, baby, you really are” he said before you pulled him down for another kiss, suddenly not feeling so tired anymore. The kiss quickly got heated and Freddie was in top of you in no time. Let’s just say your family of six was about to become seven...

[3pirouette]

Fic: The Honey Trap (9/?)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Peggy’d lost count. She wasn’t sure if she was a double or triple agent at this point, and in the end, it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this alive.

A/N: I'm giving you another chapter this weekend because I can. I've got a significant portion of the Epilogue written, and just a chapter or two to fill in the middle, so we're looking at about 12 in total. I'll post as they're written, but no promises on when. 

I'm VERY curious to see what you all think about this chapter. We've just had angst, angst, angst up until now, and now? Well, it's a little bit of a departure, and I hope you like it. 

Chapter 9: Infiltrating the Lap of Luxury

Three Days Later

Peggy was nauseous. The red and black. The banners. The eagles and swastikas. The double lightning bolts.

They were everywhere.

Just three days in Berlin had reminded her who, and what, they were fighting for. If the concerned well-to-do Nazis of London had confused her, this had shocked her right back to reality.

Wallace had given her practically no notice that they were leaving, to the point where she’d wondered if either or both of them had been found out and they needed to run. She’d had barely enough time to throw the essentials in a bag and finish the letter.

Since they’d started with the letters, she’d had one half written, waiting in the false bottom of one of the drawers in her apartment for her to fill in days, times, and places. She knew one day they’d have to make a hasty retreat, and that came far faster than she had been prepared for.

He’d been manic, not because they’d been found out, but because he’d been offered something he couldn’t pass up: face time with the men who were running everything. They’d been invited to the heart of Berlin for a party, and then to accompany a high-ranking scientist to the Alps.

None of that had made it into her letter.

She was sharing a hotel room with Wallace, and the Agent who had escorted them to Berlin was residing right next door. She wasn’t sure if he was there to keep them safe or to keep tabs on them, but she wasn’t going to press it either way. She played appropriately lovelorn on the plane over the channel, then slowly warmed back up to Wallace. By the time they’d made it to the hotel she was holding his hand and chatting about how excited she was to be invited to such a thing.

Peggy wasn’t sure what Wallace was anymore, where his allegiance fell, or what he expected her to behave as, but she was along for the ride, and that meant keeping him happy.

She still made him sleep on the couch.

In the morning, the symbols all around her were brighter and more apparent, and the charade was harder to keep up. Wallace paraded her around office buildings and at dinners with men whose names she’d only heard about in official communiques. It seemed the information he thought he was stealing from her had made him somewhat infamous, and they didn’t seem to understand, thankfully, that she’d led them into several ambushes at this point.

She found it baffling and sickening, but she let them believe they’d lured her over to their ideology, that she was no longer interested in serving the Allied Powers as they’d done nothing for her.

She had once chance to pass on all she knew. One communique. She hoped they were ready.

~*~

Dugan stood just outside the hotel, pulling down on his deerstalker cap to stay hidden in the twilight. He’d shaved his moustache, to which they’d all laughed, and dyed his hair a glaring blonde, even though he was keeping it hidden under his cap.

There were precious few they trusted for this, and even fewer who could walk into the heart of Germany and potentially not be recognized by either the SS or Wallace. Dugan somehow fit that bill. He worried that he was too early, but being too late might compromise the drop. He stopped and rubbed his knee, feigning pain to buy himself some time. Eyes were everywhere, and they didn’t hesitate to report suspicious people under such a regime.

Peggy was due any minute. Any second.

And there she was.

Laughing.

Dugan looked up, surprised, to see her laughing and smiling with Wallace, dressed to the nines complete with heels and a fur stole and the ever harder and harder to get silk stockings.

She was walking towards him on her way out of the hotel, and the only acknowledgement he got was the casual flicker of her eyes as she neared, the same she’d give any passing pedestrian.

Just a few steps away she stumbled and then stopped, Wallace concerned for her as they both looked down at the ground. “Are you all right, Maggie?”

Peggy stood and smiled, shrugging. “New shoes. I haven’t had a pair of proper dancing shoes in so long I think I must have forgotten how to wear them!” Her tone was light, and she kept Wallace’s eyes at hers with her smile, but Dugan was looking at her feet, where Peggy slipped her toes from her heel and dropped a small slip of paper on the ground before slipping her foot back in again. She kicked her foot up towards Wallace and wiggled her toes. “Should be good to go, dear. To dinner?”

He nodded and set them moving again. “Yes, quite right. Perhaps you should wear your new ones for the party tomorrow when we get back tonight, wouldn’t want you stumbling in that company.”

Dugan waited until they passed, playing up on the rubbing of his knee, and then started limping lightly forward, towards the scrap of paper on the ground. He stopped again, shoe stepping directly on it, and rubbed his knee, before walking away with only the tiniest glance back to tell him that the paper was stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

A block later, he stopped, picked it from his shoe, and continued on his way.

~*~

Stave, Bucky, and Dum Dum hovered over the paper, slowly decoding it by flashlight in their tiny tent in the middle of the German forest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dum Dum laughed. “How does she think we’re going to do that?”

“We clean up good!” Bucky retorted.

“Yeah,” Steve started, throwing the pencil down and slumping, “but I don’t blend in so well with a crowd here.”

“Well, I’m going. Where do I get my hands on a suit?” Dugan smiled. “You know what kinda women are at these parties?”

“Yeah, Nazis.” Barnes retorted, shaking his head.

“Ok, well, you’re not wrong there.” He shrugged. “I just miss going to parties, and beautiful women all dressedto the nines there.”

Dugan and Barnes shared a moment of agreement before Bucky focused them back on the mission. “And how do you plan on getting in?” Barnes asked cheekily. “We just going to walk in the front door?”

Steve rubbed his face. “It’s going to be guarded, there will be invitations… no. There’s no way we get in the front door play acting like we’re guests without being made.”

“So what?” Dugan asked, reading over the note again. He pointed at the most important detail: “Must get Zola at Black Tie tomorrow night. Last Chance before Alps.” He shrugged. “Maybe it would be easier to try to get him while he’s going over the Alps to the Hydra base.”

Bucky shook his head. “I mean, potentially less guards on one of those trains, but some of those tracks are treacherous. They’re lucky the trains make it through. One wrong move there, we’re not just captured, we’re dead.”

“So what? We go in as the caterers?” Dugan laughed. “I already shaved my moustache for this, I’m up for a good disguise.”

“It’s a mansion, right?” Steve asked, trying to be positive. “Maybe we just need to…” He took a moment, his head twisting and turning as he thought of and discarded ideas. He stopped, throwing his hands out to the side. “I got nothing.”

Barnes just punched him on the shoulder good naturedly. “You know, you’re lucky you’ve got Peggy to do all the heavy lifting in this relationship.”

Steve hung his head, smiling. “Don’t I know it.”

~*~

Peggy did her best to smile, but was still sickened by the excess. She’d seen the state of the German forces, of the men in the field and the men they captured.

It was always revolting to see how the men who ran the wars, but never experienced them, lived.

Champaign. Caviar. Grand dinners and ballrooms full of music and dancing. The war hadn’t touched these people. They hadn’t watched friends and family die. After listening to them, she guessed most of them had probably profited off the backs of the boys in the trenches.

For every man with a gun, the real monster was a faceless man in an office calling his shots.

She hated to admit she enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath, of the silk stockings she hadn’t had in months, of a new green silk dress that hugged her curves and didn’t smell like mothballs, of shoes that fit and hadn’t ever seen a patch of mud. She felt guilty every minute, preening and putting on make-up and rolling her hair just right so that she wouldn’t stand out. The guilt had nearly overwhelmed her, but she had a job to do, and she could deal with the emotional toll of this later.

By the way everyone looked when they walked into the mansion, she and Wallace stood out. Their novelty dimmed, however, as they were slowly introduced around the room. Once they were no longer strangers, they were no longer a unique oddity to be admired or a threat to be monitored. Wallace worked hard to get in front of the generals, in front of the men with the most medals and the stiffest backs in the room, to get some facetime with the people that could get him closer to whatever his goal was.  

She only had one goal: Arnim Zola.

He was Schmidt’s right-hand man, and he was vulnerable tonight.

She had three different plans, depending on how the boys were able to make it in. She guessed they weren’t walking in the front door, as the security was heavy and nearly every man in the room wore the swastika on his arm and carried a gun with him. She only hoped they could follow her lead, or she could pick up whatever plan they’d come up with quickly to avoid a disaster.

Step one: meet Zola.

Peggy let Richard pull her around the ballroom for a while, smiling and nodding on his arm, keeping quiet as they traded stories and allegiances. She kept Zola in her sights throughout the night, taking note that he was often alone, and easily flustered. She smiled, realizing that his cheeks reddened every time he talked to a beautiful woman.

Peggy made her excuses and stepped out of the ballroom for a breath of fresh air. She’d hoped she’d be able to make contact with the boys but they weren’t anywhere to be found near or around the small, empty balcony. She took the moment to compose herself, and waited until the doctor was situated between her and Wallace so it wouldn’t look like she’d avoided Wallace, but rather ran into the doctor by mistake.

And run into him she did, literally, bumping his shoulder as she moved past him, covering her face and putting on her apologies before feigning recognition. “I’m sorry, are you Doctor Zola?”

He almost chocked on a sip of his Champaign. He looked her up and down, and Peggy smiled even wider, knowing that her care in dressing had done its job. “Yes,” he choked out as he regained his composure. “And who might you be?”

Peggy put her hand in his and let him kiss the back of it, forcing a blush by imagining Steve. “Oh, me? I’m nobody. But I just couldn’t help but overhear your name whispered here and there, and to have the chance to meet you!” She giggled and shrugged. “Though I am quite sorry for bumping into you.”

“Oh, no matter, my dear. But for such a beautiful creature, I must have a name.” He was earnest, and she almost, almost felt bad for what she was about to do.

“Maggie,” she replied softly, not feeling bad at all as she remembered the thousands of men that had died because of him.

He smiled, not letting go of her hand, and she smiled right back.

~*~

Bucky did not like hiding in the closet outside of the bathroom, but he did it because there was really no other choice than to sit there and wait for Peggy. They’d managed to sneak their way in through the basement early this morning through a drainage ditch, and Steve and Dugan were hiding on the floor below them in a root cellar.

The fact that Bucky was the only one small enough to fit in the dumbwaiter to get between floors was the only reason it was him and not Steve up here. He tried not to swear as yet another woman passed him that wasn’t Peggy.

“One click if you can hear me, Buck.” Steve’s voice came through his comm. It was tinny and buzzed incessantly, but the earpiece radios Stark had made them were far, far better than the bulky blocks they’d carried in the field up until now. Bucky clicked the talk button on the small box on his belt and waited for Steve to continue. “Dugan and I have managed to get our hands on some SS uniforms.”

Bucky clicked twice, acknowledging that he understood. Barnes wondered if they’d knocked people out and stolen their clothes, or if they’d simply found the wash.

He stopped, all thoughts gone out of his head when he saw Carter turn down the small hall, slowly moving towards the bathroom and seemingly absent mindedly turning door knobs.

He waited until she stepped into the small bathroom then slipped in behind her.

“Well, it’s about—” Peggy stopped, putting her hand over her mouth to stop from screaming. “You’re not Steve.”

Barnes shrugged. “He didn’t fit in the dumbwaiter.”

“I’m not going to even ask,” she sighed, sitting her hip against the sink and stepping out of her heels to rub her feet. “We have a small window of time. I’m going to get Zola into the office one hallway down. Do you know it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded.

“I’ll incapacitate him, then you three are up, alright? He should be out for several hours, at least, but please be careful. If you jostle him enough, he will wake up.”

“Wake up?” Barnes asked.

“Wake up,” she confirmed. She looked him over, the black fatigues out of place in the resplendent bathroom. “Do you think you can handle that?”

Barnes smirked at her, “You think we can’t?”

Peggy sighed and smiled. “If I didn’t miss you so much, I’d hit you.” She moved to walk past him then stopped, serious. “One more thing, and you mustn’t forget.”

~*~

Bucky unfurled himself from the dumbwaiter, misjudging the distance and falling to the floor in a heap. “God, I hate that.”

“What happened? How is she?” Steve peppered him with questions as he helped him stand, looking awful Aryan with his blonde hair and blue eyes and the red band brandished across his arm. Dugan, too, fit in just a little too well in the suit now that he’d bleached his hair.

Bucky took them in as he stood, trying to shake the earie feeling seeing them in the uniforms of the enemy. “She’s fine. We’ve got about fifteen minutes to get to the office down the hall from the bathroom. We should be able to take the back stairs.” Bucky had done the interior recon early in the morning, slipping through and learning the layout when the residents inside had all been sleeping. “You got one of those for me?”

Steve handed him a pile. “They should fit.”

Bucky stripped and put the new clothes on, stopping as he buttoned up the jacket. “She- shit.” Bucky looked at Steve, lips pursed tight as he shook his head. “She told me not to forget something.”

“And you forgot it?” Dugan asked, incredulous.

“I mean, it wasn’t that important.” He moved back to buttoning himself into the jacket. “Come on, she’s waiting on us.”

~*~

Peggy rounded the table, pretending to be infinitely interested in the little metal figures that told a story of Aryan supremacy. “I find it all very fascinating, Doctor Zola.”

He smirked, downing the rest of his Champaign. “As I thought you might, fraulein.”

She stepped up to him, close, and played with the edge of his collar. “It’s so hard to find a man of substance these days,” she whispered, letting her nail run down over the buttons on his shirt.

“Ah, my dear, we are all involved in bringing glory to our cause!” He proudly exclaimed, watching her hand and then looking up into her eyes. “I might say, it is… refreshing to have a woman find interest in the matters of the mind. Usually, they are interested in more… superficial things.”

Peggy turned them so he was looking away from the door. She’d left it cracked, and could see shadows. She couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t Steve and the boys, so she made her move. “Ah, yes, well, I am not one of those women.”

She leaned down and kissed him, lips pressed tight to his, for long seconds. He was surprised at first, but began to participate wholeheartedly once the initial surprise passed, gripping her tight with small, sweaty hands that roamed. She counted in her head, and Peggy pulled back as soon as she’d made sure it had been long enough, smiling at his fluster. “You see, I’m a different kind of woman all together.”

He started to reply, but found he couldn’t. Slowly, Peggy lowered him to the floor as his eyes fluttered shut.

She looked up, feigning surprise as the door opened. She’d been ready to call out, concerned that the Doctor had passed out on her from too much to drink when she saw the uniforms, but smiled when she saw the face attached. “Right on time, men.”

“Damn, Peggy,” Dugan whispered. “You are good at getting things done!”

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, stepping over Zola and helping her to stand.

“I’m fine. A little disgusted at the revelry, but fine.” She looked around, watching as Barnes and Dugan lifted the doctor, slinging his arms around their necks. “You’ll be able to get him out?”

“We’ve got a truck waiting half a click south just outside a sewer.” Barnes whispered. “Won’t be pleasant, but we’ve got it.”

“You have to ask him about this Swiss base, Steve.” She held his hands tight and pleaded with him. “They have something there, something related to those energy weapons Howard’s been studying. I don’t know what it is, but it’s big. And it has to be stopped.”

“You do it,” Steve whispered fiercely. “Come with us.”

She shook her head. “We both disappear and that’s a target on us all. Besides, I’m headed to the Alps tomorrow, the base the day after.” She gave him a small, nervous smile. “I don’t know how, but Wallace has arranged an audience with Schmidt.”

“Then here,” Steve shoved a small square in her hand. “Beacon. Turn it on tomorrow. Howard says it should last three days. We’ll track you.”

“Come on, buddy, we gotta go,” Barnes whispered. “Party’s breaking up and they’re gonna find us.”

Without warning Steve grabbed her and kissed her. Peggy pushed him away to his confusion.

“Barnes!” She half yelled, half whispered, shooting daggers over Steve’s shoulder at the man.

“What—” Steve could barely get the word out before he fell to the ground, eyes blinking shut.

“That’s why you didn’t want him to kiss you?!” Barnes looked at her and almost dropped Zola. “You gotta say stuff like that, Carter! I thought you just didn’t want to be messin’ around while on a mission!”

She dropped to her knees and started gently hitting Steve’s cheek. “Yes, Barnes, I didn’t want to be ‘messin’ around’ on a mission, especially when I have knock out lipstick on, you dolt!” She took a deep breath. “Get Zola out, Steve’ll be around in a minute or so and I’ll send him after you.”

“Are you—” Dugan started to question her, but her stern look stopped him. He and Barnes hiked Zola higher and with a glance, moved him out into the empty hallway.

“How much you want to bet he’s done that before?” Dugan whispered as they moved.

“Oh, I’m sure that idiot has done that before.” Bucky paused, hiking the small man higher over his shoulder. “How do you think she knows how long it’ll take him to wake up?”

“Good point.”

[miscellaneous-oxy]

rambling: wok of love, ep1-8

Here’s the thing.  I have just finished watching the 8th episode for the second time, and I am so pleased and excited in terms of the plot development but totally distracted by Seo Poong’s sexiness – he looked so good, excessively good in that black shirt: I’m confused.  So, I’m just going to ramble tonight.  Yes, this is my excuse for being rather aggressive in this post.  Please beware.  This might be unsettling and even displeasing to some, but I just have to let it out for the peace of my mind.  Before watching tonight’s episodes, and reading some of the reactions to them, I was planning on posting a follow-up to my SP analysis, but now it seems impossible for me to be as efficient and persuasive as I aim to be.  I guess I need to set it aside for a bit till I’m calmer.

I had been a bit concerned about the delay in the development of love line between SP and SW because so many people seemed to have been shipping CS and SW already from the beginning – no, actually, they were doing it even before the drama started.  I was also wondering why some people are so willing to dismiss all signs of SP’s characterisation and consequently choosing to believe that the OTP is (or should be) the CS-SW pair, as if SP did not deserve SW.  (By the way, believe it or not, I myself is actually open on this matter.  I don’t mind whichever or no character is chosen by SW in the end, as long as the character developments through the love lines are substantial and her final choice a valid one.  Furthermore, to be honest, I must admit I would most likely find the SP-CS pairing at the end of the story more amusing.)  

I’ve read online more than a couple of viewers complaining the non-likability of SP’s character, mainly because of his arrogance.  Some of them don’t even forget to add that another actor would be likable in whatever kind of character he may be playing, however arrogant, implying that Junho could be the one to blame for making the character unlikable. (Absurd!)  First of all, as it happens, and I’m sure everybody who has watched more than a couple of dramas or read a dozen stories is perfectly aware, that the leading character is often supposed to be arrogant at the beginning, for that gives him the necessary room for improvement.  Second, and this is essentially my point that I have been discussing in my previous post, SP’s show of arrogance is otherwise a manifestation of his vulnerability: His arrogance is even given a premise for the viewers to be sympathetic towards him.  He needs to be arrogant to keep on going with his life: Arrogance is his armour.  It’s his way of dealing with his crushed identity.  Indeed, it may be an immature course to take, but that’s the very reason he needs to grow up in the story.  Having his self-esteem brutally impaired by SDH, he needed to find something he can hold on to. When he felt his whole being – his past, his present profession, and his future plan – totally denied, he had nothing left but what he can do – to cook delicious dishes.  He needs to feel accepted in the world again, and the only place where he could get the recognition and appreciation that he needed had been The Finishing Touch.  The vulnerability in his eyes is the key to understand this character.  Once you see his weakness, it’s impossible not to root for him, if not love him yet.  Those people who feel distant or indifferent to SP seem to be missing out on the details that show the depth of his emotions, quite possibly because they are so focused elsewhere.  (And I know it’s quite easy to fall into that trap.)

Some more viewers persist that, while admitting SP would be the writer’s preferred choice for SW, they do not understand why SP was so suddenly interested in SW at the end of the 8th episode.  This, to me, seems to show that there’s this really firm preconceived refusal to accept SP as a leading character.  They are tenaciously ignoring the detailed portrayal of SP, and the lack of understanding in his character thereof leads to a further undermining of the significance of SP’s behaviours.  What a spiral.  I do realise that this may be the case of either the character is portrayed poorly –script-wise, direction-wise, or acting-wise, or, simply the viewers are blind to see the subtleties that are composing the character.  Most viewers who claim SP’s sudden interest in SW to be incomprehensible also mention that SP’s character is difficult to sympathise with.  Obviously, they are entitled to their own opinion and all, but that does not make them entitled to degrade other characters.  It is really frustrating to see some viewers boasting their views as the only sensible ones, just because they have no idea that they may be blinded by their love for their bias or by some preconceived notions that have derived from that love.  How can anyone miss all those signs that indicate SP is yet to learn that his feelings towards SDH might not have been true love but a sense of obligation that had been grown out of youthful infatuation and his mentor’s death?  Of course, both young SP and SDH must have believed that they were in love, but they did not succeed in cultivating the true thing.

Furthermore, there were so many signs, from the first episode, that point SW as a trigger for SP’s character development and even as the answer to his quest (and questions; here, I’m thinking about George’s question mark in A Room with a View).  Remember how SP was repeating every other things SW chatted away?  SW was literally giving keys and answers to SP’s question: Is the love between SP and SDH true?  SP’s interest in SW is already there, even though he tries to act indifferently.  He notices SW in a crowded dining hall, remembers SW’s words and needs, feels compassion, and even identifies with her hunger and despair.  It’s not sudden but a gradual process.  He is certainly a bit slow to notice his own feelings; which is made a contrast with CS’s instant crush on SW, but that is the whole point of his story.  SP is going to learn the deficiencies in his character and his life through his interactions with the new people around him. He will learn the true meaning of humility, friendship, and love.  Therefore, the development in SP-SW love line is sure to make the story so much more profound and entertaining!  

 As much as I enjoy watching those charming scenes between CS and SW (and I really do, as I have been a fan of Jang Hyuk for ever so longer than I’ve been fangirling Junho; I have watched most of his dramas since Thank You, even including the cameos in webdramas solely for his sake), I still maintain that it is SP’s potential emotional journey that gives depth to the story, where CS’s comedy gives the necessary relief from the strain.  That’s the supposed balance of the drama.  It wouldn’t work or it’s not of the writer’s intention if the story focused too much on CS’s character development.  It may be hard for some to accept it, but the writer seems to want Jang Hyuk to play the comic relief to some extent and he took the job.  He admitted when he guested a radio programme that the writer had asked him to play the “entertainment.”  He is doing a perfect job at that, and I can see people rooting for him, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t think we should expect much portrayal of his character development in this particular drama.

One last detail I’d like to defend has to do with how some people are trying to make the possible SP-SW love line sound like an old classic cliché and thus boring. On the other hand, they seem to believe a love story between a gangster and a chaebol daughter as something new and refreshing, but that’s where I can confidently say they are in the wrong.  Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night (1934), the first romantic comedy film to win an Oscar instantly comes to my mind, and a long list of films, dramas, novels and comic books follows.  (I must say there are tons of romance novels and Japanese girls’ mangas, in particular, with a gangster – princess type pairing.)  Of course, Clark Gable is not exactly a gangster in the film, but he sure looks like one – coincidentally, he even has a moustache and suspenders on in this film, and he does fit in the stereotypical pattern.  I mean, it’s basically the classic Beauty and the Beast concept in the first place.  But please do not misunderstand me.  I am not saying that the cliché settings and characters are boring.  At the end of the day, what matters is how the characters themselves are idiosyncratically refreshing and how all the elements are executed in an enjoyable and satisfying way.  Whether it is a fallen chef or a sweet gangster, any character can be a cliché and simultaneously not boring.  The reason I believe they are not watching with clear eyes is how they say SP-SW is a cliché and CS-SW is not.  This is the proof of their biased views.

OK, I think I’m calmed down now.  Hope I can now focus on writing up something more convincing.  Thank you for reading, if any of you have come thus far.  I really appreciate it.

[bradypnoea]

As a new Loki and Tom Hiddleston fan, I’m actually pretty jealous to see someone (aka you) be a fan of his for over 10 years now. I didn’t even know that TH has also played Loki for 10 years as well. What’s it like supporting the actor as well as witness what the filmmakers have done to his character? You’ve probably seen so much happen within the fandom and I wish I got to see how rowdy and wild it got (but at the same time, I’m glad I avoided that).

First of all, welcome! I'm terrible at joining fandoms full stop so I have to commend you on jumping in at such a tumultuous time. I’ll try to make this a brief overview of the early days, ‘cause I know I could go on for hours. I can’t speak to the atmosphere on platforms other than Tumblr really, though I have a vague awareness of the goings-on and Major Historical Events on Facebook and Twitter. 

Honestly, my comparably extensive experience as a My Chemical Romance fan prepared me well for this fandom, with minor differences (obviously). From 2011-2015, I had to describe Tom by way of, “Did you see Thor/The Avengers? He plays Loki. No, he doesn’t look gaunt and greasy in real life.” Similar to band forums and chat boards, Tumblr offered a respite from that. A major portion of the contemporary user-base was a direct reflection of the surge in UK media popularity, propelled by personalities that enjoyed — let’s say — ‘off-center’ pop culture. The TWH fandom grew steadily yet in my opinion managed to retain an almost insular climate, though I remember Loki content wasn’t far removed from the inescapable Superwholock deluge which annoyed many users.

Day to day happenings were almost mundane: Tom tweeted with some regularity, shared daily song recommendations, interacted with replies, and posted seemingly anything that popped into his head. It felt almost gratuitous, particularly the second half of 2013, the earnest sincerity and encouragement of his own supporters. Tumblr seized that energy and used it as inspiration. Artists became well known for incredible graphics work, fic writers gained popularity in and outside of Tumblr, blogs popped up cataloguing photos of the man himself in varying degrees of tight trousers, the prominence of few cosplayers elicited threads of discourse which continue to this day. If I recall correctly a few fan projects actually made their way to Tom, notably a photobook involving ‘Wendy’ the false moustache. (I think there may still exist a self-recorded video documenting his receipt/reaction of it?) And I have to specifically mention the user Torilla, whose tireless work in sourcing and providing high quality photos to the masses cannot be overstated.

Such is the nature of modern fandom however, when a person attracts such a large number of supporters, the support can quickly shift from admiration to expectation to violation. I can’t recall the exact dates offhand but between ‘13-’15, personal photos were taken from Facebook and widely shared, real people were impersonated online by fans, crowds started to become physically threatening. Not to mention the increasingly invasive actions of paparazzi and fan photographers. When ‘Coriolanus’ premiered at the Donmar late 2013 it was presumed that Tom’s activity on Twitter had declined due to a busy working schedule; by the end of the play’s run, stage door signings had been suspended for safety and privacy concerns. 

Throughout 2014, between back to back to back to back projects, fan misbehaviour, and growing scrutiny on how public figures presented themselves online, it was rare to hear anything firsthand. By the time The Night Manager began filming in summer ‘15 the Tumblr fandom comprised discussions of production footage, press releases, a few interviews, and fan-generated content. In my mind that was the last period that the ‘community’ felt manageable — discourse was inevitable but fairly reasonable, even as films were unfavourably reviewed by critics.

Then came May 2016, and nothing was ever the same. Okay lmao that’s so melodramatic, but it’s not inaccurate! I’m not going into detail here but believe me, only since the West End run of ‘Betrayal’ has the fandom been revived to a sustainable degree. Optimism felt like a chore, especially when ‘Endgame’ premiered, and there was no shortage of negative assumptions about Tom’s seemingly indefinite hiatus from appearing on screen. Certainly, other users will have differing experiences and opinions on the 2016-2018 period, but I truly can’t imagine anyone was having an overly pleasant time.

As for my personal support/witnessing of MCU Loki’s character development, I probably have an unusually pessimistic-passive set of expectations, and it’ll be very interesting to return to this after I’ve watched the series! The Internet Joke goes something like, “I respect your interpretation of this character unless it’s different than mine,” which is funny! But I learned it’s almost a waste of energy to attempt interpreting nearly any MCU character because the inconsistent writing. I remember my dissatisfaction during the first watch of ‘The Dark World’ and afterward reading that Loki’s death was reversed when early test audiences reacted with confusion and disappointment, I understood then that the broad appeal of Loki was so necessary for profit that Marvel/Disney would never allow the character the room to shock and potentially repulse audiences like I wanted. 

Clearly I’m still intrigued by fan interpretations because I’m consuming and curating fanworks for zero dollars(!!) but I let go of the expectation to be satisfied by canon MCU content, though I’ll admit it hasn’t stopped me from being disappointed by MCU writing! It also hasn’t softened the disappointment of encountering poor fan behaviour, but of course I pick my battles on that front. I’ve heard curiosity and compassion can solve all problems in time so I’ll keep working on that, offering it when I can.

With that I have to thank you for your interest and your kind message, I hope you find a few people to really connect with, and feel free to return to me if you’d like. My fingers are crossed for the next few years to be more pleasant for us, and the fandom can meet one another on respectable terms, learn and grow and all that. No accounting for trolls on Twitter though lmao

Oh! My favourite direction to send interested newcomers is toward the inactive remnant of thfrustration.tumblr.com (link), the preeminent Tumblr fan-fiction catalogue established in May 2012. It’s a nicely preserved record of the Golden Age as I like to call it. Be prepared to cringe a little! Much love. b|x

[some-cookie-crumbz]

The Shrink Treatment

The Shrink Treatment Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Request fill. An experiment goes awry, leaving Keith in a strange situation and Pidge the one in charge of looking after him. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more. AN: Third fill for the requests I received. I deviated a little bit from what the original request wanted but I hope that this is still enjoyable!

Keith eyed the concoction Coran had shoved into his hand with a skeptical raise of an eyebrow.

He had agreed to help Coran out with some testing in regards to antidotes and medications to be implemented by the team. While they’d all been given first aid and small emergency supply kits to keep stashed in spare compartments in their Lions, none of what they had would be particularly effective for serious injuries or ailments. The need for them to have higher grade medication had first been brought up after Shiro’s injury from Haggar, and the point had been driven home even further when Hunk had nearly lost his right hand after shrapnel from an exploding Galra ship caught his wrist. He had been thankfully fine after a trip in the healing pod - though he did admit to suffering from his pinky and ring fingers occasionally going numb or twitchy – but this had seemed to light a fire in Coran. He insisted that if he could develop some kind of oral or spray-type medication that could begin repairing the damage until further treatment could be given, Hunk wouldn’t have any discomfort with the limb, and that now he had to assure no other Paladin suffered such long term side effects.

Thus leading to Keith’s position, sitting on one of the exam tables in the sick bay, holding a strange liquid that was mostly yellow with specks of grey and pink sprinkled throughout. “And this is supposed to do… What, exactly?” He asked, swirling the contents around curiously. He managed to hide a shudder when whatever it was bubbled ominously at him in response.

“Well, it’s designed to heal damage from the inside,” Coran explained happily, heading over from the other side of the room with a clipboard, “or, rather, start to heal it… Hopefully… The goal is that it should begin healing the internal effects to injuries, like mending broken bones and such. It’s mostly just a way to prevent any permanent nerve or muscle damage being caused, so basic medical treatment will still need to be administered to any wounds on the surface level. This little tonic should just assure that in a situation where your foot nearly gets severed from your leg, you’ll be able to heal with minimal to no long term side effects of the injury.”

Keith glanced down at his casted arm and hummed quietly. That certainly explained why Coran had insisted that he was the only one that could help him, as well as why he had pleaded for Keith to avoid the healing pods upon arrival.

“Well, I guess we’ll see how well this works, huh?” He asked before taking a deep breath and chugging the contents of the vial.

Coran watched him curiously for a few minutes, reaching up and twirling one of the ends of his moustache as he did, then tilted his head curiously. “Well? Feel anything?”

Keith shook his head and smacked his lips a bit. “I mean, other than a bitter after taste, not really,” He said with a shrug, shuffling off of the exam table to stand on his own two feet. He regretted it immediately when a wave of dizziness hit him, akin to the first few times after being in the simulator back at the Garrison. He rested his good hand against the table and shook his head again.

“Are you alright?” Coran fretted, coming closer and settling one hand on Keith’s back.

Keith swallowed to try and answer but his mouth felt suddenly dry. He then tried to nod but instead his head just wobbled in an odd circular motion. An odd sensation ran through him as if something was settled in his gut and was creeping from his belly and through his body, seeming to simultaneously chill him down while amplify the temperature of his blood to the point he swore he could feel it as it pumped through his veins. The dizziness became worse, the world becoming an odd blur of color and light, and he crumpled in on himself, one arm curling around his stomach while the other clutched at his head. He vaguely heard Coran calling out to him and rushing toward him before his consciousness slipped under an inky veil.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Pidge had been heading toward the hanger when she heard some kind of commotion starting up at the other end of the hallway. She spotted Hunk, looking concerned and uneasy, standing just inside the medical bay but halting in from of the curtain leading to Coran’s private research area. He’d designated the area as his own space with a sign posted – written in both Altean and English – on the door that read, in big, bold, blocky letters, “NO PIDGES OR HUNKS ALLOWED!!”, after the two had accidently botched up one of his experiments.

She had been expecting him to appreciate their help enough to forgive them for setting his moustache on fire. Some scientist he was.

“Hey, Hunk,” She said conversationally as she reached him, pausing when she heard unholy shrieking and Lance’s yowling coming from the other side of the curtain. She peered inside and blinked in confusion as she watched the shadow of her other teammate trying to placate a small form he was holding above his head that was thrashing about like a lunatic. “Um, what is that all about?” She asked, pointing to the spectacle and looking back at Hunk.

“Well, we saw Coran rushing out of here all frazzled and frantic… And when we offered to help he told us to stay out and that he would handle it himself… But after he left Lance got curious and went to see what he was hiding and… Well, he hasn’t been hanging in very well,” Hunk said nervously.

“Then why don’t you go help him?” She suggested. Lance howled in outrage as whatever he was dealing with got a handful of his hair and started yanking for all it was worth.

Hunk looked scandalized before indicating the sign. “I have respect for boundaries, thank you very much,” He huffed indignantly.

“My diary and I would beg to differ,” She quipped back before grabbing the edge of the curtain and tugging it aside with one fluid motion. Standing before her was Lance, struggling to control what seemed to be…

“Keith?”

The small child suddenly jerked to attention, eyes large as he looked between the two newcomers in a mix of apprehension and a touch of fear. The child was wearing a simply red shirt and some long tan pants but the messy black hair and deep violet eyes were dead giveaways to his identity. His tiny fists were still clenched in Lance’s hair.

“Oh, thank God, please get this wild beast off of me!” Lance whined, giving him a tug to try and dislodge him. This only caused the fear in his eyes to spark brighter and he squawked in protest, pulling at brunette’s locks still clutched in his grasp. Given the situation, she deduced that it had to actually be Keith; it had to be, however, a younger Keith with no memory of who the other Paladins were given how he was behaving with Lance. Well, that or he just really didn’t want Lance picking him up, but that seem like it. Another quick glance at his frightened eyes was all it took for her to piece together the answer; not hard to figure out, when you paid as much attention as she tended to.

Pidge walked over and reached toward him, standing on her tiptoes to be a bit closer to where Lance had him. “Keith, come to me, okay?” She said, doing her best to make her voice sound softer and warmer than normal. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going on with Keith’s mind – though she could reason his mind had digressed to match with his current form – but she figured to try her hand at getting him over to her. She and Keith had spent a good amount of bonding so, regardless of how many memories he had of his time as a Paladin, she would most likely have a better chance at calming him down than Lance since she had a better idea of how to engage with him.

He stared at her for a moment before nearly tossing Lance’s head from his grip and reaching toward her. Lance handed him over eagerly while Keith latched on to her like a koala bear, his arms looping around her neck and legs squeezing around her stomach as best he could. She rested one arm under the bottoms of his thighs to offer more support while the other settled on his back, between his shoulder blades, to begin rubbing to further calm him down. A low groan called her attention back to the set of blazing blue eyes glowering down at the small tot in her arms. “What was that all about?” He snapped, pointing an accusatory finger.

Keith shrunk a bit into her at the gesture, as if to hide, and she opted to keep the truth to herself. Why reveal a childhood fear of heights to Lance when he’d just use it for teasing later?

“He probably doesn’t like your face,” She said with an indifferent shrug.

Lance gasped and slapped a hand to his chest. “Excuse you! What is there to dislike about all of this magnificence?” He protested, gesturing in a wide circle to his head with his other hand.

“Chin is too pointy,” Keith suddenly chimed up, his voice soft but defiant. He was wearing the scowl they’d all grown accustom to seeing on him in their time as a team; though it read more as a pout when paired with his chubby baby cheeks.

The older boy gaped before leaning down right into Keith’s face. “My chin is not too pointy!” He snapped back, the skin of his cheeks darkening with a flush.

“Is too!”

“Is not!”

“Yeah huh!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh times ten!”

“Nuh uh times 100!”

“Yeah huh times infinity!” Keith all but screamed back, one hand clutching at Pidge’s shoulder while the other had dropped to form a fist at his side. He looked ready to straight up deck Lance in the face, which seemed like an awful idea. Though she doubted that Lance would actually hit Keith while he was a child – regardless of who threw first punch – she also didn’t think that getting up in his face and shouting was a good alternative. She glanced over Keith’s head at Hunk, then looked back at Lance quickly, and raised her eyebrows twice in quick succession.

Thankfully, her partner in tech crime seemed to understand the covert indications; he walked over and settled a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Come on, dude, no need to get up in his face. He’s like, what, three?” He asked.

“I’m three and a half!” Keith protested loudly, but his words lisped a bit for the ‘three’ came out sounding more like ‘twee’. It was then that Pidge noticed that he was missing his front left tooth.

Hunk held his other hand up defensively. “Okay, sorry, my bad, buddy,” He said gently. Keith let out a small huff, satisfied with the response, and flopped back against Pidge to rest his head against her shoulder. With the other calmed down he turned his attention back to Lance. “So, like, did Coran explain what was happening, exactly?” He asked.

“Tch, I wish!” Lance squawked back, flailing his arms to help illustrate his frustration.

Pidge rolled her eyes at his theatrics and looked down at Keith again, whom was looking back up at her. “Do you remember why you’re here?” She asked gently. He answered by shaking his head. “Do you remember who we are?” She asked, motioning to herself and the boys.

“Not a lot… I know that I like you. You’re good and safe,” He said, shifting to lean toward her ear, “but I dunno about the other one. He’s super mean.” Despite clearly aiming for a whisper, it came out more like a slightly softer conversational tone. She laughed while Lance grumbled under his breath.

“Well, maybe if you were nicer to him, he wouldn’t think you were super mean,” She hummed back, a smug grin on her lips. Keith followed her statement up with a sentiment of his own in the form of a raspberry. Hunk tried to hide his snorts behind a hand but it didn’t work, given how Lance switched his glare from Tiny Keith to the other. She then shifted and indicated Hunk. “What about that one? Is he super mean or is he good too?”

Dark eyes shifted from her to Hunk, who was now smiling and waggling his fingers at them. “He’s weird… but I like him, too, so he’s good,” He said with a nod of finality.

Pidge opened her mouth to speak just as they heard voices approaching from down the hallway. “Coran, what’s going on, exactly? Allura and I have the conference call with the Multarian leaders to discuss their joining the coalition,” Shiro said, his voice a touch tired and annoyed.

The three other Paladins exchanged concerned looks as Coran entered, walking backwards so he could address and guide their leader to the incident in question. “Now, look, I don’t think it will be hard for me to find out where my miscalculation was, so I should be able to get him back to normal relatively quickly. And if Zarkon is feeling generous we won’t be dealing with the Galra until this whole thing has been reversed! We just have to keep everyone else from finding out!” He beamed, turning around just before running right into Hunk.

They all stared at one another for a moment. It was oddly enough Keith who broke the silence to announce, “I’m hungry.”

They marched to the dining hall in silence, with Lance being sent to get Allura along the way, and Hunk got a plate of food goo. They found a few old Altean tech manuals to help boost Keith up high enough to reach the table, as there were no booster seats still in decent repair. Shiro and Coran were settled on either side of Keith, Pidge across from him, Lance and Hunk to Pidge’s right and left respectively, and Allura was positioned between Lance and Shiro. She cleared her throat lightly and indicated the toddler prodding suspiciously at the green glop. “Now, Coran, would you mind enlightening us with how this occurred, exactly?” She asked gently.

“Of course, Princess. Well, I was working on a new oral medicine to help heal broken bones and other such injuries. And, since Keith had just broken his arm, he agreed to be my test subject,” He said, reaching over to ruffle the mop of dark locks beside him.

Keith scowled and tried to wretch his head away, scooting as far away from the chuckling man as he could, then resumed poking at his plate with more vigor. Shiro reached over and gently smoothed his hair back down. “Keith, don’t play with your food,” He said calmly before turning his attention back to Coran. Keith’s nose wrinkled in distaste and he stared at the small spoonful of goo in his hand. “Was this even a plausible side effect?”

The other laughed nervously and twiddled one end of his moustache in thought. “Well, it wasn’t on my short list… See, the goal of the medicine was to sort of return the afflicted area to a recent point in time where the damage had yet to occur to minimize the after effects. It would be a temporary solution – would only repair the damage so that there would be enough time to get them proper treatment – but… Well, I certainly didn’t think this was what would happen. Initially it seemed to just be nausea and dizziness, so I thought that maybe that he was going to get physically ill, but then he start sweating and having trouble breathing… And then when I was preparing to throw him into a healing pod to flush the medicine from his system he started to shrink! And… Well, then he became like this,” He explained, his fiddling shifting from his moustache to his fingers as he spoke.

Keith glanced up at the mention of his name, looking from everyone else on the table, and paused when he and Pidge locked eyes. He still hadn’t taken a single bite of his goo. “That stuffs actually pretty tasty, buddy,” She said gently, hoping to reassure him. He looked back down wearily, then back at her, before finally seeming to give it a try. After his first bite, a little grin turned up on his lips and he started eating eagerly.

Allura’s brow knit in concern and she sighed. “Well, this certainly is an issue. What if the Galra attack like this? Does he even have enough memories to properly pilot Red Lion? And even if he does, would he be able to reach the controls?” She fretted.

“In regards to memories,” Pidge chimed in, “he doesn’t remember specifics; just general opinions. He knows that he feels safe and secure with us on the Castle Ship, but doesn’t seem to know the exact circumstances for why. As for piloting Red… I’m not sure if he remembers the Lions at all. And I doubt that Red Lion would let him in her cockpit while he’s so much smaller and vulnerable.”

“So Voltron’s out of the question for a while. Well, I guess this just gives us more reason to focus on getting Keith back to normal,” Shiro said, glancing down at the small child beside him. He was watching them all curiously, still shoveling goo in his mouth, but still as attentive and alert as he’d ever been. A fond smile quirked up on Shiro’s lips before he turned his attention back to the others. “Okay, what can we do to help you out?” He asked, attention turned to Coran again.

The older man hummed in thought. “Well, Pidge and Hunk could be helpful in looking over my calculations to see where I went wrong. If I can track down where my mixture went wrong, working backwards to find a solution would be a piece of Deglarberry pie!” He said enthusiastically. He then tapped his chin thoughtfully, glancing down at Keith again. “It then just becomes a question of what to do with Keith in the meantime. My work area is far from a place for children.”

“Well, perhaps Lance could-!”

“No,” Keith cut off Allura flatly. He pointed his goo-speckled spoon at the boy in question and shook his head. “I don’t like him.” And then he started licking the last remnants of goo from his spoon.

“Well, good, because I don’t like you either!” Lance shot back.

Keith’s head shot back up and he gawked, eyes starting to actually water, clearly wounded. “Lance,” Shiro said, low and warning. He reached down and gently patted the unruly mop of black hair. “Well, I could keep an eye on him.”

“Shiro,” Allura said, patient but also a bit worried, “we have the conference with the Multarian leaders. And the Multarian people are very strict about the safety and security of young ones; if they see Keith, they’ll assume that he belongs to someone on the ship and it could jeopardize the alliance. We are, after all, constantly under threat from the Galra.”

Grey eyes widened then glanced down, conflicted. Pidge waved one hand and whistled lightly. “Um, yeah, hi. I could look after him. I mean, he seems pretty okay with me and I’m sure he’d get a kick out of seeing the Lions. Little kids dig giant robots,” She suggested. She didn’t miss the sparkle that came to the indigo eyes settled across from her, shining as if she’d just promised him a room full of his favorite snacks and the abolishment of any bed time protocol.

“What? But, Coran requires your help,”

“If it’s just going over calculations and the equations used to mix the chemical components, I can do that from anywhere. Heck, it might even be easier to do from the hanger, since that’s where all my equipment and gear is set up,” She said with a shrug.

“I wanna see the giant robots!” Keith suddenly announced, squirming to stand on the very edge of the seat with his hands on the table. Shiro immediately grabbed him around the middle to keep him from slipping off the tiny edge left from the booster of tech manuals. Big, pleading eyes were squarely fixed on him. “Please? Can I please? I like giant robots a lot!” He all but whined, earning a chuckle from Pidge.

Shiro looked at Keith then back at Pidge. “You’re sure you can keep an eye on him? Little kids can get bored easily and I don’t want him wandering off and getting hurt or anything,”

Pidge flashed him the Garrison salute as she stood from her chair. “I guarantee no harm will befall the wee toddler Keef on the watch of the Green Paladin of Voltron,” She hummed happily.

“Okay. I trust you to keep an eye on him,” He said, releasing a sigh that was an odd mix of anxious and relieved, before plucking Keith off the seat and setting him on the ground. She waited for him at the other end of the table, grinning widely as he darted over to her as quickly as his little legs would let him. He skidded to a stop in front of her and held his arms up expectantly. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. “What’s up?” She asked.

“Carry me,” He said, pausing a beat before adding, “please.”

She laughed before leaning down and scooping him up, carrying him as she had before. “Only because you remembered to mind your manners, okay?”

He nodded and looked around the halls eagerly, much more enthused than he had been on the trip to the dining room. “Are they really giant robots?” He asked, breathless in his wonderment.

She grinned. “Well, they aren’t so much giant robots,” She trailed, her grin widening at the betrayed look that fell on his face, “as they are ginormous robots!”

“Ginormous?” He squawked, any trace of distrust erased, while leaning closer so that their noses were touching.

“Oh, yeah, they’re huge. And they combine to form an even bigger robot! And, if you behave yourself, maybe I can convince Shiro to let me take you for a ride in Green later,” She said, dropping her volume to a conspiratorial whisper at the last statement.

His smile was as bright as the sun at her words. He flopped into her shoulder and nuzzled in with a contented sigh. “This is why you’re my most favorite,” He mused.

“Oh? I am?” She asked in slight surprise. Keith admittedly spent time with her pretty regularly but more times than not he could be found training or relaxing with Shiro.

“Yup,” He said, shifting a bit in her arms to wrap his arms tighter around her neck. He rested his chin on her shoulder, completely relaxed, and hummed quietly. “You’re super smart and really funny and you’re always really nice to me. And I like your glasses cause they make your eyes all big and sparkly. You’re just the best.”

She smiled and shifted her grip to better support his weight with the adjustments he’d made. “Well, I’m glad cause you’re my favorite too,” She said happily, grinning wider when he giggled and burrowed into her from glee at the omission. It seemed that in his child-like state, he was more open and transparent with his feelings. While it was far from a confession, it made her happy to know he held such opinions about her.

Maybe her little crush wasn’t as silly as she’d thought.

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Oh my gosh i dont know which mute lance thing the other anon wanted you to continue but regardless of their answer can you make a part 2 of the other? I loved them both so much

They never got back to me so I’ll do both :) 

—

This is for the selective mute prompt

Read the first part! 

https://the-kittens-of-voltron.tumblr.com/post/159850131458/selective-mute-or-partially-nonverbal-lance

–

Lance kept counting in his head, controlling his breaths. He kept focusing on Shiro’s circles that were placed on his back through tentative rubs. 

In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8.

Lance felt his heartbeat slow down, he listened to the noises around him as his ears cleared of the blood that made everything sound underwater. 

In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8.

He started to feel calmer. He could hear everything clearly. He could feel Shiro’s touches more firmly. He could feel his heartbeat go a normal pace. 

In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8.

Lance looked around at his team. All of their faces expresses concern and slight confusion. Hunk was on the verge of tears and Coran was straight up crying. Nobody understood what really happened, but they all had their own variations of what they thought. 

In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8. In 4, hold 7, release 8.

Lance stopped counting and willed his voice to work. It took a few attempts of him just opening and closing his mouth. Nothing coming out, until a squeak. 

Lance cleared his throat and attempted again. “Sorry about that.” His voice was barely a whispered and cracked on the words. 

Everyone nearly missed what Lance said but knew that they heard the right words. 

Keith opened his mouth to speak but Shiro placed his free hand in the air silencing him. Shiro didn’t want to risk a fight breaking out between the two boys. 

He returned his attention to the Blue Paladins and chose his words carefully. “Lance, is everything okay?” 

Lance closed his eyes and thought about how he was going to explain what just happened to the group. He opened his eyes and turned towards Shiro “I’m fine. I sorta lost it for a second.” He attempted a smile. 

Nobody was convinced. 

Shiro attempted to stop Hunk from talking, but Hunk was his best friend he deserved to talk to Lance. “Why did you lose it? Did we do something bad? It everything okay? Do you need water?” Hunk shot questions at Lance like bullets in a battle. 

Lance shook his head. “No I just got anxious and I guess overstimulated? I’m not quite sure. But it became too much for me.” 

“What did?” Allura asked, she couldn’t help but be fascinated at how humans react to certain situations. 

“Everything,” Lance waved his hands in the air and gestured at the room. “The lights, the sounds, what was said, it was just too much. I just go anxious.” 

Shiro looked hard in thought as he processed what Lance was saying. “Does this happen often? Like you getting anxious and overstimulated?” 

Lance looked at the older paladin and exhaled. “Unfortunately yes. Anxiety runs in my family and I get it bad. So when I get anxious I clam up and my voice stops working. It happened a lot growing up. It hasn’t happened in awhile though.” 

Everyone processed the new information that they were told. 

“Well my boy,” Coran twirled his moustache “Just let us know what to avoid and we can avoid this whole situation all together.” 

Lance gave the older a smile, like a genuine smile “Okay, I can do that.” 

---

This is for the one where Lance stops talking

Read the first part!

https://the-kittens-of-voltron.tumblr.com/post/160068323513/you-should-write-some-mute-lance-whether-its-him

--

Lance and the aliens talked deep into the night. They were trading stories, flirting, jokes, you name it. 

Lance was having fun? He hadn’t had much as of lately. He knew why but what’s the point of talking when no one cares enough to listen. 

After a few hours the party was coming in an end. None of the paladin wanted it to end. Lance because he wanted to keep talking to his new “friend” and the others because they misses Lance's voice so much. 

They may have joked that Lance was annoying but they truly did miss his voice. Without everything was bland. Nothing had character or spirit to it. Lance brought a lot more to the team then just being the sharpshooter. 

However the party had to end since the castle would be leaving to another part of the galaxy. Everyone said their goodbyes and Lance may or may not of received a kiss. He wouldn’t give any details.  

However when all of the paladins retired to their room Lance was the only one that didn’t say goodnight. He simple waved and walked to his room. 

Everyone was shock, slightly pissed and confused. Lance just spent the entire evening talking to a stranger but he wouldn’t talk to his team. 

Nobody said anything, they just walked to their rooms and prayed that they would hear Lance tomorrow. 

-

By the time Lance strolled into the dinning room everyone was already eating and engaged in conversation. 

Lance gave everyone a warm smile and waved before sitting down next to the red paladin. 

Lance watched Coran start to bring a plate towards him, and he smiled again. “Goo again Coran?” 

Coran nearly dropped the plate but managed to place it on the table. “Um y-yes my boy. It’s very nutritious. It will help you grow strong.” 

Lance chuckled “Well thank you.” He placed the spoon his mouth, ignoring everyone stares.

-

Lance didn’t talk a lot but slowly he would say a sentence or two. 

-

“Keith watch out!” 

Keith almost had a heart attack as Lance shot at the training bot that was behind him. 

-

“Whoa that’s so cool!”

Pidge adjusted their glasses as Lance patted their back. 

-

“Hunk this is delicious!” 

Hunk fought back tears as he watched his friend devour his food. 

-

“Can I braid your hair one day?” 

Allura nearly screamed as Lance spoke directly behind her.

-

“Yeah, you were like my idol back on Earth. So of course I look up to you.” 

Shiro smiled as Lance smiled at him. 

-

It wasn’t much at first but after a few weeks Lance was back to his old self. The castle was lively again and everyone felt completely again. 

Hunk told everyone about Lance’s issue with being talked over and they carefully watched out to when they talked or anyone talked around Lance. They never wanted him to shut down like that again.

---

I hope you like them!

Sorry it took so long!!

Thank you

[darnedchild]

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 - Day Five

A/N:  With apologies to Laurie R. King and her book “The Beekeeper’s Apprentice”, from which I have shamelessly stolen the idea of traveling in a Vardo in pursuit of the bad guys.  I’m not completely happy with this, but I’ve run out of time and something is better than nothing, yes?  Also, still unbeta’d because hahaha who needs words to make sense?  Will go up on FF.net and Ao3 tomorrow.

ALSO - this is sort of a sequel to last year’s Sherlolly Appreciation Week fic “A Letter to Mary”.  You probably don’t need to read that one to figure out what is going on in this one, though.

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 – Day Five (Canon Compliant – The Abominable Bride)

Another Letter to Mary

My Dearest Mary,

I do not know when this letter will reach you.  Holmes has forbidden me from posting any missives home for the time being. We are traveling incognito; and he does not wish to offer any indication to overly curious eyes that we are in any way connected to the well-known detective stories.  If ever there was a wife who would understand the need for such discretion, it is you, my love.  

As you are aware, Holmes, Hooper and I are on the trail of a small band of murderous men. Another corpse was located in a small hamlet less than half-a-day’s ride from the initial murder.  Holmes suspects the man was in league with the thieves and was deemed a liability for one reason or another.  He thinks the men have begun to turn on one another.  

Speed and stealth are paramount, for Holmes feels more deaths are imminent if the blackguards become aware of our pursuit.  He believes they will be going to ground until such time as it will be safe to fence the item.    

As such, we have abandoned our conspicuous carriage and driver.  Holmes has managed to procure a Vardo—a sort of traveling wagon—from a Romani gentleman, as well as a horse to pull it, and three sets of simple clothing in exchange for a hefty sum.  They have made arrangements for the return of the wagon once our current mission has been fulfilled.  In addition, the man advised Holmes as to the best roads to travel upon and what small villages would be the most accepting of three strange men passing through.    

When next we set off, we were disguised as a set of brothers in route to visit our dear mother some far distance away.

The Vardo has a small cast-iron cooking stove and a pair of sleeping bunks, which removed our need to stop overnight at an inn.  We ride as long as the horse is able, then stop only long enough to allow the animal a few hours rest.  Holmes feels we are getting closer to locating the thieves with every passing day.

I am afraid that’s all the news I have regarding the progress of our case, my love. However, I feel there is something you may find of equal interest that I can begin to share with you.

The Vardo is adequate for our needs, but by necessity we are in quite close quarters. Hooper and I have endeavoured to maintain her secret from Holmes.  Food has been sparse and lacking in variety or flavour.  Concerns for cleanliness and hygiene have been met with the very minimum of concessions on Holmes’ part.

Until this morning.

Tempers had grown volatile, to the point that Hooper and Holmes spent nearly a quarter of an hour arguing as they hitched the horse before Holmes climbed up and took the reins and Hooper stormed into the wagon.  I thought it best to stay out of her way and let her work out her aggressions alone, therefore I joined Holmes.  He refused to speak for many a minute, before informing me that we would be stopping in another hour’s time.  I asked if there was another village ahead, and he said that was not the case.  There was, however, a small river.

I do not think I can adequately express what occurred when we arrived at the riverside in the confines of this letter.  Until I am able to share a recounting of the events with you face-to-face, I will leave it at this:  Holmes is very much aware that Doctor Hooper is a woman; and, unless I am mistaken, there will be a declaration of feelings forthcoming once we return to London.

I know you, my love, and you are already burning with the need for clarification, and I will appease your hunger for knowledge as soon as I am able.  Until then, not a word to M or anyone else.  

I do not know when I shall return.  As always, I hold your memory to my heart and dream of you whenever I close my eyes.

Your faithful husband,

John

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

“A river?  Are we meeting another of your informants out here?” Watson asked, bracing himself as the wagon rolled over a particularly deep hole.

“Nothing so interesting, Watson.  As Doctor Hooper so vehemently reminded me, we need to replenish our water supplies.  A short delay to rinse the grime out of our clothes will not set us back too far, I should think.”  Holmes continued to urge the horse forward, making an effort to guide it around the largest of the ruts in the road.

The allure of clean clothing and the possibility of a quick bath distracted Watson for most of the journey to the river.  It wasn’t until Holmes brought the wagon to a stop beneath the trees along the riverbank that Watson began to realize the predicament Doctor Hooper was about to face.

Holmes leaned back to smack the flat of his hand against the wagon door twice, then jumped down and set about unhitching the horse and unslinging the steps from the back of the Vardo.

Hooper opened the door moments later.  “Why have we stopped?”

“The river.”  Watson nodded toward the slow-moving water visible between the tree trunks.  

“Do we need to cross it?” Hooper asked, confused.

Holmes dropped the laddered steps in front of the wagon and quickly latched them to the footboard.  “You said you wanted fresh water to scrub your clothes and bathe, Hooper.”  He waved his arm toward the river with a mocking flourish.  “There you are.  Cleanse yourself.”  

Then he bounded up the steps and pushed past Hooper into the wagon.

“Surely he doesn’t mean to-to . . . in the river, out in the open, where anyone could come upon us!”  Hooper’s voice rose dangerously close to a feminine tone. She quickly snapped her mouth shut and glared into wagon.

“I mean that very thing,” Holmes replied.  He reappeared in the doorway with a bundle of cloth.  “Do hurry, Doctors.  I don’t intend to tarry for long.”  

By the time Watson had gathered his shaving kit and several articles of clothing he wished to rinse, Hooper had made an effort to do the same.  They approached the riverbank to find that Holmes had used the soap from his own grooming kit to work up a lather and was already rinsing his spare shirt.

The water was cool and refreshing, and Watson would have given his entire portion of their planned lunch of cheese and bread for chance to undress and wade into it.  He cast a glance toward Hooper and wondered if there were anyway to persuade her to take a walk without arousing Holmes’ suspicions.  

She looked up and briefly met his eyes before her own slid to the man behind him and widened in shock.  A fiery blush turn the cheeks above her moustache painfully red, and her mouth formed a nearly inaudible gasp.  Even without looking, Watson knew that Holmes had done something completely and utterly improper.

With a deep breath, Watson turned with a rebuke already upon his lips, only to become paralyzed in horror at the sight of a barefoot Holmes stripping off articles of clothing without a care to the world.  He was bare from the waist up, bracers hanging off his hips, and reaching for the fastening of his trousers before Watson could find his voice.  “Holmes!”

Thankfully the other man’s hands stilled before he could do more than slip the button free.  “Yes, Watson?” he asked in all innocence.

“What are you doing, man?” Watson hissed.  His first inclination was to insert himself between Holmes and Hooper, to make sure the poor woman wasn’t exposed to any more of Holmes’ exhibitionism; but he did not think Hooper would welcome his interference.

“I should think that would be obvious, even to you.” Holmes inclined his head toward the water.  “I intend not to waste the resources nature has provided for us.  I am covered in dust and grime and the river is here, the solution seems apparent to me.  Would you not agree, Hooper?”

Watson heard her sputter out something that could have been interpreted as agreement.  Then she excused herself for a moment, stood with her recently rinsed and still dripping garments clutched to her chest, and hurried toward the Vardo as if the very hounds of hell were at her heels.

As soon as she was inside the wagon, Watson turned back to his friend with a stern look.  There was nothing else for it, he would have to reveal Hooper’s secret.  “Holmes, I really must protest.  There is something you need to know-“

“I am already aware of the matter of which you wish to enlighten me.”

Watson huffed, incredulous.  “I do not think you are.”

Holmes finished undressing, forcing Watson to turn away or risk becoming for more well acquainted with his friend than he cared to. “If you are about to inform me that Doctor Hooper is not what he appears to be . . . I am already aware.”

“But you never!  Not a word!  How long have you known?” Watson sputtered.  A quick glance assured him that Holmes had walked deep enough into the river that the water rose to his chest when he knelt.

“Since the first time he spoke with true aggravation in my presence.  Perhaps ten minutes into our acquaintance.  Hooper’s mannerisms were odd, but easily dismissible as merely that of an effeminate gentleman.  However, the lower register that Hooper routinely uses was momentarily absent.  It was quite clearly the voice of a woman berating me for some infraction.  One that must have been particularly heinous, judging from the scolding I received.”

“You keep saying ‘he’, Holmes.”  Watson looked longingly toward the water.  It did appear rather inviting.

"Why wouldn't I when we are discussing the Hooper who is employed at St Bartholomew's?  That Hooper is very clearly a man.  That's how he chooses to present himself professionally, which are the only times we have had occasion to interact, and the man is extremely competent at his job.  What business is it of mine to contradict him simply because of what may or may not be hidden in his trousers?"

"Holmes!"  Watson glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone.

"For God's sake, man, you're a doctor.  Stop acting as if you are my spinster maiden aunt. To the world, Hooper is a male, and I have made considerable effort to respect that.  Even if my own thoughts have been known to play havoc with my good intentions."  Holmes dunked his head under the water to thoroughly wet his hair, then stood up and began to wade toward the riverbank.

"If you were aware that Hooper was a . . ."  Watson lowered his voice to a loud, hissing whisper.  "A woman, then what was that earlier display about?"

Finally—Finally!—Holmes had the decency to look slightly abashed.  "I have long been stimulated by Hooper's intelligence, his provoking nature, his ability to hold his own against me in a battle of words.  Of late, however, I have begun to notice stirrings of a less . . . cerebral nature during some of our more heated exchanges."

"Are you saying that you're a, well, a homosexual?" Watson whispered once again as Holmes bent to pick up his drawers.  Not that it would alter their friendship as far as Watson was concerned, but Holmes would have to tread lightly if he wished to act upon his inclinations without being accused of a criminal act by someone wishing to discredit him in the eyes of the law.

"Have we not just established that I have been aware that Hooper has been masquerading as a man the entire time I have been working with him?  Clearly, it is not simply a matter of a preference for one sex or the other.  I told you, Watson, it was his mind that first drew me.  Then other little details began to find root in my thoughts.  The size and delicacy of Hooper's hands, the graceful line of her pale throat.  More and more I found myself wondering what her hair would look like when released from her wig, the shape of her lips without the obstruction of Hooper's mustache."  He looked away for a moment and Watson thought he was going to draw into himself, but Holmes surprised him.  "I finally understood that I wished to get to know the woman behind the doctor, to see if she truly was everything I'd begun to imagine."

"And that was?"

Holmes finished stepping into his trousers, and reached for his shirt.  "Intelligent, practical, strong, graceful."

All fine qualities that Holmes would find important in a mate, Watson knew. But there were others that were equally important, surely.  "What of attraction, Holmes?"

"I won't lie and pretend that her physical appearance won't have a bearing in my intentions, the difference between platonic affection and something more.  But the same could be true on her part.”  He slid his arms into the shirt sleeves and began to fasten the buttons.  “I may not have the sort of countenance that she would prefer in a potential paramour."

"And the peacock display?" Watson asked.

“An experiment.”  Now Holmes flushed.  "If there was no sign of reciprocal attraction on Hooper's part, then I would be able infer any overtures of a romantic or . . . physical nature would be unwelcomed.  I could therefore spare us both the embarrassment of presuming too much when I finally approached her to extend the hand of friendship."

"Why didn't you just ask?  Hooper, I mean.  Why bother with this highly improper ruse?"  More importantly, Watson thought, why did he have to be present when Holmes decided to expose his arse to the gaze of God and Nature.

Holmes started at him if Watson had said something particularly disappointing.  "Think it through.  If I approached Hooper at St Bartholomew's or her residence, without first ascertaining if there was an inkling of shared interest, then I would be putting a strain on our professional . . ."  He struggled for the correct term.

"Relationship,” Watson offered.

"Not necessarily the term I would have chosen, but adequate.  At best Hooper would be aware that I knew of her deception; and no matter how sincere my assurances that I would not turn her in, there would always be the sword of Damocles hanging over her head.  Which would be preferable to the worst scenario, in which Hooper might see my overture as an extortion attempt, and feel obligated to pretend affection in order to maintain her current lifestyle."

"I still do not see how that required you to remove every stitch of your clothing in front of someone you know to be a woman, regardless of her current form of dress."  

Holmes looked to the heavens as if searching for patience.  "If Hooper exhibited no sign of interest in my 'display'—as you so charmingly put it—then there would be no reason to risk alerting her that I am now, and always have been, aware of her true nature.  I would have been disappointed, I admit, but Hooper is the best pathologist I've had the opportunity to work with and I have no desire to intentionally ruin that."

"Is this about risking the loss of your sparring partner at the morgue, or risking your heart without first hedging your bet?  She may not be the only one uncomfortable with continuing as before if your attraction is not returned."  As brilliant as Holmes was, he did have an awful habit of overlooking the obvious when it came to his own emotions.

"I have been reliably informed that I do not have a heart. Watson.” Holmes shook his head as he slipped his bracers over his arms and into place.  “You of all people should know that.”

"I, of all people, am the one who knows just how large of a heart you possess, and how strongly it beats for those you hold dear.”  Watson saw through his friend’s defences easily.  “Did you so quickly forget the extent of your efforts to remind me of all I was to lose if I couldn't see past the red haze of anger I felt when I learned of Mary's adventures for your brother?"

"That was different.  That was Mary."

"And this is . . .”  Watson trailed off with a frown.  “What is Hooper's given name?"

"The medical license is issued to Milton Hooper, but I feel it safe to assume that wasn't the name she was christened with."  Holmes looked pensive.  “If I could find out where she was born, I might be able to locate her birth records . . .”

"What was all this about, then, if not a matter of the heart?"  Watson's expression hardened.  "I will not stand by and let you comprise-"

"Watson!” Holmes snarled.  “I am not going to continue this line of questioning with you."

"Holmes.  Sherlock.   I've only one last inquiry.  In all the years that I have known you, you have only expressed more than a passing interest in one other person-"

Holmes looked utterly horrified.  "Who?!"

Watson gave him a pointed look, then glanced down to where Holmes’ pocket watch would normally rest.  Holmes remained stubbornly silent.  "If you have had an interaction of a romantic nature-"

"Do you mean a sexual nature, Watson?  Because that seems to be what you are attempting to imply in a ridiculously indirect way."  The detective bent down and snatched up his boots, before glaring at his friend.

"I said romantic and that is what I meant.”  Watson held out his arm to keep Holmes from walking away.  “Are you sure this is what you want, that it isn't just an entertainment to fill the time between cases?"

Holmes bit back whatever snide comment had been about to slip from his lips and took a deep, calming breath.  He looked toward the Vardo, then back to Watson and nodded his head.  “This is what I want.  She is what I want.  If her friendship is all that Hooper wishes to grant me, then I shall accept it with all the grace that God has granted me.  Which is, I concede, not much.  However, I have reason to believe there shall be more between her and I than merely friendship.”

“And what brought you to that conclusion?”  Watson hoped his friend was correct, and that it wasn’t just the other man’s overblown ego making itself known.

Holmes nodded toward the small curtained window on the side of the wagon. “Hooper spent quite a long time raptly peeking out of that window while I was undressed.  If you wouldn’t mind giving us a small measure of privacy, I believe the good doctor and I have something we need to discuss.”  He set off for the wagon, then stopped before he reached the steps.  “A mere two minutes’ walk up the bank would ensure that no one bathing in the river could be seen from the Vardo, if one were so inclined.”

Watson watched Holmes enter the wagon, and waited to make sure Hooper wasn’t going to come storming out.  He laid out his newly washed clothing over several tree branches to dry in the sun, then took his shaving kit and began to whistle as he walked up the riverbank.