magique (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whatevermortal) wrote2015-02-15 05:50 pm
whatevermortal) wrote2015-02-15 05:50 pm
Entry tags:
Fanmix: "Watch Our Bed Burn" (Angela/Nanette)
Angela/Nanette, because why not ship the adult versions of characters from your childhood. Why not. It doesn't feel weird at all.
DEV Take Her From You
Florence and the Machine Kiss with a Fist
The Distillers Dismantle Me
Letters to Cleo I Want You to Want Me
Ludo Love Me Dead
Joan Jett I Hate Myself for Loving You
The Coral Dreaming of You
Ida Maria I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked
Anarbor I Hate You So Much
Florence and the Machine Kiss with a Fist
The Distillers Dismantle Me
Letters to Cleo I Want You to Want Me
Ludo Love Me Dead
Joan Jett I Hate Myself for Loving You
The Coral Dreaming of You
Ida Maria I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked
Anarbor I Hate You So Much
I'm pretty sure I shipped Angela & Nanette before Ii even knew what shipping was. I can remember watching Angela Anaconda as a kid and thinking that Angela was a bit obsessed with Nanette (looking back, 90% of her hate-fantasies were tying Nanette up and watching her beg so, yeah, I can see Angela growing up being kinky af). I always loved it when they had to pretend to like each other or were forced to cooperate for some reason.
I actually have this really involved Inception AU concept that I want to write too. Like, ok, Angela is the extractor. She's got a bit of experience as an architect as well, so for cake runs she's enough, but on bigger jobs they have to call in Nanette, who is the best in the business. She defs has the French accent still, but it's to disguise her actual Southern-American accent & keep her parents safely out of the picture. Oh yo also in my headcanon, Angela is defs an aromantic & grey-ace lesbian, and Nanette is bi.
Gina is on point, because she's smart and competent and just generally a thousand times more sensible a person than Angela. Johnny can be the forger, but probs nooooot an amazing one lbr. And Gordie is the chemist.
Nanette’s gone by the next morning, checked out and vanished before Angela’s even woken up. They don’t need her for the extraction itself, but she usually stays in case they need to go over any last minute details. Instead, a manila envelope with Angela Anaconda in Nanette’s precise cursive on the front and a sheaf of notes inside was handed to concierge. At the top of the first page Nanette had written, Everything you might need.
Gina gives Angela a deeply suspicious look when she sees it, but she makes no effort to corner Angela and question her until the extraction is over and they’re well-clear with two million dollars burning a hole in their collective pocket.
They take the Eurail from Zurich to Berlin where Angela has a flight booked back to the States and Gina to somewhere in Asia. Gina’s always been vigilant about them not knowing where the rest of the team hides out while they wait for the dust to settle after each job.
Angela had been looking forward to staying with her parents for a few weeks—she hasn’t seen them for almost a year—but now the prospect of their probing, curious questions and sleeping in a room that hasn’t changed since she was fifteen leaves her cold. It’s probably the better choice of that and returning to her safe house in Brooklyn, but it’s so much easier to feel sorry for yourself in an empty apartment stocked up with booze than in your childhood home with your shithead brothers who never moved further than down the block giving you noogies every chance they get.
Johnny and Gordie disappear at the first and second connections respectively. Only Gordie lingers over the goodbyes, for all that Gina notices.
They’re alone in their compartment, closing in on Berlin when Gina says, “So what did you do that lost us the best architect we’ve ever worked with?”
Angela looks away, because anything she’s willing to say would be a token protest; Gina will get it out of her even if it means half-drowning her in one of the sinks in the ladies bathroom at the airport.
“Angela,” Gina says, a little softer, a little more kindly, and Angela must be weak because, just like that, she yields.
“I might have—been in her room the other night,” Angela says, which doesn’t even begin to cover it.
From Gina’s expression though, it’s enough and it isn’t as much of a surprise to her as it was to Angela. “Oh, Angela,” is all she says.
“How did you know? How did—I didn’t even know!”
“Why did you think Johnny stopped flirting with her?”
Because he realised she’s awful, Angela wants to say, sarcastic, but all that comes out is, “He—I—she,” like she’s a broken radio.
“He was afraid you’d throw him off a building,” Gina says, taking pity on her. “In real life.”
“He was not!” Angela protests, horrified.
Gina raises her brows and, okay, yes, there’d been a while there when Angela’s projections had been a little more vicious with Johnny than anyone else. But that didn’t. That wasn’t.
“Nanette’s going to be in Saint-Étienne for the next two weeks,” Gina says. “If you want me to work with you again, you’ll change flights and sort this out.”
“I don’t,” Angela tries. “But I. Gina.”
Gina passes her a slip of paper with 8 Place Jean Jaurès, 42000 Saint-Étienne and WED 20/4 3p scrawled across it. “Le Nota Bene,” she says. “She needs to be paid.”
Gina gives Angela a deeply suspicious look when she sees it, but she makes no effort to corner Angela and question her until the extraction is over and they’re well-clear with two million dollars burning a hole in their collective pocket.
They take the Eurail from Zurich to Berlin where Angela has a flight booked back to the States and Gina to somewhere in Asia. Gina’s always been vigilant about them not knowing where the rest of the team hides out while they wait for the dust to settle after each job.
Angela had been looking forward to staying with her parents for a few weeks—she hasn’t seen them for almost a year—but now the prospect of their probing, curious questions and sleeping in a room that hasn’t changed since she was fifteen leaves her cold. It’s probably the better choice of that and returning to her safe house in Brooklyn, but it’s so much easier to feel sorry for yourself in an empty apartment stocked up with booze than in your childhood home with your shithead brothers who never moved further than down the block giving you noogies every chance they get.
Johnny and Gordie disappear at the first and second connections respectively. Only Gordie lingers over the goodbyes, for all that Gina notices.
They’re alone in their compartment, closing in on Berlin when Gina says, “So what did you do that lost us the best architect we’ve ever worked with?”
Angela looks away, because anything she’s willing to say would be a token protest; Gina will get it out of her even if it means half-drowning her in one of the sinks in the ladies bathroom at the airport.
“Angela,” Gina says, a little softer, a little more kindly, and Angela must be weak because, just like that, she yields.
“I might have—been in her room the other night,” Angela says, which doesn’t even begin to cover it.
From Gina’s expression though, it’s enough and it isn’t as much of a surprise to her as it was to Angela. “Oh, Angela,” is all she says.
“How did you know? How did—I didn’t even know!”
“Why did you think Johnny stopped flirting with her?”
Because he realised she’s awful, Angela wants to say, sarcastic, but all that comes out is, “He—I—she,” like she’s a broken radio.
“He was afraid you’d throw him off a building,” Gina says, taking pity on her. “In real life.”
“He was not!” Angela protests, horrified.
Gina raises her brows and, okay, yes, there’d been a while there when Angela’s projections had been a little more vicious with Johnny than anyone else. But that didn’t. That wasn’t.
“Nanette’s going to be in Saint-Étienne for the next two weeks,” Gina says. “If you want me to work with you again, you’ll change flights and sort this out.”
“I don’t,” Angela tries. “But I. Gina.”
Gina passes her a slip of paper with 8 Place Jean Jaurès, 42000 Saint-Étienne and WED 20/4 3p scrawled across it. “Le Nota Bene,” she says. “She needs to be paid.”