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wisewidow · 4 years ago

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Cloudy With A Chance Of Assassination

PAIRING: Yelena Belova x Reader

SUMMARY: My new girlfriend takes meeting the relatives to a whole new level.

It's cloudy up ahead, but patches of sunlight leak through certain gaps like chinks in the sky's armour, and a warm silver lines the clouds as the sun sets behind them. There are no pink or orange hues in the sunset this cloudy evening, just tinted blue and cream with grey mountains in the distance and muted coloured trees at their bases. I have one hand on the wheel of the car Yelena and I just bought together, a sleek black Fiesta, and the other on my partner in crime's thigh. She has her window rolled down, the high speed we're going at blowing her golden hair everywhere. I drum my fingertips along the wheel as an upbeat song starts to play.

She's lost in the clouds, I can tell. I ask her if she's imagining pictures out of the white puffs, but either the roaring wind at one ear or the song at her other is blocking her from hearing my words.

I squeeze her thigh. She smacks my hand and glances sideways at me, mossy green eyes playful. I allow myself a single glance before looking back at the road. "I asked what you're seeing in the clouds."

She turns the radio dial down. "What?"

I snort. "Nevermind."

"You wanted attention?"

I flip her the bird, earning a boisterous laugh from her. "You were!"

I mimic her accent in a high-pitched voice. "You were totally like, give me attention! Because I'm Yelena Belova and I'm so special!"

"I don't sound like that," she objects. "You once said, and I quote, 'your voice is deep and sexy, like if a dressage horse could speak.'"

I frown. "I don't remember that. Was I drunk?"

"You were trying to outdrink me."

"Oh. Were you cheating? I don't black out that easily."

"No, I wasn't. And yes, you do."

I grumble and turn the radio up again. She hums along to the song, Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys. We drive until the sun goes down, or at least until I notice her energetic nature die down like a used battery. I search up the nearest motel on my phone and by the time I've pulled in, she's asleep.

I switch the engine off and relax into my seat. I allow myself a few seconds to admire the girl beside me.

I met her through a friend of mine, who lived in the apartment beside hers. I'd visit frequently, and she noticed and eventually grew tired of me oggling her everytime I passed her on the way out. So she coerced me into drinking too much red wine and then sent me over to her door, drunk and giggling.

I didn't know much about her past. She's from Russia, and she sometimes jokes that she's actually a trained assassin. She grew up in a foster home, got close with a girl named Natalia, who ended up living in the Big Apple as a high school teacher with a husband who renovates houses. She calls her every other week before bed, I think, when I spend the night and she thinks I'm asleep. I never hear what they're saying, but I enjoy falling into slumber listening to the soft hum of her voice through the plaster walls.

I admire her small, round, button nose, the even slope of her jawline, her long lashes that brush against her subtly tanned skin. We've only been dating for two months, but I'm positive I'm im love with her. We haven't exchanged those words yet, though. The car is actually our first and only big step.

I gently shake her shoulders to wake her up, and she grumbles sleepily as she shifts and peeks up at me. "Where are we?"

"Motel. Didn't feel like driving home. Come on, lazy bones, let's get you a pillow."

Once we're settled in a room, stripped of jeans and bras so we're just wearing shirts and underwear, I drift off with my head on her shoulder and my hand wrapped around her stomach.

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the dried drool in the corner of my mouth. I don't think much of it other than the teasing I'd endure in the morning when Yelena finds out I drooled on her.

I pull her closer and then frown.

I am holding a pillow.

My girlfriend is not said pillow.

I rub my eyes and sit up. It's still dark outside, and the clock on my phone reads three in the morning. I scan the room for her figure, but I can't see her silhouette lingering in any of the shadowed corners. I frown and push the duvet off of my body, shivering slightly as I maneuver around the bed and into the bathroom.

No sign of her.

I'm starting to get worried.

Quickly, I grab my jeans — at least I think they're mine — and force my legs through them. I slip my phone in my pocket and head to the door.

It's locked, which doesn't make sense, because my current assumption that Yelena had gone out for a quick smoke would mean that she wouldn't have gone far enough to warrant locking the door.

I swallow down the bad feeling in my gut and step outside.

The upper wrap-a-round level of the motel showed no people in sight. I head to the stairs and down to the front desk, where a young man with purple streaks in his hair sits, droopy-eyed and scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" I ask tentatively, rubbing the goosebumps off my arms. I hadn't brought my jacket.

His eyes flick up to meet mine. "Sir? You're friendlier than your girlfriend."

"I'm assuming you mean the blonde, very pretty, homicidal-looking woman I came in with?"

He sighs, turning his phone down. "Look, this is a motel. Things like this happen a lot. My advice is to run before the wife sees you."

I stare at him blankly.

He stares back.

"Uh, what?"

"A tall redheaded woman came by, stole your girl for a talk. They were squabbling about you. I assumed . . . oh. You didn't know. Well, who knows, could be a relative or something."

My heart hammers against my ribcage wildly. I have to keep reminding myself that Yelena loves me, that she wouldn't cheat on me, or cheat on anyone else with me, or . . . I feel myself becoming pale. Her scars, I'd never thought much of them, but with her mysterious past, and this mysterious paramour? She was running away from the woman who had now found her.

"Where did they go?" I demand, anger rushing through my veins.

He shakes his head, looking sympathetic. "I've seen this play out before, trust me when I say you don't want to confront—"

"Tell me where they went or I will make you swallow your own fist."

He recoils. "Christ, fine, they're in the parking lot. For the record, I hope you get a good slappin'!"

I speed walk out of the motel and around the back, adrenaline rushing. I stop when I spot two figures under a streetlight by my car, one taller and waving her arms around as she speaks and the other, unmistakably my Yelena, glaring up with her arms crossed.

I march over to them. Their heads snap in my direction almost immediately. The redheaded woman pulls out a gun and aims it at me.

I yelp and freeze, hands up in surrender. Yelena yells something in Russian and smacks the weapon out of her hands before rushing towards me. "(Y/N), what are you doing?"

"We're leaving," I say, completely freaked out. "Right now. You run, tell the guy in the office to call 911. I'll fight her off."

"What? No! (Y/N), this is my sister! She's just paranoid."

I gape at her. "I thought she was a science teacher!"

"I told you we should have met somewhere else," the redhead hisses.

Yelena spits back in Russian.

"No, no Russian! Explanation, now!" I turn to the woman. "You're Natalia?"

"Natasha."

"Okay, Natasha the science teacher who owns a gun, what are you doing here?"

Her lips tighten into a fine line. "I'm not a science teacher, I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I wasn't expecting Yelena to have company when I came here to drag her back home."

Yelena starts spurting more angry Russian words that mean nothing to me as I try to process what's happening. The two sisters argue for a solid two minutes while I decide I must be dreaming.

The lies. The scars. The mystery. The jokes about being an assassin.

This is a living nightmare.

I turn and walk away.

Yelena calls out, "(Y/N)! Wait!"

I don't stop until I've reached our room, where I promptly grab my jacket and bra and shove them in my bag.

"(Y/N), don't leave," Yelena begs when she catches up, blocking the doorway with her body. "Let me explain, love, please."

"Get out of my way," I snap.

She doesn't flinch, doesn't turn around as she closes the door and backs up against it as if to provide another barrier between me and the world she's trying to hide.

"Yelena," I warn.

"Let me explain," she pleads.

I stare her down, but she doesn't seem to be budging any time soon. I drop my bag on the floor and sit on the bed with my arms crossed, glaring at her. "Fine. Enlighten me."

She slowly eases away from the door. "I didn't lie to you about everything. I'm one hundred percent Russian, and I consider Natalia to be my sister, and we did grow up together. But we were trained together, too. As assassins."

"Fuck," I mutter.

She kneels down in front of me. "I got away from that life, I swear. And I met you and everything after that was the realist thing I'd ever had. I really love video games, and I really love your pancakes, and I really, really love you."

My glare softens.

"Even if you can't cook," she says.

I give her a semi-playful, semi-annoyed shove.

"You said be honest, don't hit me!"

I stand up and pace the room nervously. This time, she sits down on the bed. I mutter under my breath, gnawing on my thumbnail, until, finally, I sit down beside her.

"Okay, deal breaker. Do you know Captain America?"

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova x you #florence pugh #wlw x reader #marvel wlw #marvel x reader #florence pugh x reader

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misscampacyn · 4 years ago

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Imagine you are a new DEA agent working with Javier Peña and Steve Murphy.

Note: While I was writing this story, I was think of how females are treated differently in certain jobs. Like the equal pay for woman, and the other stuff that is still happening to women (for the purpose of this imagine). The show Narcos is happening in the 80s-90s and I am 100% sure on how female in law enforcement were treated. Also, I have no idea if what is depicted in this story is factual take it as a fictional story to sit back and enjoy. Ok so I’ll let you start reading hope you didn’t exit out.

At the airport you were greeted by Steve Murphy. You were the rookie in Colombia, but you were a good agent, hence why you were brought to help the war against Pablo Escobar.

“I should warn you Peña is a hard ass.”

“I’m used to men like him.”

“Want me to drop you off your apartment, get some rest or do you want to go to the embassy?”

“Embassy I feel like I have to show my dominance to this Peña,”

“Careful he might want to get you to bed.”

Once at the embassy Murphy led you to your new work area where a man sat typing away.

“Peña this is agent (Y/LN).”

Javier looks up and sizes you up, looking over your figure. He did not speak only grabbed his cigarette from the ash tray.

“Is that all you do? Smoke? No wonder you haven’t gotten Escobar,” you mock.

“Y tú puedes hacerlo mejor?” [and you can do better]

“Por supuesto que si, yo no vengo para pendejadas. Yo vengo por Escobar.” [Of course I’m not here for bullshit I’m here for Escobar]

Murphy frowns, “you know Spanish too?”

You look over at the blonde, “you don’t?”

“No”

“You should get some classes; you can’t be walking around Colombia with a language barrier.”

Murphy smiles at your advice not taking any offense by it, “I like you.”

You just shake you head and turn to look at Peña. ��What do you have so far?”

Peña raises his eyebrow and throws a file towards you. You read over the minimal information and drop it back on his desk.

“You have jack.”

“We were told you were a good agent back in Mexico work your magic,” says Murphy.

“What have you two be doing to get information so far?”

“Informant. Prostitutes the Narcos sleep with,”

“Let me guess Peña screws them and then gets the information.”

Javier stands up and walks towards you, “how did YOU get information in Mexico?”

“We went undercover, got close to them.”

Murphy steps closer to you and Javier, “That’ll get you killed.”

“As long as we get the info we need, I am willing to become a narco.”

Javier glances over your face with a deep frown. Steve pushes Javier a it away from you.

“We can’t go undercover here; they’ll know your American. Probably have us all on file.”

“We’ll need to blend in with the locals. They’ve interacted with the so-called robin hood. They won’t talk to DEA agents, but we aren’t going in as agents.”

Javier frowns, “how are we going in?”

“Star-eyed tourists. Don’t worry Peña I’ll do all the leg work; you can stay here and type away.”

Murphy chuckles at your jab.

“I’m going to my apartment get my stuff settled and get ready to work, see you two later.”

You leave to the embassy and call for a cab.

Steve look over at Javier, “She’s good.”

“She’s going to get killed. This isn’t Mexico this is fucking Colombia.”

“I’m sure she knows that.”

A couple of hours later you were back to the office a wearing a stereotypical tourist outfit. Steve nodded impressed.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going you two stay.”

Javier speaks up, “you’re not going alone, you don’t know Bogota you’ll get killed.”

“Are you worried agent? We’re only just met; besides I’m not going far, I’ll leave breadcrumbs.”

You leave the two men and go on your own to see what information you could get.

The next morning you arrive at the office to find both men sitting at their desks. Murphy greets you instantly, “how’d it go? did you get any info?”

“Good morning. Not much but I found out Escobar turns up once in a while with his henchmen and gives people money. He never goes to the same place, but people know where he’ll be because a crowd that form around them.”

Javier folds his arms over his chest and scoffs, “so you got nothing? your leg work was for nothing.”

“I got information without fucking anyone.”

“See now that is probably what you need.”

“Really getting laid improves your mood? Seems to be working for you pendejo!” [asshole/ dumbass]

Steve looks at Javier amused, “she’s got a point.”

The rest of the day the three of you answered calls on any Escobar sightings. At the end of the day you three walked out of the embassy, and you start to walk home.

“Who where are you going?” asks Murphy.

“Going home.”

“Peña and I usually go for drinks after work. We also carpool to and from work. We live in the same building. Join us.”

You look over at the impatient man behind Murphy, “nah, I’ll walk home see you tomorrow.”

Murphy looks over at Javier who just shrugs and enters the drivers seat.

“Look its not safe for a girl to walk alone at night.”

“Good think I’m not a girl Murphy.”

“That’s not what I… not what I meant. Look let us drop you off at least.”

“Will it get you off my back?”

“Yes”

“Fine but only this once.”

You enter the backseat and close the door. As promised you are dropped off at the building.

“You sure you don’t want to join us for drinks?”

“I’m sure, thanks for the ride.” You get out and walk into the building. You go reach your apartment and start to search for your keys. A blonde woman approaches you,” do you speak English?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god, I’m Connie. Do you know Spanish I need someone to translate these instructions for me.”

You grab the package and translate the instructions.

“I didn’t get you name.”

“It’s (Y/N)(YLN).”

“You’re… DEA.”

You frown but nod.

“I thought so, Steve told me about you. He told me you went toe to toe with Peña.”

“I’ve faced worse. I’d rather encounter a thousand Peñas over meeting killers like Escobar.”

Connie nods understanding.

“It’s good to now Steve has you and Peña watching his back.”

“Your Murphy’s wife?”

Connie nods.

“I’ll try to keep him safe for you.”

The next morning when you arrive to your desk there was a steaming coffee and a chocolate muffin sitting next to it. You frown and look up and find Steve smiling at you.

“Connie told me you helped her with something.”

“She asked me to.”

“Well you didn’t have to.”

“You brought me coffee?”

“Yup, we’re partners.”

You smile at the man and take a sip of the hot coffee, “thank you.”

Just like that you knew that you were accepted at least by Murphy. Javier was a different story, and you seemed to clash. The seasoned agent needed a bit more time to see what you were made of, and he hoped you didn’t get yourself killed.

GUYS!! I didn’t know that Pedro Pascal was in a Sia music video I was shocked when I went into my YouTube Music and saw him in the thumbnail. This is the link if you haven’t seen in: https://youtu.be/fNdeLSKSZ1M

#Pedro Pascal #narcos #javier peña imagine #agent murphy #agent pena #agent javier peña #netflix #fanfiction #fandom

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ohmygarlands · 4 years ago

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Just a Memory

Gene’s body moved fluidly, rocking back and forth over his wife as they made love. The warm light on the bedside table illuminated Betsy beautifully, and he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on hers. It had been weeks since they were intimate. Gene enlisted in the Naval Air Service and was stationed in D.C. He would come home on a pass when he could depending on whether or not he was needed. In many ways, the time apart wound up strengthening his relationship with Betsy. They had hit troubled waters a while back when Judy had entered their lives:

While filming For Me & My Gal, it was widely speculated among gossip columns - which didn’t take long to reach the people they knew - that Judy and Gene shared more than just a close friendship. Their affair did indeed go on both during and for a little while after filming. The love they shared, however, was real and for many reasons, it scared both of them to death. Both were married, and Gene had a new baby at home. He loved Betsy, and always had but there was something different about Judy. Judy aroused not only his body but his soul. She could keep him in a trance whenever they were together, one that would linger for hours after she had left. It brought him to his knees when he had to make the decision to take the moral high ground, parting ways with Judy to focus on his family. Begrudgingly, Judy let him off the end of her line. While Gene’s marriage was thriving, however, hers had faded to dust. It wasn’t long after that that her and David separated, and she found herself single and in the snakepit of Hollywood.

Though Gene’s marriage was thriving, it was no easy path. One does not simply move on from Judy Garland. Her memory lingered in his mind, her voice would come through his car radio every night on his drive home from the studio, they were busy on opposite ends of the lot shooting two different films yet would somehow always manage to stop by the commissary at the exact same time. It was as though he was drawn to her like a magnet, like there was some kind of invisible string attaching them both at the waist and no matter how many times he tried to cut it, it wouldn’t break.

It took enlisting in the Naval Air Service for the pain of missing her to finally subside. Even then, it was still there, it just became easier to deal with. His mind was elsewhere and he began missing Betsy more and more, every day that he was away. The love letters he once used to exchange with Judy, he was now exchanging with his wife. Her letters were the highlight of his day, he craved to hear how Kerry was getting along and Betsy never failed to include photos.

His body buckled on top of hers and he leaned down, placing a soft kiss against her cheek.

“Alright, that settles it… you’re staying in D.C. indefinitely,” Betsy panted with a sly smile.

“What do you mean?” He rolled off of her, pulling a cigarette off the nightstand.

“The way you make love when you’re home on a pass, I’ve been married to you for years, I’ve never felt anything like it,” she grinned.

Gene laughed, taking a drag from his cigarette before turning his expression serious, “There are no women there, Bets… I only have men to look at, day in and day out, you’ll be lucky if we leave this bed all weekend.”

“Good,” she softly smiled, dragging her arm over his waist and cuddling into his chest, “except…” she began.

“What?” He asked, blowing another cloud of smoke from his lips.

“There’s… a chance I may have… accidentally… on purpose… told everybody you were home this weekend,” she bit her thumbnail.

Gene sighed, “Where are we going?” He rolled his eyes playfully.

“A bunch of your pals from the studio are going out to Ciro’s tomorrow night, I told them we’d be there to have a drink and a few laughs.”

“That doesn’t sound too terrible,” he smiled.

“They’re very excited to see you.”

Gene’s curiosity peaked, he stubbed out his cigarette before scooching back down on the bed, “who’s ‘they’?”

“Oh, you know, everybody… Pete, Frank, Phil…”

“I see,” he lowered his eyes, “Well, it’s a date then. I guess I’ll make an exception for them,” he grinned, rolling over and kissing her passionately.

The next evening, once Kerry was settled with the babysitter, Gene and Betsy made a swift exit, heading towards Beverly Hills. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel and one holding her fingers between his. Betsy couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s affections. She couldn’t remember the last time he was so attentive to her.

Gene took Betsy’s coat along with his and checked it before they headed into the club. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to a big table in the corner with a crowd of familiar faces shouting to him. He flashed that charming smile of his and with Betsy on his arm, made his way to the group.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in!” Phil Silvers teased, jumping from his chair.

“Hey you big lug!” Gene matched his excitement.

“Good to see ya! How the hell have you been?” Phil pulled out a chair for him and before Gene could answer, a cute blonde waitress appeared behind him looking for his drink order. He ordered a beer for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for Betsy.

“So they decided to let you free for a few days, huh?”

“Oh, the National Guard couldn’t keep me from coming home, my friend!” He said, putting his arm around Betsy.

“Well, you look better than ever! The Navy agrees with you!” Lucille Ball chimed in, exhaling smoke from her cigarette.

“Thank you,” he bowed his head.

“So what’ve they been keeping you busy with out East?” Frank asked.

“Well, it was a fight at first but I was stationed in the photographic section of the Air Service, I’m in charge of writing and directing various projects, in fact I just put the finishing touches on a training video I’ve been working before I came home. It’s called Combat Fatigue Irritability. The title is self explanatory…” He trailed off, it was a particularly heavy piece of material.

“Wow, you just can’t get away from the camera can you? You run off to join the Navy and you’re still stuck making pictures!”

“Now, come on, he can’t help it with a face like that!” Phil tossed his arm around his neck, pulling him in to give him a noogie. When Gene managed to break free, he cradled the base of his beer, twirling it around in his hand as he continued to laugh. The group had trailed off into another conversation with Betsy and when Gene looked up again, his wide smile quickly vanished.

There she was. There she fucking was. He wondered as he and Betsy were getting ready to leave if he would see Judy tonight. Ciro’s was practically a second home to her when they were together, he knew there would be a solid chance they’d meet again. But as prepared as he thought he was to see her, he couldn’t have imagined it would feel this way. His eyes were glued to her as the rest of the world seemingly faded away and she walked in slow motion with the arm of another gentleman around her waist. Her flowing hair - which was much darker than he remembered it, a little shorter too - bouncing at her shoulders, that unmistakable laugh echoing in his mind. His eyes drifted out of curiosity to the man who held her by the waist, it was Joe Mankiewicz, a relatively well known writer and producer at the studio. He was also known to be a bit of a leech... and to be a bit married. Gene could feel his jaw tighten as he curled his hands into a fist under the table when he saw Joe’s hand slide further down Judy’s backside as he led her to the bar.

That’s not my beautiful girlfriend, he thought to himself.

She is not mine anymore, he repeated in his head.

Betsy glanced over at her husband, immediately noticing his transfixed stare. When she looked in the direction he was, her own heart fell to her stomach. Judy Garland was a name she had heard all too often over the last two years. When the gossip columnists began writing about their suspected affair, everyone on the block was calling her. She couldn’t bring herself to believe the rumours but something about Gene’s demeanour changed when she was around. He became an empty shell when he was at home, even going so far as to flinch whenever Betsy would touch him. At the time, she chalked it up to the heavy pressure the studio was putting on him. They were both new to Hollywood, he wasn’t used to the schedules he kept. With that in mind, Gene managed to convince her the rumours were just that, a rumour. When Gene began to return to his normal self, she dared question it. She had been waiting for him to look at her again the way he used to, with his devoted love and admiration. But his expression now was one she had never seen before.

“Mr. Kelly, Earth to Kelly…” Frank interjected, waving his hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie.

“What?”

“You ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Frank turned to look where he had been and when he saw Judy, it all came together. Frank was one of the only people who knew of their affair. It wasn’t his choice though, he had walked in on them fooling around in an empty rehearsal hall. From that day forward, he had acted as a scapegoat and alibi when he was needed, and tonight he delivered just the same. He glanced over at Betsy and immediately drew her attention away from Gene, making small talk about FDR being reelected president.

Gene sat stone faced, holding his beer in his hands. His eyes had lost sight of Judy but she was racing a mile a minute in his mind. The large nightclub suddenly felt like a tiny room with the walls slowly caving in. He frantically pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and when he felt Betsy’s hand land on his thigh under the table, he leapt up from his chair.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, knowing full well what the problem was but choosing to ignore the screaming voice in her head.

“I’m just going out for a smoke, it’s hot in here, isn’t it hot in here? I’ll be back…” He explained, darting for the entrance to the back patio.

He leaned over the railing, allowing the smoke to fall freely from his lips. The wind blew unseasonably hot that night, he could feel it stinging his face as he looked out onto Sunset Blvd. Gene had dated his fair share of women before Betsy came along, he had experience with ex girlfriends… but this, for some strange reason, felt like uncharted territory. What was this hold she had on him?

“I thought that was you,” her voice emanated from behind him. He closed his eyes for a moment before he could muster up the courage to turn around.

“Surprise,”

Judy took a few steps closer, placing herself in front of the railing beside him. She fished her own cigarette out of her purse and when she struggled with her lighter, Gene flicked his, placing the flame at the end of her smoke.

“Thanks,”

Gene nodded, shoving it back in his pocket.

“So what’s your excuse?” He asked.

“My what?”

“Your excuse for smoking outside. What did you tell him?”

Judy glanced down at her hands that gripped the wooden handrail, “Same as yours, needed some air.”

“How do you know that was mine?”

“Because I know you,”

“Joseph Mankiewicz, huh?” He said, staring forward.

“Stop it.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know a judgmental tone when I hear one. You have absolutely no right, so don’t you dare say another word.”

“You know he’s married, right?”

Judy paused for a moment before she answered him, “That never stopped you.”

“Touche,”

“Besides, you know nothing about him or us so why don’t you stay out of it?”

“Maybe I’m out of line here, Judy, but just what exactly are you doing?”

“What are you talking about?”

“With him? I know who Joe is, I know YOU know who Joe is, are you… are you together? What is that?” He asked, gesturing towards the door that led back into the club.

“He loves me, he promised to marry me just as soon as he knows his wife is taken care of. She’s sick, you know.”

“Yes, I know. That’s so fucked up, Judy. You’re so fucked up.”

“Remember when you said you might be out of line?” She sneered.

“Do you truly believe anything he says?”

“Why do you care?! Why do you care if I believe what he says? Why do you care if we’re together?”

“I don’t… know, I don’t know why I care. I just, I fucking hate that guy and I know you’re better than that, you’re better than him. This is not who you are.”

“Who am I, darling?”

Gene looked away, turning his attention to another couple slow dancing to the faint music coming from inside on the other end of the patio.

“Look at me!”

Slowly, he turned to meet her gaze, “I don’t know who you are anymore, Garland. How could I?”

“Look, I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been getting along with Betsy, that was your goal wasn’t it? To put your family back together, and you have. I’m so fucking happy for you, I could just vomit. Now why don’t you give me the same respect, huh?”

“I’m trying,” he replied softly, “I got over you, Judy. I’m over you.”

Judy leaned in closer to him, her chin nearly resting on his shoulder, “No you’re not.”

Just then, Betsy came out onto the patio in search of her husband. The door swinging open caused them both to turn around.

“Betsy!” Judy exclaimed enthusiastically with a wide smile.

“Hello…” she said softly, her eyes locked on Gene.

“So nice to see you again!” The over delighted tone in Judy’s voice made Gene wince.

“You too,” she said, accepting a half hug.

“Well, listen, I better get back to my date. Lovely chatting with you again, Gene. I’ll see you around, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, facing forward again.

Betsy replaced Judy at the railing and she looked at her husband, searching for answers she didn’t want to hear. Gene took the last drag from his cigarette before flicking it over the balcony, feeling Betsy’s inquisitive gaze.

“Shall we go back inside?” He asked, ignoring the tension between them.

“I think I’d like to go home,”

“Go home? Bets, we just got here barely an hour ago.”

“If you don’t mind…”

Gene and Betsy drove down Sunset, heading towards Rodeo. Betsy leaned forward, drowning the silence by turning on the radio. She fiddled with the dial until she landed on a rerun of a Bob Hope comedy special. As soon as she leaned back in the seat, Judy’s voice came through the speaker singing I Never Knew I Could Love Anybody the Way I’m Loving You. In true Garland fashion, she was following them again. Hovering over their marriage like an ominous cloud. Betsy glanced at her husband and immediately noticed that jaw tighten again before he changed the channel.

“Why did you turn that off?” She asked, accusingly.

“I’ve heard it before,” he replied with a blank tone.

The air was silent between them for a moment.

“Did you sleep with her?” She blurted.

“What?” Gene almost swerved into the oncoming lane.

“Gene!”

“I’m sorry, why did you ask me that?”

“Because I’m not daft, Gene. I wasn’t born yesterday. I saw the way she looked at you, and even worse, the way you looked at her. You’re a different person when she’s around. I don’t like you when she’s around, and I don’t like you right now.”

“How am I different, Bets? Because I wanted to leave the club?”

“You haven’t looked me in the eye since I saw you standing outside with her. You’re afraid to, you’re hiding.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Listen, things have been going really well between us over the last year, I’m happy with you now and there was a time when I wasn’t. I don’t want to move backwards, Gene… I don’t want to be scared of coming in second anymore.”

“Betsy! You’re not second, I thought we were past this. I thought you didn’t believe those damn Hopper columns.”

“I will only ask you once more and then I promise to drop this… Did you or did you not have an affair with her?”

Gene thought for a moment, torn over his answer. He pulled the car over, turned off the ignition and looked her straight in the eye.

“No,” he said defiantly, “I did not sleep with her, we did not have an affair.”

Betsy smiled relieved, placing her hand on his cheek. His skin felt hot to the touch. The accusations of their affair took him back to a painful time that he wanted to remain in the past.

“Thank you,”

“Can we go home now?” He asked, placing his hand on top of hers.

When Gene returned to Washington, he continued to repair his relationship with Betsy but it wasn’t long before Betsy began to pull back. Her letters to him became further and further apart, and with a full workload, it was easy for Gene to get swept up in his duties. He couldn’t pay attention to what was happening back home, there was only so much he could do from afar.

One evening, he returned to his barracks with a letter in hand. He hadn’t bothered to look at the envelope, he assumed it was from Betsy and he was beyond tired after working a fourteen hour stretch. He flopped down on the cot and tore the letter open, tossing the envelope onto the blanket beside him. His heavy eyes flew wide open when he noticed the slanted handwriting he was all too familiar with.

Gene,

I agonized over writing this letter. What can I say? Where do I begin?

I know how you love to be right about everything – so I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of knowing you were right about everything regarding Joe. He doesn’t love me. Did I ever really love him? I don’t think so. Know how I know? I’m not all that upset. When you broke up with me, I cried for days. I barely shed a tear for Joe. What does that mean? I shouldn’t be asking you that. That’s not fair… I know our ship has sailed. Remember when I told you you weren’t over me? I know that you are. I know you’ve moved on. I can see it in your eyes, I could see it in the way you looked at me that night. It’s me, Gene. I’m the one who couldn’t move on. I think about you every time the phone rings, I think about you every time I play a record, you’re a constant white noise in my head and I don’t know how to stop it. I wish I could turn it off, but I can’t. I meant it when I said I was happy for you, darling, truly I did. But when do I get to be happy? When is it my turn? If only you could show me how.

Gene’s grip tightened on the letter. He turned the paper over expecting there to be more, but the sheet was blank. He flipped it back over, raising an eyebrow at its abrupt end. She always signed off on her letters.

Arriving home after another late night at Ciro’s with the girls, Judy trudged up to her bedroom. Tossing her shall onto the chaise lounge, she walked over to her vanity to grab a pack of cigarettes before changing into her night clothes. Her eyes were immediately drawn to an empty spot on the desk just below her mirror. The spot she was sure she had left the letter she wrote to Gene. She dropped the pack of cigarettes and her heart plummeted into her stomach. She tore through the vanity, checking in every little drawer and under a pile of magazines she kept. It was nowhere to be found. She had a few too many to drink that night at Ciro’s and for a moment she couldn’t remember if maybe she had moved it. She darted downstairs, tearing through the living room, in her bookshelves, on the fireplace. It had to be here somewhere she thought.

“Miss Garland?” Her housekeeper who often stayed the night to keep Judy company came in, barely awake, “What are you doing?”

Judy swung around, trying to remain composed, “Uhm.. I’m, just, I’m looking for something.”

“May I help?”

“No, no, you go on back to bed… I know it’s here some place.”

“What is it you’re looking for?”

“It was a letter I had on my desk, it’s gone.”

“Oh,” Pearl laughed, “Darling, I mailed it out for you earlier today. You were out of stamps but I took it to the post office along with a few other pieces I had.”

“You WHAT?!” Judy held her hands over her face as she felt every limb go numb.

“You didn’t want it mailed?”

“No, I didn’t want it mailed, Pearl! ...Oh my God, I think I’m going to faint,” she breathed, pacing back and forth before falling into the armchair. “Alright, well you mailed it today? Maybe there’s a way I can get it back. I can go first thing in the morning, I can have the post office retrieve the letter for me.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, huh? Don’t panic. I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”

When Judy arrived at the Post Office the next morning before her early call at the studio, she was told the mail had been sent out the previous afternoon and there was no way to intercept delivery. With her heart in her throat, all she could do was accept her fate. Gene would receive the letter – the letter that was only meant to be written, not sent.

As each day passed without a response, her anxiety raised. Luckily, she was catapulted into work on The Harvey Girls and was in the midst of recording an album for Decca Records which acted as a temporary distraction. Her personal life inadvertently took a backseat to her professional one.

It felt like a year had passed, but it had only been a month since the letter had been sent. She was filming on an exterior train set, recording In the Valley (Where the Evenin’ Sun Goes Down). The crew were mesmerized, her voice came through louder than the playback, even for such a soft song. The day she filmed a musical number was always a favourite for anyone who worked with her. Standing in a darkened area by an unused camera in the back of the sound stage, Gene watched her as she leaned back against the train. He couldn’t take his eyes from her, she had never looked more beautiful than she did in that very moment. He wasn’t sure if maybe it was because he hadn’t seen her in months or if because she truly had never been more beautiful. Once again, she looked different, as she always did when there had been a significant absence between them. She looked more mature, he thought.

The song came to a close and when George called cut, Judy leapt off the train set and made her way to the director’s chair to discuss an idea on how she could improve the last shot. Gene stepped out from the back of the sound stage, his hands in his pockets as he slowly walked towards her. Judy was so focused on a particular idea that it took a few moments for her eyes to raise over George’s shoulder. When finally she saw him heading her direction with such a warm demeanour, she softly smiled a smile that matched his. She was confused to see him. She hadn’t been made aware, even in her social circle that he was home again. Judy politely excused herself from the director and began walking towards him.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“What are you doing here?” She asked in a warm tone.

“I’m home for a while… I heard you singing.”

“You know, you’re not allowed on a closed set,” she teased.

“I couldn’t help it. Your voice is magnetizing.”

Judy lowered her stare to the floor between them, the thoughts raced through her mind a mile a minute. She wanted to come right out and ask him if he received her letter but she couldn’t bear to face it. He hadn’t said a thing about it, he never even bothered to answer – maybe he never received it, she thought… and hoped. She remembered a few times her letters to David had been misdelivered when he served.

“I’ll be home for a good long while,” he began again, speaking softly, “and I’d like to see you.”

“You would?”

“If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Of course.”

Judy was promptly called back to the set but before she turned to leave, she asked him to stick around for another take, explaining that she thought she messed up somewhere in the outro. Gene agreed to stay, anything to keep his eyes on her even for just a few minutes more. He reached down and took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles before she turned and walked back to set.

Judy nailed the next take from start to finish. She often credited Gene for giving her her strength and confidence. She always performed her best when he was in the vicinity. As the A.D. helped her off the train all the while singing her praises, Judy only desired and eagerly anticipated Gene‘s thought. When she came around the train set, her exuberance fell the moment she realized the spot he was standing in was now empty. She glanced around the sound stage but he was nowhere to be found.

It was nearly 10:30pm when Judy was finally dismissed. After changing into her street clothes, she walked tiredly to the parking lot with a cigarette in hand daydreaming of slipping into her pyjamas and crawling into bed the moment she got home. The exhaustion from consecutive late nights and long days were quickly catching up to her. As she approached the row of reserved parking spots, she noticed a dark figure leaning on the hood of her car, smoke billowing from its mouth.

“Well, aren’t you the elusive one?” She said when she realized it was, of course, Gene. His arms were crossed and he turned around to look at her.

“I’m so sorry, Judy, I forgot I had a meeting on the other end of the lot with Freed, I needed to haul ass. You have a tendency to make me forget those kinds of things,” he winked. “I was beginning to think they’d never let you outta there.”

“You and me both, darling,” she said under her breath as she joined Gene and leaned against the hood.

“Again, however, I find myself asking what are you doing here?”

“I said I wanted to see you again. You said it was alright,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I didn’t think you meant in the MGM parking lot,”

“Let go for a drive,” he beamed.

“Now?” She checked her watch, “it’s getting late,”

“Late? It’s barely eleven o’clock. I’m away for six months and you become a lark. That’s it, I’m never leaving this town again,” he teased.

Judy faintly laughed, sighing at the end.

“I won’t keep you, honestly, I’d just like to talk… please? Let’s drive for awhile.”

Gene and Judy drove down Overland, heading North with no real purpose or destination in mind. Gene kept stealing glances at Judy while the radio played a Bing Crosby tune. As he glanced over at her, staring straight ahead as though she were terrified to look at him, he couldn’t help but smile.

“So you’re not over me, huh?” He blurted.

Judy winced immediately, “fuck…”

Gene laughed.

“That letter was not meant for your eyes, I am beyond embarrassed.”

“It wasn’t? My name written on the envelope kinda threw me off.”

“I wrote that letter for myself, as a sort of diary. I thought if I got my thoughts down on paper, I could move on, get past this, us… and my half wit housekeeper went and mailed it to you,” she pursed her lips together, trying to hide a self deprecating smile.

“Sure, I’ll pretend for a moment to believe that,” he smirked.

“It’s the truth! Do you honestly think I’d send you a letter like that knowing full well the effort you’ve put into fixing your family?”

“Honestly, yes,” he half-teased.

“Ouch…”

There was a moment of silence between them, the air that was light moments ago turned strained.

“I am so sorry, Gene… I didn’t want to jeopardize the progress you and Betsy made. It was not my intention.”

“I know it wasn’t,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry I–,”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. Whether that letter was sent by accident or not, I was meant to receive it. I needed to hear what you had to say.”

“How come you never wrote me back?” She asked earnestly.

Gene sort of shrugged his shoulders, “what can I say? I like keeping you on your toes,” he smirked again, lightening the air between them once more.

“You’re an ass.”

Gene pulled off the main road, turning down a path that led to a quiet garden. The park was completely dark but it gave them the privacy both were looking for. He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine.

“May I ask what happened with Joe?” He pried, turning to look at her.

Judy shook her head, not in a way that was saying ‘no’ but in a way that indicated absurdity.

“That night at Ciro’s,” She began, “he took me home, he made love to me and then he told me I had to leave because,” she paused for a moment, the muscles in her neck flaring, “his wife was coming home early the next morning so they could celebrate their anniversary.” Gene tried to hide the I-told-you-so expression as she continued, “I had found a necklace in his sock drawer a few days before that, and I guess I thought it was a gift for me... It was for her. Doesn’t quite sound like a man on the brink of leaving his wife, does it?” She said with a mirthless smile.

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“I left his house that night, I didn’t hear from him again until several weeks later. I told him to go to hell. He didn’t even fight for me.”

“I’m sorry, I really am. But what did you expect involving yourself with a married man?”

“I was involved with you,” she retorted.

“That’s different, and you know it,” he said, “I love my family, Judy,” he added, staring at the steering wheel in front of him, “I love my wife,”

“I know,”

“But if I love her so much, why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about you?” He said, almost getting angry, “When I was reading your letter, it was like I could have written it to you. You are exactly that, a fucking white noise that I can’t turn off. Everything reminds me of you, I can’t escape you… and to be perfectly honest, I think it’s because I don’t want to escape you.”

“Darling…”

“I tried to write you back, believe me I fucking tried. But what was I supposed to say? What more can I say to you? I don’t regret choosing my family, I will never regret anything that has to do with my daughter but why can’t I stop loving you?”

“For the same reason I can’t. There is something real here. It’s the metaphorical elephant in the room that never leaves, not for a second.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“I haven’t a clue,” She sighed.

Gene smiled tenderly and raised his arm over her, gesturing for her to slide in to him. She shoved towards him on the seat and rested her head on his shoulder as he held her. For the first time in months, they relished in their physical contact. Gene placed a soft kiss atop her head, all the while inhaling her sweet and familiar scent. When his lips separated from her hair, Judy looked up at him with her mouth slightly parted. Her lips had never looked more inviting.

“Gene,” she whispered almost inaudibly. That was his queue to take the next step and capture her in a delicate yet heated kiss. His palm raised to her cheek before he allowed his fingers to gently graze down the side of her neck. The feel of him gave her instant goosebumps as their mouths continued in perfect harmony.

“Do you still want me?” She murmured, her lips still attached to his. Gene reached for her hand and slowly began to guide it to his trousers that were tented from his solid arousal.

“For as long as I live, I will always want you,” He answered.

He undid the zipper, reaching inside to pull himself out before placing her bare hand on him. He couldn’t help the deep groan that escaped his lips when he finally felt her around him again. He caught her in another desperate kiss as her small, delicate hand moved up and down his swollen flesh. Judy swung her leg over him and carefully lifted herself onto his lap with his assistance. He quickly began working at the buttons on her cashmere sweater, eagerly trying to free her to him. He let out a deep breath as he slid his hands over her chest to push the sweater off her shoulders. She was instantly bare to him – there was something so unbelievably erotic about her choice not to wear a bra after a long day. He smiled before lowering his mouth to her breasts, kissing and sucking each one. The waves of pleasure that coursed through her body and met up between her legs were quickly becoming unbearable.

“I’ve missed you,” he purred between kisses. Judy leaned forward, enveloping his head with her arms as she ran her dainty fingers through his jet black hair.

Judy lifted onto her knees while Gene guided his throbbing arousal through the leg of her panties. She shaped her mouth into an O as he slid effortlessly inside her. He gripped her thighs which were now much thinner than he remembered and dug his fingertips into her skin as she began to ride him faster and faster. When she went particularly hard on the up motion, her bottom hit the horn on his steering wheel, sending an obnoxiously loud sound echoing into the empty park. Judy immediately dove her face into Gene’s chest as she stifled a roaring laugh. Gene held her body against his as his lips pursed together, desperately trying not to ruin the moment.

“I’m sorry,” she snorted.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling, taking her face in his hands again so she’d look at him. His hand slid to the back of her neck and he gripped her hair in his fists before resuming their rhythm, this time it was him leading. His pace quickened and suddenly Judy could barely catch her breath. Every thrust inside hit her in all the right places and she grasped the grab handle on the ceiling, preparing for the inevitable burst of pleasure she had been waiting so long for.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, digging her fingernails into his shoulder.

“I wasn’t planning to, baby,” he groaned.

Judy pulled in a deep breath, unable to exhale as her body began to betray her. The car felt like it was spinning as she released a soul shattering climax. Gene held on until he felt a few more tremors shake her body, then he plunged deep inside one last time and buried his face in her chest.

“Oh, my God… Judy…” he panted, feeling a rush come over him unlike anything he’d ever felt.

“My God, too…” She collapsed in his arms and he cradled her. She was so warm against him, he loved the sound of her laboured breathing becoming more and more relaxed, and the sweet audible moans she’d let out sporadically, they sounded so melodic. Neither could tell just how long they stayed like that for. All sense of timing went out the window when they came down from their vigorous aftershocks.

Gene kissed her again, soft and tenderly for a while, neither wanted the evening to end. When his hand once again cradled her cheek, his thumb caught a tear that had escaped her eye. He withdrew for a moment and looked into her misty brown eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

Judy tightened her lips, shaking her head as though she were struggling to properly convey her answer.

“I was just thinking about what a beautiful memory this night will be.”

“Why are you thinking of it as a memory?”

“Because it has to be just a memory, doesn’t it?”

“No.”

“Gene,” she looked at him, all-knowingly, “are you going to go home and leave your wife?”

He didn’t answer, only leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.

“It’s not our time yet, darling,” she explained, “the time for us to act on the elephant in the room will come one day and we will know when it feels completely and unequivocally right between us. You’ll take me home tonight, I’ll go my way and you’ll go yours...”

“I hate the way that sounds… I can’t be without you for months again, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” she encouraged, “you have to.”

“Why? Why does this have to end like this?”

“It’s not ending, darling, we’re just… putting ourselves on hold. If there’s one thing I’ve realized over the course of this night with you is that being in love with you and knowing you’re still in love with me is enough. It’s enough for me to hold onto until the day comes when we can be together – no hiding, no spouses, no rules.”

Gene took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. He hated when she was right. He knew they couldn’t continue on the way they had been. Getting back together now would mean getting back together under the pretense of yet another affair. Both of them liked to think they were past that.

Gene helped Judy straighten up but kept her under his arm as they drove back towards Beverly Hills. Neither of them spoke a word the entire way there and when Gene pulled into her driveway, he looked at her for a moment, his mouth shaping up like he was about to say something. Judy pressed her index finger to her lips, silently asking him not to. Her eyes began to well up once more and she leaned forward, kissing him delicately. Gene’s lips parted slightly to receive one last warm sweep of her tongue. When they broke apart, Judy held her hands over her heart, mouthing the words I love you before getting out of the car. Gene watched as she walked up the pathway to her door and disappeared inside.

J U N E 1 9 4 5

Sitting at the kitchen table, Gene jubilantly fed Kerry her breakfast. She had grown so much, he couldn’t believe how much he’d missed in the last four months. He was very proud of the work he was doing for the Navy but it was when he was home that he couldn’t help the small feeling of regret. Betsy would try to capture as much as she could about Kerry’s development in her letters but reading about it was entirely different than witnessing it for himself. Gene was fixing a little smiley face on Kerry’s food tray with her sliced bananas, grapes and strawberries when Betsy came in from the front porch.

“Did you happen to see the papers this morning?” She asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Nope,” he said, still lost in his fruit art. Betsy tossed the paper on the table in front of him and his eyes drifted to the large black lettering.

JUDY GARLAND WEDS DIRECTOR VINCENTE MINNELLI

#jugenea #fanfic

25 notes · View notes

keepyourpantsongohan · 4 years ago

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Ayesha Liveblogs Death Note

I’m watching this show specifically because of that text post that said, “Watch how quickly this one guy decides to be the worst person ever” and he has killed two people in the first ten minutes

Though 2 be fair he’s killing people to save people so it’s a trolley problem kind of thing for now

“In fact I’ve been waiting for you... Ryuk” ok weird flex Light but u do u

“You’re the first one to use to this extent in five days” WAIT DID HE MURDER ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN FIVE DAYS I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST LOOKING AT A LIST OH MY GOD??

“So there isn’t a price to using Death Note?” said Light, as if killing people is just a normal thing that we all do

Fhkjfhfkjb Ryuk really went ‘u used the book so we’re friends now’

I was wondering why the book was in English, and I guess that makes sense British and American imperialism really Did That

“I can write down the names of criminals, and slowly reduce the number of evil people” uhhhh doesn’t u being a Book Murderer also make you a criminal Light

“Human lives shouldn’t be taken so lightly” bah dum tss

Also I guess that revelation lasted about thirty seconds for you huh

Update from 15 seconds later: Even less than that

“I would create a world of earnest, kind humans” really because I don’t think places that allow the death penalty are generally nicer societies

It’s interesting that they use English in the classes and the notebook but the conversation at Interpol takes place in Japanese (despite the implied internationality and Ryuk’s aforementioned claim about English being most common)

Huh I won’t lie I do think it’s confusing that the main characters are L and Light, which also starts with L

“I am justice” I mean if anything this show just proves that no one should be allowed to use the death penalty on apprehended suspects in criminal justice cases ever

OH SHIT PLOT TWIST HIS DAD’S A COP (IT WAS IN THE TEXT POST I THINK BUT I FORGOT)

Wow this show is full of mind games already I guess I can see why like, crime show fans would dig it

“But I’m going to say this as your roommate” OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES KJHRGKJHKJHG

Interesting that someone is following Light specifically already

I mean not to poke too many holes in your plan Light but wouldn’t it clash with your plan to become God if you die at like 35 or smth

“You’re already much more of a shinigami than they are” Ryuk said my friends are BORING I want to hang out with this MURDER TEEN

“I may not look it, but I’m pretty popular” Light is exactly the kind of guy who ends up in a true crime special where a bunch of people say he seemed like a nice, charismatic young man

Man this poor girl that Light brought on this date is going to be straight traumatized after this

I mean isn’t it MORE suspicious if someone dies around someone with direct ties to the police even if it’s not a heart attack

“You were indeed a brilliant FBI agent once, but now you’re my fiancée” kjhfkjhg WHAT FBI AGENTS CAN’T BE MARRIED

“Once we have a family, you’ll be so busy that you’ll forget that you were an agent” I’m not a fan of Raye Penber

What’s the point in killing Raye at all???? He told you he was part of a special investigation so clearly he’s not that suspicious of you

Light sure is bold to announce his Killing People Experiments in the middle of a busy sidewalk

Incredible that consistently no one notices Light’s increasingly threatening declarations????

Fjkfkfhk these five cops finding out their Hail Mary is this strange little goblin man,,,, wow

This woman has really pushed Light to the brink just by giving a fake name, I admire her tenacity

Cops wearing fake IDs really did not age well oh boy

SERIOUSLY HOW DOES NO ONE EVER HEAR LIGHT SAYING SUSPICIOUS THINGS IN PUBLIC THOROUGHFARES HE LITERALLY JUST SAID “I AM KIRA” AS A DETECTIVE WALKED BY, WHILE HE WAS TALKING TO SOMEONE HE KILLED IMMEDIATELY AFTER

Wow it really took only eight episodes for L to track Light as close as one of two families

“You have a wife and daughter, right?” “I know!” I mean..... not 2 be that guy but... cops

“To me, apples are like... Well, like cigarettes and liquor to humans” Vcvhcjhj every once in a while Ryuk says something that really tickles me

I know the word sociopath is kind of outdated but man does Light have actual interests outside of school or does he just do stuff to fill the void of his lack of interests (outside of murder)

JKHGKJHGKJHKJHG I cannot believe that this has turned into a fake classmate situation first of all 1) are you going to become friends and 2) How old are you Ryuzaki/L?

“Where is that rich kid from? And he’s even at the top of his class? What a jerk” honestly a mood

I DESPERATELY want Light’s mother or sister to overhear his evil cackling will someone finally eavesdrop on this god complex

“If I sit normally, my reasoning skills drop by 40%” weird flex but same

Sidenote: I can’t believe how many episodes of this show I already have watched

Ngl I was VERY shook that Mr. Yagami had a heart attack. Also does Light care if his family lives or dies or is he kind of neutral on the subject?

“If Kira is an ordinary person who gained this power, then he is a very unlucky person” Dad and L said ‘if u ARE Kira could you please stop murdering thank you <3′

Light really underestimated how much cops hate anyone who has killed a cop oops

OH SO IT’S NOT LIGHT I WAS WONDERING WHY HE HAD NOT MADE AN APPEARANCE THIS WHOLE EPISODE U MEAN THERE ARE TWO GUYS WITH THIS EXACT SAME IDEOLOGY AND PLAN? INCREDIBLE

Update from ten seconds later: Two people, I guess

Well this explains the girl in the short dress which serves as the Netflix thumbnail of this show I was wondering when she would show up

Also she sounds like she’s very young? Clearly Shinigami don’t have a minimum age of informed consent when it comes to their Murder Eyes Contract

Hahah I bet Light didn’t imagine that his petty and fucked up apple joke would bite him so quickly in the ass

Dhkjdhdkjhd Misa is so bold dropping her Death God deets in a video for anyone to see

“The way to kill a Shinigami, is to make them fall in love with a human” does this mean that Ryuk is going to fall in love with Light or Misa? Both would make me uncomfortable

Oh wild guess Misa became a Death Note Wielder through the Power of Unreciprocated Voyeuristic Love

“Yeah, I have a girlfriend now,” said Light, after a girl contacted him through a series of anonymous video tapes implicitly vowing to be his disciple

“No one could tell who he’s attached to if I’m with this many people” [20 seconds pass] “Found him!” HAHAHA the funniest part of this show is consistently watch Light going “got ‘em” before it immediately is revealed that he doesn’t got ‘em

Why is Light so incredibly searchable??? I think the only way people people could find my height online is if I happened to answer it for one of those Facebook note memes in 2007 lmaoooo

“There are many places that will go and sell your personal records” ah, data breaches; a problem that has not gotten any better in the last 15 years since this anime came out

HKJHFHKJFHF Light immediately jumping into fake-dating his weird disciple in front of his mom... what is this show

“Please make me your girlfriend” OH MY GOOOOOD

This is one of the weirdest romantic dynamics I’ve seen in recent memory but you know what? Whatever, at least it’s not Anxiety and Murder

“Does that mean I’ll have to deal with her until she dies?” Light is truly exuding some Ladybird Book of Dating Energy rn:

The fact that to kill L all Light had to do was get an obsessive girlfriend... astounding

Beautiful that it took Misa less than a week of knowing Light to ruin his whole 15 episode game plan and also life

“I think I may be Kira” Well this show keeps taking one escalation after another this is exhausting why can’t Light just be a normal person who found it, tried it out of interest in the occult, discovered he’d committed a horrible atrocity and then went to therapy for the rest of his life only to confess to Magical Murder on his deathbed while his family goes, ‘Wow, Grandpa’s crazy’

Does L not think that keeping three different people imprisoned for days on end will lead to some psychological repercussions for him

FOR WEEKS ON END????? OH MY GOD???? The fuck L, I know two of these people are murderers but there are some minimum conditions of correctional facilities and this seems a little Stanford PE

THE DRAMA OF THIS EPISODE I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE A BLANK BUT HOW FUCKED UP TO PUT EVERYONE THROUGH THIS L I THINK YOU NEED THERAPY!!!!!!! I MEAN LIGHT AND MISA ARE MURDERERS BUT FORCING A MAN TO HOLD HIS SON AT GUNPOINT AFTER IMPRISONING THEM FOR OVER A MONTH IS REALLY A REFLECTION OF A COMPLETE LACK OF EMPATHY (especially when you think that this version of Misa and Light don’t know anything!!! Oh my god!! The fuck)

“I will make arrangements so you and I are together 24 hours a day” call me crazy but I would not want to spend 24/7 with the man who imprisoned me for over a month while playing cruel psychological games all the while

“I’m one of those people who’ll accept Kira, I’d think of ways I could help him” Misa said Bimbo Rights

“I could never toy with a woman’s emotions like that” Light’s dating life and personality has gotten a LOT funnier since he forgot he was a murderer I kind of wish THIS could be the whole show

Also: Nice to know Light USED to have standards of how to treat women

Honestly fair play to both L and Light they both deserved to be punched and it’s funny to see eighteen episodes of mind games culminate in punching and kicking each other in the face

“Matsuda’s being an idiot again” “Well, Matsuda is a natural at that” wghkjhgkj what has Matsuda done to any of you

"He’s punishing criminals as a front, and killing people for the benefit of this company” is Light unknowingly going to solve the murder chain he himself started... inspiring

“I was testing you” this is why Light is your only friend, L, Aizawa has kids and it’s a dick move to ask him to put his convictions before them

Poor Matsuda realizing he’s got the least to offer to their team... me in high school science labs

I understand Aizawa’s moral crisis but why do NONE of these cops care about their wives or daughters they’re just kind of like, ‘I will provide for you but I have no interest in or fulfillment from being part of your life’ (ACAB)

Matsuda is truly about to die for being dumb and eager to help 😔 Rest in Pieces

“We must not allow Yotsuba to figure out that we are investigating them,” said L, just after it cut from Matsuda being obvious about investigating them. Oh Matsuda 😔 you’re so bad at your job 😔

MATSUDAAAAAAAA oh thank goodness; Bimbo Rights save the day

“I can’t go along with your idea, it’s wrong!” said Light, despite the fact it took him 15 seconds to get over murder the first couple of times he did it

Staaaaaaaaay Good Light, I don’t want ur Deathnotesona I want this young man with moral convictions!!

The level of hubris it takes to answer a phone call during your secret Murder Meeting while people continue to talk about their Murder Plans is just out of this world

“If I die, you could probably become the successor to the ‘L‘ name,” said L, to the person he has been trying to catch for twenty episodes

“I won’t say anything under any kind of torture” “Yes that’s true” Which he knows because he tortured her for six weeks!! You see that that’s fucked up, L, right? RIGHT??? RIIIIIIIIGHT? (LIIIIIIIGHT???)

Seriously not to beat a dead Shinigami but Light is so much better like this. He doesn’t want to throw people’s lives away for the investigation! He wants to protect Misa! He thinks Kira is wrong! Why does he have to be a murderer!!! Why can’t this show be about a nice young man!!!!

“Hey Ryuzaki, that’s messed up!” THANK YOU LIGHT AGAIN I KNOW YOU BOTH HAVE KILLED PEOPLE BUT YOU DON’T KNOW THAT RIGHT NOW SO FOR ALL MISA KNOWS HE’S JUST A GUY WHO TORTURES HER AND TELLS HER CRUSH WILL DIE IF SHE DOESN’T HELP

Wow Rem is so ride or die for Misa protecting Misa from creepy Higuchi, giving her info and telling her to trust Light, that’s love bitch

Props to Misa for getting a confession out of Higuchi after one (1) car ride

Why do I feel like L is going to be responsible for reawakening Bad Light is it because he psychologically tortured him for six weeks? Had his dad hold him at gunpoint? Forced Misa to investigate on his behalf? Constantly and unerringly presses him on what Kira would be thinking as he’s handcuffed to him 24 hours a day? Maybe!! This is like Build-a-Bear but he’s customizing his Teen Murder Friend

“Only Mr. Matsuda can do [the mission to lure out Higuchi!Kira]” Death Note really said the Himbos, Herbos and Thembos shall inherit the Earth

They keep saying they don’t know how he kills but it seems pretty obvious that he writes down their names to kill, they literally saw him do it

I really don’t want any of the investigation team to die but things are not looking hot :(

“Ryuzaki, I never knew you could fly a helicopter” “It’s just intuition” what does that MEAN

“Those aren’t allowed in Japan,” said Light, about a gun, as if he had not killed probably thousands of people without one

In spite of this fact I really do want Good Light to stay 😔 Why! Can’t! This! Show! Be! About! A! Nice! Young! Man!

Also they really are playing into this father-and-son duo I will be very sad when the dad inevitably dies as I’m sure he will

Family side note: I’ve been wondering this since the prison ep but where do Light’s mom and sister think he IS now that he’s dropped out of first year uni to be a teen criminal investigator handcuffed to a maladjusted homebody private eye

AIZAWAAA and also the other two guys I guess there was a plot relevant reason for him to rejoin the police huh

Well what a clean ending to this Kira arc. No one died and the killer was caught! Yikes that the next ep is called ‘Revival’ tho 😔 Rest in pieces Good Light

Also a new and very threatening intro???? What happened to the Twilight Apple Hands

BOOOO I knew Light would get his memory back but I was hoping it would at least fuck him up for a while he sorted out his two personas but I guess all roads eventually lead to Bad Light

Full disclosure I stopped watching for a few days just after Light got his memory back and let me tell u coming back later hasn’t made it any more tolerable I am truly not built for this EUGH

“Do you really want to halve your life a second time” “Well, that can’t be helped” REALLY???? CAN’T IT BE HELPED MISA??? WHY ARE YOU AND LIGHT SO CRAZY

Oh I guess we’re back to Light saying incredibly suspicious things right near the investigators lmao what if those cameras secretly had audio or you know, L simply knew how to read lips

“Misa, let’s make a new world together” Remember a bunch of episodes ago when Good Light was all ‘I could never toy with a woman’s emotions’?? What was the reason!!!

“Have you ever told the truth at any point in your entire life” L cutting straight to the core lmao (also the answer is obviously ‘no’)

This show has taken a jarring tonal shift why are they having a post-rain-confrontation massage and towelling each other off this is a level of intimacy I was not prepared for I NEED PEOPLE TOOK LOOK AT THIS:

OKAY OKAY OKAY I KNOW THAT IT WAS PROBABLY NOT THEIR INTENTION BUT THE ONLY WAY I CAN READ THIS SCENE IS AS “Don’t kill me Light~ 🥰 I’ll fuck you~ 🥰”

I guess L knew he was forcing Rem’s hand to kill him if he disproved the rules written in the book?? But to what end omg how does this help anyone

“In April 2012, Light Yagami, age 23, joins the National Police Agency” should’ve known we’d land here eventually (ACAB)

Ah, I see another person who doesn’t know how to sit, clearly they will inherit the L title next lmao

Update from the first few mins of the next ep: “Near should succeed L” told you

“There’s no way I’m letting Sayu marry a detective” ahjfkhkjf he’s a little old for her I think but it wouldn’t be the worst thing this show has done romantically lmao; maybe Sayu would get to investigate her brother

“I might’ve considered going out with you, if you were a little younger” HA GOOD FOR HER

“[...] the Japanese police are unreliable. In order to solve this case, we want you to hand over the notebook to our country.” Of all the Japanese-speaking Americans in this show, this is the most accurate jkhfkhf the US government really is Like That

Ah, so that’s where Mello’s gone, oh how the turn tables

Also way to sell your subordinates out immediately, NPA Director, will you give them the Kira task force’s home addresses too

The real question is if Light actually cares about his sister enough to prioritize her over the notebook

“Call me... N” Oh my good L... M(ello)... N(ear)... Oooooooooooooooo

It’s my saving grace that I only need to get through 9 more eps but as always I must wonder where this is going will Light just die and end up in Shinigami purgatory while the people who knew him after the fact go, ‘hey, that guy was fucked up’

“If things get bad, I’ll have to kill Sayu” well I guess that answers that question, my expectations of Light are so low and yet he continues to find new ways to be awful

Good for Mr. Yagami and Sayu for getting out of that alive I guess but hoo boy I think this is going to have some psychological repercussions for both of them

Uh oh this episode is called ‘Father’ I’ve been dreading this one bc I think that means Mr. Yagami is about to die 😭😭😭

“It was an institution for brilliant children, to raise them to become L‘s successor” okay calm down Professor Xatari that’s not what children are for lmao

Well I guess it’s a lot easier to track down info about these two guys than it was to figure out L lmao

HAHAHA Sidoh haunting Ryuk to ask for his stuff is a fun addition to this madness

“He’s scary for a human” jkhhfjh how unhinged does Mello have to be to threaten a literal Shinigami

I truly don’t understand the logistics of how they revealed Ryuk to the police force isn’t the second Kira notebook supposed to belong to Actual Kira, in the police force’s eyes????? I do not understand how Light can just turn up with another notebook and everyone’s like ‘sure cool’ did I miss something

Mr. Yagami killed for being unable to take human life ugh this is the worst

“You’re not Kira. I’m really glad.” WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO SAD MR. YAGAMI NOOOOOOOOOO THAT’S WHY HE RENOUNCED OWNERSHIP OF THE NOTEBOOK

Neither Mello nor Near seem overly concerned with the lives of people around them does being a Super Genius Investigator also mean you have to be a dick (is this Benadryl Coddleswab Sherlock syndrome)

Lmaooo genuinely love how it’s constantly apparent that Light is the least smart of all of the smart people Light spent five years working on his reputation and it took Near one (1) phone call to destroy it

Ghjkhgkhgkgjh Light outsmarted by Near yet again never think people will prioritize principles over money

Lol yeah Aizawa needn’t have given a name after he said the “Deputy Director Yagami would kill Kira and then himself” thing, you don’t do that just for anyone who was he fooling

How does Light keep track of all the renunciations and notebooks bc I certainly can’t

Ffhkfjhfj Mikami truly looks like the son of L and Light it’s like Light missed him and was like, “Miss u boo :( (even tho I kinda killed u) I’ll adopt An Evil 27-year-old in ur honour :)”

Is Mikami’s story really, ‘I got bullied in high school and have mommy issues so now I think people I don’t like should die’ ok Shonen Snape

“I just want you to meet with me and hear me out” Light really proving to Aizawa that he can lie AND manipulate people’s feelings

“The truth is, she’s not smart enough to be my partner” first of all Light I think this show has proven you’re not that smart, and Misa’s Herbo Energy is effervescent and will outlast you, and third of all go to jail

“He’ll look suspicious if he doesn’t say something soon” “Ide, have you ever been in love” Matsuda continues to be the only good part of this show

“You’re the only man I’ve ever respected and admired in my life” GET SOME THERAPY KIYOMI

“You’re going to be the goddess of the new world” so it’s not enough for Light to be a murderer he must also be a cheater

Lmao Near’s powers of perception do seem a little B/BC S/herlock because L tried for literally months to work out the possibilities and Near is just like ‘I KNOW IT NOW’

“The only thing I can deduce from this is that Light Yagami is popular with the ladies” HEAVEN KNOWS WHY (PUN NOT INTENDED)

Every moment Aizawa gets closer to proving Light is Kira is another step closer to death 😔

“This is definitely Mikami’s handwriting” Not to be a know-it-all, Near, but handwriting analysis has been proven faulty many times in multiple courts of law

This truly is a game of Cat and Cat. All these hidden plans give me a headache fkjhkfjh call me Misa-Misa and spin me sideways I don’t have the braincells to spare

Well this is definitely some kind of s*xual assault absolutely fucking hate it wow this show truly just drains the life out of you

“Matt, I never thought you would be killed” why wouldn’t you think that at this point anyone who comes close to this investigation eventually dies (also wjkhkjhgk why is Matt special didn’t you kill all those thugs you had before -- Mello said ‘the lives of my allies are only important if they are drawn in handsome protag style’)

As of yet I haven’t really talked about Near’s wild toymaking but hoo boy is that L finger puppet something to observe

“Everyone who knows about the existence of the notebook will die” I’m still pulling for their survival, particularly Matsuda (himbo rights!!!)

Imagine if they just shot Light Yagami on sight how ironic would that conclusion to all these mind games be

“I’m waiting, for the one who will solve everything, to arrive” Lmao if it turns out L is alive I’ll pee laughing this show is so fucking stupid

Take a shot every time there is a Humpty-Dumpty-in-Puss-in-Boots style explanation about how everything actually happened

“I’ve won, Near” I bet/hope what gets Light caught is his inability to hold in his hubris for one (1) minute

Although the last episode is called New World, in which case maybe he wins in a very weird ending to a very weird show

Sjkfhkjhfkhfkjhf well I guess what gets Light caught is that the person he invited to be his murderous disciple keeps calling him God

“A second ago, you said ‘I win.’ That’s as good a confession as any” HA hubris strikes again also bold of Aizawa to clap Light on the shoulder knowing he is a mass murderer

Ohhh Matsuda he’s so nice and believed the best of Light :((((((((((((

Watching Light become increasingly desperate and crazed is very uncomfortable give it up dude u’ve been beat (though I suppose there is time for everyone here to be murdered still lmao)

LMAO LIGHT SAID “IF YOU CAN’T BEAT ‘EM, CONVERT ‘EM”

Yeah I figured if one of them was gonna shoot it would be Matsuda :( :( Good for him for not killing Light tho!!

Huh I guess that’s the end of the show I thought Light would die but I did think we’d at least get to see him in Shinigami Purgatory or smth... what a wild ride. This certainly was a show.

#ayesha talks anime #ayesha liveblogs dn #liveblogging #long post #sorry for any dn fans who stumble across this lmao i don't have the constitution for it

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kob131 · 4 years ago

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youtube

You know Hero Hei, it’s hard to feel sorry for you (or even try to be neutral towards you) when you’re still pulling the same manipulative bullshit.

Shocked face, overexaggerated title, contrasting colors, aggressive language- I’m pretty sure if Trump’s Political ads had thumbnails, they’d looked identical to yours (and I only say Trump because every other politician follows an older version of your formula.)

‘This is a follow-up to Neath Oum’s hitpiece on me-’

There you go again. Hit Piece is defined as a disingenuous article or similar such piece of media designed to turn public opinion against a person. Issue is- this is not a public article, it’s a fucking tweet thread and it’s not made to turn people against you (and consider the replies to his tweet, it wouldn’t even slightly change public opinion of you), it was made to explain why he doesn’t like you.

We can actually see how a hit piece would sound like IN YOUR VIDEO, as Neath forgoes a lot of the manipulative techniques you use in your videos to get an emotional reaction out of his audience before even beginning.

‘I have nothing but respect for Monty Oum-’

Your numerous videos slandering his friends when the man outright told people to stop watching his show for saying one of his friends was a lesser voice actor than two others in ONE instance says otherwise.

‘*insert a bunch of sarcastic stuff here*’

I wouldn’t bitch too much but this video is only 6 minutes and 13 seconds long and about half a minute passes without him saying of substance. And I’m keeping his shit vague because it’s meaningless and just meant to rile his audience up.

‘It won’t negatively affect me at all.’

Cool...and Neath is never shown to intend it too. Here’s the tweet thread that Hero Hei is talking but never sources (https://twitter.com/neath_oum/status/1307345624958812160). Not once does he ever say anything about exposing Hero Hei and ends it by reiterating it’s about explaining his blocking.

Also of note-

Because his lies exacerbate conflict or generate controversy where none existed

Neath says this in his chain. Now consider Hero Hei portraying this as an attack against him...when he never says to spread his thread, use manipulative language like you do or use the attention grapping tactics you do. And now you’re just proving him right when you could have stopped this 40+ second monologue, made a title like “I respond to Neath Oum’s Twitter Thread” and used a different thumbnail.

(Note: I am skipping from 0:37 to 1:22 because at 0:44 he says to skip that segment as it’s a catchup and I’m trying to give him some benefit so I’ll just skip it and assume he gave a neutral recap.)

‘He begins hyping this thread up and being really suspicious and vague about it!’

You mean like what people said about your original video on the subject which you dismissed and mocked them for?

To paraphrase you Hero Hei-

‘Read beyond the first sentence.’

‘In my opinion, this means nothing and so i will not comment on most of this.’

You mean opinion of the target of the so-called ‘hit piece’ who would have every reason to downplay what is being shown. After I having already seen for myself that you’re a damn liar and the very first part of the ‘hit piece’ is talking about how you lie by omission? You clearly do care because you made (an admittedly low effort) video on it and yet you can’t even address it properly? Speaking as someone who has had hit pieces made on him, you’re an idiot.

Also your ‘if you want to read the whole thing, you know where to find it!’ shit is inexcusable. It’s a known fact that audiences likely won’t seek out something that would discredit their subject. They’ll be far more likely to just accept whatever you say, especially if say...their emotions and tribalistic instincts were being played on by portraying Neath as inherently wrong and using emotionally charged language to elicit a certain reaction out of them.

“Most of this stuff is from a year ago anyways!’

Stuff which you yourself bring up before to make and support your points.

‘This isn’t really worth my time, it’s desperate.’

I have literally heard politicians pull this, how is everything out of your mouth killing your credibility?

‘*tries to portray Neath’s beginning statement as aggressive towards people asking for proof* Well I dunno why anyone would be upset you accused someone without proof but okay-’

A. ‘ Finished some stuff earlier than expected. For those who (civilly) asked for info and proof about hero hei, here you go.’

That is Neath’s opening sentence. This is not being aggressive or dismissive or at all negative towards the people asking for proof. I can’t think of a way to be more neutral than this.

B. Funny considering you accused Pedantic Romantic of being a stalker and yet never provided actual proof, just out of context screenshots (effectively lies which is WORSE.) So clearly you don’t care that much.

‘Funny that he says he found additional evidence about this when he retweeted a thread made a month ago by another twiiter user that I debunked in another vide Man this is some worthless stuff.’

Gee Hero Hei, I’ve noticed that you like to portray this as irrelevant without saying why, continuously using those kinds of terms. Kind of like news outlets when bitching about someone they don’t like, all using similar terminology as if to subconsciously reinforce an idea in the viewer’s head. Also funny since those same news outlets ALSO tend to rely on the reader’s bias...

‘See, he even admits that he’s taking this from someone I debunked!’

Well actually, you just pointed out one single mistake that wasn’t connected to their point but sure.

‘This is so lazy Neath!’

Hero hei, you literally just take what other people say and vomit it out- You do the same shit.

‘Animelog is by Toei actually!’

No Hero Hei, it’s not. Toei justed signed up for them. It’s still operated by AnalyzeLog...which is funded by Net 10 ventures, the company Neath CITED.

Benjamin Grubbs is the founder of AnalyzeLog. In 2018, AnalyzeLog was founded with seed funding from U.S. venture capitalist Next10 Ventures. In December 2019 AnalyzeLog Digital struck a deal with Toei Animation. Shogakukan followed Toei animation deal in April 2020, and just last month it signed a collaboration with animation studio Shin Ei Animation, creators of “Doraemon” and “Crayon Shin-Chan”.

‘He tries to compare Toei being a founder of Daisuki to it’s massive investment in AnalyzeLog!’

... Hero Hei. When you found something like a business, you are INVESTING in that business. Jeff Bezos fundamentally invested in Amazon when he started it up because he had to use his own money to make it happen.

... Do you think your audience is brain dead or something?

‘*covers Neath’s screenshot of his video titles*’

Hm, pretty sure that’s the definition of ‘suspect’ Hero Hei.

‘So this vice president of Rooster Teeth did horrible things to his wife and Neath is defending this or something-’

*grabs Hero Hei by the collar*

Nuh uh, you ain’t getting away with that shit.

First, short one about Rooster Teeth, the lies I am talking about were lies of omission. These screenshots show the titles of some of his videos. Titles and screenshots are what drives viewers when deciding what videos to watch. In the titles, he used "Rooster Teeth Vice President". Using "Rooster Teeth Vice President" evokes the image of the second highest ranking person at Rooster Teeth. However, he used "Vice President of Product and Engineering" in the video description, so he knew what the person's full rank was but omitted it from the titles. By seeing the actual rank, viewers would know that the terminated person was not the second highest ranked person at Rooster Teeth. Not including information in a title to give viewers the wrong impression amounts to lies of omission.

Some will argue that he didn't lie since the full rank was given in the description, it's just click bait and no big deal. That's fine but omitting information from the beginning warps first impressions and are still lies, even if small. That said, continue reading for more of his overt lies.

This is the full set of what he said in regards to RT. Notice something? Yeah- HE’S NOT DEFENDING THE MAN. Hero Hei just shoved that shit in. With NOTHING to indicate such a thing...you know other than ‘he dared to speak out against me!’

‘He seems to be complaining about the video title-’

TITLES (multiple) which comes up NUMEORUS times in his thread but sure. And you clearly agree with him since you bitched about his opening thread (just you know, effectively lying about it.)

‘*quotes an out of context sentence from the above quoted set* No I wasn’t trying tyo give people the wrong impression!’

Funny how context CHANGES things, like showcasing Hero Hei lying AGAIN.

‘I didn’t say that because Youtube has a 100 character limit for video titles so i couldn’t fit in!’

Yeah it does have 99 characters in it...

Except here’s the thing: you could have cut 33 characters from it even with inserting ‘of Product and Engineering’ easily.

Rooster Teeth RT Vice PRESIDENT VP of Product and Engineering ARRESTED, allegedly BEAT his WIFE Numerous Times and LAUGHED about it!

There, 66 characters and I made your video title better (by cutting out needless details) and more truthful.

I don’t trust you enough, especially with the shit you’ve already pulled in this video alone.

‘*mocks Neath for bringing up the Vic stuff from over a year ago*’

Hero hei, your channel has permanent ‘ISWV’ merch being advertised.

*doesn’t even bother to address what is said, just mocking the use of names.*

“Neath Oum s-said mean things about me mommy, make the scary man with 2/3rds of my audience stop mommy!’

See how stupid that sounds?

In fact, let’s stop here because he says NOTHING of worth and Hero hei killed his credibility (along with any chance of me even giving him anything beyond basic human respect) at this point.

Considering the very little he DID cover ended up being just shit flinging from him AT BEST- he actually made Neath look pretty damn good. Because HH in comparison really does look like the embodiment of that ‘crying behind a smug face’ meme.

So congrats HH. I actually though the comparison was the result of personal bias against you and felt uncomfortable about. I now see it was entirely DERSERVED...if I choose to ignore how you implied Neath was defending a man BEATING HIS WIFE because he pointed out your clickbait bullshit.

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acefrogmonarch · 5 years ago

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My Turn 1 :)

Here | 2 | 3 | 4 Ao3

Batman had taken the liberty of combing through the most recent videos that had been sent to the Justice League. Others were more promising than some, including the most recent video about the terror that plagued Paris.

Pressing play, a Newsfeed recording explained the situation of how a petite girl was dragged off the Eiffel Tower.

The camera panned to the villain talking to the girl. He wore a black wife beater on over a red jacket with sharp edges on the shoulders, a seductive red skirt with a slit on one side 'completes' the look. The more prominent features consist of a permanent tear streak down their faces.

The newscaster, Nadja Chamack, had stared up at the two. Turning back to update on anything, clearly distracted by the situation playing before her. The girl being held by her neck at the edge of the Tower shakes her head as if she talking to the Villain. He shouts something into the air, lights explode into the sky. The people gathering at the bottom of the Tower bring their attention to him.

Demanding the Miraculous of 'Ladybug' and 'Chat Noir' in exchange for the life of her. Half of the bat fam didn't understand the language and needed the subtitles at the bottom of the screen, but that didn't matter.

Watching to see how the French police would respond. Incompetent Police forces calmly yelled up to the girl, facing the villain that threatens to drop her, that help would be on the way.

Damian pities the girl, she was an innocent victim. The villain seems to get more irritated as his demands were ignored. The girl was lifted off her feet, the hand around her throat seemed to tighten more. The girl panics and starts to scream and kick, clawing at the arm that's lifting her higher.

Soon, the only thing moving was her hair and dress blowing in the wind, and the bluenette dangling from the villain's grasp. The Villan on-screen quickly realized that she passed out. Horrified and panicking, he sets her down on the ground, beginning to shake his shoulders next to her body. Rather or not he's laughing remains to be seen.

Damian looked to the rest of his siblings appear to be sobering up on the situation. Damian looked at the timestamp at the bottom of the screen; it was from 2 weeks ago. "She's dead." A helicopter rounded the corner, just in time to see the presumed dead girl kick the Villains square in the face.

Todd immediately cheers for the girl as she gets up. "Beat his ass!" The girl lungs at him and pins him under her. Using whatever body mass she has on his neck, effectively cutting off his circulation. Bruce glares at him but Todd doesn't back down.

Heaving, she lays on the floor, hearing a noise she jumps into a stance but relaxes once she sees a man in a black spandex suit with, cat ears? Searching through the unconscious man pockets, she finds an object and smashes it on the ground, a tiny black butterfly comes out of it.

Todd couldn't contain his laughter. "Look a Furry." Damian made a face and looked at Jason. "What the hell is that?" Before Todd could answer Drake covered his mouth and looked away from him.

The furry catches the butterfly and leaps away. The police are up in the tower in record time, the girl is slowly escorted down. The Newscaster, Nadja, misses her cue and ignores the confused cameraman and takes it out, looking for the girl that was facing death.

A small child makes her way to the woman's legs and clings to them as she sobs. They both spot the blue-headed victim and rush to her side. "Marinette." At the sound of her name, the girl in question looks up. "Manon, Mdm. Nadja." She says quietly, the camera can barely pick up on it.

"I'm okay." She says it to reassure them and they couldn't hold it any longer. 'Manon' is crying in Marinette's arms. Soothing her by combing through their hair and whispering small forgivings for worrying them.

Marinette gives a small smile and assures the news castor and her daughter, that she's okay for an interview. Although Marinette's voice is very hoarse she continues to talk until her classmates pull her away into a group hug.

Crying of joy everyone else had gathered around Marinette, she couldn't muster anything but exhaustion. Marinette goes to the man that was holding her life in her hands just moments ago and hugs him. Audible gasp is heard, both from on goers and the bat fam doesn't understand why she would care for him, but they keep recording.

Whispers of 'thanks for not hurting her further' and 'for being strong for so long. Marinette got up making her way in a direction, tried to grab something to her right and fell. Before she hit the ground someone with blond hair caught her, his tears landing on her face.

Bruce pauses the video. "We need to keep an eye on the situation." Looking to Tim already is background checking Marinette. Nightwing, former leader of the Teen Titans, steps forward.

"I already have contacts that may be able to help the situation." Grayson signaled and a photo of Kori and the rest of the Teen Titans to appear on-screen.

Shaking his head, Bruce reaches for his phone. "I think it would be best if I go with someone instead." Pulling up his contacts he lands on 'Diana'. "And I happen to know just the person for the job." Damian silently followed.

Heading up to the Manor, Bruce hits the call button and makes his way to the kitchen. Alfred stood in Damian's way, silently shaking his head. Handing him a water bottle and granola bar, Damian made his way back down to the Batcave. Just in time to see Tim put up another video.

Recognizing, the girl from before he pressed play. The thumbnail is a photo of Marinette, bandages on her neck and arms, leaning on Alya for support.

Pressing the spacebar the video begins in hushed French, for a moment Marinette sways and Alya holds her steady. Reassuring her that this was the least she should be able to do.

Alya only wore a gray undershirt, while Marinette had on a spaghetti string, with white and pale pink flowers along the hem of the shirt at the top, her hair in a loose tight bun.

Speaking in almost perfect English with a moderate accent she started to explain who they were and who's 'Ladybug' and 'Chat Noir'.

Often referring to the Ladyblog for when the attacks started to happen and for other information that Marinette couldn't remember or provide. Damian turned to Grayson as Tim searched for everything regarding the attacks in Paris.

Beginning to explain what the Ladyblog was for, Marinette started to cough. She quickly turned away from both the camera and Alya. Shakily asking for tissue from Alya, Marinette is looking down at her hands as Alya leaves the room by a trap door leading downward.

The bandaged hands on her face and hands a reminder to her and the Heros that she almost fought for her life that day. "I will not take much of your time." She promises with conviction in her voice.

"We need help, this has been going on for 3 years." Looking at her hands, almost whispering. "But never, this bad; our heroes are struggling." Alya is back, her steps getting louder in the background.

"Paris has been under the tyranny of two supervillains named The Monarch (Hawkmoth). For the first three years and a half, he was alone. Then his partner in crime, Mayura, joined him." Marinette's voice gets raspier the more she catches them up about the situation. The weight of this is carrying off on her but so is something else, the gravity of this isn't from some run-in with a supervillain. It's fear, but not for herself.

Her phone vibrates before an unfamiliar song of Jagged Stones plays through its speakers. Looking down her eyes sag before turning to the screen. "I'm sorry to cut this short but I'll have another chance to explain more in detail."

Reaching over, she pressed a key on her keyboard, promptly ending the video. Pulling out his phone for his right utility belt pouch. Tim pulls the up Ladybug and the Ladyblog.

Finding, for the most part, a true reenactment of the events Marinette described. Pictures of both a boy in leather and a girl in bright red and black poky-dots fighting many superpowered humans. Recordings lasting either seconds or minutes of different points view of each fight.

This could have gone so much further if I knew how to write them, this sucks. That’s it. I’m binge-watching, everything.

#youknowthedrill #maribat #daminette #maridami #marinette #mari #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #My turn #MT

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dirtreally · 5 years ago

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kokkuri3replied to your post“every time i publicly complain about an artist that isn’t japanese but...”

No I want to see your long post about this this is interesting

Okay this ended up being a lot because this is something i’ve been thinking about a lot so here’s too many words about me being too mad about anime

I first have to preface this by talking about a very deep uncertainty: i don’t know what i’m talking about but i only know what i’m talking about. everything i am about to say is based on what i feel are fundamental truths. everything i am about to say feels so deeply obvious that half the time i spend thinking about this is spent wondering if i’m just running in circles. But also like: every artist i am about to mention here has some level of large, clout-able, mainstream success but like, 0 substantial critique whatsoever(critique that isn’t just: hey check out this artist cuz i like them/we’re collabing), much less critique that even pokes at any of these deeply obvious truths. So i’m stuck here wondering if i’m a crazy person or if like, all the cool epic kids Whose Art I Personally Like already realise this, but like they comprehend it so thoroughly that such a thing doesn’t even need to be said. To some extent, the latter has to be true, cuz like, the Cool Epic Kids don’t usually fuck with a lot of the art i’m about to shit on, so on some level we must realise these same things about this art. But at the same time that kind of doesnt matter? because both possibilities (either that you already think of this in the same way that i do OR that you have a different understanding about what i’m about to talk about) BOTH have to end with the same conclusion: that by the end of this post, it will be deeply obvious that this has been an exercise in running around in circles. this post is the seinfeld of talking about anime.

okay so i get mad about this specific thing a lot but let’s just look at the specific studio that kicked it off today:

and here’s the thing i got mad at for good measure:

Okay so here’s the background info: local singaporean graffiti studio, they really like anime, and they were the source of that one dumb ass screenshot i posted earlier. and like just look at this

this literally just looks like youtube is recommending me a future bass playlist but in real life. This tells me nothing about anything that has ever mattered. This is a math equation. This is just: kitschy faux-retro aesthetics because they’re popular, rendered in a modern cel-shaded style cuz it’s popular, and with katakana thrown in because if cool anime art wasn’t enough to convince you that these guys were hip then maybe some fucking A E S T H E T I C S will. Nothing about this communicates to me that anybody who had any part in the creation of this actually wanted to be here. This goes beyond any idea of like, art competency, or even being good at art. if you want you can change the subject matter, make your art more dynamic, sure:

But even this piece, arguably the studiomoonchild work with the most energy to it, feels completely lifeless. Like yeah, i could say that it’s cuz all of their anime girls have like those weird dead eyes but that’s almost certainly a copout: the simple truth is that this thing and the earlier one with the robot are the exact same piece of art. they are both interchangeable, they both tell me the exact same nothing.

If you like go through all of their work it’s basically the exact same thing through where like everything they do has this exact feeling of “nobody really had to be here”. even the way this art is produced reflects this because studiomoonchild and their contemporaries are all part of the same sycopanthic surge in the popularity of “”legal graffiti”” in singapore that’s all just this problem repeated for infinity. nobody doing legal graffiti in singapore actually really cares. there is so much art that is absolutely nothing other than like, 1. YO IS THIS HIP? 2. YO DOES THIS TOE THE LINE OF BEING EDGY? 3. YO IS THIS IMMEDIATELY SAFE ENOUGH TO NOT ACTUALLY CHALLENGE OR COMMUNICATE ANYTHING? all of this is literally just stock music but with extra steps i don’t want anybody to tell me how much they fucking hate kevin macleod ukeleles while liking this its all the same bro!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But here’s the kicker: studiomoonchild actually has art that pulls away from this i mean look at this!!

it’s definitely still pulling on that same vein of like, youtubebait anime art, but there’s an undeniable sense of PRESENCE that doesn’t exist in any of their other work. It feels like the people who drew this actually WANTED to draw this, and it’s vibrant and fluid in a way that no amount of weird katakana placement and anime lo fi hip hop girl playlist thumbnail type art can convey. AND LIKE even then, it doesn’t shake off the gender thing, where in the world of studiomoonchild, the female subjects can only ever be pretty and silent and cool or cute while the dudes are actually allowed to have flesh in their face, to have big defined noses and cheekbones and laugh lines, and perhaps most importantly, to transcend the flesh by being a cool robot that gets to shoot all the laser beams and like how apparently this is their entire conception of anime. OH WELL we can’t hit it out of the park every time i guess.

CONCLUSION

conventional thinking about art and the way it exists in society suggests that it is better, perhaps even more virtuous, to be technically skilled but stylistically conventional than it is to be unique but unrefined. think about every single “ohhhh i could draw that though???” type comment ever. Like, there’s this buzzfeed draw-off video ive posted about before where hae-joon and jonni phillips redraw superman

the comments are basically what you expect:

this is just two of them but like its sooooo much worse literally every single top comment is some version of shitting on jonni but like heres the thing; all of these bitches will, without a shadow of a doubt, remember jonni’s superman before hae-joons’. A single look at jonni’s superman already communicates so much. we understand that it’s not supposed to be a literal 1:1 depiction of the truth of superman as he appears in the cartoons or comics or movies but rather a rendering of her own emotional truth on the subject of superman: he’s literally just kinda whatever!!! he’s just a strong cool man who wins fights epicly and has all the powers and loves his wife and has Logo That Makes Grown Men Spend 27 Dollars On Mug. Jonni understands this and is able to use this to her advantage, creating this single drawing tgat is apathetic, disdainful, and playful all at once.

You kind of can say the same thing about hae-joon’s art, but you kinda can’t? There’s the same core idea here: that hae-joon also has no strong feelings on superman apart from “i know of him, and i know you know of him”. But the thing is that like: he knows it, but he doesn’t Know it. hae-joon cannot take this fundamental, deeply funny, truth, that one of the biggest fictional characters ever mainly exists as the emotional, narrative, and aesthetic equivalent of white bread, and bring it to its logical conclusion.

#kokkuri3

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isa-ghost · 5 years ago

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LoF2 Parts 1 & 2 Notes

PART 1 NOTES:

WEE WOO WEE WOO, ANNOYINGLY ATTRACTIVE DIPSHIT GETS MORE ANNOYINGLY ATTRACTIVE VIA STEALING DARKIPLIER’S EYELINER AND CHANELING HIS INNER GERARD WAY.

So anyway fUCK that creepy borderline seductive ass stare and fUCK those red and blue Mayhem lights, its time to perish in flames.

DISCLAIMER: Normally I don’t note game dialogue because its not typically a hint or anything being that its part of the game, but I saw several good tidbits on my dash that are... Way too unnervingly relatable to our boys and theories to just not say something.

Also, I am TOTALLY on board the “this is Marvin” train, but I agree it could be Anti too, especially given he appeared in the first LoF, which I actually haven’t ever watched hmmm, I should do that... Edit: this was written last night before I had some Realizations that I get into down below.

Just like I thought, his face is getting redder just like during Mayhem.

So this goes on throughout the video I’m pretty sure, but we’ve already mentioned the whole actor thing going on in the game is very fitting for Marvin. He’d be very comfortable on stage most likely. Alternatively I thought of the whole actor thing as a puppet show. Do with that what you will... Again, its in game so to us it could mean absolutely nothing but ideas. Nothing canon.

Same thing with all the mask talk. Huuuuge Marvin energy, but nothing canon, only inspiration.

10:27 - “Oh no, sad puppet man! Are you sad like me?” Sad... puppet... “like me”... Godamn it, McLoughlin, get that Chase sounding shit outta here.

36:51 - “I gave chase Brody-” WHY THE FUCK DID I NOT SEE ANYONE TALK ABOUT THIS YESTERDAY??? HE STRAIGHT UP SAID CHASE’S NAME BECAUSE THE WORD “CHASE” WAS IN A NOTE.

39:23 - “Well Gary, it was nice hanging out with you. I hope you find your wife and your kids, and you don’t die of scurvy.” Not even three entire minutes after purposely saying Chase’s name, he pulls this comment... Ffs. Not only that, but according to what I saw today about Part 2, he’s wearing Chase’s shirt. I know we’re suspecting Anti or Marvin in that thumbnail, but I dunno guys... With these three Chase nudges, I’m starting to lean towards my Something Is Wrong With Chase And He Might Be Corrupted theory again...

40:12 - “Am I a magician?” See now with the previous statements in mind, this feels like a taunt even if it isn’t. >:/ It’s like he figured that between Marvin Appreciation Week, the acting theme going on in the game, and knowing Marvin appeared last Mayhem extremely briefly, he knows we’re thinking Marvin might be the one we’re seeing, when really it might still be Chase.

This sparked a big theory idea, here’s a link to said theory post.

PART 2 NOTES:

Red and blue thumbnail again. Aaand-

Chase shirt alert, as mentioned before.

3:29 - “Thanks dad!” Dad jokes are a classic Mayhem thing. I know I say that every time, I do it just in case someone who’s never read my notes before reads them

And that’s all I managed to catch, might’ve missed some comments he made.

#jacksepticeye

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quinnybee-writes · 5 years ago

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Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 4/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 4 Summary: Purposefully misconstrued dating advice leads to a deal being struck between the villain and the vigilante.

Part 1 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 4 on AO3

Three days later and Aizawa had yet to make contact. Hizashi frowned to himself, watching the dark subway walls speed past the train’s window. He kept having to remind himself to not pick at the cork stoppering the bottle of wine in his lap but his hands grew fiddly and nervous when his mind wandered too far back towards the vigilante’s radio silence. What was the reason behind it? Was he trying to force Hizashi into contacting him instead as some kind of lazy entrapment attempt? Hizashi couldn’t bring himself to believe that. Aizawa was a lot of things but half-assed wasn’t one of them. If he wanted to get to Hizashi he would make sure he did so in the middle of something he could use to nail Hizashi to the wall. If he followed that thought to the logical end, however, Aizawa protecting him made even less sense; it would have been the perfect opportunity to drag Hizashi to the cops by the collar like a self-satisfied house cat bringing its owner a dead pigeon. Why would someone so careful in everything otherwise make such a glaring error and then spend three silent days failing to do anything about it? Aizawa was a mystery of motivation; every time Hizashi thought he’d gotten a handle on the type of person he was, something new came along to prove him wrong. Hizashi grimaced and shook himself mentally as the train slowed at his stop, tugging his thumbnail out of the rut he had carved into the top of the cork. He’d been chasing himself in circles all week, and now wasn’t the time to throw himself back into the spiral.

Standing in front of the apartment door, Hizashi took a minute to center himself with a deep breath and fixed his expression into a relaxed-ish smile before knocking. The chatter of conversation on the other side quieted as footsteps approached. There was a short pause, then the door swung wide to reveal his mother’s elated face.

“Hizashi!” she exclaimed. Before he could return the greeting, her expression fell into one of shocked concern. “Oh my god, what happened to you?”

“Mm? Oh, this,” Hizashi said with a forced chuckle. He cleared his throat and tried to sound nonchalant about his half-healed double black eye and two-inch headwound as he rattled off the cover story he’d been practicing for this moment. “I, uh, tripped over a couple of trash bags behind the studio, ended up clocking myself on a dumpster,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Real graceful, huh?”

“Heavens,” his mother said as she ushered him inside. “You went to the ER and got checked out, right? Head injuries like that can turn nasty out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, Ma, I took care of it,” Hizashi said, giving her an appreciative kiss on the cheek. “Didn’t really have a choice, actually, the night delivery guy found me out cold in the alley and called an ambulance. I think I might have traumatized the poor guy.”

“With a face like that how could you not?” Haru teased as Hizashi came into the kitchen to set down the wine. She took the bottle from him before giving him a quick, tight hug. “Good to see you, Zash.”

“You’re heartless but I love you anyway,” Hizashi replied, squeezing her back.

“Whatever, we both know I’m the cute one,” Haru said. She pulled back and gently prodded him in the chest with her ladle. “Now go mingle, I’ve got a curry to keep from burning.”

“Yes’m,” Hizashi said with a salute.

“If it isn’t everyone’s favorite problem child back from the dead!” Hizashi’s sibling Hoshi said in mock surprise as Hizashi dropped into one of the empty living room chairs. “It’s lucky you showed up, Zash, Hitoshi and I were about to ro-sham-bo for who gets your cat.”

Hizashi turned a grin on his nephew, who was perched on the arm of the sofa next to his mothers. “If you can get Ai-chan to leave the apartment with all your limbs intact, you’re welcome to her, Shortstack,” he said.

“Don’t you even think about it, Hitoshi Shinsou,” his mother Mara said, nudging her son in the leg to reclaim his attention from the video he was watching on his phone. “If I wanted a pet chainsaw, I’d live in a hardware store.”

Hitoshi snorted. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’d rather step on a beartrap than make that cat do anything. Baji can have her,” he replied, punctuating with a “have at it” gesture to Hoshi.

“Yes!” Hoshi said, pumping their fist in the air. “Dibs on the attack gremlin maintained!”

“Are we just ignoring the fact that I’m not actually dead, or…?” Hizashi asked, crossing his arms and trying not to smile as he arched an eyebrow at his sibling.

“I mean, at this point we kind of have to,” his sister Hinako said from the other side of her wife. “Mara and I claimed your TV and that fancy toaster oven Mom and Dad got you for Christmas last year, Haruko gets your new laptop and router, and Hiro beat everyone else out in the tournament for your apartment lease. Ai-chan was the last thing we had to divvy up.”

“You guys are the absolute worst,” Hizashi said, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he said it. “I take time out of my busy schedule of being attacked by trash bags and getting bullied by my cat and this is the thanks I get?”

“Truly, we aren’t worthy,” Haru said from behind him, ruffling his hair. “Time to set the table, busy boy, Mom said Dad’s almost home.”

Dinner with his family was like finally being allowed to exhale after months of holding his breath. Deep down he’d known having to isolate himself from them to prevent them from getting wrapped up in things had weighed on him, but the full extent of it didn’t hit him until here and now. It took less time than Hizashi had expected to get back into the flow of the family conversation, a chaotic blend of speech, signing, and the kind of sweeping gestures that came from being raised by an opera singer and a very emphatic law professor. The constant sting of edginess that kept him from ever really relaxing melted away to nothing, no match for the rapid-fire retellings of weird life moments and accompanying bouts of breathless laughter from around the table.

“Speaking of tired,” his father said, bouncing off the tail end of a story Hiro had told about a toddler at his daycare center who had somehow gifted three other children and one of his coworkers with a combination of chicken pox and flu, “you’re looking a little wilted, Shortstack. High school applications getting to you?”

“Actually, Hitoshi has some news about that he was going to share tonight,” Hinako said. She beamed over at her son, giving him an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. Hitoshi cleared his throat, the look of someone who had hoped they weren’t going to have to talk in front of people written plain on his face. Hizashi gave a sympathetic wince; growing up as an introvert in a family full of dramatic hams and public speakers had to be a lot to handle when the spotlight was suddenly on you.

“I decided to take the UA High entrance exam,” Hitoshi said, managing a small smile in spite of himself.

Despite his sympathy a moment earlier, Hizashi couldn’t help joining in the excited uproar from around the table that followed Hitoshi’s announcement. “Hell yeah, dude!” he crowed. “Carrying on the family tradition!”

“Does it really count as a tradition if only one of us made it in?” Hiro asked. He seemed to realize how the question had sounded a moment later as Hoshi elbowed him in the side. A strained flicker of sideways glances at HIzashi followed. Hizashi just grinned despite the sudden jolt the words had sent through the pit of his stomach.

“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Hiro,” Hizashi said, shaking his head. “If people are allowed to call things ‘first annual’ then Haru has every right to be a family tradition all by herself.”

“Aww, thanks, Zash,” Haru said, reaching across the table to pinch his cheek. Hizashi swatted her hand away with a snort.

“You went to UA, Aunt Haru?” Hitoshi asked, sounding surprised. Haru preened.

“Sure did! Three years strong in the A-class Hero Course, graduated seventh in my class. Not high enough to get snapped up by one of the famous agencies, but good enough for some solid sidekick gigs,” Haru said.

“That’s right, you’ve been doing temporary assignments at a bunch of agencies, haven’t you? How’s that going?” their mother asked quickly. Everyone seemed eager to sidestep the pit of discomfort Hiro had accidentally opened up, especially Hiro. As everyone’s attention turned to Haru’s newest temp assignment at Loud Cloud’s agency Hiro caught Hizashi’s eye and mouthed “dude, sorry”, grimacing at himself. Hizashi shook his head and signed “no worries” back. The words still burned in his gut, but Hizashi did his best to ignore it and listen to Haru’s story.

Too soon for his liking, Hizashi hit his soft out time, his middle out time, and finally his hard out before the trains stopped running and he’d have to take an overpriced cab home. He said his goodbyes, promising without much hope that it wouldn’t be this long before he saw them all again. As he was putting on his shoes, Haru threw her coat over her shoulders and offered to walk him to the station to make sure he got there okay. Not about to turn down a lingering moment of normalcy before he had to go back to being himself in the morning, he accepted.

“Hey. You okay?” Haru said as they headed up the sidewalk.

“Mm? Yeah, why?” Hizashi said. Haru gave him a Look and Hizashi relented. “I mean, he wasn’t wrong,” he said grudgingly.

“Being right isn’t the same as not being a dick,” Haru pointed out. Hizashi waved a hand as if wafting away the accusation.

“Honestly, Haru, it’s not a big deal. Some of us grow up to be heroes--” Hizashi said, gesturing to Haru-- “and some of us have to make do being the family disappointment,” he finished, gesturing back at himself. “It’s the circle of life.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Haru snapped, surprising him with the sternness in her voice. “You aren’t a disappointment to anyone. Especially me. All right?”

Hizashi smiled at her, shoulders relaxing back out of the sarcastic hunch they had started to reflexively tighten into. “Yeah. Thanks, Haru.”

Haru nodded authoritatively. “So. On to other things, namely this dashing, courageous night delivery guy you mentioned,” she went on, a sly smile creeping over her face. Hizashi tried to ignore the way his face immediately heated up at the implication in her tone.

“What about him?” he asked, amused in spite of himself at the word “dashing” being used for the scruffy, monotone Aizawa.

“I mean, he was gallant enough to come swooping in to your rescue to save you from your own klutziness,” Haru said. “Seems like something you’d want to repay with some kind of favor, don’tcha think? Like one that starts with ‘thank you’ and ends with ‘drinks after work, my treat’?”

Hizashi scoffed, about to blurt out that under no circumstances whatsoever was something like that going to be on the table, but the word “favor” sparked off a half-formed idea in his head. Repaying favors with favors was practically his side business, after all. There might be something in that, though far from the path Haru’s mind seemed to be going down. “You might be on to something there,” he conceded. “I’ll let you know if it works.”

“Make me your best man at the wedding and we’ll call it even,” Haru teased, holding the station door open for him. “Text me when you get back to your place, okay? There’s some bad shit going around right now.”

“Will do. Thanks again, Haru.”

“Just doing my job.” Haru gave him another quick hug-and-hair-ruffling before bidding him goodnight.

Hizashi lay in bed with a very disgruntled Ai-chan snoozing on his chest, burning his eyes with the light from his phone screen. The more he considered what Haru had said, the more the idea appealed to him. The only roadblock now was Aizawa and his apparent determination to freeze Hizashi out. Still, there was more than one way to catch a delivery man, Hizashi thought as he double-checked the station’s equipment budget for this quarter and opened their online supplier in a new browser tab.

It seemed like in aside from “multi-platinum criminal mastermind” and “epicenter of most of the trouble in his life right now”, Shouta could add “compulsive online shopper” to the list of traits Hizashi Yamada was using to intrude on his day-to-day life.

Shouta had done his best to put the confused night he’d helped Yamada avoid arrest out of his mind, ignoring the paper bag of Yamada’s belongings where he’d stuffed it into the back of his closet and getting back to his life. At first Shouta had thought Yamada had either been doing the same, or at the very least avoiding stirring things up while the dust was still settling. Yamada hadn’t made any kind of contact and was keeping quiet about his misadventures in his public life as far as Shouta could tell from the bits and pieces of Yamada’s show he’d caught while on patrol. Instead, however, Yamada appeared to have been just saving up energy for the marathon of attention-seeking he had planned. Nearly every day Asahi Radio was one of his scheduled stops with some new item listed as needing delivered to HIzashi Yamada, signature required. Shouta managed to very calmly beg a few of his coworkers to switch routes with him for the day, making sure to ask the ones with longer routes who would be more than willing to switch him for a shorter day for the same pay. After several days of running unfamiliar routes and going through every willing coworker he had, however, he found himself railroaded back into taking his route back by a politely-worded “friendly reminder” from his supervisor about making sure to get his own work done. Shouta checked his delivery manifest, saying a short, silent prayer to not see what he knew he was going to see down at the bottom: Asahi Radio, three kilogram package for Hizashi Yamada, signature required on delivery. He gritted his teeth, throwing himself into the front seat of his truck and slamming the door behind him. Today was going to be a very long week.

As soon as Chiyaki saw Shouta shuffling through the front door with the box tucked under his arm, they were already hitting Yamada’s extension on their phone. “You got another one, boss,” they said, waving Shouta inside.

“On my way,” Yamada’s voice replied. Shouta was darkly pleased to hear that he sounded almost defeated when he said it, like the week of not getting what he wanted was starting to grate on him as much as his pestering was grating on Shouta. Yamada came slouching out from the back room of the studio. He didn’t look much better than the last time Shouta had seen him; the bruising around his eyes had faded from midnight purple to a sickly pond scum grey-yellow-green and the gash on his forehead seemed to be healing well, but he held neck and upper body stiffly like he was trying very hard not to move too quickly and risk wrenching something. Despite this, his whole posture straightened as he saw that it was Shouta making the delivery today. Shouta sighed internally as Yamada swaggered up to him with a suspiciously cheerful grin.

“Haven’t seen too much of you around here lately,” Yamada said, the barest note of challenge to his tone. Shouta gave him the flattest, most disinterested look he could manage in return.

“We’ve been moving people around,” he said, handing Yamada the clipboard. “Sign here, please.”

“Right, right,” Yamada said. He stamped the bottom of the delivery slip and made to claim is carbon copy. As he started pulling the perforation, he paused as if he’d just thought of something. “Are you allowed to pick up something since you’re already here, or do I have to call in for that?” Yamada asked.

“I can take it for processing if it’s properly addressed, but they’ll charge your account after the fact for the delivery costs. And since it’s Friday it probably won’t get delivered until Monday,” Shouta said. It was technically against policy do it things that way, but a little bit of policy finagling was worth cutting this conversation as short as he could.

“Oh, that’s fine, it’s nothing urgent. Just something I owe a colleague of mine,” Yamada said. “It should still be in the outbox, Chii,” he added, turning to Chiyaki and pointing to a pair of mail trays behind their desk. Shouta collected the envelope from Chiyaki and tucked it under his arm, reclaiming the clipboard from Yamada as well.

“Thanks for your patronage,” Shouta said, already turning and heading towards the door. He tossed the envelope into an empty bin in the back of his truck and was mostly successful in putting it out of his mind.

“Aizawa!”

Shouta halted on the threshold of the employee entrance at the sound of a voice behind him. He sighed, wondering what new impediment was about to be added to his day. When he turned around, however, he was surprised to find Takeshiro, one of the night crew in package processing, approaching him with an envelope clipped to a clipboard.

“Something I can help you with?” Aizawa asked warily. Takeshiro held the clipboard out to him.

“Found somethin’ for you in one of the bins,” Takeshiro replied. “Figured you could sign for it now. No point sendin’ someone all the way uptown for someone who works here, y’know?”

He wasn’t wrong, Shouta supposed, though it seemed strange that someone would be sending him something through the company he worked for. If they knew him well enough to send him things he would have assumed they knew to just use the postal service and save themselves the handling fees.. He set his bag down, having to dig through a few different pockets before he found his spare stamp. Takeshiro watched him with disinterest bordering on impatience. Shouta signed for the envelope and barely had time to tear off his copy of the form before Takeshiro reclaimed the clipboard and bid him a perfunctory good night. Shouta watched him go, eyebrow raised, then shrugged. He would have considered himself a man of few words, but Takeshiro was about as talkative as a tree stump.

Turning back to the envelope, Shouta was somewhat unsurprised to recognize it; the envelope Yamada had gotten him to take for processing earlier that day. Shouta grimaced at the thought that Yamada considered him in any way a “colleague”. The envelope itself was heavier than he would have expected for its size and rattled when he turned it over in his hands. The noise was not encouraging. Shouta slid the envelope into his bag, careful not to jostle it too much as he made his way back to his apartment.

Once there, Shouta dug a filtration mask, a pair of thick leather gloves, and a long-handled pair of chemistry tongs out of the jumble of spare parts and unused equipment in his linen cabinet. It would be somewhat out of character for Yamada to resort to some kind of long-distance assassination via courier package but Shouta wasn’t in the business of being careless around villains. He knelt on his entryway floor, envelope in front of him. Using the tongs he grasped the tab of the envelope and pulled it open. Nothing happened, which was equal parts a relief and suspicious. He took the bottom corner of the envelope between two fingers and pulled the edge of the opening wider with the tongs, sliding the contents of the envelope out onto the floor.

A zip-top sandwich bag full of cash clattered out, landing with a metallic splat. Holding the envelope at arms’s length Shouta peeked inside and saw something square and yellow stuck to the inside; pulling it out revealed a pair of yellow sticky notes stapled together at the top corner that appeared to have been shaken off of the sandwich bag in transit. The note on top read “they took a stupid route and overcharged you”. Dumping out the sandwich bag, Shouta found it contained five thousand, one hundred sixty-nine yen in small bills and change; rounded up, the fare from the hospital to Yamada’s apartment building. A roundabout way of deciding to repay him, Shouta thought, but it showed more discretion that he’d honestly expected out of Yamada. Flipping to the second note, he saw it was an address and a small but detailed hand-drawn map from his apartment to the destination and a meeting time of 8:30pm, signed off with Yamada’s stylized M signature. One step forward, two steps back, Shouta thought as he pulled the respirator mask off with a sigh. The invitation wasn’t a binding agreement, but Yamada had already proved he was willing to go utterly over the top to force Shouta into an interaction. Either Shouta bit the bullet and went now, or he had at least another week of near-constant deliveries to look forward to. At least this way he could return Yamada’s things and not have to look at the accusatory paper bag every time he went to get dressed in the morning. One look at the clock told him he was already destined to be late, but Shouta didn’t bother rushing as he collected the bag and kicked on his shoes to head out again. Whether Yamada waited to see if he was coming or stood him up was the other man’s prerogative.

The address was for a small bistro-style cafe with a rooftop veranda that overlooked the sidewalk. Yamada was hovering beside the door with his phone in his hand, pretending to be engrossed in whatever was on the screen but keeping a sharp eye on passersby. He looked like he had come straight from work, still dressed in the same clothes Shouta had seen him in earlier with a leather laptop bag over one shoulder. The smile he gave Shouta as he approached was as close to genuinely friendly as Shouta had ever seen from him.

“I already got us a table,” Yamada said, nodding to one of the tables on the veranda. He motioned for Shouta to follow him into the restaurant and up a claustrophobically narrow set of stairs next to the door to the kitchen. The two of them sat across from one another at the table, a tension settling between them as soon as they did. Shouta ordered a black coffee without looking at the menu and Yamada requested the server come back in a few minutes to give him time to look things over.

“I’ve never actually been here before,” Yamada admitted when the server left. “I saw it when I was walking home the other day and it struck me as a good place to get some privacy, you know?”

“Hn,” Shouta replied. The veranda was abandoned other than the two of them, with only the tiny staircase or vaulting the safety rail as viable exits. A quiet laugh from Yamada interrupted Shouta’s train of thought. He looked over to see Yamada trying to hide a smirk behind his hand.

“You do that too?” Yamada asked.

“Do what?”

“Tally up every escape route the second you get into a place,” Yamada said. “Hopping the railing wouldn’t be my first choice, but you seemed to be staring at it pretty hard. Bored with me already?”

Shouta scowled at him, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks at being called out. Instead of answering, he grabbed the paper bag and set it on the table in front of Yamada. Yamada looked at it, then up at Shouta with his head cocked to the side. “I would have returned it sooner, but things came up,” Shouta said, only lying slightly. Things had come up, they were just mostly intangible things like the unmistakable feeling that he didn’t want to see Yamada. Bemused by the roundabout explanation, Yamada unrolled the top of the bag and looked inside. He paused, seeming taken aback when he saw what the bag held.

“So you’re the one who made off with all of this,” Yamada said, not quite managing to keep the surprise out of his voice. He pawed through the bag’s contents and pulled out the tangle of wires and audio parts Shouta had yanked from around his neck.

“I...may have broken that,” Shouta admitted grudgingly. “Sorry. There wasn’t a lot of time.”

Yamada looked it over, running it through his fingers like a jeweler inspecting a string of pearls, then shook his head. “It doesn’t look like it. I worked some break points into it when I built it, like those elastic loops they put in cat collars so they don’t strangle themselves.” He shrugged. “Might be time for an upgrade anyway.” He seemed to catch himself lapsing into thought and shook out of it, holding the handful of assorted technology up like Shouta was supposed to have any idea what he was looking at. “It’s a vocal directional focus,” Yamada explained. “Depending on the combination of switches I use, it activates the speakers to give me a little boost in sending my voice where I want it to go. The only downside is smaller parts burn out twice as fast, and that’s if you’re using them for what they’re meant to do. You can only fight obsolescence for so long.” He shrugged again, setting the gear aside to continue poking through the bag.

Yamada picked up his mask, making a face at the jagged crack across the brow, then his jacket. He inspected the jacket even more closely than he’d looked at his gear, clicking his tongue in annoyance and running his thumb over some deep scuffs on the lapels and sleeves. “A little polish and she’ll be good as new,” he muttered, more to himself than Shouta. As he moved it to the side, something fell out of the pocket and clattered onto the table. Yamada picked it up. “Is this yours?” Yamada asked, holding up a small matte black USB drive between finger and thumb.

“No,” Shouta said, shaking his head. He had quite a few storage drives, but he kept them in a secure pocket elsewhere in his bag from where he’d stowed Yamada’s things.

“Huh.” Yamada looked it over, but from what Shouta could see there didn’t seem to be any kind of label on it. “Do you mind?” Yamada asked, pulling his laptop case up onto the table. Shouta shrugged. Personally he thought the mystery flash drive could wait until Yamada was done with whatever he had called him here for, but Yamada had already packed away his other belonging and was halfway into booting up his computer heedless of Shouta’s waning patience. Yamada’s eyebrows furrowed closer and closer together and he scrolled through the drive’s contents, occasionally making small “hmm”s or “huh”s.

After one especially scathing noise of curiosity, Shouta lost the last of his composure and half-snapped, “Something interesting?”

Yamada blinked, seeming to come back to himself but not looking away from the computer screen. “Possibly,” he said, sounding like he was more thinking out loud than anything. “Looks like the two you chased off were trying to do a little bit of revisionist evidence-planting. Some of these transcripts are mine, but some of them are definitely not. They are very interesting, though. If the night had gone a little differently those two would’ve had a nice feather in their cap.” Saying that seemed to jog him fully back to the present. “Anyway,” he said, pulling the drive out of his laptop and stowing both back in the case. “That actually brings me to what I actually wanted to talk to you about.”

“Which is?” Shouta asked. He couldn’t help feeling relieved that they had finally gotten to the point of this tiresome meeting.

“I wanted to thank you,” Yamada said. His expression was as close to serious as Shouta had seen from him and his voice lacked any of the attention-seeking cheeriness or slick smarm he usually used. “You stuck your neck out for me when you didn’t have to, and things would have broken pretty bad for me if you hadn’t been there.”

“Er. You’re welcome,” Shouta said. The words felt very awkward in his mouth. The corner of Yamada’s mouth flickered up into an almost-smile but it was gone again a moment later.

“That’s only half of why I asked you to meet me, if I’m honest,” Yamada continued. Shouta frowned, a sinking feeling settling into his gut. Of course there was a catch, he thought irritably. When he didn’t respond, Yamada went on without him. “Since I owe you for saving my skin, I want to offer you a deal. It’s something I think will solve this stalemate we keep finding ourselves in,” Yamada said. He was back in his element, posture too languid and his voice picking up a calculating breeziness. The return to status quo wasn’t completely unexpected but was completely unwelcome.

Shouta waited for Yamada to keep talking, but Yamada seemed to be waiting for him to make the next move. Gritting his teeth, Shouta asked, “What kind of deal?”

Yamada’s renewed grin widened at the acquiescence. “It’s nothing too complicated,” he said. He held up a hand, long fingers spread. “The deal is ‘first to five wins.’ Each of us gets to ask the other five favors, no strings attached, no questions asked. The first one to use up all five has to willingly turn themself over to the authorities and never breathe a word about what they know about the other.”

Shouta stared at him, taken aback. He’d expected something sneaky that would keep the scales tipped in Yamada’s favor, but turning the situation into some inane rivalry game was a twist he hadn’t seen coming. As far as he could tell, Yamada was completely serious about the suggestion; he seemed proud of both the idea and the reaction it had gotten out of Shouta.

“You said no questions asked. You mean, no matter what the favor is, we’re required to do it because we agreed to the deal?” Shouta asked. Yamada nodded. “So what’s stopping one of us from saying, ‘do me a favor and go turn yourself at the nearest police station and pretend you never met me’?”

Yamada frowned. “Nothing, I guess, other than a sense of fair play,” he said coolly. “Deals like this require a certain level of trust to work.”

Shouta snorted. “What makes you think I trust you?”

“There has to be some reason for a guy like you to lie to the police and withhold evidence, then let the only other person who knows the truth walk away from you,” Yamada said, shrugging one shoulder.

He had a point, much to Shouta’s annoyance. His choice to let Yamada go that night and then do everything he could to not see him until now was more one of exhaustion mixed with avoidance, but not once in the midst of it had it occurred to him that he might have to worry about Yamada turning him in to the police. He must have been silent long enough that Yamada could sense him coming around to the idea, as Yamada’s grin returned in all its toothy, rankling glory.

“So, is that a yes?” Five strikes for each of us. Well,” he corrected himself, “five and four. I’m guessing I’ve probably already burned one free pass at your good will.”

Shouta shook his head. “No,” he said. “If this is to level the playing field, it’s going to be level. Five for each of us, like you said. What happened before was a...lapse in judgement,” he finished, scowling at himself. His moment of ill-advised altruism had officially overstayed its welcome.

“To lapses in judgement,” Yamada said, extending a hand across the table. Shouta shook hands with him, hating the finality of it. With the rules as they were set out, all Shouta had to do to win this ridiculous bet was hold off on asking Yamada for anything other than some peace and quiet and wait for Yamada to burn himself out. It was too simple of a solution for Yamada to have not thought of it before he offered the deal, and Shouta had a sneaking suspicion that they would end up clashing at the finish line anyway. For right now, though, it seemed like playing along might be his best option.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #villain!mic #vigilante!aizawa #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #Erasermic #bnha #mha #Fire Meet Gasoline AU #Quinny thinks she's a writer

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today-only-happens-once · 6 years ago

Text

With Great Power - Chapter 7

Catch up or read on AO3 here!

Fic Summary: Thomas Sanders is just a regular social media personality. But when he gets bit by a spider during filming one of his YouTube videos, his whole life is about to turn upside down—whether he (or the aspects of his personality) want it to or not. Platonic LAMP/CALM + Character!Thomas. Spider-Man AU.

Chapter Word Count: 3646

Chapter warnings: cursing, threats, alcohol consumption (casual and not heavy), robbery mention, please let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Longer chapter with a hecking lot jammed into it, but I hope it’s an okay read. Was excited about this chapter, so I hope you enjoy the ride! Finished the edits around midnight last night and decided to wait until morning to post. Edited by yours truly. All mistakes are mine. Please let me know what ya think!

Tags: @captain-loki-xavier, @human-dictionary, @the-peculiar-bi-tch, @mining-pup, @band-be-boss-blog, @asexual-trashbag, @samathekittycat, @why-should-i-tell-youu2, @theobsessor1, @always3charcoaltea, @changeling-ash, @logical-princey, @princelogical, @crimsonshadow323, @flickering-raven, @smokeyrutilequartz, @dontbugmeimantisocial, @liz-a-bell, @black-king-white-knight, @soijusthavetoask, @analogical-mess, @marvelfangeek09, @dolphidragon, @thelowlysatsuma, @approximately12lbs-of-ducks, @vigilantvirgil

The internet personality sits on the couch in the living room of his apartment with his laptop balanced carefully on his thighs. It’s the middle of the afternoon the following day. He’d slept until almost noon, then scrolled through twitter and the news feed that was buzzing with the blurry, confusing security footage from the bank last night.

The spider logo had been visible from the way Thomas had wrapped the sweatshirt around his face, and that’s really all the public seemed to need to stir up excitement again. SPIDER-MAN MAKES A RETURN? had been the basis for nearly every headline Thomas had seen on the subject. News anchors puzzled over the bizarre footage of someone crawling on the ceiling. He’d watched a few interviews with some of the people that had gotten out safely—none of them claimed to know anything about who this “Spider-Man” might be.

Some threads on Twitter called him a “cryptid”. Others called him a “freak”. Law enforcement officials posted about how he should have left the job to professionals rather than go “vigilante”. Most called him a “hero”.

It left a weird, but not necessarily unpleasant, feeling in his stomach.

A few reports talked about the man Thomas had fought: Al Trevors, according to several news articles. He’d been a bus driver, apparently, with a wife and twin boys who were four years old. His wife is a lawyer, who had apparently advised him to not speak to the press. There had been no official statement from Trevors.

Eventually, Thomas stopped looking into the reaction to last night and instead turned his attention to the black cardstock rectangle he’d picked up. It sits beside him on the couch. On Thomas’s laptop, the cursor blinks lazily in the Google search bar.

“Thomas, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Virgil is standing in his usual space at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze narrowed at the host.

Thomas glances up at him, then back at the card. “No,” he says honestly.

Logan appears beside the staircase before Virgil can so much as open his mouth. He smooths his tie. “Virgil, you know as well as I do that Thomas buying into willful ignorance is likely only to be detrimental.”

Virgil shoots Logan a look. “Yeah, I know, Pocket Protector. I just…” he waves a hand at Thomas’s laptop. “I have a bad feeling about it. That’s all.”

Logan inclines his head. “Understandable, given the limited information we have available to us and your inclination to protect us.”

Thomas watches as Virgil glances quickly at the Logical Side. “Right…”

“However,” Logan continues, a little bit softer, “we have a responsibility. Knowing is always better than not knowing. And you know as well as I do, Virgil, that you would feel an equal level of distress—if not a more prolonged one as well—staying kept in the dark. Especially when there is a potential threat involved.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but Thomas can see the hesitation of thought in the Anxious Side. He’s listening to Logan. “Knwoledge is our greatest weapon, huh?” he says dryly.

Logan nods once, his certainty undeterred by Virgil’s snark. “And our greatest defense.”

Virgil pauses. Then he groans, scrubbing a sweatshirt-covered hand across his eyes. “Fine, Thomas. Look it up.”

Thomas takes a breath as Logan crosses over towards the couch and sits beside him. Virgil sits on the other side. Thomas types “ekko” into the search bar and presses enter.

The first thing that pops up is a link to the YouTube video that Joan had been talking about. It’s titled “The First Warning”. The internet personality hovers his cursor over the link. The thumbnail is a blank, black screen.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but Thomas doesn’t miss him flipping his hood up over his hair. It’s accompanying a tightening in Thomas’s stomach that makes him scroll further down the page instead of clicking on the link. He senses more than sees Logan glance disapprovingly at him, but the Logical Side doesn’t say anything.

The links below the video are a smattering of people talking about it: Twitter threads, pop culture websites that wrote articles about it, a talk show segment where they chat about it. Thomas wonders if maybe reading about it second hand would be enough.

“Thomas,” Logan says reproachfully. “While it would be better than nothing, a video is not capable of hurting you.”

“Beg to differ,” Virgil snaps.

“You’re stalling,” Logan replies flatly. “You cannot delay this forever.”

“Uh, he absolutely can.”

“Granted. But he shouldn’t.”

Thomas scrolls up quickly to the top of the page and clicks on the link before he can lose his nerve. Virgil growls and covers his face with his hands, peeking at the computer screen between his fingers. Thomas’s hands curl into loose fists against his legs. His foot taps quickly against the carpet.

The screen starts with static and a high-pitched whine. Flashes of news footage from riots, bombings, warzones. Static glitches.

It cuts out.

Thomas can just barely make out a silhouetted figure in the dark screen before a feminine voice starts speaking. “Pity, isn’t it?”

More footage, flashing so quickly that Thomas can’t decipher it all except that it’s all violent. It’s all bloody.

“It’s been long enough. It’s time for a new age to rise.”

The dark screen returns, but the figure steps forward into the minimal light. They’re in a body suit of some kind. Entirely white. It’s a sudden contrast to the dark background. The figure leans in closer to the camera.

“Some of you will see me as your hero. Others will fear me. If you’re the latter… I’m coming for you.”

It sounds like more than an empty threat. It sounds like a promise.

The video cuts out.

Thomas takes a breath and rakes a hand back through his hair. The video is playing back through his mind, trying to piece together the footage as if it might help make more sense. The words play back through Thomas’s mind. It’s time of a new age to rise. A new age of what? What did it mean that she’d be “coming for” the people who feared her?

“Virgil, are you all right?” Logan asks and Thomas almost jumps. He’d forgotten two of his Sides were sitting there beside him.

“Peachy,” Virgil growls back with the double vocalization.

“Thomas,” Logan says, “Please take a deep breath.”

The host closes his laptop and sets it on the coffee table in front of him as he sucks in some air and releases it slowly. He closes his eyes. Breathe with me, Virge, he wills. He takes in another breath and hears Virgil do the same.

Thomas opens his eyes and though Virgil still has his hood pulled up over his hair, the Anxious Side manages a faint twitch of his lips. A reassurance. Thomas nods once to him.

“What particularly was so alarming about that video?” Logan asks after a moment. “Though clearly intended to be threatening, it seems you have seen videos and movies that would warrant a stronger sense of fear than something such as that.”

Thomas swallows and clears his throat. “Virge?” He glances at Virgil on the other side of him.

“I don’t know.” The Anxious Side huffs a little, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “Something about it just seemed… more real than a horror movie. Like she meant what she was saying, I guess.”

Logan quirks an eyebrow. “Hm. I see.” He eyes Thomas’s closed laptop before speaking again. “Under usual circumstances, I would remark how it seemed a bit over the top in terms of its dramatics. The effects and spliced footage are clearly meant to be a fear tactic with seeming little meaningful substance upon which to base that fear.”

“Aren’t you kind of commenting on that now—”

“However,” Logan continues, interrupting Thomas, “it’s connection to recent events makes me less inclined to dismiss it so easily. A fear tactic? Absolutely. But one so easily dismissed? Perhaps not.”

Thomas rubs the back of his neck, glancing between Logan and Virgil. “So what now?”

There wasn’t anything in the video that suggested a location—either for where Ekko is, or where she’d be next. Thomas didn’t really have another plan of action, and it makes his fingers twitch with a surprising restlessness. It doesn’t help that Ekko’s line about being seen as a hero keeps replaying in his mind in a way that tightens his chest a little with discomfort.

“Well,” Logan says as he adjusts the frame of his glasses, “there are several questions left unanswered, it seems. The first being what connection, if any, does Ekko have to the attempted robbery last night? The video suggests some kind of wide-scale plan, perhaps even global given the use of news footage from around the world. So what business would someone like Ekko have in Gainesville, Florida?”

That did seem unusual, Thomas has to admit. He picks up the cardstock rectangle beside his leg on the couch, rubbing his thumb over the neat white print. E K K O.

“Speaking of wide-scale plan,” Virgil adds, sounding a bit more calm but no less worried than a moment ago, “the next question is… assuming that video isn’t just some fear-inducing media stunt, what is Ekko planning?”

Thomas sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Maybe that’s all it really is,” he says. “Maybe she’s just trying to get attention.” He doesn’t quite believe himself, and he sees Logan and Virgil exchange a silent glance. Neither of them says anything, but the quiet that lingers in the apartment is quickly interrupted by Thomas’s ringtone.

It’s Valerie.

“Hey, Valerie,” Thomas says, hoping his voice sounds brighter than he thinks it does. In his peripheral, Thomas sees both Logan and Virgil sink out.

“Hey, Thomas!” The familiar sound of his friend’s voice helps alleviate some of the tension in his shoulders. “I was talking to Joan, Lee, and Terrence and we were thinking of having a game night since everybody’s gonna be in town. Do you wanna join?”

Thomas smiles with a sudden relief. “Sounds awesome.”

…

“Did you just throw a blue shell, Talyn?! Shit. No, no, no—”

Thomas laughs as he watches his friends play Mario Kart. Joan’s corner of the screen fills with a bright blue light. A cart slams into them as it passes, sending Joan’s cart careening off the edge of the map. Thomas laughs even harder as Terrence’s square announces his victory. Joan curses again, managing to squeak past the finish line in 6th place.

“Hey, thanks, Talyn,” Terrence comments with an amused, smug smile. Talyn gives him a small salute, snorting with laughter a moment later at the look Joan throws their way.

Thomas smiles and leans back into the couch, picking up his glass of wine and taking a small sip. Turns out, a lot of Thomas’s friends had been free tonight. Lee and Mary Lee came, as did Valerie, Joan, Talyn, Camden, Terrence, and Kenny. It felt like it had been forever since he’d last hung out with his friends without it being with the intention of working on a video. Amicable chatter and friendly argument about the best character to main on Mario Kart fills the room with a warmth and comfort that is interrupted briefly by the arrival of pizza.

Mary Lee announces a food break, causing everyone who was getting ready for another round to set their controllers down as they all break into the various kinds of pizza. It was a reprieve that the internet personality had welcomed with open arms. In fact, Thomas has almost forgotten about the events of the past 24 hours when Kenny speaks up.

“So did you guys hear about that bank last night?”

Thomas shovels a bite of pizza into his mouth to avoid having to answer. Don’t say anything, Thomas, Virgil growls in his mind. Valerie points at Kenny. “Yes! Did you see the security footage?”’

“It’s a little hard to believe it wasn’t doctored somehow,” Lee chimes in as he reaches for another piece. “They swear it isn’t, though. And some of the eyewitness accounts verified that the guy was freaking climbing on the ceiling.”

“I saw this thread on Reddit,” Camden chimes in casually, reaching for a napkin, “arguing about whether or not he should count as a ‘hero’.”

Thomas glances at him. “What’d they decide?”

Camden’s mouth quirks. “It’s Reddit. You really think they arrived at any organized consensus?”

“I think it’s a little weird that he keeps covering his face,” Mary Lee cuts in, then grimaces. “If they are a he. It’s the pronoun that little kid and the hostages were using, but I probably shouldn’t assume that.” She opens a can of Coke and takes a long swallow.

“I don’t totally get why they’re hiding their identity,” Valerie adds. “I mean, both times we’ve seen them, they’ve had half their face covered. Unless they’re doing something wrong—which I don’t think they are—why hide?”

Thomas opens his mouth, but Talyn jumps in before he has a chance to reply. Part of him is grateful.

“I mean, not everybody thinks they’re doing the right thing.” Talyn sets their slice down on the paper plate in their lap. “Besides, if they can climb on the ceiling like that, there’s totally people that would try to capture them and run experiments or some shit.”

Thomas swallows. He reaches for another slice of pizza to avoid looking at any of them, even though the sudden churning in his stomach keeps him from actually taking a bite out of it.

“Talyn’s right,” Kenny says. “Plus, if they’re trying to stop criminals, maybe they’re trying to protect their family too. So bad guys can’t use their loves ones against them.”

“Bad guys?” Lee asks, more curious that argumentative. “So you think they’re a hero?”

Kenny lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, I think so. You guys don’t?”

Thomas doesn’t hear their answers, his thoughts racing ahead of him. Kenny had been right, of course. So had Talyn. Thomas hiding his face had been a mixture of both reasons, but sitting here in a room full of his friends reminds him all over again just how much had changed. How much risk is involved in what he did last night. He hadn’t just been risking his safety, he’d been risking all of theirs, too. After all, the man had reached for the sweatshirt he’d tied haphazardly around his face, and if Thomas had been just a little bit slower on his reflex…

His family would be at risk. Everybody in this room would be at risk. Everybody Thomas ever cared about.

And if he was really going to try to figure out what the whole Ekko business was about… well, that really only put them in more danger.

“Thomas? Joan?” Valerie asks, yanking Thomas abruptly from his thoughts. “What do you think?”

Thomas takes another sip of wine and shrugs, despite his racing heartbeat. He quirks an eyebrow at Joan, willing them to answer first.

Joan adjusts the beanie on their head. “I think it’s probably too early to tell. I mean, so far it seems like he’s tried to help people in need at risk to himself. Most people would probably classify that as a hero, but it depends on what you mean by the word in the first place.”

“Classic Ravenclaw answer,” Lee chimes in lightly, causing everyone to smile.

Joan laughs a little, then grabs the nearest controller. “All right,” they say. “So who am I gonna beat at Rainbow Road?”

“Oh, you’re on, Joan,” Camden announces, grabbing his back from the floor. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on, I’m still eating pizza!”

“Eat fast, Terrence. Rainbow Road waits for nobody.”

Thomas smiles and shakes his head, gathering up the discarded paper plates and napkins. He’s silently grateful none of them remembered that Thomas never answered the question.

…

It’s nearly two in the morning when all four of his main Sides show up at the same time, startling Thomas out of his almost-asleep state. The host groans.

“Really, guys?” he grumbles, but reaches over to the nightstand and flips on the lamp light.

“Apologies, Thomas,” Logan says from his position at the foot of Thomas’s bed. “I thought it would be best to let you rest and come to you with this idea in the morning, but Roman was rather insistent.”

Thomas rubs at his eyes and sits up. “What idea?”

“Roman and I were discussing potential strategies for dealing with some of Virgil’s concerns, and the… four of us—” Thomas frowns at the odd hesitation—“came up with a solution.”

“Oh,” Thomas says, his brow pulling together. “Um… cool. What’s the idea?”

Roman is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “A suit!”

Thomas’s confusion only deepens. “A suit?”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but it’s Logan that speaks up. “Of a sort. Not the type of suit you’re thinking, Thomas, but rather a suit designed with your specific superhuman abilities in mind that will maximize your potential while maintaining a certain level of identity protection.”

Thomas blinks a few times, then looks quizzically at Virgil. “Why?”

Virgil ducks his head a little and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess…. Your friends talking earlier got me—us—thinking about how close you’d been last night for your identity getting found out. Logan agreed that we needed something better than a sweatshirt.”

“So I then consulted with Roman,” Logan chimes in, “to see what might work best.”

Roman smiles. “And we came up with a little design idea.” Roman flicks his hand towards Thomas, who gets a sudden, clear picture in his head. A full body suit. Red and blue fabric, dark-purple-nearly-black stitching. A spider silhouette stretching along his torso.

“The spider was my idea,” Patton chimes in.

Thomas looks at Patton, disbelieving. “You wanted to add a spider? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Patton. I love it. But… I would’ve thought you’d be the last person to want a spider added onto the suit.”

Patton’s mouth tugs into a small, fond smile. “Spiders do freak me out, kiddo. But… I thought it’d be a nice tribute to the first time you helped someone with your new abilities. A reminder of the good you can do.” Mikey babbling about the Ninja Turtles flickers through Thomas’s mind, doubtlessly Patton’s doing. It makes the host’s chest swell.

“It’s perfect,” Thomas says honestly.

“After consulting with Virgil,” Logan adds, “I believe I have a fabric in mind that should be able to be a useful level of durable without being too restrictive in weight or flexibility.”

Thomas’s mind is reeling with the onslaught of ideas. “Wow. You guys all worked together on this?”

Roman is rotating the image around in his mind, giving Thomas a sharpening view of each angle on the suit. He can feel Roman’s excitement thrumming with a sudden burst of creative energy. Virgil seems quieter than he’d been previously, and when Thomas looks at him, he can see the calmer look in his eyes. Patton still has that small, happy smile.

And Logan… well, Logan has something bright and electric simmering just beneath his stoic exterior. He looks invigorated, and Thomas gets the feeling there’s something else that Logan hasn’t told him about yet.

“Indeed,” Roman says in reply to Thomas’s question. “The general aesthetic was my doing, but we each had a hand in its overall design.”

Thomas sees Virgil glance over to Logan. “There’s… one more thing about the suit,” he prompts gently.

Logan flicks his hand towards Thomas and the image in his mind zooms to focus in on the wrist of the suit, breaking it open almost like a blueprint. The host closes his eyes to focus on the schematic that Logan has sketched out in his brain. Logan’s voice floats through his thoughts, providing an explanation.

“I was considering methods for which to solve Virgil’s proposed predicament from last night regarding if you had been seen prior to reaching an acceptable proximity to Al Trevors. I eventually arrived at this concept.”

“I call them Web Shooters,” Patton chimes in brightly. “Y’know, like a spider web?”

“Indeed,” Logan says. “Although spider webs are generally lightweight and easy to dismantle, so such a term may be a bit misleading. Regardless of what you call them, I think we could construct a device that would allow you to essentially project a strong adhesive substance from your wrist or hand when activated. It could be used as a rope to retrieve things, or perhaps even to use to your advantage in terms of travel.”

Roman’s voice jumps in. “You could be like freaking Tarzan.”

Logan’s voice hums, unamused. “The point is, I see several uses for this kind of device, and I think it’s worth developing.” Thomas’s mind is suddenly overtaken with a string of chemical equations running through his mind. ��I’ve already begun developing a formula, although I could use a refresher given how long it has been since your experience as a chemical engineer.”

“Oh!” Patton’s voice again. Thomas opens his eyes, his bedroom and Sides coming back into focus even as Logan continues to scroll the chemical equations through his mind. “Why don’t you see if Dr. Washington could help? Remember her, Thomas?”

Thomas does. She’d been one of Thomas’s favorite professors. “It’s been a while, but I can email her.”

Patton’s grinning as Thomas reaches for his computer. “Perfect! We’ll leave ya to it, kiddo.”

When Thomas looks up again from his computer screen, all of them have sunk out. They’re excited energy radiates through his mind. He has a feeling he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #platonic lamp/calm #sanders sides au #sanders sides au fanfiction #spider-man au #with great power #wgp fic #tw cursing #tw alcohol #tw violence mention #pretty excited about this chapter #so i hope you all enjoyed it!

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