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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Ch. 2 Finding Out (Family/Friends)

AO3

@maribat-bdbwm

“Mari!” Adrien yells, running past Batman to sweep her up in a hug. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, but she buries herself into the hug. After all, it’s not every day she faces a supervillain determined to kill her with a dangerous weapon...without her suit, anyway.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Marinette reassures him, relishing in the comfort. A cleared throat makes her jump back and look at Batman who, despite clearing his throat and cutting off the most amazing hug ever, has no emotions on his face. Whatsoever. Cause that’s not intimidating or anything.

“The police will need your statement, Miss Dupain Cheng.” Batman says. Marinette nods, squeaking when Adrien reaches down and entwines his fingers with hers. Following Batman’s directions to the awaiting police, Marinette feels nerves flood her systerm as she sees the sheer number of officers on the other side of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, she feels Adrien squeeze her hand. Shooting him a thankful smile, Marinette uses her unattached hand to open the door and step out into the mess of personnel. A man with a mustache and square glasses steps forward immediately, his hand extended.

“Hello Miss Dupain Cheng. I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon. We were in communication with Batman while he was inside so we heard some of what happened. Would you be comfortable telling us what happened? We can get you checked over by paramedics first, if you want.” Commissioner Gordon says.

“Oh, no, no. I’m fine. I don’t-” She starts to say, but a gruff voice cuts her off.

“She should be examined immediately, Gordon. She may have inhaled smoke from the smoke bombs due to proximity. She also could have burns to her face or ears from Joker’s gun. He shot it and then proceeded to prod her with it.” Batman says, the last part of his ‘report’ slightly more gruff than the first. Was he…..worried about her? Marinette shakes that thought off almost immediately. Why would Batman be worried about her? Wait, was he really going to make her see the paramedics when all she wanted to do was talk to the officers so she could get back to the trip?

“I assure you, Monsieur Batman, Monsieur Gordon, I don’t need to see the paramedics. I’m a little shaky, but that’s all. I mean, I was held at gunpoint. I think shaky is appropriate, non?” Marinette asks, flashing the two a bright smile. Gordon raises an eyebrow and glances at Batman who shakes his head stiffly.

“She gets examined.” He says, leaving no room for questions as he pulls his grappling hook (?!?!) out and retreats to the rooftop.

“You heard the man. We can talk as you’re examined, if you’d prefer. I’m sure you just want to put this whole business behind you.” Commissioner Gordon says kindly. Marinette sighs in relief and nods, smiling again at the man. Hopefully this would be taken care of quickly. --- Bruce Wayne was slightly panicking, though he would never admit it. When reports of the Joker being spotted at the Gotham City Museum of Modern Art first rolled in, he assumed his biggest challenge would be keeping Jason from murdering the clown. He did not expect to see a small girl being held at gunpoint. A girl who looked like a strange mix between his mother, and someone else. But he couldn’t place his- of course. Memories flood his mind as he thinks back to the woman who was so clearly related to the small girl. Bridgette Le. A woman that he, at one time, thought he would be able to spend the rest of his life with. Until she left Gotham and cut off all contact between the two. Oh god. She wouldn’t….would she? --- “I don’t understand why that older paramedic looked like she’d seen a ghost.” Marinette says with a pout as she continues working on the embroidery for a jacket for Jagged. Design never sleeps.

“What d’ya mean?” Adrien asks from his nest of blankets on her bed. Marinette tries to focus on keeping her blush down. Apparently, the attack at the museum had scared Adrien more than her, though she imagined he was scared on her behalf. But she couldn’t quite understand why...nevertheless, he had become attached at her hip and hadn’t left her side since they got back to the hotel. Even though all she really wanted was a little alone time to talk to Tikki. Especially about the chance of the Miraculous Cure working here. Maybe if she was in the battle…

“Didn’t you notice? He was fine til he looked into my eyes and then he got super pale. He looked like he was going to say something, but Monsieur Gordon stopped him before he could.” Marinette recounts, remembering the way the paramedic had to switch out since his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I didn’t notice that. That’s weird. Anything else happen like that today?” Adrien asks, finally sitting up and giving her his full attention. Marinette pauses her stitching and purses her lips as she runs the days events back through her head. The paramedic. Batman. Joker. Arriving late to the museum. The cab ride. Being left at the hotel. Coffee-

“Well,” Marinette starts, furrowing her eyebrows as she tries to rationalize the man’s actions in addition to the actions of the paramedic. But something wasn’t adding up. “There was my cab ride to the museum.”

“What happened? Was someone creepy? I can fight them for you!” Adrien offers, a little too cheery. Marinette freezes as she studies his face, searching for something. Adrien had been off all day. More protective than he’d been in awhile. And the few times Lila had spoken, he had scowled at her instead of ignored her. Was he finally coming around to the idea that the high road would not work with Lila? Pushing those thoughts off for another time, Marinette shakes her head.

“No, no. Nothing like that. But as I was leaving, he called me Miss Wayne.” Marinette admits, not expecting Adrien’s uncontrollable laughter.

“He, you, oh my god!” He laughs, clutching his sides. Marinette’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as she sets the jacket down on the desk.

“What?” She asks, completely and totally frustrated with the situation. Adrien laughs for another minute before calming down, wiping tears from his eyes and shooting her a blinding smile. Not his model smile. An actual smile that warms her heart and her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Mari. It’s just, I think he was referring to the fact that you look like the typical kid Bruce Wayne adopts.” Adrien says and Marinette’s blood freezes.

“Did you say Bruce Wayne?” Marinette asks and Adrien nods, his previous mirth wiped from his face.

“Yeah, Mari, are you okay?” He asks. Marinette nods, then shakes her head, then groans and throws up her arms in frustration.

“I don’t know! I just- you remember how I told you I’m adopted?” She asks. Adrien nods, then stops. A look of mixed terror and awe flooding his face.

“Oh god, Mari. You never told me the name. Your birth father-”

“His name is Bruce Wayne. But there’s gotta be hundreds if not thousands of Bruce Waynes in the US right?” Marinette asks, even as her hope in that idea dwindles.

“The US? He’s confirmed from the US?” Adrien asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Yes. Adrien, what are you doing?” She asks, suddenly worried as she jumps onto the bed next to him, desperately trying to see his phone.

“I’m googling Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le as a combined search. Wayne is one of the most prominent figures in Gotham, all of his previous relationships have photographic evidence. Except for whoever the mother of his youngest is. But that’s probably because he wasn’t in the country at that time.” Adrien says, typing away furiously on his phone. Marinette’s eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“Since when were you a master researcher?” She asks with a grin.

“Since one of my best friends found out she’s adopted and it could be the man who hosts the only palatable high society parties. Seriously. And they’d be much better if you were there and-holy shit. Your bio mom looks just like you!” Adrien exclaims, turning the phone to her. Marinette inhales deeply and thanks whatever power there is that she’s not in Paris right now. The emotions running over her at an indescribable speed...not all of them are positive. And they’re all overwhelming as she looks at a picture that very clearly shows her bio mom with Bruce Wayne. As in the Gotham Bruce Wayne. Not a different unknown Bruce Wayne across the country somewhere. Nope. A man who is apparently prominent enough that Monsieur Agreste makes his son go to the man’s parties.

“I don’t suppose she just had a type for men named Bruce Wayne?” Marinette says weakly. This was not what she expected. --- This was exactly what he expected. Looking at the birth records for one Marinette Le, where he’s noted as the father. Though why he wasn’t notified before the girl’s custody was signed over to Sabine Cheng, he’ll never understand. His jaw clenches as he continues reading, eyes scanning over Bridgette’s death certificate before glancing back at Marinette’s birth certificate. A daughter. He had a daughter. Another child that he would never be able to hold when they were small. Another child that grew up without him. Another child that he didn’t meet until they were already a person. Someone with their own experiences individual from his own, someone that may not even know he had found them. And that he wanted nothing more than to get to know someone who was brave enough to stand between the Joker and her friends. Someone who was determined not to let what should have been the most traumatic experience in her life be a set back. He had a daughter. And he wanted to meet her.

***

Note, my headcannon is that the paramedic that panicked did so because he was one of the first responders the night that the Waynes were murdered. And while she looks a lot like her birth mom, Marinette also definitely has Martha Wayne’s eyes and the paramedic could NOT deal. Also, let me know if you want tagged!

Tag List: @jjmjjktth

#maribat bruce wayne #maribat #maribat bio dad bruce #maribat bio dad! bruce wayne month 2021 #mbdbwm2021 #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #day two family/friends

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Hey!!! I'm so glad you liked the blurb night idea :) 💞 Can I request a blurb with Peter bumping into the reader while she's kinda lost at times square and he's dressed as spiderman so he tries to flirt with you, but it makes you laugh instead?

I loved the idea hun, thankyou sm for helping me with this idea xxx

“You’re a guy?”

Pairing | Peter Parker x reader

Summary | based on the request

Warnings | mentions of crime, brief mention of death and drugs, mention of sex

2K blurb masterlist

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

“And there was this girl. She was really pretty, but-“ May quirked her head at her nephew, hardly understanding his blabber as he sped through his words like he was racing verbally against a cheetah, though, she was manage to uncover that particular sentence.

“Whoa, slow down kiddo.” His aunt laughed lightly, bracing her shoulders on his arms as he caught his overexcited breath. “How about you start from the beginning, and take a breath?” May had much practice with calming the boy down, she sincerely remembered how that night his parents had dropped him off, how worried he had been for them not to return. And they didn’t.

Peter bobbed his head in a eager nod, doing as he was recommended by his legal guardian, puffing the air in through his cheeks, as he inhaled and exhaled normally through his nose.“I was out patrolling the city, checking out for any bad guys, and then, I saw her...” her, the girl that had captured his attention, and distracted him from his friendly neighbourhood duties. She was much like a magnet, pulling his north face into her axis spinning world, distracting him from the things that he was actually meant to be ensuring did not happen on his watch.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” The elder of the two quirked a brow, earning a splutter of a response from the teenager under her roof. She wasn’t a strict guardian concerning his heroic antics, though, she made sure to keep him on track for his own sake. Peter had quite the tendency to become overrun with stress from the amounts of responsibilities that he took on, and him being only young did not help the situation.

“I’m getting to that!” He was fast to defend himself, huffing his chest in as he prepared to tell May his story, from the beginning. It was quite the tale, he’d say, combined with the embarrassment of his own presence entangled in the random and friendly interaction that he had felt promiscuously lulled to create.

Queens, it was new to you. There were so many streets, filled to the brim with people that seemed to know where they were going. Unlike them, you didn’t, in fact, you’d go as far to admit that you were lost. Lost in a place that was known for the chaos that wrapped it off with a tarnished bow, and made the collateral practically fashion within its various newspapers that rounded every corner to divulge their companies’ obscure theories.

A panicked look struck your eyes, as you turned, shaking your head and pressing through the mass of citizens and finding an empty lot, scrolling through your phone, diverting your attention quickly towards google maps. It was the only thing that you could think of, it’d be a shame if you were to disturb one of the many passersby from their clearly packed schedule; you did not need that, nor berating them on your conscience.

“You lost or something?” A voice asked, making your shoulders jump as a figure, twisted in the colours red and blue, with a seam of black fell from the roofs above. Your heart rate imploded, more so when you realised who the mask wearing vigilante was. The wearer, although unknown, was infamous for the successions of saving lives that they had participated in, including defending the galaxy against outside threats.

It was Spiderman, the neighbourhood dubbed avenger, that tried their utmost to return stolen or lost bikes to their rightful owners, and protected banks from armed and overnight robberies. There was known to be something different about this particular hero, they were young and clearly had time to improve their skill set, for they were quite the clutz, and spoke significantly more to those he faced off against than what was necessary.

But this one hero, stood out amongst the rest. Not only was their suit designed by Stark technology, as you had written about in a work article, but it was far more concealing, and not to mention restricting, for the person beneath the red concoction to wear. Yes, you were in town for a new job, specifically to delve into the details that regards the world of heroes, and exploit all possible angles to how they deserved as much recognition for their stunts, as the president received for his noble speeches.

“I-“ you paused, think back over what you were preparing to say. It was without a doubt, that you had not expected the vigilante to appear in your spectacle gaze the first time that you stepped foot on the premises that he roamed, and protected. But here the spider enthusiast was, leaping down to stand beside you, burdening you with more knowledge that you could use, such as the person beneath was not as tall as you had expected, and there was definitely no way you could see their true eyes through the shallow white cases that covered them.

That was something you could write about, and make various descriptive theories about. ‘Seeing in white vision, sparked by the purity that glazed their unknown signature irises, Spider-Man halts all with the sparing of their true self. They may have reasons for shielding their eyes, much like Daredevil, not needing to see when they are overcome with various other senses that convulse their body into attentiveness,” -no, that sounded absolutely terrible.

And not to mention, if you spread that horrid writing about, Murdoc would be ashamed of ever deciding to get your aid in uncovering the route of the villainous underworld, that had take over Hell’s Kitchen and turned it into their own ring for drugs and more. The battle of New York had many repercussions, that being one, another influencing you into the career choice of being said reporter that you now proclaimed yourself as.

“Yeah, I am.” You responded with the company of a smile, and Peter swore he could feel his heart convulse beneath his suit. It’s pace was vaguely rapid, disheartening him from thinking of any more to say, he was practically speechless. “I’m looking for New York Times, you ever heard of it?” Yes, he most definitely had, it was the average run of the mill newspaper company, though, he did not know that you intended to change that into something much more.

“Funnily enough I have.” He scratched the back of his head, his arm subconsciously flexing as he did so, feeling like he had failed as your eyes remained focused on the wideness of his suit’s intense eyes. “It’s about three blocks from here, I could take you there if you want, I have nothing more to do.” From his proclamation you quirked a brow, crossing your arms amusedly.

“Don’t you have a city to watch over?” You asked, watching as Spider-Man’s false eyes widened, and he visibly panicked, realising that you had been right. “I’ll find my way, I’ve been to New York, many a time, Queens is bound to be a piece of cake. Also, a map is always handy.” A shrug rippled off your shoulders, Peter watching and walking closer as he thought of something more to add to the initial acquainting conversation.

“I’m Spider-Man.” Inwardly, and beneath his mask, Peter cringed noting how his voice rose, and it could be perceived as boasting. That though was definitely not his intent in the slightest, but he worried of how it may have come across to you. He wasn’t sure how you may have read it as, but a swarm of relief filled his lungs as he watched the corner of your eyes crinkle up, humoured by the tone of his that had significantly heightened. “Im a guy by the way.”

He felt the need to state that, especially considering people’s perceptions in the past. But instantly after saying it, he was regretful, through, he had to admit, he enjoyed listening to you laugh, it was like a melody that he wanted to listen to until the end of time. “You’re a guy?” You released a dramatic gasp, aiding your phoney response. “Yeah, no. I completely thought that you were a girl.” Sarcasm, he had well gotten used to frequency of it thanks to Mr Stark, who... well, he wasn’t around any more.

“You’re funny.” He smiled, shaking his head whence he realised that you could not see his hidden expression. “I don’t know, maybe, would you like to go to coffee with me, if you have time before you have to get to the news place? I mean, I don’t drink that much coffee, I get told that if I have too much caffeine that I get a little hyper, but I mean, I’m trying to ask you out and I have a really bad track record of-“

“Sure.” You spoke, ignoring the map that had finally loaded onto the screen of your phone. It was to your luck that you weren’t required to make your presence known at the business until tomorrow, and there was always time to kill, so you thought screw it, and decided to find it so that you didn’t get lost the approaching day. “Are you going to be wearing that, or you know, take it off?” You pointed at him, making peter surprised.

“It’s not that kind of date.” He quickly responded. “I meant just for a drink, not to hook up in the back of an a- oh, you meant the suit, didn’t you.” With a roll of your eyes, you nodded, pursing your lips together, as Peter felt the rain of relief once more. “Oh, that’s good, not that I wouldn’t want to, you’re gorgeous, that just wasn’t my intent and I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”

“Basically.” You wrinkled your nose, with a laugh, the way you scrunched it up was adorable to Peter. “So I’ll meet you here in two hours, I’ll let you finish up your duties, and change into something that doesn’t make you look you’re wearing a thong, because I can tell you from experience that those things are not comfortable. That good for you Spidey?”

“That works.” He spoke, trying his best to contain his overflowing excitement, biting his lip to do so. “That definitely works.”

“Hi.” The familiar voice of Spider-Man spoke, and you turned around, watching as a young man, not much different in age from yourself rounded the corner. He was clothed in a blue and white chequered flannel, and grey jeans, and you had to say, that whilst the amazing Spider-Man was quite the sight, this was something else.

“Oh, I was waiting for a girl actually.” You informed him, clearly messing with him, as you walked closer, a stretching smile pinning up the corners of your lips. “But I guess you’ll do webslinger.” He could feel his heart racing, but he walked closer, watching as you eyed him, a stranger met with the sight of a vigilante unmasked. “Where to, red and blue?”

“There’s this really good place on main, they sell the best sandwiches. And trust me, once you buy from there, you won’t stop...” the two of you began to walk away together, and towards Peter’s secret destination, where the two of you learnt the others real name.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 3 - F#$k the Police

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: What’s happening in Romania? For awhile you’ve had the best time with Bucky all to yourself, but now, it appears the world is not done with you two just yet.

Warning: tinge of fluff, violence, fighting, reader being a bad bitch, Bucky going through it, Steve metaphorically herding cats (Bucky, reader, T’Challa), some google translate (I hope its right)

Masterlist

Leaning against a telephone poll, you adjust your darkly tinted sunglasses before stuffing your hands back into your jacket pockets. Hood up and stance as casual as ever while you patiently await your dark haired lover, who at this moment happens to be purchasing some plump and juicy looking plums.

Doing his best to appear relatively unrecognizable, Bucky walks over to you in his usual faded ball-cap, layered jacket, and black gloves while you give him a nod of acknowledgment as he quickly approaches. Soon he’s by your side and the two you begin walking towards the street where you’ll be crossing.

“Y/N, you think these ones will taste good?” Wonders Bucky as he shifts his gaze to you for a wise answer, like you magically are able to tell if these random plums are sour or not.

You shrug, “Probably.”

He stares uncertainly down at the plums, “They were kind of sour last time.”

Throwing him a humored glance, you keep walking, “Did you tell her that? Maybe she would have given these ones to you for free.”

“Well.....no.”

Retrieving your dark tinted sunglasses from the bridge of your nose before shoving them in a pocket, you throw a glance back over at the plum cart, nudging Bucky, “I’ll steal some again and then we’ll compare what days they taste good and what days they taste bad. Maybe that will help out your plum dilemma.”

“You’ve stolen plums before?” Whispers Bucky in bewilderment like you just stabbed a guy in broad daylight, “Y/N.” He whines, “We can’t be stealing things! We’re trying to keep a low profile, remember?”

Rolling your amused eyes at his fearful concern over something so tiny, you playfully tug against his grey jacket, “Stealing some plums is the least unlawful thing I have ever done moya lyubov' now come on.” You muse with a reassuring grin.

Wanting to protest, he chooses against it when he hears you call him my love in Russian; that’s new, he think warmly, you’ve never said anything that deeply intimate before. He could certainly get used to it.

Coming to a halt, the two of you patiently wait for the roadway to clear up, but while you’re standing there in the open, you skillfully take notice of some man in his mid thirties with a half eaten lollipop positioned in his right hand. He leans against the counter from behind a newspaper stand, where two curious greyish blue eyes give yourself and then Bucky a wary look as he begins to squint suspiciously. Soon his gaze trails over you both again like he’s trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle, but can’t quite tell just yet which piece goes next. How odd, you think.

“Nothing is ever odd, there is reason for everyone’s intricate behavior, always be on guard.” Speaks a whisper from your past days training with Hydra.

Glancing over to Bucky, you notice as he starts to appear rather uncomfortable since he’s realized the stranger is staring. What a nosy little weasel, why would he give a shit about us? Tugging on his sleeve, you begin taking the lead across the four-way, the weaselly looking mans eyes go wide in genuine fear as he turns and books it out of the booth like a bat out of hell. Racing past annoyed civilians as they go about their normal business.

Brows furrowed in confusion you hastily reach the newspaper stand and flip a paper around only to be greeted with greatly troubling words printed aggressively in big black letters reading...

-WINTER SOLDIER CÂUTAT PENTRU BOMBARDMENTUL DIN VIENNA-

...with a blurred security footage picture of Bucky’s shadowed face walking suspiciously by a white van in presumably a parking garage.

On further inspection lower down the page, you take notice of the alarming words below, translating to...

-On international watchlist; Possible accomplice suggested at place of crime, Y/N Valerious is being investigated into for feasible involvement with one credited for bombing. Investigators advise great caution if seen and require a report immediately upon recognition.-

Paired with a blurred fuzzy head shot taken from CCT footage in 1997 after you sliced your way through a notorious drug cartel in Colombia.

Shit. And how the fuck did they find that picture?

Bucky quickly rips it out of your hands and stares frustratingly at the parchment, eyes focused on the concerning news as he flickers his attention back down at you, “Y/N?” He mutters uncertainly, face appearing increasingly distraught as he looks to you for an answer.

Glancing warily around the crowded area, you swallow nervously before finding his uneasy gaze once again, “I really need to stop speaking ahead of myself....fuck.....we need to leave.” You urge, tugging on his arm to move, you let go as the two of you head back to your shared apartment.

Eyes glancing warily around you the whole way there.

——

Walking quickly up the steps, you suddenly catch the scent of an unknown man leading right into the cracked door of your apartment, Bucky halts as you remain still as stone, nose crinkling as you test the air.

“Y/N?” He whispers unsurely as you shush him.

Sensing this stranger isn’t here to fight due to the lack of aggressor pheromones extruding from out of his system, you both cautiously walk into the room, on guard as you move more silently then an owl in flight, he doesn’t hear a thing. Quickly you visually analyze a tall man in dark blue with a helmet tightly fitted against his head, standing relatively still with his back turned to you two. A familiar shield held strongly from his left forearm as his head looks down at the journal positioned in his right hand.

Bucky’s journal.

Standing defensively side by side with Bucky, the uniformed man suddenly turns around; his eyes are a dark ocean, yet soft and set; a faded white A sits just above his eyes and a dull white star appears in the center chest area of his stealth suit. This is without a failing doubt Captain America, but what does he want with you two?

Breathing steadily he gives the two of you a once over before focusing on Bucky, “Do you know me?” He asks, voice calm and collected. Not an ounce of aggression.

Your eyes flicker cautiously from Bucky then back to the stranger as he takes a slow breath, “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

[They’ve set the perimeter] -speaks a disembodied voice from Steve’s earpiece, only yourself and Steve are able to pick it up.

What the fuck does that mean?

The American sets Bucky’s journal onto the kitchen table as he shifts in place, your fists instinctively clench in preparation for a possible clash as Steve’s perceptive gaze shifts warily from your hands up to your watchful glare; he must know about you, “I’m not here to fight.” Confirms Steve with a small nod before turning to Bucky, “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

“I wasn’t in Vienna, we both weren’t. I don’t do that anymore.” Mumbles Bucky truthfully, you’ve been with him for months now and neither of you have even left the city so how the hell did his blurry photo get printed onto the daily newspaper?

[They’re entering the building.] -speaks the voice.

Steve takes an urgent yet cautious step forward, clearly something terrible is about to go down for the three of you, if the guy on the ear piece wasn’t telling enough, “Well, the people who think you did are coming here now. For both of you. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.” Warns Steve sincerely, voice steady and true.

Bucky’s lips nervously purse together as he mutters unenthusiastically, “That’s smart. Good strategy.”

[They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.]- says the voice, more urgently this time.

Suddenly your ears pick up the sounds of heavy boots as they pound against the large spiraled staircase, squeezing your eyes shut in irritated anticipation, you open them to face the soldier, “Well this is fucking fantastic.” You seethe through clenched teeth, accent dripping strong as you shake your head in frustration.

Steve gives the two of you a pleading look, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” He urges as you both stand like a nervous predator, unsure if their prey is going to put up a deadly brawl to the death or not.

Giving him a hooded grimace, your eyes shift from the front door then back to him as you begrudgingly mutter, “It always ends in a fight.”

Looking away, he nods towards Bucky, “You pulled me from the river.” Starts Steve as Bucky hastily removes the black glove covering his metal arm, “Why?”

Bucky huffs, reluctant eyes dancing over to Steve’s, “I don’t know.”

[Three seconds!]- says the voice.

“Yes, you do.”

[Breach! Breach! Breach!]

Yells the voice frantically just as the left window shatters as some can sized metal bomb crashes onto the floor, the three of you immediately turn towards the harmful object right as Bucky kicks it, Steve coming to the rescue as he covers the bomb with his shield. Boom! It goes off, leaving everyone to live another day, or at least for the next minute.

A second later you hear insistent shouting in German just as Bucky grabs the mattress, he shields himself with it as his other hand pulls you to his chest protectively just as a destructively lesser bomb ignites against it from the now broken window.

Pulling out of his grasp, Bucky tosses it aside before kicking the small kitchen table where it lodges itself tightly against the front door. Turning towards the two windows positioned on your right, you’re immediately greeted with the breaking of glass as two heavily equipped combat police burst rudely into the room, heavily armored in tactical gear and ready to kill.

Well, shit.

At an inhuman speed you swiftly grab the first mans gun and point the steel barrel upwards just as he shoots, avoiding killing Bucky if you were a second late; your eyes turn angry as you swing your fist, knocking him unconscious from your blow to his helmet.

The second man shoots a line of bullets that scream angrily into the ceiling when Steve thrusts his gun away from you two, knocking him out in the process. Immediately another soldier breaks into the room from the bathroom door by Steve, gun at the ready as Steve shoves his weapon to the side where Bucky then harshly kicks him in the chest. Sending the intruding soldier into the bathroom, presumably with a hefty concussion.

But before Bucky is able to continue onward, Steve quickly grabs his arm, “Buck, stop!” Instantly he twists out of Steve’s grasp, giving his old friend a deadly glare, “You’re gonna kill someone. Both of you!” He snaps, stormy eyes shifting from you to Bucky just as your Winter Soldier shoves him to the ground by his collar before lunching his metal arm violently into the floorboards right next to his head.

Glaring at Steve, he growls, “I’m not gonna kill anyone.” Before pulling his arm out of the broken wood, travel backpack in hand; he stands and immediately throws it out the broken window about ten stories onto another rooftop below.

Standing in the middle of the ruined apartment as you face them, another soldier crashes through the broken window to your left, Bucky and Steve brace for the worst as the man pauses for a moment, gun facing the floor. Moving swiftly, you quickly unsheathe your razor sharp Adamantium claws out of your right fist before cleanly slicing his weapon into three consecutive pieces.

Shouldn’t have hesitated fucker.

The broken gun clashes to the floor as the soldiers eyes flash with fear before you roughly push him against the wall, grimacing in anger, right hook cocked back as you suddenly thrust a clawed fist directly into his shoulder. He lets out a pained gravelly scream as you pull away to face Bucky and a wide eyed Steve, the injured soldier sliding down the wall to the floor as he applies pressure on his newly bleeding wound.

A second later two more men come racing into the room as your victim slumps to the side once you kick him in the head, unconscious but still breathing as small drops of blood seep out of his affected shoulder. He’s someone else’s problem now.

Steve raises his shield as bullets deflect off the metal, soon Bucky throws his metal arm up; deflecting multiple bullets as Steve takes out a guy on the balcony. Bucky in the meantime has managed to knock the gunman out with a cement brick as you retract your claws back into your fist.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Pounds loudly against the locked front door as bullets crash into the hinges, soon Bucky races for the thin wood and thrusts his metal fist into the door without a second thought. Seconds later he breaks down the door, knocking out two guys in the process as you slip past him and into the long staircase hallway that only goes in two consecutive directions, up or down.

Shit, more are coming up the stairs!

A soldier promptly breaks through the overhead glass window from the roof and ascends on a thick black rope, shooting at Bucky who easily deflects his bullets before you kick the man into the wall, knocking him out instantly. Body limp and peaceful as he hangs suspended mid-air in the center of the rounded stairwell, you quickly look down to witness the tiny army of combat police hellbent on ruining your perfectly fine day.

Well, not much of a fine day anymore.

Without time to process much, you watch as more soldiers charge up the stairs, guns ready to fire; suddenly Bucky jumps on the knocked out man hanging from the ceiling and falls to the next landing below as he uses the unconscious soldier for a sort of pully system, knocking out more police as they try and fight him off once he lands.

Blinking, you jump down without assistance but your own fearsome willpower before shoving a guy down the stairs, who conveniently trips up others in the process. But at least eight more are racing to finish their job, right on cue another soldier meets on your landing as Bucky fights off one from behind you.

Before he’s even able to pull the trigger, you’ve sliced his weapon in half, kicking him harshly into the wall, doing the same to his friend as you fight your way along the staircase, skillfully avoiding bullets and fists alike.

Turning around to the sounds of Bucky grunting, your eyes trail up and watch as he throws a man over the edge of the railing. But before anything bloody happens, Steve swiftly catches his dark collar much to your disappointment. He then heroically throws the man elsewhere as the fighting starts up again.

Soon Bucky nearly gets his lights knocked out as an armored gloved mitt comes flying for the back of his head; your fist however, breaks the guys jaw with a loud crack as you save your lover from an unfortunate injury. Bucky then gives you a quick nod of silent appreciation before you look up the staircase to see a disappointed Steve. oh, fuck off.

Huffing in irritation, you nudge Bucky to make a swift exit out of here; heeding to your urgent request he knocks another guy out before jumping down a multitude flight of stairs, grabbing onto the closest railing and tearing it back with a pained cry as he uses it to maneuver himself onto the landing.

Alright, time to go.

Breaking a soldiers arm, you proceed to do the same; arriving roughly on the cement landing as you skillfully tuck and roll before jumping up into a standing position and taking a moment to watch as Bucky races down the hallway before jumping off the corridor balcony.

Taking a deep breath in preparation for the jump to come, you book it down the same hallway and soon are free falling while quickly headed for the rooftop below. The damn roof ledge comes faster then you’d anticipated; landing hard against the protruding edge, you grunt in pain before rolling across the roof a couple feet while Bucky picks up his backpack mid run.

With no time to dwell on the burning ache in your shoulder, you push yourself from the ground as you race to catch up with Bucky who’s a good ten feet from you by now. He listens as you grumble a string of incomprehensible swears in displeasured Russian, but keeps running forward as he knows you’ll be right behind him in an instant.

Boots smacking hard against the rooftop cement, you’re almost caught up with Bucky when without so much as a warning does a dark silent shadow appear in your line of sight from directly above you, a second later you’re forcibly thrown into one of the metal conditioning system units, eyes wide and head in a daze. Only to be greeted with a man dressed in a black catlike stealth suit of some strange armor, where he soon begins hand to hand combat with Bucky.

Fuck that hurt. Asshole, you growl miserably.

Bucky dodges and throws skilled yet desperate punches at the mystery individual, although neither of them appear to take any real damage, fortunately for Bucky’s dwindling safety, but not for this other guy. Shaking the fuzziness out of your head, and ignoring the small trickle of blood leaving a red stain from the side of your temple, you hastily jump to your feet and charge the armored bastard as he throws Bucky into another conditioner unit.

Making a clean dent in the thin metal, Bucky’s eyes widen in genuine fear as the angry panther brings his shimmering silver clawed hand into the air, ready to strike. Cornered, Bucky braces for the worst with his metal arm blocking his face just as you seize the panthers forearm.

He abruptly turns his armored head towards you, and is thus kindly greeted with a swift punch to the face that sends him rolling across the rooftop a couple feet away from you and Bucky. Tumbling for a moment, he instantly regains his footing while silver colored claws slash thin sparking lines of gold across the cement as he stops dead in a predatory crouched position.

Well, now he really looks unhappy.

Bucky watches as the panther slowly rises to his feet, looking rather angered by your violent intrusion; breathing heavily, you stare down the fucker before a slow ‘shling’ sounds from out of your clenched fists. The panthers head tilts curiously, closely resembling that of an actual feline as he witnesses a total of six razor sharp claws protruding dangerously in the sunlight.

“Alright. Now we’re even.” You growl darkly as the panther charges for an attack, within seconds yours claws clash violently against his armor as he swipes for an opening to cause some real damage.

Bucky rises to his feet as he watches you and the panther fight like old enemies, sparks fly like confetti as your claws slash against his strange suit while the two of you dance in a rhythmic warriors tango, strangely on the rooftop of some Romanian hotel while Steve remains elsewhere for the time being.

Anticipating another blow from you, the panther blocks it and finally gets a clean shot of your face, soon you’re on the ground in a blurry daze before shaking your head while you rise to your hands and knees. Okay fuck this guy.

Drops of ruby red blood patter onto the cement as your face turns into a pissed off scowl, both the panther and Bucky watch in anticipation as you dramatically turn around to face them. Three clean slashes mark deep from your right hairline, across your cheek, where finally it relents at the base of your jaw.

You sneer in vexation as your skin fuses ripped muscle and blood vessels back together in a matter of seconds, then without warning does a helicopter appear from above where it rudely begins raining bullets onto the three of you.

Fuck this.

Luckily the artillery is deflected away from Bucky as it hits the panther first, unluckily for you, a couple strays vigorously drag themselves in and out of your shoulder and torso. A sharp white hot paint rips through your vessel causing your legs to buckle, falling to the ground, you instantly scream out in agony when the unpleasant sensation fully registers in your brain, as Bucky’s face turns to worry then anger.

Soon the bullets stop as the helicopter gets pushed off course by some man in a bird suit. Well today really couldn’t be any weirder, what’s next Ironman? You sarcastically think before reluctantly forcing yourself onto your feet only to be welcomed by the worried face of Bucky as he grabs your bleary attention, “Let’s go, we could make it to the underpass.” Affirms Bucky as your strength comes to you once again, muscles fusing back together, the pain fading swiftly.

“Yeah, fuck this.” You retort as he turns and swiftly jumps off the roof and onto another ledge below a you do the same, claws slashing down the buildings side as you do so. But all too soon are you greeted by the metal on metal screeching of the panthers claws as he slides down the side of the same apartment building, closer then you’d like. “Fuck.” You mutter, deeply irritated by this dickhead who won’t give either of you a break.

Not wanting to face the wrath of his shiny sharp claws, you quickly retract yours before you and Bucky instantly turn and jump the rest of the way down, landing skillfully onto the grey sidewalk below before booking it out of there as the panther aggressively chases onward. Steve not far behind, though you don’t care nor have the time to look.

Racing across the city road, bullets fly by the two of you as the opening to the cities subterranean underpass greets you with open arms. Shuffling past some small bushes, Bucky jumps down first, you right behind him as your world turns into a hasty blur. Soon everything comes to an abrupt halt once your boots smack hard against the surface of the roads blacktop.

The sounds of angry car horns blare loudly in your ears as a couple vehicles swerve to the side, just narrowly missing yourself and Bucky, “Come on!” You shout urgently before twisting around and booking it down the underpass with Bucky close behind.

Running at an inhuman speed, you pass cars and trucks alike as they swerve to avoid the two of you, about fifteen seconds later you’re greeted to the all to familiar whirring sounds noisily emitting from the local police cruisers as they hastily follow yourself, Bucky, Steve, and the panther across the highway tunnel.

“Ugh, move!” You snap in irritation before deciding to jump up and run across a green convertible, Bucky almost smiling as he races on the blacktop next to you, continuing onward as you land and race for safety or cover or anywhere away from this mess.

“Left!” Shouts Bucky as you both reach the area where the two huge lanes split from right to left, noticing the sirens coming down from the right lane, you don’t think twice as he practically pulls you in the opposite direction. Left lane it is.

This time traffic races towards you which makes maneuvering in this fucking tunnel even that much more difficult. Your boots clash against the hard ground as Bucky suddenly eyes up an approaching motorcycle, he is not.

As the motorbike comes into about five feet of him, Bucky grabs onto the handles, pushing the guy off while he does an impressive one-eighty before throwing a leg over to straddle the bike as he now points it in the direction of the traffic flow. Not wasting a precious second longer, do you swiftly jump on, throwing your arms around his strong waist for some bit of safety.

The bike instantly growls and groans in protest as Bucky focuses on getting the two of you the fuck out of there; cars fly by in a blur as the wind aggressively whips back your hair, only causing you to hold on tighter as Bucky races down the underpass’s road. Sirens and police speeding not far behind. The constant sound of their sirens just about driving you insane.

Without so much as a warning, your peaceful ride is rudely interrupted when the panther jumps off a car and makes a beeline for your body. Bucky’s flesh hand is around the panthers throat in a second as you lower yourself out of the way. In reply, the panther suddenly twists his body and runs a couple feet on the side of the tunnels wall and low cut ceiling before Bucky tries to throw him down by his throat.

Unfortunately this causes the motorcycle to shift left; dangerously close to the racing ground, he lets go of the panther and switches hands on the handles so he can avoid losing control completely. Metal fingers scrape across the cement creating glowing sparks of angry fiery flickers as the panther holds onto your jacket and the back of the motorcycle for dear life.

Not appreciating this in the slightest, you instinctively begin unsheathing your right claws that are positioned across your lap; you bend low, face pressed against Bucky before twisting the best you can and swiping the panther off of you and onto the harsh ground below. You don’t care to look back as Bucky pushes his metal hand off the ground, finally at last stabilizing the motorbike. Hitting the gas harder, it flies down the road as you swiftly retract your claws back into your knuckles.

“Y/N are you okay!” Shouts Bucky as you tighten your hold from behind, face pressed against his back as you listen to the sirens hastily approaching in the distance.

Gifting him a squeeze of reassurance, you give him a light kiss though he doesn’t feel it, “I could honestly be better!”

Bucky shows the ghost of a smile as he whirs the bike into submission, soon more wind swirls past your face as he pulls something out of his pocket and throw it against the roof of the tunnel where it sticks, blinking red.

Boom! Crash! Down goes a multitude of cement ceiling and destructively onto the freeway, effectively creating a blocker against the panther, Steve, and the Romanian police.

Smiling into his back, you mentally praise him for keeping some of the Hydra weaponry at hand. Until you’re roughly pulled from the bike by the fucking panther himself. Who even is this guy?

And how did he....

Yelping in surprise, you grasp onto Bucky’s backpack for all it’s worth, successfully managing to drag him down with you. The grey tiled street of the tunnel hits against your body harder then you’d like, but nonetheless you take the beating like a champ as you tumble harshly against the ground.

You and the ground are really getting to know each other today.

The panther doing the same from behind you while Bucky rolls awkwardly across the floor like an angry stiff log of dark flowing hair and concealed muscle. While trying to stop yourself from clashing around any further, you quickly regain your bearings in time to block Bucky from getting his throat cut out by the panther who’s on him in an instant.

With your claws bared and shimmering in the light of the protruding sun from the tunnels giant observatory opening, you’re quickly stopped by Steve as he races past you and tackles the panther to the ground by his waist.

Your little violet adventure coming to a messy end, when the panther stands defiantly a couple feet away from the three of you who by now have risen to your feet. Police lights flash from behind him as more surround the four of you instantaneously from on all sides, well shit, this doesn’t look good.

Your frantic eyes shift all around you as your world comes to a crashing halt, a helicopter flies over head, and in this moment you want nothing more then to slash your way out of this one. But you’re trapped.

You stand to Bucky’s immediate right as Steve stands to his left, hands out protectively as you glare at the officers in front of you, neither you nor Bucky speaking a word as you take in heavy breaths from your hefty sprinting session. Suddenly the notorious War Machine lands with a dramatically heavy thud onto the road in front of you, shoulder gun and hand blasters raised as he looks between the three of you.

Well at least it’s not actually Ironman. Right?

“Stand down, now.” Commands War Machine as you throw him a resistant look of pure daggers, hatred and fury flashing across your face as you clench your fists.

Obeying the authoritative command, Steve puts his shield away, latching it to his back as you begrudgingly retract your silver tinted claws back into your forearms with the usual shling sounding as you do so.

“Congratulations, Cap.” Verbally applauds War Machine, voice clearly sarcastic, “You’re a criminal.”

Moments later the Romanian police fully surround you all, guns at the ready; you’re harshly pushed to the ground by angry gloved hands that take captive of your arms and wrists as they pin your stomach to the earth.

“ot"yebis', tupyye pizdy!” You mumble angrily in Russian as the Romanian special task officers hold you like a wounded beast, your actual words translating to “fuck off, you stupid cunts” though they’re none the wiser to your heated threats.

Your chin scrapes against the cement tiles as your hands are pressed against your back, tied instantly as you strain your head to look up. The panther retracts his catlike claws before unclasping his helmet to reveal the troubled face of a dark skinned man; brows furrowing in confusion you suddenly realize who he is when War Machine says, “Your Highness.”

Grimacing in agitation, you can’t help but let out a string of curses aimed crudely at the Wakandian prince and many of the officers in question, half of your verbal abuse a mix of both English and your mother tongue. Soon an officer lightly kicks your side as you send him a deadly glare that causes him to take a cautious step back.

Though to relieve himself of his high authority once more, he gathers some of his men's attention by pointing down at you, “Muzzle this one.” He commands diligently as you squirm in protest, your face a mask of pure rage while Bucky keeps a steady frustrated gaze with the ground. His heart breaking for how they’re treating the two of you, but most importantly how they’re dealing with you.

If not for the current situation, you could have actually laughed; well now, aren’t you quite royally fucked.

Tagged: @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @diegos-butt

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #tfatws x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite

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operationcavill · 4 years

Text

Untangled - Part 6

He parks the car outside of her apartment and sighs heavily, “Let’s talk upstairs,” He walks around the front of the car to open her door, looking around with a scowl on his face. Neither of then say a word until they reach the elevator.

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

B/F/N - Best Friends Name

Y/N turns her shower on and really looks at herself in the mirror for the first time in hours, “You just got laid, bitch.” By Henry Cavill no less, but what does that even mean? Was he actually that into her? He seems to be but he is an actor. He asked her to lunch, though. And technically, for another date. Did last night actually happen? The hot water feels renewing, refreshing. Should she tell B/F/N? Hell, she wouldn’t even have told her S/N if she hadn’t walk in on them. She can only imagine what was going through her sisters head. Who wouldn’t go nuts if they saw a practically nude man like that? Stepping out, she grabs her phone and decides to text B/F/N.

Y/N: I have something to tell you.

B/F/N: Please do not scare me.

Y/N: It’s nothing bad. I slept with someone last night!

B/F/N: OMG WHO

Y/N: That’s the part I’m having trouble with

B/F/N: What

B/F/N: Jesus Christ, you didn’t sleep with [Your Ex] did you??

Y/N: Bitch. No.

B/F/N: Why are you being so weird then?

Y/N: Because he’s kinda like famous.

B/F/N: Excuse me??

Y/N: You CAN NOT tell anyone ok?

B/F/N: Lmao did you sleep with a superhero or something? What’s with the secret??

Y/N: Funny you should say that 🙃

B/F/N: Ummmm what

Y/N: I may or may not have slept with the guy who plays superman.

B/F/N: Stop it.

Y/N: I did.

B/F/N: Seriously?

Y/N: We’re going to lunch in a little bit.

B/F/N: I’m fucking dying right now.

Y/N: How do you think I feel!?

B/F/N: You gonna give up the deets?

Y/N: I will later. I need to get ready.

B/F/N: bitch 😒

Y/N: You love it 💕

B/F/N: You know waiting on this is gonna kill me

Y/N: I’ll get text you soon!

Henry has a large smile on his face when Y/N arrives, “Hello there,” they share a quick cheek kiss before sitting at a cozy table by the window. They make small talk and Henry takes a picture with a little girl who said that wonder woman was her favorite but he’s second. He was sweet and gentle, he asked for her name and if she’s excited for halloween. He told her to try not to eat too many sweeties, which is much cuter than saying, ‘candy’.

“You’re somethin’ else,” She’s sure her face is going to get stuff in a permanent smile.

His face slightly twists, “Why? What’d I do?”

“You’re kind. You were so sweet to her.” She can practically feel the tug on her ovaries.

The waiter arrives to take their order. He was visibly starstruck and tripped over his words, “It’s so cool that you’re on a date with Geralt!”

She amuses him. “I know. Although, I think I prefer the grey hair.” Once they all have a laugh, the waiter trots off to the kitchen.

“Are you a nerd, Y/N?”

She attempts to be serious, “I’ll show you my Fifth Element miniatures later. How was your little trip?”

He bites his lip, “So, I got some news while back at the hotel,”

“Oh yeah? Anything scandalous?”

He nervously laughs, “I wish. I, uh, have to go back home for a week to do press.”

“Are you excited to go home for a bit?”

“Yes, and No,” he pushes a fork around and focuses on it, “I love going home, and I like working.”

She senses that there’s something else, “But?”

Henry continues, “But I’ve met a girl in a bar and I wasn’t finished getting to know her,” he wonders how many times he can make her blush, he’s sure it’s never enough.

“Wanna make a deal, Cavill?”

He perks up his eyebrow, “What you offering, Y/L/N?”

“How about, you let me know when you get back and I let you know where to find me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “Deal.”

The waiter brings their sandwiches and they enjoy their meal while poking each others legs under the table like children. In this moment, he completely forgets who he is. Right now, he’s just Henry. He’s Henry who likes to eat sandwiches with cute woman and talk about his dog and the show he’s been trying to watch for months. He feels good.

Y/N almost chokes on her food laughing at story concerning an unfortunate tongue biting accident that occurred during his first kiss, “What did you do?”

“I jumped and kind of yelled in pain, and I think she cried. She never looked at me again.”

“I’m happy to report my first kiss was not as tragic,” he asks her to go on and she grins, “I was about 14 and there was a boy who would visit his grandma a few times during the summer. I had known him forever, his grandma lived across the street so we’d play together. One day, we were playing spotlight with a bunch of the neighborhood kids and he just kissed me. Kissed me right there beside Mr. Hoffmans car.”

“That’s very cute,” he could get a stomach ache with how sweet she was.

“It was,” She takes a sip of her water, “I have no idea what happened to him, either.”

Henry watches her, a habit he doesn’t plan on breaking, “You wanna go for a walk?”

“If you buy be coffee first,” Y/N and her addiction to warm drinks is what makes this her favorite time of year.

“You got it.” After some deliberation, Henry finally convinces Y/N that he’s paying for her food, and coffee, too.

They begin their stroll around the chilly city, stealing small looks at one another, “So, When do you leave?”

He sighs, “Tomorrow evening,”

“That sounds like an awful time for a flight,” Y/N’s head gravitates towards his shoulder.

“I’m a little used to it now. Leave late on the east coast, arrive in the morning in the UK,”

“Don’t you get tired?” She asks him so genuinely, with so much concern.

“I’m always tired,” Henry gives her a soft chuckle.

Y/N searches his face, “You seem to sleep pretty good to me,”

“There’s an exception, Darling,” Henry can’t help but feel a little bashful.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you, it was nice and your blankets are so soft.”

She giggles and leans into him again for a short side hug, “You’re a cliche that I have no problem with,”

“I am not,” He flicks her nose.

“Wha—!” She flicks his in return, “How very dare you?”

He kisses the tip of her nose and apologizes, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky you got me coffee,” She pants jokingly after taking a large sip.

“You’re quite the caffeine addict. Late night tea, 16 ounce coffees,”

“What can I say? I’m a starving artist, it was either cigarettes or giant cups of piping hot coffee, I chose the coffee,” she pulls on the collar of his shirt and he’s tempted to kiss her again, but if he kisses her now, he doesn’t know if he can find the will to stop. There’s just something about her.

They decide to circle back around and Y/N pulls out her phone to get a ride, “I’ll take you home, why didn’t you drive today?”

She looks slightly embarrassed, “Oh, my tail light went out the other night and the garage won’t take it until Friday. They ticket you for everything up here, so I didn’t wanna risk it.”

Henry escorts her to the car, politely opening and closing her door. Just a few minutes into the drive Y/N’s phone goes off, “Oh god, it’s my mom.”

He turns the radio down and whispers, “I won’t make peep.”

She answers the phone as if she’s alone and not with a world famous actor, “Hey, mama,”

“Is there something you need to tell me?” There’s no way her sister would have told her anything, even if she threatened to do so. Y/N is taking too long and her mother repeats herself.

“No? What do you mean?” She notices Henry look at her and then look back at the road.

Her mother sighs “The boy who cuts our grass showed me a picture of you with a certain someone.”

“A picture?” If they weren’t already at a stop light, Henry thinks he might have slammed on the breaks.

“Y/N, theres a bunch! He’s kissing your nose and rubbing your leg while you eat a sandwich. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone? And HIM?”

“I’m not,” she collapses onto her couch, “I just met him.”

“Are you lying?” Mothers always know.

The light turns green but he’s still looking at her, as if he’s trying to hear the conversation, “No, mother,” She mouths to him, ‘it’s green,”

But accidentally lets out a, “Oh, sorry, Darling.”

Her mother gasps in disbelief, “You slept with him!”

Her eyes practically fly out of her skull, “What! How—no I did not!”

“He called you ‘Darling’. That’s some sweet talk, I don’t think this is a good idea. You always say you like your privacy.” Her mother always knew what her girls were really up to. Mothers always know.

“I know, ma, but you’re reading way too much into this,” She exhales, “can we talk about this later?”

And just like all mothers, she refuses to let up,“No, how did you even meet him?”

“We were at Benny’s and he was there.”

“Out of all the bars,” She just knows her mom is rolling her eyes.

“He’s kind, fun to talk to.” Henry actually blushes and can’t contain his smile.

“I googled him.” Oh, of course, “He’s 10 years older than you.”

“You’re older than dad.” He tenses, he’s a little familiar with this, and he understands, but Y/N was very grown and very independent. He liked her for her, not her age. Ok, so her being attractive was a plus, but he had no intention of ‘playing’ her.

“I’m one year older than your father, thank you.”

“I’m very aware of my age,” She hated this. It didn’t matter how old Y/N was, she was the baby, the little one, the one protected one in her family.

“Honey, I’m serious.” Mothers.

She knows her mother means well, but can’t a girl live? “Why are y’all so worked up over this? I—,”

“Who’s y’all?”, Y/N spilled the beans, “You said you just met.”

“S/N met him that night I did,” and saw him practically naked the next morning, “and B/I/L...and John.”

“Well, now the whole world knows you’re sleeping with him.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” He snaps her a look and she gives on in return as a warning to him, he better not make a sound.

“Are you being safe?”

“Oh my god! Yes, I’m being safe!” Henry has to stifle his laughter by covering his mouth.

“Ah-Ha, you are sleeping with him,” Great.

Y/N throws her head back on the headrest, “Jesus, ya’ll are being really intrusive. You know that, right?”

“I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you.”

“And I’m fine, Mama.” He finds it endearing that they call her ‘Mama’. It’s sweet and brings out her accent. “Can I call you later?”

She stalls, “I guess, but I’m not done talking about this. It’s not every day your daughter get’s involved with a warlock,”

“It’s a Witcher, Ma, not a warlock.” Henry can’t keep his laugh in this time, causing Y/N to slap his arm.

He clears his throat, “Sorry,”

She can feel her mothers glare through the phone, “I’ll talk to you later, ok? I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye,” She turn towards him, “Well, we’ve been had.”

“I’m so sorry.” He looks all too apologetic, “I wasn’t thinking about it. I’m sorry.”

While she is nervous, she knows it’s not his fault, “Don’t be sorry. I still had a good date with you, Her phone buzzes for was seems like a dozen times in a row, “Oh,”

Henry’s mood has completely shifted. He already felt as if his feelings for her were escalating too quickly, and now this? It had only been a couple of days, “Don’t look at them.”

She scrunches her nose, “Huh?”

She clicks her tongue a few times in hopes that he breaks the silence first, he doesn’t and she finally speaks up, “What did you mean don’t look at them?”

He waits until the doors open to her floor, “Don’t look at those things they tag you in. Some people are cruel for no reason.”

Henry can tell she’s nervous and getting a bit worked up. She’s struggling with the keys and can’t get the door unlocked. She gets so frustrated that she lets out an all too loud, “Fuck!” Her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Timmons, opens her door to see what causes the ruckus, “Sorry, Mrs. Timmons.” The woman disappears back into her apartment with a huff.

Y/N tries to open the door again and flings it open, closing it and leaning against it after it’s closed, “I’m so sorry for today.” He truly looks sorrowful and guilty.

“It’s not your fault,” She takes her coat off, then her shoes, and plops down on the couch, “I’m just—overwhelmed, I think.”

“You don’t deserve to be spied on like that,” He sits beside her and rests his elbows on his knees, “have you picture taken without you knowing.”

She scoffs, “You don’t either. Just ‘cause you're in movies doesn’t mean you should have to get you privacy violated.” She takes the hair tie from her wrist and begins to braid her hair, “I can’t believe I told my mom I slept with you.”

He laughs, “Am I really that bad?”

She falls to the side, groaning as she face plants the cushion, “No, I just don’t talk about those things with her. I mean, not really.”

“I can barely hear you,” He pokes her head and she sits back up.

“Do you tell your mom who you mess around with?”

“I can’t say that I do,”

“I need to turn off the notifications. That noise is going to drive me crazy.”

“You don’t have to but maybe making stuff private would help,”

“It’s all private already, these are like, people I don’t even really talk to or I haven’t talked to for years. Stupid Facebook.” She tosses her phone onto a chair and looks at Henry, who still has a solemn gaze, “I’m pretty good at covering my tracks, you know? I don’t use twitter, my instagram is private. Whatever this is, all of that stuff isn’t gonna get in the way.”

He shrugs, “I understand if you don’t want to deal with it,”

“It’s not exactly normal, is it?”

“No,” His tone has changed. It’s no longer chipper, just melancholy.

“Do you still want to see each other when you come back?”

“If you let me,”

She kisses his cheek quickly, “I wouldn’t have asked,”

“I do like you. Last night was just a huge bonus,” He hisses, “That sounded kind of gross,”

“I know what you meant,” She gives him a light and comforting smile.

“I have to ask; Are you pissed?”

Y/N tilts her head to the side, “Just unprepared, I guess.”

“Yeah, you can’t really prepare yourself for your mum to ask who you’re sleeping with,”

“I’m sorry my family is,” she pauses, “dramatic.”

“They’re not,” He admires a strong family bonds, he strives to create one of his own one of these days.

“Henry, it sounds like my sister wants to punch you and my mom freaked out, too.”

“Any chance I can get in good with your dad?” She gives him a blank stare, “I’m only joking.”

“B/F/N is gonna shit a brick.”

“And B/F/N is?”

“She’s my best friend. She’s practically our sister,” she remembers their text conversation, “oh, god, my mom probably called her.”

He chuckles, “You’ve got quite the circle.”

“I know, I’m sorry. They’re just protective and, yeah.” She’s tried not to show her embarrassment but it’s written in her body language.

“It’s not a big deal, I understand. It’s a tricky situation,” Tricky, indeed, but if anything this just made Henry want to further prove himself.

Y/N’s phone begins to ring and she excuses herself, “Sorry, I have to answer this one.”

Henry simply nods, interlacing his fingers and relaxing into the couch. He watches her walk around a small room, her hands up in the air and at times, writing things down. He leans to the side to get a better look. He doesn’t mean to be nosy but something catches his eye, its a painting. He can only see part of it but he already loves it. Some colors blend and others are blocked together, there’s lines and shapes. If she lets him, he’d love to explore more.

She reappears and gets back to her spot on the couch, “That looks like a fun room,”

“It’s where I paint,” She fiddles with her pant leg, “I have a show coming up,”

“Oh, yeah? Where?” She’s taken aback by his enthusiasm.

“It’s called Desmond’s,” She grins so widely that Henry notices a small dimple beside her mouth, “it's my second show there.”

“That’s amazing,”

“Thank you,” The shyness that overcomes her when she talks about her work, it’s akin to enchantment.

“Will you show me your work one of these days?” Henry looks as if he’s glowing at the possible opportunity.

“Hmm,” She taps her chin, faking thought, ”maybe.”

“I’ll take a maybe.” He’s more than glad for the maybe.

“I don’t think any of these are yours,” He waves his finger around happily.

“Hmm,” He’s correct, these are gifts or purchased from other artists, “I wanna see if you can spot them.”

He points toward her studio, “And I can’t look in there?”

Y/N shakes her head, “No, that doesn’t count.”

“I just want to see what you got in there. I know where I can spot one.”

She wants to call his bluff, “You do, do you?”

“At the bar,” He states it so matter of factly, “there’s a really cool mural on the back wall where the tables are.”

He figured it out too quick, “How did you know that was me?”

“It looks like you,” He shrugs, as if that’s not a completely sweet thing to say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it has the best colors. Your colors.” Wow.

“Stop that.” He looks away and looks back to her, confused as to what he did, “You cannot be so cute when you’re so, I don’t know, that.” She wiggles her fingers at him and he get’s all too playful again.

Henry knows he’s good looking but it’s funny how she doesn’t even attempt to hide how it affects her, “And what’s that?” He refuses to break eye contact. If she likes how he looks, then he’s gonna make her look at him. She looks away and he catches her cheek in his hand, slowly turning it back to him, “Hmm?”

This is another one of his unfair games. She knows what he’s doing, and he knows she knows. His thumb traces her mouth and she bits the tip of it, but he doesn’t flinch. His hand travels down to her throat, feeling her breathe, “You know what you are.” He smiles in a way that could make her collapse if she wasn’t already on the couch. “Charming,” He leans forward and pulls her closer by her throat. An act so suggestive, yet gentle, “Handsome,” He signals her to come closer by pulling again, this time she’s brushing her lips against his chin, “Magnetic.”

He holds her there, so close but not close enough. His eyes look down into hers, only inches away but enough to make her feel small, but safe. She feels slightly dominated by it, and she likes it. “Such a pretty girl,” he can feel her swallow, letting him know her mouth has ben watering for him, “my girl”. He kisses her forehead and lets her go but stands up, “I’ll let you know when my flight gets in, Sweetheart.” He walks to the door with a smirk, knowing what he’s just done.

Y/N’s mouth is left agape, even after the door closes behind him, “Motherfucker.”

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers @xxxkatxo @lunedelorient @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @viking-raider @summersing69 @hell1129-blog

i had so much fun writing this! I left it a bit open ended in case I felt like coming back to it

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watayaaratamblr · 3 years

Text

Chihayafuru chapter 226 [long] impressions:

This is more of "everything that went through my mind while reading every page of the chapter"

naturally, gonna be super ..like SUPER long.

1) Shinobu in her fine Kimono was happy or proud? What are the flowers around her? Who knows, we only know that anything they might symbolize is already clear on her face and pose. She played a very strong opponent, she had “special” fun and she won. Only one remaining win and she will preserve her title for the 4th year in a row. Chihaya on the other hand was lost… She did everything she could “come up with” but she still couldn’t win any of the two matches… maybe “come up with something new” was her mistake? Could it be that it’s impossible to defeat the queen in her world, should Chihaya bring her out instead, Chihaya probably didn’t even thought of this because she is completely lost, she worked very hard and her hard work paid off somehow but it is not enough Chihaya seems unable to have any fun; it’s all about needing to win for some reason, why the passionate Chihaya feels so far away?

2) Arata is shook! He is no longer seeing the Meijin in front of him, he is rather calling Chihaya’s name! On the Meijin board we can see 4 poems, (one was shown clearer behind Hiro who was confused with Arata’s sudden distraction; Sudo also noticed and wondered + the 4 poems seem all on Suo’s side?)

30/Ariake no: the poet expresses his hate for dawns after he had to part from his lover at a dawn with a moon that looked so cold and indifferent. 76/Watanohara-ko: This is the second “Arata” poem (as it starts with the word WATA). The poet describes white waves rolling onward which can be mistaken for the white clouds up in the heavens. 20/ Wabi nureba: a consuming passion poem in which the poet tells the woman he loves that he is willing to sacrifice everything to continue their relationship and that he will go meet her despite the heavy price he knows he will have to pay. 74/ Ukari keru: The poet is in distress because the lady he loves is cold to him and his prayers to be happy with her were futile.

The choice of these poems might be clarified when the cards are read but (because Suo seems shadowed somehow and the focus is on Arata), we can still think that they are about Arata’s feelings and what he wants to do about Chihaya’s state now and how she will treat him after her loss .. She already turned her head away from him after her 1st loss, she avoided him, and now she lost again and Arata who is in love with her is really worried.

3) Arata assesses the situation, Chihaya has 2 losses which will put a great pressure on her for the next games and give Shinobu the chance to be more relaxed. The image of Chihaya’s back when she rushed out with her hand on her face as if she was crying was so strong for Arata, the background intensifies what he felt, he was really worried and repeating her name while sweating (dunno if this was intentional, but he wasn’t sweating before he noticed Chihaya (on ch225)) On the other hand, Suo was still completely focused.

4) 78/Awaji shima: was read and Arata was late. Suo took it

This poem tells about the sleepless nights of a guard at some gate caused by the cries of the plover birds crossing the place known as an exile (the plover is also used to symbolize winter) so this poem might invoke the feelings of loneliness and nostalgia.

65/Urami wabi: was the next one and Arata was also late, the difference is now only 1 card. Sudo was cheering for Suo and wandering if a luck of the draw will be the fate of this game. Arata was taken aback!

The poet of Urami wabi is a lady who is separated from her husband so she felt resentment to him, she cried and her sleeves were always wet but what concerned her more was her reputation tainted because of her failed relationship.

These two poems didn’t appear on the board (because only the upper part was showing) but 78 was on Arata’s side & 65 was on Suo’s. The fact that 78 was the poem read to pull Arata out of his thoughts and keep him focused on his match makes me see it as the plover birds keeping the guard from going to sleep. It can also hint at the distraction itself, if sleep is what we do at night but the plovers prevent it, then Arata should focus on his game but his worry for Chihaya also prevents it, so his feelings or Chihaya’s state is the plovers. As for 65, I can’t think of many possible reasons but it might be the “reputation” part, maybe it’s a hint at Arata’s “name” as the “grandchild of eternal meijin Wataya Hajime” that everyone was eager to see through him which might soon be challenged.

5) Murao & Kuriyama wondered what happened to Arata after he achieved such good result till now. Suo had his eyes glued to the Tatami, his aunt was there, he knew but he didn’t try to look. Arata’s club-mates explained that this was a sign of Suo’s strength: he would use the least of your mistakes like losing your focus for even a sec. Riza specifically was very nervous. Arata started to revise what was read and what wasn’t. he kept good track of all read and unread cards, including the dead cards (Taichi was always praised when he did this but now that Arata is doing it, it feels normal and so like him, I believe we all know that Arata is stronger, Taichi showed us the process to arrive there but Arata was the first to arrive there, he definitely passed by most what Taichi experienced.). With this review, Arata knows what he can use his cross sweep on: Wabi & Wata-ko. Ariake is the 3rd remaining card on Tatami (besides the two above & the thress are drawn earlier on the board) but there are also 3 A cards not read yet (dead cards) which are 58/Arima+ 39/Asaji+ 64/Asaborake-u, Arata expects that Suo will wait to make sure of the 3rd syllable. Arata was worried & his grandpa’s ghost came to support him like Taichi and Harada’s ghost too, Hajime analyzed Suo before and he noticed that he wasn’t good with the cards on the outer edge of his own formation, this is something Hajime noticed back when he was alive and sane, was it like 5 years ago? So is Suo’s condition worse than back then?

6) Hajime’s teachings calmed Arata a bit, he is ready to fight again (he moves so handsomely), those where only words told to him by his mentor, but he is also a real deal, his body is ready, his hands are used to attack, he practiced enough to be able to go under his opponent’s hand to take a card, luckily an ‘A’ card on Suo’s side was read, Arata attacked and he practiced enough to be able to protect that card until the kimariji is decided (also Suo didn’t practice enough to know how to break that defense, it was a card on the edge of his playing field too, but there are only 3 cards left, so he could commit it to his memory as Arata said before on ch 223, the most important thing is memorization, having a card in your sight Then committing it to your memory, you’ll be able to see it even with closed eyes and Arata played like that before when he couldn’t find his glasses)

7) 30/Ariake is the one read, Arata put his hand on it when he made sure and Suo couldn’t find a way to it. Among the 4 poems initially shown on the board, this one was read. Who does it refer to? (if it does). Who is the unpitying moon? who parted with what? who feels longing for what? I can’t really think of an answer and I can’t even tell if there is an answer to begin with. But, it might have something to do with the idea of “committing the card to memory after sight” because when this principle was explained on 223, this card was among the ones shown around Arata & Suo. Arata’s family members where happy contrary to Suo’s family members.. These two panels made me think that in these matches between these two, the families of the players are as involved as the players themselves. (And Akira looks more surprised than happy, maybe he still doesn’t realize how his own words back at the hotel are true: “Arata, you are strong”.) The commentator confirmed the greatness of Arata’s move and there was a suspicious man behind him LOL (why was this man drawn there?)

8) Arata’s cover seems to be a high level one too, this is all Arata’s Karuta because he is the one using his body for it. Suo now seems in danger like Chihaya. Kuriyama & Murao are overjoyed and Arata went out with rather an indifferent face? there are no signs of relief or happiness, he looks rather lost in thoughts.. I was thinking that Suo acknowledged Arata’s strength (that beat him), but for some reason and contrary to Harada sensei, it’s not only “I don’t want to play anyone who is not strong”, he seems like he doesn’t even want to play this strong Arata, even when Kyoko tan who gives him enough motivation to play, he still couldn’t bring himself to use enough strength to defeat Arata…it’s like he is disappointed, he wants something else from him that Arata isn’t showing him… Anyway, Arata now doesn’t even look tired or invested in his win in any way.

9) Now he looks surprised, is it because he can’t see Chihaya anywhere? the half black & half white background was used before and in my case, it represents “Confusion”. In addition to the blush, Arata makes a completely unrelated face with the one he made after he won, it’s like the moment he came outside, he became someone else, or better, he was someone else but the moment he came out, he became himself again (can we then take the blush as an “Arata is himself” sign & its disappearance as a “Hajime mode” sign? XD) The SFX isn’t BAM right? because who is still taking cards? According to Google, it’s rather (バツ/ turn suddenly); And seeing Kana searching for her confirmed that she was nowhere around so he went to look for her right away, even before he reports his win and gives back the cards. (he looked like an old man in the 3rd panel lol) and in the 4th, he looked very concerned for Chihaya suddenly sweating and turning around in a hurry. Kana’s way of searching was by shouting loudly everywhere, while Arata’s reflects more of his personality and I like it, he won’t do random things, he goes to the places where she might be, calmly & silently.. I really love this. So he asks around, the bathroom was a good place to look in but she wasn’t there (and he was so amusing being all shy but asking anyway) These few panels tell me more about Arata’s character; he really is used to take matters into his hands. He didn’t go to ask Kana when was the last time Chihaya was seen and where etc. he didn’t approach those who were already searching for her, he went to do it himself. I already said that, but I guess, his parents & his family conditions made him this way. he couldn’t get support, he was rather the one asked to help so he learnt not to ask for help and to take care of things himself instead. The outside was the last place to look in, is it because Arata was more intuitive that he could find her before Kana who was already searching before he even finished his match? Who knows, but I certainly see Arata as a reliable guy, he always was and he is also now. And there she was, Chihaya was crouching on the cold snow…

10) Arata stuttered like usual before he gets Chihaya’s name out; A whole page just to tell us Arata found Chihaya crying desperately in the snow and her bare feet were red from cold. No special backgrounds, no hinting no indirect messages, it’s all snow and white and they were the only ones there. Arata put his hand on her back casually then lowered his head to see her face (imagining this in slow motion is so warm) and then noticed her freezing toes..

11) As Arata noticed Chihaya’s feet, he held her up on his shoulder, no blushing, no shyness, no hesitation, no clumsiness, his familiar self was buried and Chihaya is what matters now! Arata is strong! He is 177cm and weighs 65kgs while Chihaya is 167 and weighs 54kgs, not much difference right? And this wasn’t the 1st time he carries her, He did before when she fainted in her 1st nationals, he carried her bridal style, now it’s an OTS carry (yep, read about this on TV tropes and they gave it an abbreviation lol “Over The Shoulder carry”) Chihaya was surprised but her focus soon was turned to the box of cards that Arata dropped while carrying her, She started to apologize, she certainly sees the cards as living humans now, Arata wasn’t as concerned, she was 1st for him and everything will come after. When the box fell, 4 poems were revealed:

6/kasassagi no: The misty bridge between distant lovers that will bring them together for sure. 51/Kaku to dani: This is about a fierce love that the poet feels burning inside him but doesn’t know how to express it to the woman he loves. 26/Ogurayama: The poet tries to invite an emperor to visit a certain pretty place that his father visited before and he wished his son would come to see it too. He uses the maple leaves to express the felt desire & longing to see the emperor-son. And half shown, 72/Oto ni kiku: it’s about the known waves of "Takashi beach" that the poet doesn’t want to approach not to wet her sleeve, but it’s actually about her not trusting the invitation she got from a man and fearing a love affair that will end in tears, this poem can be used to express avoiding something not to get hurt by it…

Again, none can say for sure why exactly these poems but I strongly believe that they are a hint. And for me, they are saying something about the relationship between Chihaya & Arata (they are a love story!!).

Looking back on the history of poem 6, we can expect that Suetsugu is going back to the idea of "there is a distance between Chihaya & Arata which is like the distance of the two legendary lovers Orihime & Hikoboshi" but this time, Arata is the one who is preoccupied with this distance more... Kaku to dani: needless to say, this is about Arata’s feelings for Chihaya, they are burning again because Chihaya needs something to cheer her up so he needs to convey them somehow. Ogurayama: I believe this is about the maple leaves carrying Arata’s feelings. Even if he doesn’t try to show it or be vocal about it, even though he used his phone only 3 times to send something to Chihaya (was only a msg through Taichi, then a message to her & Taichi and finally a call-what a progress lol), but he longs for her and wants her to be happy like how the emperor would have felt if he came to see those pretty crimson maple leaves. He wants his feelings to make Chihaya happy somehow. And the half-shown Oto ni kiku is about fear of love and tears. This is about Chihaya who isn’t allowing herself to be involved with love yet! there is something she feels lacking which is necessary before she lets herself love and I believe it’s the thing making her turn her head away from Arata ..

Then Chihaya realized, then looked at Arata’s head, he won his much! he now has 2 wins and one more win and he will achieve the dream he shared with her, the kinda promise: “this weekend, let’s make our 1st dream the reality”

12) Then Chihaya cried, helplessly. She congratulated Arata through her tears but she was rather miserable… It’s so hard to be happy for him right? this is not a win which will be enough to get by either him OR her, whichever happens should be good if they are friends right? but no, this is about her!! I have a feeling that if Chihaya won & Arata not, she wouldn’t be very sad for him.. There is something telling me that Chihaya is only scared of being left behind by Arata, as long as he doesn’t, she will be fine, but if he does, she will feel devastated. this is such a strong word, but I mean it.

13) And she voiced a bit of her concern, she was afraid she can never win, even though she lost only by 3 cards, personally, I’ll think that from 7 cards to 3, I can make it in the next game, but Chihaya seems to think that the strongest she can be is the way she was in this second game, then she can only get close to Shinobu that much, not to lose with more than 3 cards. Arata was surprised; maybe he never thought she could lose hope? or maybe he is confused how she can say so when he believes that she can win against Shinobu.. And ofc, before he says anything Kana & Tamaru finally found Chihaya. Kana is as wary of Arata as ever, the n°1 Taichiha shipper. But apparently, she didn’t see Arata bringing Chihaya from outside, she saw only when he put her down and that looked “too close” for her and “hurry up, let’s go to your waiting room, it’s like she is saving her from Arata.. While our gentleman was putting Chihaya down so carefully while looking at her feet whether they are fine or not.

14) Kana is indeed a typical Taichiha shipper, I have seen it a lot, no matter what Arata does, he is always a target for hate or at least disdain. Approaching Chihaya is a big no for them let alone take caring of her. I tried to laugh at this panel, I thought that sensei really is referring to those fans, she might have wanted it to be a comical moment but it’s not. What I saw is that, again, Kana is putting Taichi & herself before Chihaya & it sucks. Arata didn’t even notice her though, thankfully, all he could see was Chihaya, the painful face she was making & her tears (The background of confusion as I call it).. Arata suddenly took us for another rare moment inside his stubbornly concealed heart, the clumsy guy who seems shallow & insensitive to lot of readers.. Chihaya’s weight alone made him look so deep into her and see so much…She is unfamiliar to him, he didn’t get to learn earlier about her everything, but in every second he is given, we saw him pay a lot of attention and see her with more than his eyes. Chihaya’s tears meant that she worked so hard and that didn’t pay off, she wouldn’t have cried this much otherwise. And he can already learn that much about her by just imagining what he wasn’t there to witness, she worked so so hard. Looking at his hands (Chihaya was there lol), he looked so deep in thought, but he remembered the cards he left on the snow..

15) He rushed to bring them but his thoughts were full of Chihaya and how to cheer for her, Arata acknowledged her strength, she is an amazing strong player who can really defeat Shinobu (he seems to believe he can also defeat Suo).but he is not good at communicating his feelings & thoughts, he is clumsy & he knows it..so will he hide his clumsiness to look cool like Taichi does most of the time? No, that wasn’t what Arata thinking, he was rather wondering about a way to make her know what might save her.. He took the cards getting now wet from the snow, he took 77/SE while he was wondering.. “Se” is about the separated ones who will certainly meet again.. it’s like Arata feels a boulder blocking his thoughts and feelings from reaching her and he wants to find a way to bypass it & reach her. “Se” has always been a special card for Arata and it is because of Chihaya..

16) It was the 1st card Chihaya took from him and he already got it back from her in their match but for Arata, SE is more than that. It’s the card that started Chihaya’s journey in Karuta. and Arata is confident that he is the only one who knows, and he is confident that the level she showed in her match with him is the highest she reached, or the highest anyone can reach, or at least, if she is defeated by Shinobu in 2 matches today and was already defeated by her in ch169 then it’s a level she didn’t go to again after her match with him and she still can do it. Arata’s head was really full of Chihaya, he is so focused on her that he totally forgot he too is where he worked to be for so many years, longer and maybe even harder than Chihaya herself (for almost 12 years, more than half of his life, no it’s 2 thirds of his life!!!), so the Murao twins came to remind him of what he forgot since the match ended, of the Meijin title & his grandpa. Only one other win to be were Hajime Wataya seems to have wanted Arata to be (or at least that’s what Arata thought)

17) Yep, Hajime is telling him to focus, to forget about Chihaya & concentrate on him & his goal. “Se” was shown again with the words “the mejin title”, is that the boulder separating the stream of the river?

18) Arata placed Se back on top of the cards in the box next to another card:

18/Su mi no e no: This poem is about hiding from people’s gaze when going to meet the lover, trying to avoid exposure even in dreams.. Doesn’t it suit the moment perfectly? when the twins came to remind Arata of the Meijin title and his status, he hid “SE” (representing also his feelings for Chihaya) in the box, it’s like how the poet who is an aristocrat from the great Fujiwara family (Fujiwara men are known to choose their wives in the family) is afraid of being exposed.

Arata closed the box, it’s also like “Se” keeps him the real Arata (he said that he lacked love to be himself, so maybe Se is his love poem to Chihaya, his love saves him regardless of whether she reciprocates it or not contrary to Taichi, his love always hurt him, like a curse) The Karuta officials are the happiest for Arata’s win it seems, he pleased them, he revived Wataya Hajime for them again, they are blessed, for them, it’s all about them & Hajime it seems, Arata isn’t really seen for who he is… Arata remembered when that man told him that because Arata’s Karuta is exactly like Hajime’s, he was able to see Wataya sensei again. Back then Arata cried, he said that he really loves Karuta.. Could it now turn into a curse? because it’s too much? Because he is losing himself? because he is not seen? Why was Arata happy back then? and is the reason weaker than any probable desire now to be seen for who he is?

19) Suo was upset! His dear aunt that he didn’t meet for 8 years suddenly came all the way from Kyushu to see him, but he wasn’t happy..He lost two games but he doesn’t seem worried about that... Yukiko was kind and looks like the sweets are a family thing? Sudo is confused (he is amusing when he is like that) & Suo’s cousin is more impressed because Suo had lot of female friends lol Suo was nervous, he wanted to ask how and why they were suddenly there but he stuttered and According to Yukiko chan’s answer, we learn that Suo developed the habit of soft talking after he quit Kyushu.

20) After 8 years of separation, she wanted to touch the boy she loved so much and cared immensely for, maybe it’s because she can’t see him well too, but she failed to reach his face, she couldn’t see well, and Suo felt so hurt, but like anyone else with pride, his reaction was based on his suffering not on hers. And instead of being hurt herself, she rather was worried about him, why would he be cruel to her unless he too is suffering from her same illness.

21) The whole conversation in this page feels weird. Suo raised his voice from frustration and these relatives didn’t try to listen to him before. The cousin rather teased him about his loss as if it’s nothing, (he highlighted the fact that Arata is a youngster too) And Yukiko’s answer was soething I didn’t expect! She doesn’t seem to care much about the Meijin thing, she rather looked hopeful (notice the sudden blush), she thought that if Suo is no longer Meijin then he can go back home. What was even more surprising is that Suo looked agitated but his answer wasn’t what I expected, he asn’t worried that his title doesn’t see precious that his relatives would want him to keep, he was rather worried that what they are offering is impossible because he grew up to become a stranger and going back to his home is impossible.

22) Seems that Suo would consider his home any place Yukiko owns, but he knew that she didn’t own the house she told him to go back to. (isn’t this a reason to work harder in univ then get a job and buy a house to bring Yukiko to live with him instead?) The cousin got angry because things like these aren’t considered in a warm loving family where elderly are respected and considered owners before what papers say.. Suo didn’t seem to want to listen, and he left hurriedly causing his condition to beclearer to his aunt as he bumped with many things in his way out. (BACKGROUND of confusion in the last panel)

23) Still, Suo couldn’t leave before knowing why they suddenly came. and the description was so easy to tell him who, Suo realized it right away, the boy with big eyes who would wish for Suo’s family to come watch him (because he is incredible & wants his family to know that? or bc he pities him?) The boy with big eyes was “Mashima kun” they called him this many times, now they didn’t mention the name, I wonder how Sudou would have felt if he knew? would he realize that Taichi really got the closest to Suo, somewhere he couldn’t go?

24) Chitose left, Chihaya’s mom knew but didn’t understand why, Kana, tsukuba & Nishida stayed out of the room while Chihaya, Tamaru, Namida, Sumire & the last boy from Mizusawa that went to Shiranami were all inside, Kana told the mom it’s better to stay out and those inside were all experiencing the reason lol Ah no, Namida was doing great, he is such positive and hard working boy, he is not wasting his time by being afraid or nervous, he is taking notes instead! Chihaya is the most nervous because she is the reason Harada sensei is furious. Harada never taught Chihaya to send back a card because the opponent will place it again in its original place that they remember well (and we know that Chihaya sent it to provoke Shinobu -see ch222), provocative Karuta based on the knowledge of what Shinobu hates and the cards she won’t place next to each other was Watarai’s teaching.

25) Yep, Shiranami’s way is to target the opponent’s memorization as much as possible, Shiranai members are scared of Harada but can’t deny that he is right, he is a great teacher, has a good experience in Karuta and in teaching, maybe them being present here to hear & learn is the biggest proof. Chihaya also didn’t lift her head, she knew he was totally right, she can’t think that losing was because she was unlucky in front of the strongest queen, it’s because of those small mistakes she allowed herself to make.

26) Harada’s words kept hitting hard for Chihaya. Maybe he didn’t say that she was wrong, she learnt a new way in 2 months but she already had a strong way that she could fortify in these 2 months too.. Chihaya focused on Shinobu’s cards and neglected her own? isn’t this beneficial for an offensive Karuta player? I don’t get it well But Harada didn’t understand much of Chihaya’s new method either and he was honest & fair, he acknowledged what Chihaya still achieved: she got a strong reaction from Shinobu. Did Shinobu’s smile mean that she wasn’t indifferent with Chihaya? that she enjoyed the “strong” opponent? Harada told Chihaya that Shinobu seems to have enjoyed her match with her like she enjoyed her match with Arata which means that Chihaya played at Arata’s level back then and that is an achievement!

27) He smiled to her to make her feel better, because she really did great by learning new strong weapons in 2 months.. And now it’s time for the 3rd game. at this point, we don’t really know if Chihaya was better? if she calmed down? While Arata seems to be still in his grandpa mode, (he looks really like an old man here, calm and silent, he wasn’t like in the 1st break And he was completely the opposite of his father who was so energetic and very satisfied with Yuu’s gift, a design with the word “TOP” inspiring more will to do one’s best to reach the top! Akira seems quite fond of Yuu (I am too), she was admitted to her school of choice & he is happy for her, the Watayas talk so familiarly about her like she is really a close relative except Arata…

28) Akira is really hard to deal with, he does whatever he wants and he is very fond of Yuu. Asking for Arata’s phone to call her & thank her, Arata rejected any try to involve him in this mess (he didn’t even react when Akira said that he will make up a lie and say that Arata was touched because of her gift, Yuu would have probably known it’s a lie because Arata wouldn’t react like that… But it’s IC if he does for Chihaya right?), he was trying his best to focus, he didn’t show any enthusiasm about Yuu; Her, his father, the food or anything of the sort couldn’t break his grandpa mode. And finally, Taichi’s message was discovered, Arata didn’t want to read anything before his game but knowing it’s about Taichi, would that be still the case?

29) Arata stopped! getting a message from Taichi who didn’t come to watch made him really stop, Taichi is really special to Arata. And turning back he found Chihaya there too, she heard what Akira said & her face showed surprise!.

30) Chihaya seemed lost in her desperation, she didn’t say a word she just turned quickly wishing to find something for her too from Taichi, she needed him, when Taichi was around he could somehow find a way to make things better and she needs it now because she is not fine, Harada’s words didn’t seem to heal her fully, she sighed when she didn’t find anything.. Arata was confused (the BACKGROUND), and when Chihaya saw him she blushed & turned her head away in embarrassment, Arata lifted her suddenly earlier and she didn’t have time to do this back then. Why? if it was because Taichi now then what about the 1st time? It wasn’t because of Taichi, it was because she looked weak in front of Arata. Chihaya has always worked hard to reach him, to become someone who can meet his passion, to be worth sitting across him in Karuta.. but she kept losing where he kept winning, he was always ahead and she could never arrive there. Chihaya was embarrassed of her weak self who showed more weakness and dependence of Taichi’s help, it’s like she can’t go anywhere without his support… Arata knew that wasn’t true. Akira asked again if Arata wanted to look at Taichi’s message and Chihaya passed him just now without a word (and Kana still looked at him sideway lol) …so many distractions, Hajime Wataya’s voice was calling him again to focus, just a bit more & he’ll be the Meijin, that’s all he was about after all right?

31) NOT RIGHT!!! That wasn’t all Arata was about, not for those who care to look at him properly! Arata wasn’t worried about being ditched, or about what Taichi’s message might contain, he rather remembered when Chihaya showed him her special bond with Taichi that day when she crushed him.. This was good reason to feel jealous or upset but that’s not who Arata was… He took Chihaya’s hand and disobeyed his grandpa’s words!

32) Arata’s face looks desperate trying to reach Chihaya to make her see the truth he believes about her, she can defeat Shinobu & he means it, he knows her strength too and he could compare, he knows when Chihaya was the strongest and how Taichi is the last piece in what Chihaya fought for and became the strongest… The blush on Arata’s face says how much he wanted to make it through to her, how many times does Arata show emotions? the calm and collected guy, what does it mean when he shows such face? “You shouldn’t go play with Shinobu chan in her arena” Harada sensei pointed out Chihaya’s mistakes but he didn’t show her a way to follow, it’s like he no longer has an advice for her, he gave her everything he got and when she strayed from his path he reminded her, but that’s all, And Arata’s advice was something else, like a Karuta expert, he knew what to tell Chihaya, even though he didn’t watch her matches or maybe he did? because he didn’t seem in a pinch in his own vs Suo, maybe he got time to look sometimes…

33) Arata really had what to say, and Chihaya listened because what she heard was useful. She wanted o go where the lonely Shinobu is but she couldn’t face everything in that world and she came out leaving a still lonely Shinobu inside, Arata tells her to bring Shinobu outside instead, to show her the wonderful things outside that can give Chihaya the same strength as Shinobu, something she might want to come out to get? Chihaya saw an illusion for the calm Queen, the plant in the frame was always used for Shinobu too and it seems (and I’m not sure) that Suetsugu uses it for Shinobu who is Shinobu and not the Queen.

34) Chihaya found Arata’s words interesting, that was some good technical support but she had to think more to find her arena Though, Arata wouldn’t let her, he gives her now the emotional support, he knew Chihaya needed Taichi (not the person, but at least sensing his presence in what he left) so he decided to give her that, anything she needs, he wouldn’t be jealous or needy or immature, he put her 1st and I admire the way he loves even more!

35) Everyone saw what Arata wanted to show, it wasn’t a secret or personal message to Chihaya, and Taichi is the captain of Mizusawa, he pushed that team, and Arata brought it to push it again. Arata persisted bc he knew very well how much Chihaya values Taichi & her team, he didn’t need to be there for 3 years to know, he is very attentive and intuitive too and looks at Chihaya really properly!.

36/37) Arata’s words were moving to all Mizusawa members, they all blushed emotionally, and Chihaya cried, maybe because she missed this or maybe because she somehow betrayed it by forgetting it and not working for her team like she said she would before…(this chapter looks so direct, no BACKGROUNDs, no shoujo effects)

38) Arata held Chihaya’s hand so gently (I wonder why sensei drew this panel, it’s totally unnecessary for anything other than highlighting Arata’s love (romantic love because I can’t imagine him do this to Yuu if she ever goes through something like this)) He mentions his loss to her as something big which is a compliment to Chihaya & an acknowledgement of her strength & level. He says it with no embarrassment because her win was well deserved (I want to see Taichi make a confession like this to Arata). And Mizusawa captain was strong because she played for her team, she used all she had for them… so Chihaya again, only has to play her own Karuta, this is the opposite of what Chihaya told Arata in his match against Harada, she told him to play like someone else.. Amusing!

39) In Shinobu’s waiting room, Shinobu was acting like a child, so carefree; she only has 1 remaining win to keep her title after all. She also seems so close with Kokoro chan now (Kokoro called her Shinobu without “chan” or anything, it implies so much familiarity right?) also Shinobu is a bad example it seems lol. Though Kokoro mentions something that might be a hint to Shinobu’s next loss (a 3rd game is tiresome). And then when Shinobu was about to get up, something was off, she felt something but she didn’t see what it was? Kokoro asked but she didn’t answer? Chihaya was shown right after that still having her tears while Arata kept explaining what he wanted to say, like he himself does, he gave her an image he knows will push her to win, she had to think that she is playing in a team tournament, her team is losing, they have two losses and 0 wins, now the remaining 3 members should all win at all costs and Chihaya will play the role of the three players, it’s like when they played in the finals of last year’s high school team tournament vs Fujisaki where both Tsukuba & Tsukue kun lost and Chihaya, Taichi & Nishida felt the responsibility to win each their game, Taichi was the one who voiced this desire 1st (ch81). (That was the game Chihaya felt upset because Arata told her that he didn’t care for teams and now, he is showing her the opposite of what she feared back then, he treasures "teams" & knows exactly how important one is for any member.)

40) And Arata impersonated Taichi for Chihaya! He should have felt jealous, he already experienced that feeling and wanted to be the one Chihaya sees, but now & for her sake, he accepted Taichi and even revived him in her memory to get as much strength from that as she needs. He wasn't there but he must have known Taichi would say that for Chihaya so he reminded her of it for her sake instead of being selfish & feeling miserable or jealous (reminds me of when Chihaya hid in the closet after she lost, the way Taichi brought up Arata’s name all miserable & helpless, he couldn’t forget about himself for a bit for Chihaya contrary to Arata even though he didn’t have anything to be confident about, Chihaya was closer to Taichi, she cared for him so much, she showed him this care in front of his eyes, he had every reason to feel threatened but he didn’t, Chihaya mattered more than that to him …)

#Chihayafuru #arata wataya #wataya arata #ayase chihaya #wataya hajime #Harada Hideo #chapter_impressions

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watchinghannibal · 4 years

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Season 1 Episode 3

I will go back and do eps 1 and 2, but this idea came to me now and I gotta write it.

I started this blog ‘cuz I’ve heard such good things about this show. I was excited it was coming to Netflix, but I sat in shock at the first two episodes. What in god’s name is happening on this tv show????? I’ll type my reaction as I actually watch the episode.

Background: I’m a psychology/psychiatry researcher, I am no expert but hope to be one day. I hope to go to grad school to get a PhD in social/clinical psychology.

Okay I just introduced myself as a psychologist but this rant HAS to start with the deer hunting. I grew up in Arkansas and I know a bit about deer hunting, and a lot about duck hunting. This might actually be a good place to start because I have a feeling that what angers me about this deer hunting scene is gonna anger me time and time again.

If you take 2 seconds out of your life to google-research deer hunting, you’ll immediately discover that these two big shots are giant idiots. They are not wearing hi-vis (that bright orange) and are barely wearing any camo. They also appear to be standing in the middle of an open field???? You need to HIDE from deer you doofus they don’t like humans. Because we shoot them.

I’m sure there’s miles of metaphors that this girl is shooting a female deer, but to me it just feels like a huge eye roll. We get it they hate women. She also aims for the head??? One of the smallest parts of the body? You gotta shoot the heart baby girl.

Okay they are talking about how deer are like humans. If deer were like humans why aren’t there deer cities. And then just in case you did not understand their cryptic speak, Jumbo Idiot literally says, “They’re a lot like us”. Why, sir, did you waste my time comparing deer to humans if at the end you were just gonna come out an say “They’re a lot like us”. Seems wasteful.

WeRe GoNnA hOnOr HeR

Papa do not make me do this, DAUGHTER you sweet little daisy child HER MEAT IS OUR HONOR lemme give you a kiss mwah.

I guess this blog is better consumed while you actually watch the episode.

Will the hot, doggo man is once again in panties. In case you didn’t notice, Will says he will go “cover himself”, you know, like real humans tend to say.

This woman creeps me out. She reminds me of the handful of women who go into ABA to work with autistic kids and then claim they are in love with their patient/client. They have this need to fix people, they think they are the light at the end of the tunnel, the prophet who will actually reach these kids when no one else has. The way she protects Will and hangs around him, stares at him.

Oh hell yes Crawford. This man is certifiable. I absolutely love the plain, stupid US map on his office wall. Quality art. This dude... thinks Will is a savant who is walking the edge of a psychopath. I gotta say, what edge is he talking about? There is no spectrum that goes from psychopath to normal to Asberger’s. It’s like they.... did not understand anything about personality psychology or psychopathology. I mean, I can’t say I didn’t expect that, not everyone is an expert. This is just like the deer hunting - a few minutes researching online woulda cleared this up.

I WILL NEVER LIE TO YOU - OH BITCH SHE GOT YOU! SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING A LIAR WOULD SAY!!!! This sexy reporter is the first person to say the murderer was sick. This girl is so smart though she would never talk to a reporter. Get outta the room!!!

You shot my dad so yes I do remember you, sorry. Why is she walking like she has been in a wheelchair her whole life. I love the little ascot scarf to cover her HORRIBLE scar, how nice. “I’m gonna be messed up, aren’t I” - what your character says when you don’t know how to show instead of tell.

Will grimaces as he TRIES SO HARD not to tell this girl that he enjoyed killing Jumbo Idiot.

I’m so sorry for my sexy reporting UwU. I can undo all the weird things I’ve done! Literally, why does the FBI care at all about this sexy reporter??????? She wrote one article about Will being sus as fuck and the FBI is like this sexy woman has to die. If I had been in that room with Dr. Lecter where he scolded me like a schoolgirl and took my purse, I’d be writing a 10,000 word essay on this creepo psychiatrist who wildly and without abandon “psychoanalyzes” everyone in his path and is enabling unstable people.

Oh no the graffiti, oh wait they did not clean the blood up yikes. Bye mom. Okay can we talk about how this girl is a better actor than anyone else. She seems the most real to me too. Everyone else is like wacko. Dr. Mom says we can go if you like and the smart, intelligent girl is like go where you bozo??? A homeless shelter? This is my house! Damn she is interrogating Will. Okay RIGHT after I said this girl was real she became typical Teenager with spite in her words.

Dr. Mom jumps in to protect her hubby-son Will who must be protected. LOL Dr. Mom straight up told the girl that she can share craziness. I guess she’s a mom only to Will. Everyone else can Suck It.

THE MAN ON THE PHONE????????????? OH BITCH SHE KNOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DR. LECTER SHE KNOWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why do people think this girl did this? Uh this man ain’t okay fucking run girl. Yes, piss off but also run. Oh he didn’t even have a gun what a loser. Ooh this feisty girl says bad words to her mom, another Teenager with spite in her words.

Why do we deserve to watch Will dream about killing girls? Honestly there are so many murdered women why give us more? Oh no did he feed human to this poor girl. Dr. Mom finally steps in, geez she really is stone cold when it’s not Will. Oh did that strange man kill her friend?

Does Crawford REALLY FUCKING THINK THIS GIRL MURDERED HER FRIEND???????????? What the fuck man leave her alone. Uh Dr. Lecter would be HONORED to privately escort the girl that knows he called her dad before he went crazy. Oh damn she’s still alive.

Sexy reporter is just allowed anywhere I guess. I guess she’s just too sexy. Girl close the fucking blinds there is paparazzi. Oops. BIG OOPS.

Classic man move - I DIDN’T KILL HER I WON’T HURT YOU *slams her against a wall* oh SHIT LECTER? I guess this show is good in the sense that it is genuinely exciting at times.

This is good psychology. This manipulation right here.

She’s like I think I’d prefer to stay up here as far as possible from you with my little scarf. This Teenager is gonna figure out the premise to the whole show and then die isn’t she?? Ugh.

Well, thanks if you read this. I’m gonna do ep 4 and eventually (or maybe never) I’ll go back and do ep 1 and 2.

#hannibal #commentary #spoilers #tw: violence #tw: murder #tw: animal harm

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today-only-happens-once · 5 years

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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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sailor-cresselia · 5 years

Text

The Great Ex-Aid Rewatch: Eps 07-08

...so I guess I’m liveblogging my notes now. This is a thing that’s happening.

Eh. It’ll let me keep easier access to them if I do this, so I might as well.

You wanna know something that’s driving me up a wall with regards to the early OP? Kiriya is entirely in white. Like, Emu is in his red pants and yellow shirt under his coat, and at least Hiiro and Taiga get to have their darker pants and shirts underneath their coats, but Kiriya is in just white. It’s super disconcerting.

...actually, Taiga’s ‘action’ shot of him twirling his gashat looks like it could have come from his episode zero special, since he’s clearly wearing dark purple scrubs under the white coat, and it’s in that same alley that they had him doing the simulation in. Huh.

But Kiriya. White leather jacket. White, normal length pants. Super disconcerting.

–––

I love how sometimes, like here on the beach against the two collabos bugsters and ‘the black ex-aid’, you can tell that those transformation cutscenes are actually happening!

Like, sometimes after a Brave level up sequence, you’ll see him stepping down and putting his arms down from his door-opening pose. And here we have Ex-Aid dropping down from mid-air, now wearing the Gekitotsu Robots armor. It’s a nice touch.

–

…okay, so. It’s not just an issue with Google Translate that keeps turning ‘bugster’ into ‘bug star’ when materials for Ex-Aid get auto-translated. Toei does it themselves. The English sub-heading on the report Kiriya reads to Jungo says ‘Grade confidential report of the bug star virus infection by Ministry of Health’. I’d thought it might be G.Translate having issues like it does with names, but apparently not. (How many ways can the auto-translate try to write gashat? Who knows? It’s about as many different ways as it can try to write Emu’s name.)

Speaking of this scene… Kiriya used to wear normal clothes!

Well, he used to wear non-floral buttonups, anyway. And intact pants, though they were still rolled up to a capri length, the same way his tattered jeans are. The shoes are the same, and he’s wearing a regular labcoat – and properly, he’s using the sleeves and everything!

–

So. Parad. As anyone who has seen my writing knows, I hecking LOVE Parad and all the potential he brings to the table.

In Episode 3, he showed up to tell Graphite to chill, and dared Taiga to collect all the gashats. He and Graphite teleported out – right after Graphite told Parad that he’s weird – and Emu showed up chasing the patient of the day.

Episode 7. The Lazer vs. Genm Black Ex-Aid fight. Kiriya launches a finisher, a veritable storm of arrows. KUROTO AIN’T DOING SO HOT. He’s getting hit by a lot of energy arrows, right up until Parad NYOOMS in behind the smokescreen of fire.

Like, literally zooms into frame – not even a teleport, there’s a motion blur that’s in the shape of his silhouette there.

He holds up ONE HAND and blocks the remainder of the arrows.

And he smirks. Didn’t seem to even really be bothered by the fire and energy hitting against the general area – because it wasn’t hitting him. It was all being blocked just before it made it to him.

He bought Kuroto enough time to get out of there before the smoke cleared, and Kuroto was already detransforming when Parad stepped in.

(…oh man, the attack was still ongoing at that point… If Parad hadn’t interfered, Kiriya might have accidentally killed the guy he was trying to expose a few years early.)

So. With that said…

Parad clearly has shielding abilities, and as far as I know, none of the other bugsters have that.

Graphite has his fire attacks, and Lovelica has his. Er. Mind control. (Because of course the otome game has mind control.) But Poppy gets free transformation between her bugster and human guises, and the other two seem to need a bugvisor to either stabilize or access their ‘monster’ forms, despite being the other two complete bugsters.

Parad, who is technically ‘incomplete’, never came directly after the Riders until he had his Gashat Gear Dual.

What could he have done if he had an offensive skill?!

And doesn’t it just make sense that, without a fully realized game of his own, Parad gets most of his makeup from Emu? Because whether you place him as originally being the bugster from Mighty Action C or from Emu’s original idea for Mighty Brothers… neither of those games were finished. They were a demo or hadn’t moved past the concept stage, respectively. He doesn’t have a defined source material to draw powers from.

So, the bugster that would eventually be known as Parad, whether we say he was really there like he claims, or if he’s just… using Emu’s memories as if they were his own, still gets most of his identity from an eight-year-old.

One who, not long after being infected, was hit by a car.

It makes sense that his imaginary friend would have the ability to stop that, doesn’t it?

Emu and Parad do share the drowning imagery, after all. We see it more with Parad, but… down the road, when Emu is describing how scared he was after being hit? They use that same drowning shot, but with eight-year-old Emu. After it was used for Parad.

–

Back on track to episode 7, there’s also how, at this point, Parad has just jointly ruined Kiriya’s credibility and protected Kuroto’s identity as The Dark Ex-Aid. Kiriya, Hiiro, and Emu have all seen him in the vicinity of/being not-Genm, and Taiga saw him with Graphite in episode 3.

So, after he teleports away here, all four of our main riders have seen him in association with the bugsters, and have seen him teleport. AKA, they all know he’s a bugster.

They just have no idea who he is yet.

–––

Episode 8

So, the first half or so of the episode is pretty much standard fare – patient, bugster, Taiga being a dick, etc.

When Emu asks if Taiga’s holding the patient hostage in order to get his and Hiiro’s gashats? Taiga doesn’t answer.

Because he’s not holding him hostage. Taiga fully intends to destroy the bugster whether or not they show up – but he’d prefer to get the gashats first. Two birds, one stone. This is a simpler way to get them all at once.

–

You know, I’m still not sure if Zero Day, when numerous people were lost, is the same day as when Saki died. What Hiiro says implies it was, but we never really get a good description of when it happened. It’s clearly around the same time, since in Episode Zero, Kuroto said that they would ‘stop propagating the virus for now,’ after it was already a forgone conclusion that Taiga wouldn’t be able to save Saki. But does that mean that there were numerous other people who died that same night? I’ve never been able to tell.

(At least ep 4 finally showed me the confirmation of when Kiriya blackmailed his way into getting a Driver – three years before the show, and thus two years after Zero Day. Jungo died on Zero day in an ‘accident,’ so Kiriya had been living with that guilt, and with knowing about the bugster virus, for two years before he first confronted Kuroto. Interesting.)

–

Parad: (To Kuroto) Okay, so, I know you designed the protogashats and all, and they’re super powerful, which is awesome. But why the hell are you still using that thing? You’re gonna kill yourself.

…Hm. When Parad starts off, saying how the protogashats are powerful, he’s looking at his game, and smiling. When he mentions that Kuroto’s using one, he starts to set his game aside. When he says that it’ll destroy him… he turns and looks directly at Kuroto. With an incredibly judgemental look.

Learn from Taiga and Kuroto’s examples, kids. Don’t use protogashats.

(For the record, Excite’s translation of the line is “you’ll end up destroying yourself”, and RTA’s is “it will ruin your body.” Those are… slightly different implications, guys.)

… Kuroto why is your phone ORANGE.

–

Taiga: Oh, good, you two showed up after all.

Emu: I’m just here to save the patient.

Hiiro: I’m here to kick your ass, Hanaya.

Taiga: The one to get all the gashats… will be me.

–

…hold on.

Hold on a minute.

Taiga wanted to be the only Kamen Rider so that nobody else would have to suffer the way he did. But there was – theoretically, anyway – only the one protogashat when he was first active. They only ‘recently’ were able to get ten – and Taiga’s been out of the loop for five years. We were told about the ‘collect all ten’ aspect by Poppy, who’s been allied with the MoH and ‘good’ Kuroto.

Taiga… was dared. By Parad, who was with Graphite.

Would Taiga be using this same method if it weren’t for Parad? Would he be trying to take all the gashats by force if it hadn’t been told to him by the guy who was with his arch-enemy?

Yes, he doesn’t want anyone else to be a Rider. But nobody else seems to care about the collect ‘em all aspect they’ve been told about – Kiriya went for Giri Giri Chambara because he needed LEGS, but it was also about 50% incidental. Hiiro is dead set on being the only rider because he doesn’t think anyone else is qualified. Not to say he’s wrong, since he is the only one of the four who’s supposed to be here, but he’s also being an ass about it. Emu would just very much prefer that nobody die, thanks.

Would Taiga be so concerned with getting all of the gashats to keep the others out if he hadn’t spoken to Parad?

–

Hiiro has a lot less… skill as a Rider than the other four, doesn’t he? If a tactic he’s trying doesn’t work, he doesn’t try something else – he just keeps trying the same one again. I know that’s probably a surgeon habit – do it the same each time, to minimize the chance of error. But these ‘operations’ are anything but standard. Each and every other one of the Riders is able to improvise. Hiiro picks up on it a little more, by the time we hit the 20’s, but never to the extent of the others.

Here in ep 8, he tries using a boosted attack with the Doremifa Beat turntable – scratching it once or twice, and trying to use the sword beam. Over and over. Taiga dodges each and every attack. Everyone else varies their techniques, even just a little. Taiga’s always made good use of the multiple modes of his assorted firearms. Genm has his assorted OP weaponry – currently, Shakariki Sports and the Bugvisor’s chainsaw mode. Once Kiriya gained actual limbs, he’s damned good with the scythe mode and the bow and arrow mode of the Gashacon Sparrow. And Emu. Well, Emu is Emu, and has made good use of the Gashacon Breaker’s sword and hammer modes since day one, as well as the energy items and general genre savvy with regards to who they’re fighting.

I think it’s a little telling that during fights where nobody is being particularly targeted, Hiiro is often the first to go down. Kiriya spent episode 6 unconscious in the hospital because Kuroto singled him out for a beat down in episode 5, and that’s the only reason he was the first out of the ep 5 fight. Then it was Hiiro, and then Taiga.

Either Hiiro withdraws first out of safety concerns, as in episode 3, or he goes down first, as seen here in episode 8 against Taiga.

–

And then here comes the curveball. Once Taiga’s beaten Emu and Hiiro, we get a mirror conversation both there, and with Kiriya and Kuroto on what it means to use a Gamer Driver.

Taiga throws Hiiro for a loop, one that’s not helped by Emu having exactly zero idea what he’s talking about.

Kuroto throws Kiriya a nice little distraction, to keep the heat off of himself.

–

Learn from Taiga and Kuroto’s examples, kids. Don’t use protogashats. And DEFINITELY don’t use them like Graphite!

#kamen rider ex aid #sailorcressy says #mmm yes delicious speculation

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crashdevlin · 6 years

Text

Bottle-8: Epiphany

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 3460

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of insomnia, nightmares, depression, alcoholism, general identity issues, bad German from Google Translate, mentions of suicidal thoughts

Cassie sat in a plush recliner, looking at the handsome black man on the other side of the desk. She didn't know what to say. "Thanks for seeing me." She settled on after what seemed like hours. "I know it's short notice, but there's a lot going on and I don't know when else I'd be able to see you."

"It's not a problem, Miss Campbell." Andrew set a folder on his desk. It was a SHIELD file and Cassie knew it was hers. "I've read your file. I know everything that's been written about you, Cassie. Can I call you 'Cassie'?"

She nodded. "I prefer it."

"You don't have to hold back anything with me, Cassie. You understand? So why don't you tell me why you're here?"

She let out a long, slow breath. "I can't sleep. I can't think, most of the time. I'm afraid all of the time. I have horrible dreams... and I have some identity issues." Her tone said that was an understatement.

"Okay. So, what do you think is the cause of the problems? Why do you think you're here?"

She snorted. "Where do I start?"

"The beginning is usually a good place. Tell me about your childhood."

"You read the file. You know my childhood. It was unorthodox, but not unhappy. My childhood was not a problem, never has been."

"You grew up in a cell," Andrew countered.

"It was a big cell. And don't most teenagers lock themselves in their rooms, anyway?"

"Yeah. By choice, not force. But, if you don't think that was the start of the problem, where do you think we should start?"

Cassie looked at her hands, clenched together in her lap. "I wanna blame the cellist. I've always wanted to blame the cellist. It'd be easier to blame all my problems on her.” She shook her head. “But it started with Phil. He taught me what happy was, then he took it away."

"Your file says that you left him. Why do you blame him for your leaving?"

Cassie looked around the office, not letting her gaze fall on the doctor’s face. "I was pregnant. He was in love with someone else. He would have stayed because I was pregnant. I couldn't let him stay with me when he was in love with Audrey. What kind of... what kind of woman would that make me?"

Andrew nodded. "So, you left him?"

Cassie nodded, humming affirmatively. "It killed me to leave him. He was everything to me. So, when I left, his daughter became everything to me."

"And how did it feel to lose her, too?"

Tears popped up in her eyes and she looked over at the man. "A lot happened that day. A lot of horr-horrible... life-destroying things happened to me. It, uh, it didn't quite hit me, at first.” She cleared her throat. “At first, I was focused on... the mutation and the scars. It wasn't until a couple days later... I couldn't stop crying. I lay in the bathtub and just sobbed. I lost myself and my world, all at the same time. I considered committing suicide, but... I'm a coward. I couldn't go through with it."

He jotted something down in the folder and closed it again. "So, you considered taking your life?"

"What point did my life have after that? I'm... worthless. I felt worthless. But I couldn't do it. So, I drank and I worked and I... faked it, 'til I kinda made it." She wiped under her eyes to catch the tears that wanted to fall. "I kept going. I stopped looking in the mirror, I threw out all of the baby clothes, the tiny socks... I crawled into a bottle. I stopped feeling. I worked, and I drank, and I slept. Not much of that last one, but I... I did sleep back then."

"You don't sleep, now?"

Cassie shook her head. "Nightmares."

"What kind of nightmares do you have?"

"It's the same every night. Even when it's different, it's the same, ya know?"

"I don't think I do know."

Cassie sighed. "Sometimes, I'm running. Sometimes, I'm fighting. Sometimes, I'm not myself. Sometimes, I'm red. But no matter what is happening, no matter what I'm doing, who I'm killing, it always ends with ‘Sie werden nie dein schicksal besiegen'."

"And what does that mean?"

"'You'll never defeat your destiny.' I'm... my subconscious mind is determined to remind me, nightly, that I am destined to be Joanna Schmidt."

"Well, why don't you tell me about Joanna?” Andrew leaned forward. “Loki hypnotized you and called you 'Joanna'?"

"Fury called me Joanna before anyone else. But, yeah, Loki told me to follow my destiny and I became Joanna. I became a villain, just like my father."

"You were a villain? What did Joanna do that was so evil?" he asked, calmly.

Cassie was taken aback by the question. "What?"

"You said Joanna was a villain. I've reviewed files of numerous 'villains', I've spoken to many sociopaths on the Index who are ripe for becoming 'villains', I did an in-depth interview with Ivan Vanko. That's Whiplash. So, I know villains. What did Joanna do? What did you do as Joanna that was so bad? Did you kill anyone? Blow anything up? Attempt to overthrow world democracy?"

"I... tried to help Loki become King of... of Midgard."

"Because he told you to. Not because Joanna actually wanted to, right?"

Cassie looked down. "I... I don't know."

"She kill anyone?"

"No," Cassie said, the words coming out defensively.

"A villain would have. Did she have the opportunity?"

Cassie felt confused. Joanna had been given the opportunity to kill several people, including the man who imprisoned her at a young age and taken the memories of her love away from Phil. She just nodded, dumbly.

"So, here's what I think, Cassie. You and Joanna, same person. She didn't kill anyone because you are a good person. You are a good woman, despite your genetics, despite your solitary upbringing, despite the tragedy that has befallen you. You're afraid that you might become your father, but I don't see any of him in you. Even when you've been hypnotized by a destructive, God of Chaos, you are still fundamentally good. So, maybe your destiny is something different. Maybe you're destined to do good, not evil. Maybe that's what your dreams are telling you."

Cassie was silent as she went over every dream she'd had, and every interaction Joanna had. "She told Phil to give up the base. She, I, didn't want anyone to get hurt. I didn't want to hurt anyone. My Lord, she is me. She's just... less inhibited. Not evil. Not Red Skull. Ich bin nicht böse. [I’m not evil.]"

Andrew watched tears roll down her cheeks, a slight smile on his lips. "Feel better?"

She nodded, furiously. "I'm not evil. Even Joanna isn't. I feel amazing. Thank you."

"This isn't the end, you know. I mean, it's a breakthrough, but we haven't covered everything."

She nodded. "I know. I just... this completely changes how I look at... everything."

"So... what about the scars?"

"They seem so much less important now. They're... when Loki took Barton's mind, he told Loki about me. Barton had been in charge of watching me when I was first released from the Fridge, so he knew all about me. So, when Loki took Stark Tower, he went searching for me. Loki wanted me to be his queen. He wanted me to have his children and wanted me to use my blood to make him an army of super-soldiers. He turned me... he put me into a trance. Then, he…” She choked on the words, clearing her throat to force herself to continue. “...froze my womb. She died pretty quickly, I think. Then, he raped me and carved his name into my chest. He, uh, wrote 'mine' in English, then he wrote what amounts to a marriage proposal in Asgardian in scars on my chest."

"That was last year. He came for you, again, a few months ago, right?"

She nodded and sighed. "That's when I was Joanna. He showed up at my apartment. I thought he was dead, but it was all a lie. He does that. That's what he is, God of Lies. Illusions, that's his big thing. He appeared in my apartment after I met Barton the first time. He was there as an illusion. Probably was outside on the street or something, but it seemed like he was in my room, scolding me for meeting with another man when I belonged to him. I did what I could to avoid him. I told my story to Tony Stark, who moved me into the Tower for protection. But it didn't help. He found his way into my apartment for real and touched me with that staff again. I was Joanna for weeks. I remember now, that I steered Loki away from conflict wherever I could. There would've been a fight at the Tower between Loki, Steve Rogers and Tony. I kept that from happening."

"There's a medical report in your file referencing a second pregnancy. That happen around that time?"

"Yeah. Joanna and Loki had sex several times."

"I notice you depersonalized that. You didn't have sex with Loki, Joanna did. But you've already acquiesced that you're the same person."

"I... can't own that one, Doctor. I might be able to admit that Joanna is just pieces of my psyche that I keep locked away, but... she enjoyed herself. It wasn't rape this time. He didn't order her to be still and have his way with her. They... made love, almost. As close as they could, I mean. He's a sociopath, so he can’t love, but... she liked it. She contributed. She.... I can't own that."

"But you wanted to own the baby?"

"I wanted to be a mother. He robbed me of that. I thought it was only fitting that he be the one to... give it back."

"The baby would have killed you."

"That didn't matter. My purpose was to be a mother. Fulfilling that purpose would have been... it would have been okay if I died, because I would have fulfilled my purpose."

"So, you need a new purpose. Your purpose was Coulson, then it was being a mother. You need a new reason to live." Cassie nodded. It made sense. "I think you have a purpose lined up." Andrew picked up the folder and flipped it open. "Says you've been courted to be an Avenger. Also, Coulson said he was interested in using you for SHIELD."

"I can't work for SHIELD. It wouldn't work. No one would trust me. I'm Red Skull's daughter. I had a two year long relationship with the current Director of SHIELD. I can't work under him. Besides, SHIELD kept me prisoner for half my life and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit bitter about that."

"And the Avengers?"

"I want that to work," she resolved. "But things are awkward there. They all watched me fall apart. They know more about me than they do about each other, and they've been working together for years. They've saved the world together. They saved the world from me."

"Don't backslide into that, Cassie. You were never the thing they had to save the world from. You didn't do anything evil or world-ending. That was all Loki."

She nodded, took a deep breath and let it out. "You're right. I didn't do anything... horrible."

"And I believe that you are strong enough to get past the awkwardness. I think if you could get past everything else that has happened to you, and you did start to get past everything else that happened, then you can get past the awkwardness of people knowing a bit more about you than you'd like."

"Thank you, Dr. Garner. I-I'm glad I came to talk to you."

"If you are going to be in New York, at the Tower working with the Avengers, I'd like you to come talk to me every once in a while. Monthly, maybe every other month, if you can spare the time. I'll put it on SHIELD's tab, you won't have to pay anything but time."

Cassie stood, offering her hand. "I'll see what I can do, Doc."

He took her hand and shook it, confidently. "It's nice to know I've helped give the world it's next superhero."

**********************************

Cassie walked into Stark Tower and headed to the top levels. She walked into the shooting range and smiled at Clint, who dropped his bow and rushed to her side. "Where've you been?"

"Several places. I started in a bar, where I was accosted by a former SHIELD Hydra agent who recognized me from my file, then I went down to the subway, where I was extracted by your ex-wife, who took me to SHIELD headquarters for a chat with Phil. Phil sent me to go talk to a shrink. I figured it out, though. Well, Doc Garner figured it out, but it cleared everything up for me."

Her smile was contagious, causing a confused smile to spread over Clint's face. "I'm not evil. Never was. And Joanna, she wasn't evil, either. She was me, right down to the Judeo-Christian morals SHIELD forced on me. That's why I didn't kill anyone when I was her. I actively kept people from being killed. Yeah, she was bit immodest, but fundamentally same as me. Every other problem I have... they all seem so insignificant."

Clint wiped his thumb under her left eye and smiled, softly. "So... better, then?"

"Better. Ready to get some training so I can help get that sceptre back where it belongs."

Clint nodded, pulling a gun from his waistband and handing it to her. "So, you met Bobbi, huh?"

She nodded. "The woman is gorgeous. How could you let that get away?"

"Life got in the way. The job, the life. I spent two years doing surveillance on you, wasn't able to share my mission specs with her and didn't know when I would be back. She got tired of waiting, ran into the arms of some skinny British guy she met on a job. You know how it is," Clint said, bending down to pull another gun off of his ankle.

"Your marriage died because of me?"

"No. Not because of you. Because of the job… and some cocky piece of shit named Lance Hunter. Not you, not her, not really him. It just... happened." Clint pulled the magazine from the bottom of the gun and showed it to her. "Magazine. Bullets. 9 in the mag, 1 in the chamber for the gun you've got. Don't point at anything you aren't prepared to shoot. Never point the gun at yourself, or me. Everything Ops is in the lungs. You'll hear people say it's in the heart, in the muscles, but when you get down to the brass tacks, if you can't control your breathing, you are fucked, and not in the fun way."

*****************************

Cassie made her way upstairs after several hours of controlled breathing and breaking down and putting back together her weapon. She had done well in her first training session and it occurred to her that Hydra might have given her weapons training back when she was younger. She thought, maybe, that was some of the 'indoctrination' SHIELD had trained out of her.

Steve was standing at a blackboard in the room he'd called Romanoff and Clint into when she'd first arrived back from Austria. Cassie stopped at the door. She had to get past the awkwardness and that wasn’t going to happen if she kept avoiding him. She walked in and closed the door behind her. Steve pulled his attention from the blackboard and turned.

"Miss Campbell, how can I-"

"Don't 'Miss Campbell' me. Please. You didn't even do that when we first met.” She walked closer to him. “It was 'miss', then kinda thinking I was 'devil spawn', then we were on a date and you were calling me 'Cassie'. It was a weird, fast progression, but I know you had fun on that date, Steve, or you wouldn't have asked me on a second one. I had fun, too, until Joanna came out.” She scratched the back of her neck.

“And I know that finding out that the girl you were kinda courting is baby-obsessed and was in love with the SHIELD agent who helped get you acclimated to the 21st century and was pregnant back when she was with him, well it's enough to put anyone off and I get that, and I'm not trying to cash in on that second date you offered, I just want this to not be awkward between us, okay?" she rambled. She knew she had rambled. She wished she hadn't rambled.

Steve set his chalk on the ledge of the chalk board and walked around to sit on the edge of the desk she stood in front of. He smiled, slightly. "I wasn't calling you 'Miss Campbell' because I was pushing you away or to be awkward. Phil wanted to talk to you. I thought he might want to give your relationship a second chance. He isn't with the cellist any more. He was your first love. The one you thought you'd never have again. I thought it might be easier for you if you didn't think of me."

Cassie shook her head. "Phil just wanted to let me know that he'd put me on the Index and that I had a place at SHIELD, if I wanted. Then, he shipped me off to a shrink, who actually helped me a lot more than I thought he would."

"Doctor Garner?" Steve guessed. Cassie nodded. He laughed. "The man is good. Doc Garner helped me work out a lot of my displacement issues. The sadness over losing Bucky and Peggy."

"He made me realize I'm not evil. It's a plus in my world full of minuses," she said, with a smile. She was happy the shroud of awkwardness had dissipated.

"Well, you have to have the minuses, right? Gotta have the tragic backstory to be a great superhero. Tony was attacked and kidnapped in the Middle East, had to create the arc reactor in a cave with limited supplies. Bruce lost everything the first time he turned into the Hulk. Romanoff spent her childhood in a KGB assassin school and well, everyone I knew is dead or dying. Highlight of my life was World War II. How sad is that?"

"What's Barton's backstory?" Cassie asked.

"Abusive father. Foster care. Ran away to join the circus. Learned swordsmanship and then he learned precision ranged weaponry from a man called Trick Shot." Natasha had walked in, but neither super soldier had heard her enter. "He was a thief for a while. I'm not ashamed to say I cultivated that skill when I met him. We went straight together, but he had to talk me into it. Steve, can we have the room?"

Steve nodded and stood. "Be nice, Natasha."

"You have to pick," Natasha said, shutting the door behind Steve.

"Pick?" Cassie shook her head in confusion.

"Steve is a nice guy. He's adapted well to a world where women can be more than just housewives. He's nice. Barton is a child of the 70s. He's forward. He's blunt. Those are my favorite things about him. He is obsessed with the thought of fixing you. He blames himself for you being broken." Natasha leaned against the back of a chair two feet in front of Cassie. "He did give your name to Loki, but I hardly feel that puts him at fault for everything Loki did. And it definitely doesn't put him at fault for what Joanna did. Barton is important to me. Very important. If you are going to be with Steve, you need to let Barton know. You need to pick."

Cassie looked down, shaking her head, slightly, in disbelief. "You think I'm going to string along your friends."

"I know a cocktease when I see one. Half of my career has been stringing along powerful men."

Cassie’s eyebrows came together, obviously offended, but the Russian didn’t care. "Look, Romanoff. I don't have to pick. Because I am not trying to fuck your friends, and I'm not looking for a relationship, either. I'm here to help save the world from omnipresent evil. Hydra, Loki, whatever Phil is dealing with back at SHIELD. I'm not here for love or sex. Okay?" Natasha looked her over, before nodding once, standing and walking out the door. Cassie stared after her. "I should've taken my chances in Austria with Loki. Much less drama."

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

#cassie writes stuff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers save the ofc #red queen chronicles #ofc

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tarralin · 6 years

Text

MorningAfter

Fox Hunt, Chapter Six

Enjoy!

(Board gifted by @under-sengoku-skies)

Find my Master List, Ao3, and Ko-Fi in blog bio!

Thank you again to @tsundere-mitsuhide for all your help and beta reading.

~*~

RM planted her boot atop the shattered stone monument as she gazed up into the clouds. The Kyoto weather forecast called for clear, sunny skies and the sudden storm rolling in sent those around her scurrying for cover in nearby restaurants. She would be too on any other day… but not this day. Nope.

This day she needed those clouds.

After finally recovering from the horror of her best friend’s disappearance, RM tracked down all of Sasuke the Science Kid's research. She had been appalled at the lack of safeguards on such documents with the only means of protection being kept away in his locker in the Science labs of the university he attended. Yeah, like that would keep a trained mercenary out. No wonder someone had reported his findings... the kid practically begged for the eyes of the government!

It took a great deal of Google’s help to translate the more spacey-sciencey terms and concepts of the research but RM was at least able to pin down the basics. The algorithmic calculations were both a breeze and a blessing that allowed her to calculate the next several occurrences. As the world’s best sniper, she prided herself on being a living, breathing graphing calculator.

RM straightened her backpack straps once more at the first rumble of thunder. She could feel the flash of goosebumps ripple across neck and down her spine. She wouldn’t lie to herself. She was terrified; afraid of the effects her trip could cause, afraid of landing somewhere further out of reach from MC, afraid of being stuck when she got there. Even with all of Sasuke's research keeping her rifle company in her bag, she knew that was what she should fear most but no… Her worst fear was losing MC, part of the only family she had left.

A grateful smile crossed RM's features when the lightning struck her.

~*~

Sunlight.

Cursed sunlight.

With a moan, MC pulled the covers over her head and turned away from the windows in attempt to quell the pounding pulse behind her eyes. What I wouldn’t give for an aspirin and a Gatorade right now… At least I have today off.

It took an entire carafe of water for the headache to subside to a manageable level. Or, at the very least, one that allowed her to pretend she didn’t have a hangover from Hell. The kitchen was the first place she found herself once venturing from her room and immediately regretted her existence.

“Lass!” Masamune bellowed out as he caught sight of her. “Good morning!”

Her hand came up immediately and landed softly on his face to keep him at bay, no doubt he would try wrapping her in a suffocating hug just to annoy her. “Can you… not shout?”

Confusion flitted over his eyes. “This is how I normally speak…”

“Well, then… don’t?”

He laughed at that but continued about the kitchen with a noticeable effort on keeping silent. She fixed herself a light breakfast and headed to the one spot of the palace that she knew none would find her.

The majority of the garden received at least a cursory attempt at maintenance. The farthest corners were a different story altogether. Due to the on going war effort, the darkest parts of the garden were left to themselves and now grew feral in the absence of would be gardeners. Shameful, really. Through the moss, MC could see signs of two wisteria trees flourishing in spite of the wilderness surrounding them. Almost as if they were the last standing paladins against an army of invaders.

MC inspected the sky above and determined she still had the whole day to herself while scarfing down the last of her breakfast. If last night revealed anything, it was the fact she had let her hormones get the best of her and she had a lot of thinking to do. She always thought best while working anyway.

She allowed her thoughts to stray freely as she climbed the first tree and began plucking clumps of moss from the branches. This wasn’t her time. She was going home in eight weeks and she shouldn’t be trying to form permanent ties or giving into temptations. Tipsy or not, she had always remained in control of her hormones; anyone who landed in her bed had clearly voiced their mutual interest before and after drinks. She hated admitting to it but Mitsuhide was right. She hadn’t been thinking clearly.

And casual encounters were out of the equation entirely. Hell, is casual even a thing here?

Have you met Masamune? Have you seen Hideyoshi and Angel Boy when they’re in town? Please! They’re practically the inventors of casual! MitsuWho? Nope, sorry, don’t know him. MitSINari on the other hand... And let’s not get started on Mr. HOEbunaga before he gave up and turned into Big Bro Nobu.

MC giggled to herself as she continued to clear away moss and weeds. By noon, she was smiling with pride. She had fully demossed both trees single handedly as well as cleared their immediate vicinity of all overgrowth. Quite a feat, if I do say so myself. She also had a game plan for the next two months to avoid a certain-

“You really can't sit still, can you?”

Well, that was over before it began.

With a sigh, MC looked up from her crouch to the familiar golden eyes and quickly ran through her options. One: she could snap at him to leave but he would take too much joy in that. Two: she could leave the garden herself, effectively giving him the cold shoulder, but that felt too much like surrender.

“If you’re going to state the obvious, could you at least make yourself useful while you do?” She quickly turned back to the weeds awaiting her attention regardless of how much she really wanted to watch that smirky smirk fall right off his face. There, a third option. Although, throwing the ball into his court wasn’t a part of the initial plan of avoiding him. Too late now!

“Please, don’t stop singing on my account. You have such lovely expressions when that guard of yours comes down.” A chuckle rolled from his chest as he crossed the garden.

“I wasn’t singing.” Was I? Shit, I probably was! I don’t even know what song he heard!

“You seem to favor that particular one,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve heard it in the halls when you focus on your tasks. Though I have heard others from your voice, that one comes up the most. Don’t know the words of course, since you only sing in what I assume is your native tongue but…”

He’s whistling? It was such a care free action from his normally pensive features she could only watch. As stunned as she was, it wasn’t until he got to the tune's chorus did she recognize the song and hummed along. Ah, yes. Try by Colbie Calliat. RM always catches me with that one, too.

Mitsuhide was still whistling when he finally came to stand at her side. His shadow loomed over her a moment before something dropped to the ground in front of her face.

“You… brought me gloves?” She glanced up again to find Mitsuhide pulling on a pair of his own. MC raised a brow as she slipped the gifted gloves over her grass stained hands. “How-”

“Please don’t say sweet, I don't think my teeth would be able to handle it.” He teased with a sneer.

“Convenient. Must be some kind of hangover I have going on...” She paused, eyeing the beautiful man before her as he crouched and began yanking invading parasites from the earth. She should shut up now and continue with operations Avoidance and Cold Shoulder… but here she was, evaluating new options so soon after deciding it was best to stay away from him. But, then again, this was Mitsuhide and her usual rules of detachment seemed to fly out the window with him around. And he did always seem to find her. And it was just so tempting to see him squirm! Although, going the path less traveled meant giving up pieces to gain pieces.

But they'll be new pieces.

Okay. Fine. Decision made. I surrender to the universe!

“Must be some hangover I have going on because, normally… I’m aware of your voyeurism…”

#ikemen series #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen masamune #ikesennw #ikesennw reblog #my writing

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 7 years

Text

Safe with me (6)

Summary: When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Descriptions of violence (guns and terrorist activities).

A/N: I needed a breather after that last chapter, and so do they. Steve’s toaster makes a reappearance, Bucky proves he could get a show flipping houses, and a tragic backstory is revealed. I don’t speak Arabic, blame Google if my translation is wrong.

SORRY FRIENDS, STORY TAGS ARE CLOSED.

SAFE WITH ME MASTERLIST PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Previously…

Unfolding a heavy sheet of paper, the strange images are confusing at first, perplexingly disjointed and incomprehensible.

When the realisation hits, a choked sob rips from your throat.

I SAW YOU TODAY. I WAS WATCHING YOU BUT YOU WERE WATCHING HIM. WHY? THEY TOLD ME WHAT HE’S DOING AND WHAT HE WANTS FROM YOU AND IT’S WRONG. YOU NEED TO SEE IT. I WILL MAKE YOU SEE IT. I WILL MAKE YOU FUCKING SEE IT. HE CAN’T HAVE YOU, HE CAN NEVER HAVE YOU. YOU’RE MINE. YOU’RE MINE. YOU’RE MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE.

There is no signature, only a dark red splatter at the bottom. The paper falls from your fingers, drifting quietly to the floor.

*****

It's Saturday morning, but Bucky still rises before dawn.

He opens the tracking app on his phone and checks in on you. Feels the familiar spark of relief when he finds the blinking white dot in your bedroom, presumably fast asleep.

He takes a cold shower, rinsing away the sticky feel on his skin, the kind that clings after a night of restless sleep. The icy water shocks him awake, makes his blood scream in protest, chases away the memories that seem to bloom fresh following the nightmares.

He pulls on black gym shorts and a faded blue t-shirt, pads barefoot to the kitchen. He makes coffee, drinks half the pot in a few scalding swallows, fills a huge mug with the rest, and sets a second pot to brew.

He sits on the floor in front of the sofa, reads through outstanding mission reports and emails an update to Nick Fury and Jack Bernstein.

When 7:00 arrives, he texts you.

"Good morning. Call me if you need to go anywhere."

He heads down to the gym, flips on the treadmill, and knocks out 15 miles. Follows that with push-ups, sit-ups, lunges. Cycles through five sets of a hundred each before he checks his phone again.

Nothing.

Mildly surprised at the lack of response, he texts again, grinning to himself when he imagines the snarky response his words will elicit.

"Elementary level manners suggest responding when someone wishes you a good morning."

He goes to the heavy duty punching bags, the ones Stark bought especially for him and Steve, and lets his mind go blank for an hour, punching and kicking until sweat pours off his body. He drops to the floor with a groan, chest heaving as he catches his breath. He reaches behind him, plucks his phone from the mats.

Nothing.

Opening the tracking app again, he discovers you in the same place as before, a blinking white dot still in your bedroom.

He dials your number and it goes straight to voicemail. He rolls his eyes and hangs up when he hears the recorded voice.

"No one uses voicemail. Don't leave a message, I won't listen. Text me."

So he texts again. "Are we in a mood today? Respond please."

He takes a second shower and dresses for the day, old black jeans and a white t-shirt. He makes breakfast, using Steve's bright blue Captain America toaster, which mysteriously reappeared two days ago. It now imprints an Ironman logo on every slice of bread it toasts and Steve is pissed.

Slathering peanut butter over Tony's face, he takes a huge bite and looks at the phone again.

Nothing.

He narrows his eyes, feels the first flicker of fear pulse in his chest. The blinking white dot is still there, hasn't moved an inch, but this is so completely out of character. He calls again, growling in frustration when the voicemail picks up, so he texts again and waits.

"Respond in the next 60 seconds or I'm coming over. Not a joke."

Nothing.

"Fuck," he mutters, feeling his skin begin to crawl. He dumps his food in the sink and snags his leather jacket from the common room, tugs on a pair of heavy black boots. Walks quickly to his room to grab his gun, slides a knife into each boot and hurries to the elevator. When he reaches the garage, he breaks into a jog, winding through rows of expensive cars, until he reaches his bike parked near the exit. The engine roars when he flips the switch, and he checks his phone one final time.

Nothing.

"Shit," he shouts, the words immediately swallowed by the thundering rumble.

He guides the bike into early weekend traffic and smashes the throttle, heading for your apartment, ignoring every red light along the way.

When he arrives, he wedges the bike into a spot that may or may not be an actual parking space, and sprints to the front door, wrenching it open. Ignoring the woman waving hello at the front desk, he skids into an open elevator, punching the button repeatedly until it creaks closed. When it finally reaches your floor, he nearly rips the doors apart when they slowly crack open.

And then he's pounding on your door, six sharp raps. "It's me, open up."

Nothing.

"Dammit, this isn't funny, open the door right now or I'm using my key."

Nothing.

Something must be wrong. Even if you were furious with him, you wouldn't do this, you would always answer. Feeling a bead of sweat roll between his shoulder blades, he slides his gun from the holster strapped to his lower back, and cocks the hammer, the click deafening in the quiet hallway. His mind is shaking, but his hands are steady when they pull out a key, the one you grudgingly handed over after he promised to never, ever use it, except in dire emergency.

Slipping it into the lock, the tumblers turn smoothly, and he nudges the door open. There's movement in front of him, a shadow in the dim hallway and in the blink of an eye, he has the gun sighted, finger hovering over the trigger.

You freeze, staring down the barrel pointed between your eyes.

Bucky's eyes go wide. He gives a choked gasp and immediately raises both arms, hands in the air signaling he means no harm. Still raised above his head, his fingers un-cock the gun and he tucks it back under his jacket.

And in the next breath, he finds himself shouting, blindingly, overwhelmingly furious.

"Jesus god damn Christ, why the fuck didn't you answer me?! We agreed, rule number two, you promised me, you can't just – " He stops abruptly, really truly sees you. Panicked eyes, wild hair, fingers in a death grip on the tattered patchwork quilt wrapped around you.

His silence asks the wordless question.

"I got another letter," you whisper.

*****

Bucky is livid.

Watching him pace an agitated path through your living room, Steve thinks he can't recall seeing this level of rage in years. Looking down at the letter, his lip curls in disgust at the splatter of blood soaked dark into the paper.

"What happened?" he asks quietly.

"I have no fucking idea," Bucky hisses. Scrubbing his hands down his face, he clips a leash on his anger and tries to compose himself, to make sense of the situation. "I check her mail every day, here and at work. It wasn't there when I looked, I know it wasn't, I would have seen it."

He sounds desperate to convince Steve, to convince himself, that he didn't fuck up, that he didn't miss something important, something that could have put your life in danger.

"If you didn't see it, it wasn't there," Steve agrees firmly. "So, think – alternatives, what are they?"

Bucky takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, rifling through the possibilities, considering and rejecting one idea after another. He grimaces when he reaches the conclusion.

"Three scenarios. Someone in the office delivered it after I'd checked, he was close enough to slip it in her bag, or he was in this apartment."

Bucky's logic sobers them both, and they stare hard at each other. He feels a sick swoop in his gut. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this can't happen. He has to get back in control, he has to figure this out, he has to fix this immediately.

"What do you want to do?" Steve asks, and his even voice is enough. In an instant, Bucky rebounds, and begins outlining a plan.

"Alright. SHIELD ran background checks on everyone who works in that office building, I'll put them to FRIDAY and see if she can find any patterns they missed. You get that letter to forensics, see if they can find a match on the blood. I'll get Stark to put a new security system in here, and tell Fury to put an agent downstairs around the clock."

"Would she move into the Tower?" Steve asks.

"She won't, and I'm not forcing her." Bucky thinks. "Besides, the Tower's too high profile, too obvious. He would know to look for her there."

Both soldiers look toward the bathroom when they hear the sound of plastic bottles crashing in the shower, followed by a string of colorful swears. Bucky contemplates the door, before the idea comes like a flash.

"I'm going to show her to the other place."

Steve whips around, disbelief covering every inch of his face. "Are you serious? I know you want – look, I know this is important, I get it, but – Bucky, really?

"Why not?"

Steve thinks of the words in the letter, of the anger at you, now turned toward Bucky. His voice is full of caution when he responds.

"Don't rip my head off here, but I'm gonna go ahead and ask the obvious question. Are you sure you're not too emotionally involved in this situation?"

Bucky stares incredulously. "What the fuck do you mean? I'm not being emotional, I'm being practical. It could be a good solution, if she needs it."

"Bucky, come on."

"Come on what? Help me out here Steve, what exactly are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying, would you do it for anyone else? Or just her?"

"That's not the point."

"That's exactly the point."

"Alright, stop. This isn't about emotion, I don't get emotionally attached, I'm not an idiot. I'm just – I'm exhausting all the options, okay?"

Steve simply looks at him, at the rigid posture, at the defensive expression. He chooses his words extremely carefully.

"Up to you Buck."

*****

Standing under the fall of water, you close your eyes, letting the steady stream heat your skin. You heard Steve arrive when you were stepping into the shower, could just make-out the rough cut of Bucky's voice greeting him, before the rush of water muted the world. It feels rude to hide, but you're not interested in talking to anyone else right now, so you linger, unwilling to tap out until the hot water is gone.

Well, you mentally amend, no one else but him. Bucky is the only person you trust right now, and his response in the face of your fear this morning was just one more reason why.

*****

The second he hears your confession, he has an arm around your shoulders, steering you to the sofa and pushing you gently down. He kneels at your feet, tucks in the edges of your blanket, and looks up into your eyes.

"Okay, it's okay. I'm here, you're safe. I'll fix it," he promises, resolve echoing in the timbre of his husky voice. "I'm gonna fix it."

You didn't know how much you needed the words until you hear his voice. Relief crashes down, fast and heavy, leaving you dizzy.

"Can you show me the letter?"

Feeling slightly embarrassed at the overreaction, you point back to the kitchen. "I, um, kind of put it in the oven. I have no idea why, I just panicked. Wanted it out of sight."

It's a testament to his professionalism that he doesn't laugh. When he goes into the kitchen and opens the oven door, you see his shoulders tense as he picks up the letter, a low growl leaving his throat while he reads. It takes him a moment before he can turn to face you with a calm expression.

"Okay, how about this. So first, I'm gonna make you some coffee, because you get scary when you don't have caffeine." You burst into surprised laughter at the assessment, a smile tugging at your lips while you flip him off. He gives you that lopsided grin of his and continues. "Then I need to make some phone calls, you can go take a shower, and we'll start this day again. Sound good?"

*****

Sometimes a hot shower does wonders for resetting perspective.

Steve is gone when you finally come stomping out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Bucky sits on the sofa, lost in thought, but at the sound of your footsteps, he shakes himself from the reverie, eyeing you suspiciously.

"I've made a decision," you announce, tossing a wet towel over the kitchen chair.

"Of course you have," he sighs, leaning back into the sofa cushions.

"I refuse to let this crazy fucker scare me into hiding, I'm not sitting in this apartment all day just because some jumped up asshole has a crush and a pair of scissors. I texted Jack, he doesn't want any major edits on my story for tomorrow, the weather is gorgeous, and I'm going out to enjoy this beautiful god damn day."

To your amazement, Bucky nods along. "Good idea, you shouldn't sit here and think about it."

"Back up. I feel like I heard you agree with me. Have you been drinking? Or have I?"

He laughs, happy to hear the ever-present sass return. "Before you go traipsing around the city though, can I suggest a location?"

*****

Shaking your head vehemently, you glare daggers at the black bike.

"Nope. That's a solid nope."

"I bought a helmet, because I thought you might like to try it," he says mournfully, giving you a kicked-puppy face before innocently adding, "but it's okay, if you're too scared, we can get a cab."

Narrowing your eyes at the taunt, you snatch the shiny black helmet with a snort. "I understand how reverse psychology works, you jerk. If you kill us, I swear on everything holy, I will murder you so slow."

He seems far too entertained by the threat. Jamming on the helmet, he watches you fumble repeatedly with the chin strap, growing progressively sweaty and sweary, until brushing your hands away and clicking the lock in place.

Giving a nod of satisfaction, he moves to swing a leg over the bike, but you quickly catch a fistful of leather and yank him back.

"Wrong. Where's your helmet? I'm not washing brains out of my shirt if you crash this thing."

"I don't need one." He taps his head with exaggerated patience. "Super soldier, remember?"

"Super stupid, more like." Scowling fiercely, you cross your arms and wait. He sighs loudly.

"Christ, okay, okay. I promise I'll get one for next time."

Appeased with the promise, you watch him settle on the bike, before he extends an arm and motions you to get behind him. Gripping his forearm tight, you climb gingerly up, propping your feet on the pegs and searching for handholds. When he starts the engine, the rough sound vibrates down to your teeth.

"Hang on!" he calls, and before you can find your composure, he takes off like a shot. Immediately panicking, your hands fly off the seat, closing around him in a death grip. Burying your face in his back, you call him every curse word you've ever learned, praying to god he hears you and takes offense.

You feel his chest vibrating under your fingers, and you know the asshole is laughing.

As he zips through the side streets, twisting and turning and backtracking, leaving what you eventually realize is a false trail, you begin to relax. You have no idea where he's taking you, until you see the ramp in front of you and the bridge looms ahead, ropes of silver steel and smooth grey stone and black iron railings.

Brooklyn.

*****

Guiding the bike into a narrow, hidden alleyway in Brooklyn Heights, you coast to a stop at the back of a nondescript brownstone.

"I kind of hate you," you huff, pulling the helmet off and rubbing the pressure from your temples.

Dropping the kickstand, he slides off and offers you a hand. "Come on, that was fun. Admit it."

"No, it was terrifying," you insist, taking his hand for balance. Smoothing your hair, you look up at the wall of brown bricks in front of you. "So, where did you bring me then?"

Bucky is suddenly second-guessing himself. He hesitates, his mind struggling to untangle the threads of rationale that earlier seemed so clear. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it's too much.

But then he sees the look of trust on your face, and his hesitation evaporates.

"Few years ago, I, um, I bought this building. Ripped out the bottom couple floors, and converted the top into an apartment. I come here a few times a week, just to be alone, try to clear my head. It's completely secure, has the same security systems as the Tower, but there are only three other people who know it exists." He gives you a small smile. "Well, now four I guess. I just thought you might like to know you have somewhere to go, somewhere safe, if you ever need it."

Whatever you may have anticipated, this certainly wasn't it.

Following him to the back door, you find a security system that looks deceptively out of date, but then he punches a long string of code into a grimy plastic box, holds for a retinal scan from a dirty camera lens, and you recognize Stark technology at work.

Opening the door, he heads up the dark staircase, feels his heart beat faster at the sound of your footsteps behind him. For some reason he is unwilling to examine closer, it matters what you think, of this place and what he's done. This is actually him, something only a handful of people have seen.

When he eases open the front door, he steps aside and lets you pass. Walking into the small apartment, you stop in stunned surprise.

The west wall of the apartment is made entirely of glass. Early afternoon sunlight floods the open layout, and when Bucky pushes a button next to the door, the wall begins to ripple, moving and shifting, until it retracts completely. With the barrier is gone, only a wall of open air separates you from the small balcony overlooking the Manhattan skyline.

Pivoting slowly, you see a small kitchen, filled with dark wood cabinets and stainless-steel appliances, glossy white tiles gleaming as a backsplash. Wide wooden beams span the length of the high ceilings, and opposite the kitchen, sits a massive cream colored sofa with throw pillows piled across it, shades of grey and blue and brown. A dark leather armchair rests near the open wall of windows, and shelving brackets the limestone fireplace, soaring 15 feet in the air and crammed full of books, a rainbow of spines marked with spiky black letters.

Dozens of frames decorate the walls, full of artwork and photographs, and when you step closer, it takes your breath away.

Small initials are etched on the edges of canvas, pencilled into old sketches, the faint letters spelling SGR. Peeling black and white photos are carefully encased in glass, and you recognize Bucky when he was young. His little sister sticking her tongue out at the camera. His parents on their wedding day. A tiny blond kid with a cheeky smirk and messy hair, who looks remarkably like Steve Rogers.

"Steve drew up blueprints for the space and convinced the Smithsonian to return all our original photos. Tony bitched the entire time, but he put in the glass wall. It's completely bulletproof, could even handle a few grenades if anyone tried. He linked FRIDAY to the security system, and has a holographic block on the place, so from the outside all visual cues indicate the building's empty, even if you're standing on the balcony waving. I installed the kitchen, re-modeled the bathroom, laid in the hardwood floors. Made it all a project, part of the therapy I had to do..." he trails off, tracing his fingers over the back of the sofa, as if reliving the days spent measuring and sanding and painting.

Turning around, you see him standing tense behind the sofa, gripping the edge tight. In a flash, you understand. This is his home, his real home, filled with the things he remembers and loves. It's akin to baring his soul, showing who he is on the inside, and he has willingly brought you here, somewhere strictly off limits to the rest of the world.

The gesture is confusingly intimate, and you feel an ache behind your heart. The compliment rises to your lips, spilling into the quiet room.

"It's beautiful, Bucky. Completely, amazingly beautiful."

As his face breaks into a look of pure happiness, the ache expands.

*****

In five minutes, you have nine books piled next to you. Curling into the giant leather chair, you pull a throw blanket over your shoulders and settle in with "The Book Thief." The afternoon sun moves slowly through the apartment, drenching everything in warmth.

Bucky settles onto the sofa, props his feet on the coffee table and unfolds today's crossword puzzle from the paper, digging a pen out of his pocket.

"Someone's a bit arrogant," you comment drily, indicating the ink.

"It's not arrogance, it's confidence. There's a difference."

"When was the last time you finished one?"

"Aren't you supposed to be reading?"

*****

"Bucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you just live here?"

He looks up from his crossword, and finds you facing the balcony, eyes closed in bliss as a wide beam of sunlight envelops the chair.

"If it was possible, I would. Doesn't make sense with work, being in the Tower is easier. Besides, I like this place being off the radar. I'm too paranoid to – "

"Wait, what? You're paranoid? This is brand new information."

He gives you a mock glare. "I'm very understandably paranoid with people knowing about this place, I like that it's mine alone. Well, and sometimes Steve's, if he needs a break and asks nicely."

*****

"Can I ask you a question?" It takes a moment to register his voice, you're so engrossed in the beauty of Liesel's story.

"Sure, hit me," you respond easily, marking your page with a finger and closing the cover.

He seems to think for a moment, finding the right words. "Why was this letter worse? I don't blame you, but why didn't the other three have the same effect?"

"I think it was the surprise? It was completely unexpected. The other ones, I knew there was something wrong, Jack said there were threats, you and Steve were both there." You pause, searching for a way to encapsulate the feeling that letter left. "Because it was in my home, it made me feel vulnerable. I hated that."

He nods. He understands.

*****

Bucky looks up from the paper, starts to ask another question, and stops when he sees you. Fast asleep, lips parted slightly, your face tipped up to soak in the light.

He bends back to the crossword, an unconscious smile playing on his lips.

*****

"I'm hungry."

"Didn't you just eat my last Snickers?"

"I'm wasting away."

Bucky tosses the crossword on the table with a dramatic finality that indicates he's not going to finish it.

"I'll be back."

*****

When the sun sinks below the waves of the East River, streaks of subdued color paint the clear sky, cool oranges and soft pinks and hazy purples, a perfect mirror to the calm quiet of your afternoon together.

Wrapped in one of Bucky's enormous fuzzy blankets, you rest against the balcony wall, looking back into the cosy little apartment, two empty pizza boxes at your feet. Bucky leans next to you, his long legs stretched out comfortably, head titled back to catch the last vestiges of warmth tangled in the cool evening air.

Somehow the light conversation has tripped into more personal territory, and he's asking if you want to talk about what happened all those years ago.

"You know what happened. I'm sure I have a file, right?" You give him a wry smile.

"I know what I read. That doesn't mean I know what happened. Sometimes talking about it helps." He gives a dry laugh. "Least that's what all the therapists always tell me."

The last time you had a real, honest to God conversation about what happened that day, was in your therapist's office the day before high school graduation. After that, it seemed easier to stop rehashing the past and start living toward the future. So, you put that part of your life in a box and stored it safely away, deep in the back of your head.

But his voice makes you want to open that mental box and rummage through the contents, so with a deep breath, you begin.

"When I was 11, we moved to Algeria. My Dad was asked to take the Ambassador post, and there was serious pressure to accept. Before he agreed, we sat down and made a pro/con list together. It was just me and him, long as I can remember. He was the greatest man I've ever known. He loved reading old comic-books, he told terrible Dad jokes, and he always carried peppermints in his pocket. He was the one who encouraged me to write, and he'd read every silly story and school essay with the same seriousness he gave embassy cables and economic reports. He's the reason I became a journalist."

You pause here, take a drink of water and shuffle through the box, reordering the contents.

"The day it happened, school ended early. I was walking with a group of girlfriends back to the embassy, and suddenly we heard screaming and shouting, and masked men were running out onto the front steps. I watched them dragging out two of Dad's colleagues, kicking them to their knees in the street, and then I saw him. The whole side of his face was bloody and his eye was swollen shut. I started shoving through the crowd of people, trying to run to him. Dad saw me coming, I could see the fear in his face, but I couldn't get there in time. They shot him in the head, and I caught him before he hit the ground."

Fingers unconsciously picking at a loose thread on his blanket, Bucky reaches over and covers your hand, thick calloused fingers pressing hot on your skin. He doesn't speak, just brushes his thumb back and forth.

"The gunman trained the gun on me for a moment, but then he laughed and said ليس اليوم.

His Arabic is rusty, and it takes him a moment to puzzle it out. "Not today?"

"Yes. He turned the gun away, and just strolled off, like he didn't have a care in the whole fucking world. Like he hadn't just ruined mine."

"When did you realize it was Hydra?"

Meeting his gaze, you give a ghost of a smile. "When he spoke, he pulled down the mask covering his face. On his neck was a red tattoo, an octopus with a skull for the face. I didn't know what it was then, but I came across it years later and then I knew."

Bucky thinks back to the background history he read in your file. Like the mission report he gave on Kazakhstan, it contained the barest facts, enough for a black and white sketch of the story. With your words, the colours are splashed in place, the tragedy brought to life in brilliant swathes of ivory pillars and black cloth and blue skies and a ring of red. He remembers the pictures the file contained, a frightened little girl clinging tight to her father's body, her white school uniform stained red with blood, her small hands cradling her father's head, and he feels his heart jerk in response.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, squeezing your hand. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

*****

The ride back to Manhattan is smooth as Bucky weaves effortlessly through the thick traffic, and you feel a sting of disappointment when the apartment comes into view. Cruising to a stop, he turns off the engine and twists around, looking back expectantly.

"Hey, I didn't get my compliment yet today."

"Don't I get a free pass due to extenuating circumstances? I'm very fragile right now."

"No, it's good to do things that make you uncomfortable, it helps you grow as a person."

"Fine." Considering him for a minute, you can almost taste the sassy statement you normally throw, but something stops you, and the words that arrive are laced with uncommon sincerity. "I like how you're so calm in every situation. Nothing ruffles you, and that's always reassuring."

Bucky remembers nearly flying out of his skin with panic this morning and is extraordinarily thankful you didn't witness that moment of weakness. This is what he wants you to see.

"Not bad, I'll take it."

*****

Arriving at your front door, you find the new security system Tony installed, the technology now allowing only you and Bucky access into the apartment. He still insists on coming inside to do a quick walk through, and for the first time, you let it go. When he finishes, he lingers by the front door.

"Sure you're okay? You don't need anything else?"

Smiling at his concern, you shake your head. "No, all good. Thanks again for today, for getting me out of my head."

He smiles in return. "Anytime."

Standing in the dark hallway, the shadows strip away your inhibitions and you impulsively throw your arms around him, giving him a quick squeeze. He responds immediately, arms folding around you, pulling you in tight.

It feels nice. You don't remember the last time you hugged someone.

Bucky lets go first, stepping back quickly and clearing his throat awkwardly. He turns to the door, his hand hesitating on the knob for a beat, before he's stepping into the hall.

"Good night."

"Good night, Bucky."

The door closes with a gentle click, and he waits. Doesn't hear anything. Waits a little longer. Then he knocks on the door.

You open it immediately.

"Did you forget something?"

He looks like he wants to say something. But at the last minute, he decides against it.

"You didn't deadbolt the door. And you didn't ask who was there. We talked about this."

Blowing out an irritated breath, you glare at him. "Did you do that just so you could be a pain in my ass?"

"Well yeah, that is my job."

"For fuck's sake. Goodnight Bucky." You slam the door, deadbolt it, flip on the security system and say loud enough for him to hear. "That guy is such an asshole."

Bucky chuckles to himself, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and does a quick sweep around the hall, checking, checking, checking. Heading downstairs, he walks past the new SHIELD agent posted at the front door, a tall man with spiky blond hair who meets his eyes in acknowledgement, before returning his stare to the street.

Velvety night air dances around him when he perches on the bike and digs deep into a hidden jacket pocket for a battered pack of Marlboros and a rusty metal lighter. He slips a cigarette between his teeth and cocks his head forward, touching the end to the flame, inhaling deep.

He remains on the black leather seat waiting. One eye on your window, the other tracking movement up and down the block.

He stays still until he sees your light go off.

Dropping the smoke, he grinds it under the heel of his boot and heads home.

*****

Next Chapter

*****

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putschki1969 · 6 years

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Hikaru Birthday Event 2018 – Live Report

So…since my last report was stupidly deleted by yours truly and I only provided a mini-report, I thought I would write a proper one for you now. This time around I am using google docs so I hope nothing will be deleted. Without further ado, let’s get to it!

The day of the event was my second day in Japan. I was still quite exhausted from my travels but oh well, it wasn’t too bad. I got up pretty early and met up with my friend Sai to line up for the merchandise. We were at the venue (Suntory Hall Tokyo) at around 10 am to make sure we got everything we wanted. Thankfully the wait wasn’t too bad since we were protected from the sun underneath the building. It was still humid as hell but pretty bearable. Some Japanese Kala-fans from twitter said “hi” to me and as always I was super awkward. Sorry!! Anyways, after the wait was over, we finally got to buy our goods. I bought pretty much everything except the towel because meh, I am not a fan of towels. So yeah, I got the white shirt with the pink triangle, the cap, the ticket file and the booklet\clearfile set. Here’s a sneak peek at the booklet in case you haven’t seen it yet 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→ CLICK ME

By the way, the goods are available on the Space Craft Online Store since yesterday so be sure to get them quickly!! https://spacecraft-shop.jp/kalafina

Afterwards we headed to “La Maison Kioi” (the Kalafina SPICE interview location) to enjoy some cake. Then we headed to Shibuya to check out the Starbucks seat Keiko sat at in the 10th Anniversary Film. Just a while back, Hikaru had tried out a Calpis drink so e decided to have it too. The place (Afternoon Tearoom) was close by so that was very convenient. The lassi was certainly interesting, it had quite the unique taste, not sure I would order it again though XD.

Slowly heading back to the venue, we came across a bunch of fellow Kala-fans who had just gotten out of the afternoon event. We only heard good stuff so of course we were more than excited. At the venue we met up with lots of other Kala-fans and made some new friends. Then after another hour or so we were finally allowed inside. I delivered my letter and the ones by @theraspberrybushes and @mello-chi and then I went to my seat.

The event started on time…with a more or less unspectacular power point presentation regarding all the questions Hikaru had been asked in the questionnaire. I am pretty sure they used all the questions because there were at least 40 or something. No way in hell I could memorise all of that, especially since the questions/answers went by way too fast. Some random stuff I remember. • Hikaru’s favourite numbers are 2 and 7 • She owns around 1000 mangas • She can read a volume in about 30 minutes • If she hadn’t become a singer she would have wanted to become a mother in her 20ies • The type of character she likes in games: Men-tough; Women-peculiar and beautiful • The type of men she likes: Kind and calm • Favourite colours: Monochrome, blue and red • Favourite game: Momotaro Dentetsu • He favourite castle is Himeji • Her favourite characters in FGO are Gilgamesh and Shiki

Sorry, I can’t think of anything else. She also replied to my questions about recommendations in Toyama but she wrote like ten places or something and there was just no way for me to read it that quickly (especially since I suck when it comes to location kanji) But really, the questions weren’t exactly the highlight of the event but the most amazing part about this section were the childhood pictures of Hikaru which were randomly thrown in between questions. Like seriously the cutest pictures ever of baby Hikaru (and her little sister). Chibi-Hikaru was so freaking adorable, I could barely contain myself. We saw her wrapped up in cute winter clothes with her cheeks all red from the cold. With pig-tails! (♥ω♥*) We saw her in her pjs at home watching TV.

Then she finally came on stage wearing the gorgeous outfit you saw in the blog post. The top is by IENA in case anyone is interested. Of course I ended up buying it because how could I resist???? http://zozo.jp/?c=gr&did=55355842

She sat down and personally replied to three more questions that were asked frequently. The first one was about her in-ear-monitors. Someone was curious what they always hear when they wear them. Hikaru explained how they work and how they tune out unnecessary noises etc. Next question was about which merchandise she designed was the most memorable for her. She didn’t actually reply to that question iirc but she used that opportunity to introduce this event’s goods. A staff member rolled up a cart with all the merchandise and she introduced them all similar to what she wrote in the Harmony countdown. Sakurada Hirotaka helped her come up with the goods so he deserves credit as well. She also explained that the colours of the shirts represented Kalafina’s origin colours. The final question was about mobile games and how much time she usually spends playing them. If she is into a game and there is an event going on, she will pretty much play all day long. As soon as she gets up, on the train, during breaks, in bed…until she falls asleep XD

Next up was the manga corner. I spaced out a little here. She always read a page out of one of her beloved mangas and then she talked about why this section felt so special to her. ・xxxHOLiC ・My Hero Accademia ・Tenshi Nanka Ja Nai

Please don’t ask me what she talked about. I have literally no idea. I have never heard of these mangas so it didn’t make much sense what she was talking about. But still, it was very nice to see her talk about her passion.

We played Janken afterwards and two lucky winners (one of them my friend Sai) got a present from Hikaru and got to go up on stage. While I can’t say I care much for the mangas they received as present, I would have killed to get a chance to go up on that stage. Oh well, turns out I suck at Janken. XD Somehow I completely forgot how to play it T_T

The Live

宝石-Houseki: WOW! Just wow! I didn’t know that this was the song Hikaru auditioned with. But hey, that explains why she was eventually chosen because man, she slayed! She sounded amazing! I think the song was slowed down a bit, yeah, it definitely was. Her performance was so powerful and tragic, she almost sounded like she was using elements from Keiko’s and Wakana’s voices. She had the same oomph as Keiko and yet there was a hint of tragedy (the same tragedy you usually get from Wakana). Flawless, absolutely flawless. Honestly, I am not even sure which version I like better, Hikaru’s or Keiko’s.

プラチナ-Platina: This is apparently one of her most frequently sung songs at karaoke. She absolutely loves it. It was an okay performance, I can’t say I like that song very much (it’s too cutesy for my taste) and I don’t think the song is particularly suited for Hikaru’s voice but Hikaru was super adorable and all smiles and she obviously had a blast with it so I was happy for her.

北ウイング-Kita Wing: Wow!! Just. Wow!! Hands down one of my favourite performances of that night. I had never heard that song before but Hikaru’s rendition was absolutely gorgeous. I just got to listen to the original version and OMG, they changed it SO MUCH. They slowed it down a lot and made it sound so much more tragic and sad. It left a lasting impression and I think I will have to buy it now. So beautiful.

CAT'S EYE: Sakurada wrote a special jazz arrangement for this song. I wish there was footage of this performance. Hikaru was so freaking sexy here. The way she moved to the lyrics, especially during that “sexy” line! Oh boy! Nosebleed!!! And it was a song I actually knew so YAY about that. If I remember correctly, I think it was actually one of the songs I voted for so double YAY.

ARIA: Finally, the song I had been waiting for. I obviously voted for this because it’s one of my all-time favourite Hikaru songs and I loved the 10th Anniversary version so freaking much (everyone else also voted for it so I kinda knew this would make it onto the setlist). This version was in a slightly higher pitch I think but not as high as the original version. She sang it with so much emotion, at this point I first started crying. Once again Hikaru mentioned that this song means the world to her and it has taught her so much. It’s always special if she gets to sing it and every version is different/unique. I was a bit sad because all the Wakana/Keiko/Kajiurago parts were left out. I had hoped she would sing that WaKei section after the bridge. It’s literally one of my favourite parts of the song because of the lyrics. But oh well, it was still a mind-blowing performance and Hikaru knocked it out of the park. She struggled a bit during the 10th Anniversary performance (especially during the final verse - although studio magic made sure it sounded well-rounded on the DVD/BD) but here she hit every note.

Blackbird: Hikaru mentioned that we would all recognise this song once we heard the chorus but meh, it seems I am the only one who has never heard of this song. Guess it’s because I have never really listened to the Beatles. Sorry to everyone who thinks that’s blasphemy or something. Either way, Hikaru made me really like this song although it will not become my favourite. Nothing about it was very memorable so I have a hard time remembering any details. I just know that Hikaru sounded really chill and cool. She obviously enjoys to sing this type of song.

Honesty: It’s honestly embarrassing how few songs I knew during this live. This was another one I had never heard before but boy, Hikaru made me fall in love with it immediately. I don’t know what it was about her performance but it was just so touching and emotional, it seemed like she meant every word she was singing. Everytime she sang “honesty” my heart broke a tiny little bit. The feels! Oh, the feels!!

Just the Way You Are: Can’t say I ever cared much for this song but once again Hikaru brought something special to it that made me appreciate how lovely this piece actually is. It really felt like she was singing from the heart. On that note, I would like to mention that her English pronunciation was really good during all the English songs. You most definitely understood what she was singing and she tried her best to emphasise each and every word. Very impressive. That’s certainly not a given with Japanese artists. Although I guess we all know that Hikaru’s English is very good. After this song, Hikaru told the Japanese audience that even though they probably didn’t understand the English lyrics, she hoped she was able to convey the meaning through her singing (she was!!). She invited everyone to check out all the lyrics because they are all super beautiful.

魂のルフラン- Tamashi No Rufuran: I was one of the people who voted for Zankokuna Tenshi no These so when she started to talk about Evangelion I freaked out a little. Unfortunately she ended up singing this song instead. I haven’t really watched the series so I only ever knew the OP and nothing else. Can’t say this song left a lasting impression. I don’t remember much from it. T_T Sorry, Hikaru. And sorry to everyone who had expected a more throrough report. I think she struggled a bit during the high parts here but it wasn’t too bad.

History Maker: I am embarrassed to say that I once again didn’t recognise the song. It sounded familiar but I couldn’t for the life of me remember where it was from. I was confused because I thought it was a Western song but Hikaru had mentioned she would sing anime songs now. I was like, “ehh???” Only afterwards when Hikaru mentioned it was from Yuri on Ice I suddenly remembered. [I am definitely the most clueless person when it comes to anime] This was most certainly the most upbeat and fun song of the night. Everyone was hyped and Hikaru was running around the stage, trying to connect with as many people in the audience as possible. And it worked. So much power, so much strength. Simply amazing. She really managed to capture the spirit of the song. Can’t say I watched the anime but I know it’s about sports and figthing spirit and boy, after this performance I was SO READY to climb Mount Fuji XD (which is good since I actually did climb Mt. Fuji the day after). Once she was finished Hikaru told us that actually no one had voted for her to sing this song but since it’s one of her faves she thought it would be okay to include it, this was “Hikaru’s vote” so to speak.

sprinter: Hands down my favourite performance of the night. The lights were dimmed and all you could hear was Hikaru’s voice which was already brimming over with emotion. The arrangement was super slow, she sang pretty much all the lines (including Wakana’s and Keiko’s). She didn’t sing the Kajiurago parts though. When she got to the “kimi ni aitai…” part, the hall became completely dark and there was just a tiny light illuminating Hikaru. Her voice was raw and fragile and very quiet. She wasn’t even singing them properly, it was more like she was saying them to us. It’s hard to explain but it was utterly heartbreaking. Tears everywhere. She only sang that part once and I think that’s for the best because this way it was incredibly powerful. And even though you could barely see her face you could definitely hear her voice break. She ended the song with Wakana’s line, “I'm calling your name”. By the end of the performance everyone was in tears and you could see Hikaru wiping away a tear too.

That was the end of the live, Hikaru took a bow and thanked everyone. When she told the audience to give a big round of applause to Sakurada he started playing the first tunes of “Happy Birthday”. It was a bit awkward at first because Japanese audiences never know what to do in situations like that. But they caught on surprisingly fast and so everyone was singing for Hikaru. That’s when Hikaru pretty much broke down into tears and watching this made me cry even more. She desperately tried to compose herself afterwards but nope, she couldn’t. Whenever she started to speak, a new wave of emotions seemed to hit her. She had to use a towel to wipe her tears away. She said that she didn’t expect Sakurada to play the birthday song for her (although I think that’s not true because he apparently played it during the afternoon event too but I forgive her for that little lie XD). Oh well, whether she was surprised or not she seemed to be moved either way and that is the only thing that counts. She thanked us for coming, thanked us for making this night incredibly special for her and finally assured us that she would forever remember this evening and treasure it within her heart…during the whole time tears were streaming down her face. She hopes that the next time we all meet there will be less tears and more laughter. She apologised for crying so much (oh please, Hi-chan, never apologise for that!!!!) Then she left the stage and the audience was asked to remain seated until told otherwise. The individual rows were asked to wait in line and leave the hall one by one.

That’s when we all got our personal greeting and postcard from Hikaru. She was standing outside wearing the white shirt from the merchandise and she handed each and every person a handwritten note and thanked them once again for coming. The staff people were rushing everyone out but fans were able to talk to Hikaru for a milli-second. When it was my turn I was shaking and I started crying again. Hikaru smiled at me and gave me one of her English cards (like seriously, she even prepared English cards for her foreign fans! So thoughtful of her!). I told her that I was incredibly moved by her performance (as if my crying wasn’t indication enough) and it looked like Hikaru was about to start crying too but then I was ushered outside so I can’t know for sure. I was shaking so much and then and it took a few minuted to compose myself.

All in all it was a super special event and I am so glad I got the chance to attend it. Hikaru is a born solo performer and she owned the stage throughout the entire event. She made me fall in love with her even more. You could really tell how much she cared about her fans. Right now I am very grateful that she is there for us and wants to be close to us. This event and all her blog posts make me so very happy, you have no idea. My only regret is that Hikaru didn’t mention Wakana and Keiko during the evening event. Why did she only talk about them during the afternoon event? So unfair! But oh well, it’s not like I missed much. She basically just told the audience that they are keeping in touch and that she had received birthday geetings from both of them (duh! Of course she did! Did anyone doubt it?) and that Wakana regularly sends pictures of her plant babies. They are all doing their own thing now so I understand and respect their choice (yes, I think it’s their choice and they are not forced by Space Craft) to lay low and not mention the others too much. However, it’s still nice when they do.

Okay, that’s a wrap. Hope you enjoyed this and if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask

#kalafina #report #hikaru #hikaru birthday event #long text post #sorry #I don’t know how to add a read more thingy on my phone

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travisatria · 5 years

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Notes from the Daytona 500

I leave my house in Gainesville, Florida, at six a.m. with a pot cookie and a bar of Klonopin and drive toward the coast to cover the Daytona 500 for a trashy celebrity rag. Since the magazine doesn’t care about the actual race as much as what kind of jeans the celebrities in attendance are wearing, I must arrive early before the action starts. After two hours, I hit Richard Petty Road, which leads me to the race grounds and the press parking lot. I meet a man there who will show me around for the rest of the day. He is very nice and very helpful. I have already eaten the cookie.

The nice and helpful man whisks me to a special tent that I’m not technically allowed inside, but he drops the name of my magazine to the doorwoman, and they have a whispered conversation where I hear the name Juan Pablo repeated several times, and they let me in. I surreptitiously Google Juan Pablo and learn that he is the current star of The Bachelor, a television show where a hunk of meat is paraded before a group of women and told to fall in love. As we enter, the nice and helpful man tells me that the tent is reserved for celebrities like Juan Pablo, and also for a buzzing crowd of Fortune 500 CEOs. What he doesn’t say, but what becomes obvious in a little while, is that corporate money drives NASCAR. And these corporate bigwigs really seem to care about the race, since they get to advertise directly on the car and the driver. In return, the Daytona 500 offers them this tent with fake grass on the floor, and white picnic tables, and immaculately clad servers walking around with trays of single waffle sticks resting in cups of maple syrup. A sound system pumps Cee-Lo’s “Fuck You,” and a dance remix of “Call Me Maybe,” and “Girl” by Beck. The whole thing seems so not NASCAR. It’s just a bunch of rich, old white men milling around with gorgeous young paramours who flash hard eyes, and it’s clear that these people belong to an elite echelon, and they know it, and they are not interested in anyone who is not in that echelon. Judging by how they look at me, they can instantly smell one of their own--and more to the point, they can sniff out someone who doesn’t belong.

The very nice and helpful man steers me across the floor to Juan Pablo’s handler, who asks if I’d like to meet him. I tell her a lie and sit across from him with my pen and pad ready. In the nicest possible way, he refuses to talk to me. He produces a cell phone from his pocket and shows me a picture of a celebrity rag, my celebrity rag, with a headline that says, “The Bachelor’s Ex Tells All,” and then he shows me another picture of him sitting next to his ex, who is holding the same headline, both of them looking disgusted. “Do you see?” he asks, and I do see. Juan Pablo apologizes, and he is very nice, and he is very polite, and I don’t know how to explain that I also think it’s terrible the way they treat him, and that I would love to talk to him about what it’s like being a normal guy suddenly thrust into this vicious scene, and about why he’d agree to appear on a show like The Bachelor in the first place, but as far as treating him like an actual star whose opinions are newsworthy, well, I would need stronger drugs.

A similar thing happens with Nina Dobrev. Her handler tells me she isn’t entertaining the press today. I have no problem with that. I’ve struck out twice, but at least I got close enough to both of them to see their outfits, and that’s all I really need to satisfy the celebrity rag. The very nice and helpful man tells me I’ll have other opportunities--50 Cent will show up later, for example--and he begins introducing me around very politely to people he recognizes, corporate types mostly. These people are all very nice and charming in a disarming and genuine way, since they’re all here to get something out of this event. They all say the same thing: “I love your magazine! I read it all the time!” and though I know they’re all working an angle, I truly believe in their sincerity. It’s nice of them to say, honestly, so I don’t tell them that I just freelance for the magazine because it pays pretty well in an industry where good paychecks are like dinosaurs after the meteor. Instead, I watch these expert hucksters work the room, and I begin to understand the power of schmoozing. I also realize that when the schmoozers ask where you’re from, don’t say Gainesville, Florida, because their faces will drop, their eyes will cloud over, and they will check out of the conversation. You aren’t anywhere important. You can’t help them. Or maybe that’s just what I think is happening. I start to tell them that I spend part of the year in New York, which is a lie, but I will be moving there next year, so it’s kind of true. But, the thing is, these people remain very nice even after I think they’ve checked out of the conversation, and I don’t know why I am lying to them, and it makes me feel worse that some innate insecurity makes me need to lie so I can seem important to people who have only been nice to me, and who I need no favors from anyway. I am very confused morally, and the weed is taking hold.

After the introductions, I settle into a plush leather chair, gobble the Klonopin, and survey the room. The CEOs seem normal, and because no one recognizes them by face, they can hang out unmolested. The celebrities, on the other hand, exist inside bubbles and seem like caged animals. These bubbles are made of handlers, and bodyguards, and hangers on, and I get the sense that they are mirrored on the inside so the celebrities can remain devoted to their brands, their careers, themselves, without having to truly come to terms with how ultimately insignificant human life is. And in their defense, the bubbles offer them protection, which they need, because the press room, where I go next, swarms with a horde of leeches watching their every move, desperate to turn the slightest nothing into a story. And that horde never stops clawing for the latest scoop that will sell magazines. How could you not hide in a bubble? I’d make the same choice. You would too.

After a few minutes on the leather chair, the very nice and helpful man steers me to a press conference, where Chris Evans, Aloe Blacc, Luke Bryan, and Gary Sinise come into the room one by one. They each take a turn sitting alone on a stage facing a crowd of flabby beta males who shout pointless questions at them, and maybe these reporters, these flabby betas, are just normal people trying to pay mortgages and support families, but the way they fawn and grovel like deformed gremlins kneeling before a mighty conquistador is upsetting. And I grovel too, but I think it’s for different reasons. Mostly, I am too polite to say what I really think, so I pretend to grovel, and that might make me more of an asshole, as I gag while participating in the lobbing of mindless questions like so many slow-pitch softballs. Once the questions are over, photographers gather like lampreys to a shark, their shapeless bodies jostling for position while their snapping lenses search for a piece of flesh to capture. It is a gruesome scene, and you can’t help but feel that if the Earth opened and swallowed us all right there, no one’s life would be much worse for it.

Despite the inanity and triviality of it all, however, the celebrity rag wields enormous power. Even though the magazine I’m working for has never provided a single piece of information that anyone needed, I’ve never been treated so well as a reporter. That could be because NASCAR is about as cool as the Republican Party, and it is desperate for Hollywood endorsement in the hopes that some cool might rub off. (That’s a shame, too, because it really is an incredible sport once you get down there near the track and watch the cars scream by like a fleet of bloodthirsty Tyrannosaurs.) But it might also be because the sport still stinks of the Confederacy in a nation that is increasingly non-white. Whatever the reason, I am treated like a king here. As a reporter, I”m used to situations where I have to bother someone until I get what I want. I’m used to people trying to keep me out of important places, while I try to find a way in. I am not used to the way the very nice and helpful man walks me right up to the celebrities, pushes me to the front of every line, and lets me stand on chairs to get a better view.

And to be honest, there is a sort of twisted thrill that comes from having the power of the celebrity rag behind me. I have a lanyard that lets me walk straight past the fenced-in commoners waiting like cattle, red-faced and sweating in the oppressive Florida heat. I waltz right by the Port-O-Let, where a mob of smelly people waits to defecate into a plastic pit that festers in the sun, and by the terrible food tents where an interminable line waits for Bojangles chicken. With the very nice and helpful man at my side and the lanyard around my neck, I go to the VIP tent, piss in a bathroom that is nicer than my house, and eat slow-cooked beef ribs glazed twice with a cherry-habanera barbecue sauce, and Mexican street corn--grilled, then brushed with a mixture of mayonnaise, yogurt, and lime juice, and rolled in cotija cheese, cumin, and other spices. Then I go to a bar and select from half a dozen flavors of fancy fruit juices served in tiny plastic cups, and I take whatever I want without paying a cent. If this were actual journalism, every bit of it would be unethical. But the celebrity press plays by different rules. All I have to do here is provide a report on what the rich and famous do, say, and wear. Swag from NASCAR cannot possibly sway my work.

There’s a thrill that comes with the swag too, and maybe this thrill is what wealth and celebrity are all about. It is a sense of importance, a belief that because you are given these things, you deserve them. And how could the celebrities and CEOs not feel that way? We treat them like demigods. We give them presents they don’t need--Gary Sinise got a red electric guitar--and ask them leading question about how great they are. And why do we do this? Because they’re good at singing? Because they were okay in a few movies? Because they’re on a TV show that will be forgotten by the end of this sentence? It must do something unhealthy to them, and to us as well, but I can’t help feeling that there’s no reason to blame them. They’re just people who worked hard and got lucky; we are the ones treating them like Augustus Caesar.

The race begins as an afterthought, and a Florida thunderstorm comes immediately. The whole thing gets delayed for six hours, and I leave because I have what I need for my story, even though none of it is worth a damn. I am exhausted, and I can’t shake the feeling while driving home through the storm that we are sick, all of us. The way we treat the rich and famous must come from a deep well of mental illness, lousy priorities, and lizard-brain, god-worshipping instincts, and I have helped this hideous machine churn on. When I get home and begin to write my piece, my limbic system reels, not because I think I’m some great writer and this is below me, but because I know that it profoundly does not matter. It does not matter which celebrity arrived when, and whom they were with, and what they wore, and how close they stood to who, and how many selfies they took. No one needs this information. Ever.

And what’s truly sad is that the Daytona 500 is a freakout beyond belief--imagine the Super Bowl, and a country jamboree, and Woodstock put together. You don’t realize on TV how loud those cars are, how fast they go, how massive the track is. You don’t realize that the turns are pitched at such an angle that you can barely walk up them, and if you’re wearing flat-soled shoes, you will slip and the very nice and helpful man will have to hold onto your elbow like you’re a little old lady crossing the street. You don’t realize that they let the fans walk around the track before the race--thousands of them sitting on the infield, signing their names on the starting line, taking pictures of the cars parked in pit road--and that while the fans walk around, so do the world-famous drivers, just like that, elbowing their way past fat guys with cameras and pasty women with sunburns. What other sport allows that kind of access? Television also omits the carnival-like pageantry--the concerts on little stages dotting the outskirts of the track, the food tents billowing aromatic, oily smoke, the rows of RVs and buses with campers grilling in groups and getting drunk in the sun. There is a truly great story at this race. Hell, there are hundreds of them. And the celebrity press will miss them all.

I later learn that Dale Earnhardt Jr. won the race on the same track where thirteen years ago his father died in a grisly car wreck. Not only that, he did it on the night when another driver handled the legendary #3 car for the first time in competition since Earnhardt’s death. I know that my celebrity rag won’t publish that even if I write it. A man vanquishing the race that killed his father, next to the ghost of his father’s car? That isn’t a story to them.

But maybe, just maybe, Juan Pablo will find true love.

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biofunmy · 5 years

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DealBook Briefing: Tech’s Cold War Just Started

Good Monday. (Want this by email? Sign up here.)

U.S. tech companies cut off Huawei

Google, Qualcomm and Broadcom are among the companies that have reportedly frozen their supply of components and software to the Chinese technology giant to comply with a crackdown by the Trump administration.

• “Google has suspended business with Huawei that requires the transfer of hardware, software and technical services except those publicly available via open source licensing,” Reuters reported, citing unidentified sources.

• “Chipmakers including Intel, Qualcomm, Xilinx and Broadcom have told their employees they will not supply Huawei till further notice,” Bloomberg added, also citing unnamed sources.

The moves follow a Trump administration clampdown. The Commerce Department announced last week that U.S. companies would need special permission to sell some products to Huawei.

It’s not yet clear how long or deep the crackdown will be. Some commentators have said that it could be a short-lived part of U.S. trade war posturing. But the administration has been vocal about its concerns over possible threats to national security, and Huawei has said that it was prepared for being frozen out.

How the moves could hurt Huawei. Existing products would continue to receive Google updates, but future devices would have to use the open-source version of the operating system, without services like YouTube and Google Maps. The chip freeze-out means it might be forced to use its stockpile of U.S. components.

“We can now expect China to redouble efforts to roll out a homegrown smartphone operating system, design its own chips, develop its own semiconductor technology (including design tools and manufacturing equipment), and implement its own technology standards,” Tim Culpan of Bloomberg Opinion writes. “This can only accelerate the process of creating a digital iron curtain that separates the world into two distinct, mutually exclusive technological spheres.”

More: U.S. intelligence chiefs have warned American tech companies of the dangers of doing business in China. Senator Mark Warner, a Democrat on the Senate Intelligence Committee, is doing something similar.

Deutsche Bank staff flagged activity in Trump and Kushner accounts

Anti-money laundering specialists at the German lender recommended in 2016 and 2017 that transactions involving Donald Trump and his son-in-law, Jared Kushner, be reported to a federal financial crimes watchdog, David Enrich of the NYT reports.

Transactions set off automated alerts designed to detect illicit activity, Mr. Enrich writes, citing current and former bank employees. Compliance staffers then prepared reports to send to the Treasury Department.

Executives rejected the recommendations, and the reports were never filed. The kinds of all-cash deals made by real estate developers like the Trump and Kushner families can prompt anti-money laundering reviews, and bank executives can choose not to report activity if they conclude employees’ concerns are unwarranted.

But the decisions reflected Deutsche Bank’s lax approach to money laundering laws, former employees told Mr. Enrich. They saw the move as part of the lender’s tendency to protect relationships with lucrative clients.

“It’s the D.B. way,” Tammy McFadden, a former Deutsche Bank anti-money laundering specialist who reviewed some of the transactions, told the NYT. “You present them with everything, and you give them a recommendation, and nothing happens.”

The billionaire paying off student loans

Robert F. Smith stunned 396 young men graduating yesterday from Morehouse College, a historically black college in Atlanta, by announcing that he, America’s richest black man, would pay off all their student debt.

“We’re going to put a little fuel in your bus,” Mr. Smith, the commencement speaker, told the crowd. He later said, “Let’s make sure every class has the same opportunity going forward, because we are enough to take care of our own community.”

“This was a liberation gift, meaning this frees these young men from having to make their career decisions based on their debt,” David Thomas, the college president, told the NYT.

Mr. Smith “had become increasingly concerned in recent years about the degree to which students leave college saddled with heavy debts, including many at Morehouse,” the NYT reported, citing a person familiar with his thinking.

But details remain unsettled, including how students will demonstrate the amount of debt they have and how it will be paid off. Also unclear: the total amount Mr. Smith will contribute.

Mr. Smith built his fortune, estimated at $5 billion, through a career as a Goldman Sachs banker and as founder of Vista Equity Partners, a tech investment firm whose returns are believed to be among the best in private equity.

Trump scrapped some tariffs

As of today, U.S. tariffs on metal imports from Mexico and Canada have been lifted, Ana Swanson of the NYT reports

• That removes “a major irritant for two important allies that in exchange agreed to stop punishing American farmers with their own taxes on pork, cheese and milk.”

• President Trump also “postponed a decision on whether to impose tariffs on automobiles imported from Europe, Japan and other countries for six months.”

The U-turn is tied to the newly negotiated Nafta, called the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement. “Mr. Trump had described the tariffs as a source of leverage in negotiating a revision to that deal, which has yet to be ratified,” Ms. Swanson writes. “But both Republicans and Democrats had said they would not sign off on that deal until the White House removed metal tariffs on Canada and Mexico.”

Together, “the actions remove the threat of an all-encompassing global trade war and allow Mr. Trump to focus on pushing China to agree to the United States’ trade terms, as well as pressuring Europe and Japan to reach a trade deal before the 2020 election,” Ms. Swanson writes.

More: Big companies have tightened spending as trade fears intensify.

Cleaning up Facebook brings its A.I. whiz to tears

Facebook says artificial intelligence is a solution to its toxic content problems. Mike Schroepfer, its chief technology officer, says it won’t solve everything — and the scale of the problem has made him cry, Cade Metz and Mike Isaac of the NYT report.

• Mr. Schroepfer “is the person at Facebook leading the efforts to build the automated tools to sort through and erase the millions of such posts. But the task is Sisyphean, he acknowledged over the course of three interviews.”

• “Every time Mr. Schroepfer and his more than 150 engineering specialists create A.I. solutions that flag and squelch noxious material, new and dubious posts that the A.I. systems have never seen before pop up — and are thus not caught.”

• “In two of the interviews, he started with an optimistic message that A.I. could be the solution, before becoming emotional. At one point, he said coming to work had sometimes become a struggle. Each time, he choked up when discussing the scale of the issues that Facebook was confronting and his responsibilities in changing them.”

• “I do think there’s an endgame here,” Mr. Schroepfer said, adding: “I don’t think it’s ‘everything’s solved,’ and we all pack up and go home.”

New York’s predatory taxi industry

Brian Rosenthal of the NYT takes a deep dive into how bankers and officials made money from the sale of New York City taxi medallions, even as lending turned predatory and Uber and Lyft devastated many drivers.

What the bankers did:

• “Between 2002 and 2014, the price of a medallion rose to more than $1 million from $200,000, even though city records showed that driver incomes barely changed.”

• “The investigation found example after example of drivers trapped in exploitative loans, including hundreds who signed interest-only loans that required them to pay exorbitant fees, forfeit their legal rights and give up almost all their monthly income, indefinitely.”

What city officials did:

• “For more than a decade, the agencies reduced oversight of the taxi trade, exempted it from regulations, subsidized its operations and promoted its practices, records and interviews showed.”

• Under the Bloomberg and de Blasio administrations, New York City “made more than $855 million by selling taxi medallions and collecting taxes on private sales, according to the city.”

• “When the medallion market collapsed, the government largely abandoned the drivers who bore the brunt of the crisis. Officials did not bail out borrowers or persuade banks to soften loan terms.”

‘Game of Thrones’ is over. What now for HBO?

The series finale for “Game of Thrones” concluded a major TV phenomenon. But HBO has a plan to move on from its hit, Gerry Smith of Bloomberg reports.

• HBO plans to increase its original programming 50 percent this year, “creating more chances for another blockbuster,” Mr. Smith writes.

• Shows in the pipeline include adaptations of the graphic novel “Watchmen” as well as “His Dark Materials,” the series of fantasy novels by Philip Pullman.

But “Game of Thrones” sets a high bar. The penultimate episode drew 18.4 million viewers across all HBO platforms.

“The finale was a mass live-viewing experience of the kind that is now almost unheard for serialized television — or almost any TV program that isn’t the Super Bowl,” John Jurgenson of the WSJ writes.

Replicating that in the streaming era will be difficult. Mr. Smith points out that “about 500 scripted TV shows” are fighting for attention.

The speed read

Deals

• T-Mobile and Sprint reportedly plan to announce concessions like the sale of a prepaid mobile service and a pledge to hold down prices to win regulatory approval of their merger. (Bloomberg)

• Big investors like BlackRock didn’t buy more shares in Uber’s I.P.O., helping to spoil the company’s public debut. Relatedly: Why Uber, and investors, shouldn’t worry too much about the first day of trading. (WSJ, FT)

• CBS reportedly floated a $5 billion takeover bid for Starz, the premium-cable network. (WSJ)

• The e-cigarette maker NJOY reportedly had to slash its valuation target to $2 billion from $5 billion to draw investors to its latest fund-raising round. (WSJ)

• Catalyst, the private equity firm co-founded by Jim Sorenson, plans to raise $150 million to invest in opportunity zones. (Bloomberg)

Politics and policy

• The Republican National Committee accepted donations from Steve Wynn, the casino magnate who was ousted amid accusations of sexual misconduct. (NYT)

• The Trump administration warned that increased border crossings would cost $1.4 billion in additional housing for migrants. (NYT)

• Representative Justin Amash of Michigan became the first congressional Republican to call for President Trump’s impeachment. (NYT)

• The G.O.P. is stuck: It has to choose whether to focus on cultural issues or the strength of the economy for its 2020 message. (NYT)

• Social media disinformation was rampant in the 2016 election. Expect it to be worse next year. (NYT)

• Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India appears to be headed for re-election, exit polls show. (NYT)

Boeing

• Boeing has discovered that 737 Max flight simulators do not accurately replicate the conditions that led to two fatal crashes. (NYT)

• Global aviation regulators are to meet in Texas this week to determine when the 737 Max 8 can fly again. (FT)

Tech

• Tech jobs can propel people into the middle class — but bright spots are few and far between. (NYT)

• Nvidia has ridden a wave of demand for A.I. computer chips, but now it faces fierce competition. (WSJ)

• The Trump administration is reportedly set to adopt a set of O.E.C.D. guidelines for the development and use of A.I., the first set of such rules it will have endorsed. (Politico)

• San Francisco has banned facial recognition technology. New York City can’t decide whether to be transparent about its use. (NYT Editorial)

• The world’s most popular live-stream gamers get as much as $50,000 an hour to play new video games online. (WSJ)

Best of the rest

• Saudi Arabia’s oil infrastructure is at risk of major disruption, even from small attacks. (NYT)

• Why value added taxes, largely ignored by the U.S., have found favor in much of the world. (NYT)

• How powerful consultants have been “pitting states against each other to win tax breaks for new factories.” (WSJ)

• U.S. meat prices are poised to rise as a result of China’s swine fever epidemic. (WSJ)

• Male managers are increasingly nervous about mentoring women. (Axios)

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