#and i KNOW. i know this is just a soundbite from an interview. it might not be as bad as it sounds

[deanpinterester]

hi what

[wisteriagoesvroom]

when you watch lando's old footage back with his different teammates you can see his chemistry is so different with each and every one of him. you can see the observant and maybe nervous first year f1 racer that he was around carlos. the fire-meets-fire vibe that they brought, all the overflowing energy of being early 20somethings.

then you get the daniel era where it's honey and butter. both of them warm and charming and lando still learning from the other. but also lando also coming into his own as a racer and realising that he's not an imposter - he's on the level, if not better at that point, than the person who raced for red bull and has 8 GPs under his belt. even if that same racer seems a shadow of his former self at mclaren.

then you get the 2022 merry go round, and oscar. might as well be night and day when they first meet.

oscar, who keeps to himself, puts his head down and works. oscar, watchful and careful after the silly business with alpine. who probably knows he's coming into a buzzy environment with big personalities and huge expectations too - because who is this kid who had the audacity to basically flip off alpine? and via social media of all things (how very modern for an old-fashioned sport). how is this kid gonna make his mark on such a storied team, where the last win is almost now as old as him? what is he going to do with all that potential, right?

we love the machine, because we love watching the potential of a bright young thing fighting their way out of its jaws. lando was in there too, not so long ago, and the poison from that bite might still seep.

nobody knows what to expect. but lando gets to be the elder in the duo for the first time. lando's also going through a process in 2022-23 where he also seems to be entering a new phase of his life and realising some stuff about himself as a person too and what his priorities are. we'll never truly know what that process is (nor should we), but i think on this side of 2024 you can already see how he's handling himself out of it.

and we saw it maybe, in a bit of a smirk at oscar's first day for the car launch and oscar being late. a bit of wonder at oscar, who when suited up seems physically larger than what he remembers.

but then! oscar puts in the work. good chatter surrounds newbie and his working style, and oscar demonstrates maturity. he shows what a contender he is. that he's got his own approach, and he's ready, and – once the car comes – he starts backing that up with good results.

lando is competitive as hell on his own terms. but seeing a twenty one year old from the Reserve bench come in under er, fraught circumstances, then smashing out result after result from Suzuka onwards - surely that puts some fire under your ass in a big way. and! lando is someone who, i think despite his bad luck and lack of a win yet, is incredibly driven and has it in him to be a proper WDC contender. he has that quality. if his teammate is pushing him he's just going to push himself harder.

which culminates, interestingly, in soundbites we're getting recently. like the peter crouch interview, where lando says he's stopped DJ-ing because he's prioritising racing. not an easy decision to make i'm sure, and maybe one that would've happened without oscar's presence at mclaren anyway– but just one signal of where his headspace is probably at now and into '24. lando is also much more reserved about the soundbites he's giving lately (like "i'm not making any race or win predictions anymore and i'm taking things as they are because predictions haven't come true for me in the past, there's too much expectation on myself" etc etc.).

you might even describe it as... maturity.

and guess who has been described as incredibly composed and mature by the mclaren team?

exactly.

[wingsoverlagos]

This is a fun collection of quotes from the Let It Be Beatles Interview with Mark Lewisohn conducted on August 20, 2018. This is mostly for @mythserene's enjoyment, but it's also a fun lil supplement to this comment by @talking-perfectly-loud on a post by @anotherkindofmindpod, which includes some revealing, deeply salty quotes by Lewisohn from an episode of Nothing Is Real.

The below soundbites focus on Lewisohn's feelings towards the Harrison estate, particularly Olivia, though Lewisohn also lets us know that he considered suing George at one point. Italics used to indicate tone; bold font is added emphasis by me.

This is from ~1hr8min into the interview, after a discussion of Mal Evans diaries. Here's a partial transcript:

"No, no, Olivia Harrison doesn't want anything to do with me at all. Yeah, so it's very frustrating because I just want to make the history better and better and better and more and more correct, especially more and more correct in terms of balance on all four Beatles, but whatever."

This is a longer clip (6:26) from ~1hr23min in the original interview. They're discussing Lewisohn's falling out with Apple/the Beatles/George in particularly, which came about because he was falsely accused of bootlegging, or something like that. He's told a few variations of this story.

The first 3ish minutes give some flavor and backstory. Some choice quotes (they're at about 2:50, 4:35, and 5:42 in this clip):

“To the day he died, George blocked me, and Olivia blocks me in George’s name, and so it still carries on.”

“I’ve never, ever leaked, and that was why it was so galling to be accused of being a bootlegger. George Harrison accused me of being a bootlegger to my face in front of a whole film crew, the bastard. I mean, really. A horrible, horrible thing to do. I really should have done him for slander, and in fact at one point I was tempted, believe it or not. Because, you know, I’m a professional, I’m on a shoot, I’ve got a whole unit with me, and he’s accusing me of being a bootlegger in front of everybody, which was- he had no evidence for because there wasn’t any, but that didn’t matter. He was accusing me without evidence, and it was wrong, and um, you just have to put up with these things. These people, they can get away with murder. Celebrities, you know?”

Lest we think George was wilding out solely because of the bootlegging, Lewisohn helpfully clarifies that it was also Paul's Fault:

“The irony of that was that I actually had started off really well with George. I knew George from ’87, personally, and we’d had nice times, and it was- one of the things that flipped it was when I began working regularly for Paul.”

This was the part of the podcast that really took me aback, from around the 1hr43min mark. There's some chatter about Let It Be (the film), and then Lewisohn goes off once again about Olivia Harrison. He's quite impassioned, and then seems to make a conscious effort to talk himself down.

“I don’t know Olivia Harrison. I’ve never met her, which makes her- just- [angry] blocking of everything I do so ridiculous, because she doesn’t even know me. But if, as it would appear, she’s taken it upon herself to perpetuate George’s wishes, which is something that you might expect a spouse to do when their partner’s died, if the partner says, ‘Don’t ever allow this’, then she would take it as her duty not to allow it.”

This is followed by some hedging.

There are several other choice tidbits in this two hour Lewisohn marathon, but Olivia Harrison was foremost in his mind. But don't worry, guys, he's not biased!

[its-avalon-08]

lando norrix x reader part4

part 4 guys <;3 themes- enemies to lovers flirty interactions female Formula1 driver

Chapter 4 - Laughter and Shadows

The post-race interviews buzzed with the usual whirlwind of questions and soundbites. Max, ever the stoic champion, dispensed his answers with practiced ease. Y/N, however, was a different story. Her playful banter with the reporters had the room in stitches, her genuine humor and quick wit disarming even the most jaded journalists.

"And Y/N," a reporter chimed, "that overtake on Leclerc for P2, absolutely textbook! Were you nervous at all?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, you know, just the usual pre-overtake existential crisis – should I go inside, outside, fake a pit stop? But then I remembered Charles probably wouldn't appreciate the pit maneuver in Monaco traffic, so inside it was!"

The room erupted in laughter, even Red Bull's resident stoic, Sergio Perez, cracking a smile. Y/N, unable to contain herself, burst into a fit of giggles, grabbing Checo's shoulder for balance. The gesture was casual, friendly, but to Lando, watching from the corner of the media pen, it felt like a branding iron searing his insides.

His jaw clenched, his fists bunched up under the interview table. The playful camaraderie between Y/N and Checo, the ease with which she touched him – it ignited a jealous rage within him that he couldn't explain. He knew Y/N and Checo were just teammates, colleagues, but the sight of them together twisted his gut with an emotion he couldn't name.

Max, meanwhile, watched the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. He'd noticed Lando's simmering jealousy before, but this… this was a different kind of anger, darker, more possessive. It sent a shiver down his spine, a disquieting premonition of the chaos that might ensue.

"Next question, please?" Y/N's voice cut through the silence, her smile back in place, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in Lando's heart.

The interviews resumed, a seemingly innocuous exchange of soundbites and predictions. But beneath the surface, a tension crackled, a silent battle being waged in the shadows of the paddock. Lando's eyes burned with a dark fire, his focus shifting from the interviewer to Y/N and Checo, his smile becoming a strained mask.

Max, sensing the growing animosity, exchanged a wary glance with Y/N. They both knew the season was far from over, and the battle on the track was only a part of the story. The real challenge, the true test, would be navigating the treacherous landscape of jealousy, ambition, and the simmering darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the media scrum dispersed, Max found Y/N alone, a thoughtful frown etched on her face. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile fading. "I don't know, Maxy," she admitted. "There's something about Lando… it's different this time. I feel like he's changed. And holy fuck, its a little hot, but I/m just confused, what did i do?"

Max nodded, a sudden understanding in his eyes. "He's jealous, Y/N," he said bluntly. "Jealous of Checo stealing your laughs, maybe even something more."

Y/N shivered, a cold unease settling in her stomach. "More?" she echoed.

Max didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. The laughter and lightheartedness of the interviews felt miles away, replaced by a chilling premonition of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. The battle for victory had just begun, and in this game, the stakes were higher than ever.

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 s02e15: And Now for a Word so2 Table of Contents • previous episode

September 16, 2259! Love me a good documentary!

Never not going to be funny to me that G'Kar's actor and Talia Winter's actor have the same given name (Andrea).

This is really not the time for reporters to be harassing personnel for soundbites.

:| and a very fuck you too, Ambassador Mollari.

Love having the dockworkers back!!

"Overall I've found this to be a good working environment. I've learned a lot here. […] Yes, it's a calm, pleasant environment. I don't think I've ever seen anyone get upset here." - random Earthforce personnel, lying like a liar

Stephen Franklin channeling classic, spacephobic McCoy here.

Oh my god, seventeen-year-old Stephen Franklin either accidentally killed his friend hiding in an airlock, or watched his friend accidentally kill himself messing around in an airlock. It's ambiguous, and horrifying either way.

Good trauma story sharing. But for real, how can he even live in space after that? I'm horrified and impressed.

Dang, that's pretty bad. Almost 60 deaths total, multiple bombings, and several narrowly-averted wars. In three years.

Literally idk how G'Kar can keep his composure. The Centauri are war criming like crazy.

This documentary format is actually delightful. I am loving seeing how the actors are choosing to portray their characters being interviewed. It's so fucking fascinating.

Susan Ivanova continues to be The Best.

Garibaldi wants to be bored and to make a difference. I propose that he could make the most difference by not assaulting people or threatening them with his rank.

This reporter isn't very likeable, which makes me wonder if she's going to end up doing something impactful.

"I am a friend, in peace." and then being met with such vitriol and journalistic malfeasance! This reporter sucks!

A hell of a thirty-six hours to happen to arrive to document!

Fuck, can you imagine a space battle going on outside b5's fragile little, punctured shell and being sent to start repairs while unknown, hostile aliens are still fighting outside? Hope they get hazard pay.

Yeah, I'd be tempted to get into a spacesuit.

Narn vs Centauri literally fighting outside B5 is a significant escalation of risk.

G'Kar backstory!! G'Kar's dad served the Centauri and as a punishment for an accident, was killed horribly over days and died in front of G'Kar. That'd drive anyone into resistance, I think! I respect B5 more for calling it a resistance in-universe, especially compared to in DS9 when they repeatedly and insistently called the Bajoran resistance terrorists doing terrorism. The Narns are increasingly impressive the more we learn about them. They went from low tech to occupied to equaling to if not surpassing the Centauri in a hundred years.

"The Narn have rewritten history enough, don't you think? [..] We have to take a stand. They are the ones who declared war, not us. We want only peace."

:| And then drop a Centauri war cruiser to blockade B5.

A commercial for PsiCorps. I have…so much to say about this. tbh, it's better propaganda than the US military recruitment videos I've seen. Hate that the PsiCops might just beam into your house! Did we already know they have teleportation? Or is that just creative license taken by the commercial?

Super uncool how, yet again, a critique of current events in the 90s being equally as relevant to 2023 current events.

Lotta hard stances being taken. Sheridan is so calm under pressure, but it's weirdly believable that he can out-yell the entire council and then go and calmly discuss the likelihood of mortal threats being mere bluffs. Aaaand awkwardly trying not to make eye contact with the camera that's in his line of sight, hah.

eeeee yikes another space battle! Third for the episode, I think.

I wonder how they clean up space debris. Surely they can't leave it to pose a hazard around the station.

Londo is leaning away from the camera a lot while he talks. Can't even buy his own bullshit.

The reporter was so mean and unethical to Delenn, and Delenn is talking to her again anyway. She's too good and her kindness is too calculated to be deterred by a dickish reporter. Plus, I bet the Minbari reporters are way meaner. Instead of being like "You do war crimes!" they'd be like "You should kill yourself so your memory can be less of a stain on your clan's honor than your life is being right now." Still, they made Delenn cry which isn't exactly a fun human experience to have for the first time on camera.

The inspiring peace lecture would be more believable if it wasn't being delivered by the military.

Anyhow, a very fun episode, especially considering how dark the topics were! Babylon 5 is alone in space, very puncturable, and hosting volatile political enemies bound on murder and/or war.

On to the next!

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

That is the thing Harry was Niall’s best friend in 1D and Niall will always give you a soundbite about Harry. He will even publicly attend his shows but I have never really felt Niall has any sense of true camaraderie with Harry. Even he knows Harry will never have his back if Niall needs help. He might say the nicest things about Harry and applaud his success but if you asked him whom he would look to bail him out of a tough situation, it won’t be Harry.

The thing is he knows when the interviewers ask him questions about his ex-bandmates, they want his answer to be Harry. That’s all they are looking for. I remember when he was doing an interview for the voice they asked him whom he thinks from his bandmates would be good at the Voice and he said Louis because he likes to mentor people etc. The interviewer didn’t care for his answer at all, his face was like who is Louis? So, he changed his answer to actually all of them would be good because we all came from a reality show so we understand how it all works. The interviewer couldn’t hold back anymore, he finally asked directly how Harry would be at the show and So Niall had to lay it thick and obviously agree he would be great.

All of this is just to say, the industry is never going to let them not pay obeisance to Harry.

Since then I have heard a few more interviews from him and now he just answers Harry for all of these questions. He knows what they want.

Oh anon, I didn’t know about this.

Considering what happened when Harry was asked about Niall on radio, it’s pretty sad for Niall tbh.

I don’t doubt for a minute that all the 1D guys understand that their relationships with each other is more professional than personal, particularly with Harry. After all, they only worked together for 5 years, and their origin was on reality TV. I guess this is a story as old as time; most bands don’t really stay friends after a break up.

Still, it’s kinda gross to see how the sausage is made, the mechanics of the industry Hunger Games.

[dragonmuse]

The Roach scene in Hymnless got me wondering if Charlie ever appeared/will appear on the Vengeance Chefs YouTube channel?

(hi all! apparently I still do this from time to time, who knew?! )

“Okay, worms, you asked, I delivered.” Roach reached out of frame, grabbed and pulled Charlie into it by his t-shirt sleeve. “Behold. America’s champion. Say hello.” 

“Hi!” Charlie grinned at the camera. “Nice to be back.” 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Roach stared down the lens, “I told you I knew an Olympian and you all assumed I was hiding him, but it’s just this tall skinny ass white boy that thinks peanut butter out of a jar is an acceptable snack.” 

“I like peanut butter.”  

“So do I. ON things.” 

“It’s on a spoon,” Charlie pointed out with a sly grin. 

“There you have it. Two Olympic medals, not the sense that Mother Earth gave to a mosquito. Charlie, let me ask you the question I ask all my victims.” 

“I’ve been in like five videos at this point,” Charlie reminded him. “We’ve done this before.” 

“Oh, I know,” Roach nodded. “I’m going to insert a montage right here of your last five answers.” 

“Great, I was like fifteen the first time. They can watch me grow like a flipbook. Shoot.” 

“Charlie Bonnet, what is your favorite meal to order out?” 

“Waffles, eggs and crispy bacon with a coffee.” 

“Breakfast food. When is the correct time of day for that food?” 

“Any time,” Charlie said staunchly. “Breakfast exists when I break my fast.” 

“I have taught you well,” Roach nodded. “All right, a breakfast for a champion. Breakfast of Champions....good fucking book. You read that one?” 

“Love Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle is my favorite though.” 

“So it goes,” Roach reached for the eggs. 

“So it goes,” Charlie agreed. 

“Now if you’re expecting me to ask this fine athlete a lot of jockey questions, I think you all forgot who the fuck I am,” Roach shoved a bowl at Charlie, cracked an egg on the rim then thrust a whisk at him. Charlie started to whisk as Roach added more eggs. “And you’re still thinking this kid is a normal jock.” 

“I’m twenty-two,” Charlie pointed out, diligently whisking. 

“A mere babe in the woods,” Roach agreed. “And you swim good. Great job. Everyone’s very proud. Got anything to say about that that you haven’t already said on the interview circuit two hundred times which anyone can easily google?” 

“Yeah, actually,” Charlie kept his eyes on the eggs. 

“Wait, really?” 

“Sure,” Charlie glanced over at Roach. “I’ll give you an exclusive soundbite. In fact, I saved it for you.” 

“Did you?” Roach asked suspiciously. “Okay, lay it on us.” 

“I didn’t eat anything the day I won. I don’t have a magic winning meal,” Charlie shrugged. “That’s not a recommendation, I was just too nervous. My post-win meal was a liter of chocolate milk with three tablespoons of protein powder.” 

“Amazing,” Roach patted him vaguely on the shoulder. “Thanks for saving the grossest moments for us.” 

“That is so far from the grossest thing,” Charlie said solemnly. “But I’m not here to put everyone off their appetite.” 

“Then what are you here for?” 

“Decoration, I think. And to do an impression of a stand mixer.” 

“Correct!” 

They cooked together, bantering a little as Roach shoveled ingredients into Charlie’s bowl. The waffles came out beautifully brown, the bacon crispy and the eggs fluffy. They ate and talked about corruption in sports judging, Roach grilling Charlie like he was personally responsible for the entire concept of judging. Charlie grinned through the whole thing. 

Once the cameras were off,  Charlie polished off the rest of the bacon while washing pots. Roach dried. They stood almost shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but close. 

“You know,” Roach said as he slowly dabbed away the moisture from the last plate, “the stuff for the camera...I am actually pretty proud of you.” 

“I know,” Charlie turned off the tap. “I feel the love, I promise.” 

“Let’s not go too far,” Roach sniffed and Charlie laughed. “But I might part with some leftovers. Just this once.” 

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” 

If Charlie went home weighted down with food stuffed into reused takeout containers that was Roach’s business. He’d show his affections in the way he saw fit and if that was in cheese bread and barbecued short rib then so be it. Charlie understood it. 

Charlie: Felix says he wants to marry you instead.  

Roach: tell I’d rather stick my hand in the garbage disposal 

Charlie: you don’t have a garbage disposal 

Roach: i would buy one for the express purpose  

Charlie: harsh but fair. It was the cheese bread, apparently. 

Roach: I’ll send you the recipe. Then you can keep your fakakta fiance. 

Charlie: can't’ wait to send you pictures of a burnt pan 

Roach: you’ll make them perfectly. Just takes a few times. I know you can be a persistent little asshole when you’re in the mood. Charlie: stop with the praise, I’m blushing so hard I’ll pass out. thnx tho.

[captain-hen]

it's sooo weird when people say they want tim back. like aside from all the nonsense going on in ls, he is the one responsible for the taylor kelly comeback. he is the one who wanted to "explore the reporter angle" and that's how we ended up with taylor and bt. and except for a few delulu people who for some reason lover her/bt, everyone hated that, and yet that's what we'd be getting if he came back. like obviously kristen isn't perfect but I'd take her as a showrunner over tim all day every day tyvm

i know that they all might have just been interview soundbites, but even aside from the taylor thing, he said SO many questionable things like "buck and eddie have the same kind of relationship as chim and hen" and (after the s4 finale) "eddie doesn't need to have his PTSD after the shooting explored because he would be fine since he already faced the same thing in afghanistan). and these are just the ones i saw when i joined the fandom during s4 lol. and over at LS, he's even argued with fans on facebook who didn't like the secret marriage plotline so...i don't want him touching the OG again, thanks

[simlebrityblogger]

Page 5 and the Final Page

Extract from W&W: "I think the world knows me as August's wife and the mother of his children. No one's ever heard me speak up," Betsy reflects, her gaze fixed on her husband, August, who supports her wholeheartedly. "There's more to me than standing by my husband and changing diapers. And I can finally say that I'm ready to invite the world into my life. Get to see a bit of my personality, you know?"

With a radiant smile, Betsy opens up about her desire to embrace philanthropy, a dimension of her identity that she is eager to share with the world. The recent birth of their second child has ignited a passion in Betsy to make a difference in the lives of mothers and children facing adversity. As she articulates her plans to get more involved in charitable work, it becomes evident that this power couple is not just about glitz and glamour but is committed to making a positive impact on the world.

Betsy shares her aspirations with the interviewer, stating, "Again, there's more to me outside of the songs my husband writes about me." Her husband, August, playfully chimes in, "More of which will be on my upcoming album," prompting a lighthearted exchange between the two.

This celebratory photo shoot and candid conversation not only showcase the couple's enduring love but also provide a window into Betsy's multifaceted identity. As she steps into the limelight, it's clear that Betsy is ready to break free from the shadows and let the world witness the depth of her personality, aspirations, and commitment to making a positive impact. The upcoming album from August Cooper promises to offer a closer look at their journey, teasing fans with the promise of more heartfelt stories and moments from this dynamic duo's life together.”

Simlebrity thoughts: Alright, we're all dying to see the mini-mes of this power couple, but nope, not happening. Their oldest is already four, and not a single baby. Come on, spill the cuteness, people!

Now, let's talk about the other half of the equation, August. The world loves 'em, no doubt, but homeboy's got a closet full of skeletons, and we're only getting sneak peeks through his songs. When's the full disclosure party, August? Or maybe someone around him could do the honors? Am I toxic for wanting the 411?

Am I the problem here? Nah, couldn't be. Right? 😉

Looks like this is the end of the exclusive. Welp. While the official spread might be serving us PR-friendly soundbites, I've got the lowdown on all the juicy details that were conveniently left out. Get ready for a wild ride through the scandalous secrets, untold stories, and drama that the Copour family didn't want you to know.

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

[redjaybathood]

hey judas pt 7

heeeey so this is out of the blue, but for those who remember a The Diplomate's Son AU

Jason is in Blackgate, Tim and Steph are doing a documentary about him, less said about Bruce the better, Barbara lost her job doing intel-gathering/cover-up at GCPD, Stephanie interviews some of Jason's classmates and gets very mixed reviews about Jason.

(this takes place between pt 5 and pt 6

"Okay?" Barbara frowns, looking up at us, at Steph. I don't know where my partner is going either, so I say: "We already knew that Jason was troubled and not very liked at school. I thought we would just compile Twitter screenshots? From his classmates? You were supposed to interview Gloria's parents and agent."

Steph snorts.

"The agent has been fired for professional misconduct a while ago, the agency doesn't have his contact information and declined to comment on Gloria - or Jason. I recorded it, I think it should be included - they aren't just giving a PR-approved soundbite like we could have expected. They don't want any association to exist between Jason and Gloria, except for what already is out there."

Barbara nods several times.

"They must have caught some backslash for the suicide of a teenage girl who was under their care. Maybe the reason they fired the agent as well. You know, there really is a conversation to be had about teenage celebrities' treatment."

Steph makes a sound.

"Uh - wrong. I am sorry, but it's a conversation that needs to be had, not the one already happening. Her death has not been sensationalized or even publicized much, which, isn't it strange?"

"Sometimes, reporters aren't vultures, isn't that... good?" I say.

I don't see a big deal, and even less I see any connection with Stephanie failing to do her assigned part of interviews.

"Sure, we can go with the good. Or it might be a part of a bigger pattern. Look. My theory..."

"Hypothesis," I correct her softly. "Hypothesis is when you don't have..."

Steph makes a rude gesture.

"As I was saying," she glares - at Babs because she doesn't give me a glance. "I have a theory. Somebody didn't want Gloria Stanson's death in the public eye. And I have three suspects - or, groups of suspects."

Corners of Barbara's mouth rise slightly. She fixes her glasses and puts a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"The agency," she lists slowly. "Bruce Wayne. And Jose Garzonas."

I really don't want to do this. But I have to.

"Isn't it far-fetched?" I say. "Agency? Okay, maybe, it's bad for business. Garzonas? Sure, okay, if his son had something..."

"If, Tim?" Stephanie ceases to ignore me in her indignation.

"... to do with her death, he wouldn't want it to be publicized. Keeping his son's reputation clean, maybe his own reputation as well. But Bruce Wayne?"

I know - can guess - a reason Bruce Wayne would want to keep things with Gloria as quiet as possible. I don't know the particulars, though, so it's just my faith: that this reason is good. Steph doesn't have that fate but she doesn't have any proof of a motive.

She visibly droops.

"I don't know why would he do that," she says. "But - let's just say that if he wanted to, everyone knew about Gloria. Everyone would have known that Jason had a good reason to do what he did."

Barbara touches her on the shoulder.

"Jason killed someone, Stephanie," she says it as kind as she can, I think. "There's never a good reason for it. If I ever suspected Bruce Wayne of keeping the information about this tragic event down, I would expect it only out of respect for the dead. And her parents, of course."

Okay, I didn't think about this as a reason. Maybe - definitely - Barbara knows Mr. Wayne much better than me.

"Did you find her parents?" I ask quickly, trying to change the conversation.

"Sure, I did," Steph says.

She gives me a newspaper with an obituary circled around. Mr. and Mrs. Stanson. A home invasion went wrong. A few months after Jason was arrested. Shortly before his trial.

"So, probably not out of respect for her parents. Hey, Barbara, is there anything in your stolen files about whether they were supposed to testify?"

Barbara looks unsettled.

"I am not sure. No - there wouldn't be," she taps the date. "I already left my career behind by then. I didn't even - I should have heard about it, even if I wasn't working with the police at the time. It's before my injury."

"Okay but, is there anything in your files where cops are trying to corroborate Jason's story? Anything at all relating to Gloria?"

Barbara is still looking at the paper. She moves the box on the table closer to Stephanie.

"I gave Tim a copy of everything I had, but you can check here. Maybe you missed something. I honestly don't remember."

"I mean, they must have," Steph turns to me. "That's what the prosecution said, right? Jason Todd was a crazy stalker who blamed a random guy who had a misfortune to talk to her once during an event, for her death and killed him for it. And we know it's not what happened. So: are GCPD corrupt, or incompetent?"

I cough, giving Barbara a quick look.

"She doesn't mean that."

"I very much mean that!"

Barbara places the paper on the table and wheels closer to it. She starts helping Steph to sort the papers inside.

"Don't worry, I heard some variation of these comments during, after, and before I was on the force. In some cases? Hard agree."

"Still," I say, glaring at Steph. "Pretty shitty to hear when your father is the Commissioner."

Steph whips to look at Barbara but whatever she wants to say to apologize, Barbara waves it away.

"Can't say I disagree in some cases. I just don't know if this is one of these cases. It might have not been deemed relevant. But no, hey, here it is. Notes on interview with Stansons. Let's see... They're saying that they weren't aware of any connection between Gloria and Jason, or Garzonas. Gloria was depressed, had an eating disorder, and was coping with fame, an adult job, and responsibilities as well as any teenager could, this is to say, not good."

Steph basically snatches the sheet out of Barbara's hands when she is done skimming it.

"But we know that Garzonas raped Gloria," she murmurs. "Maybe she didn't tell her parents?"

"We don't actually know that," I don't know why I am saying it.

I am more than sure that almost everything except the details of Gloria's case was true. Yet, I point out:

"All we have to go on if there's no more evidence in that box is Jason's and his lawyer's words. And the lawyer is telling the detective what she heard from her employer. Maybe it's just a strategy of defense."

"Do you believe what you're saying, or are you just giving me shit that I didn't do what you told me to - even if I wouldn't be able to do it without an Ouija board?"

I should shut up. But I put my hands up.

"Hey, hey - it's a pattern, don't you see? Your interview with Shane Rivers. Jason thought a girl was in trouble, he called the cops and Robin. Robin, whatever Jason said to him, beat up a teenager at a party, and it turned out to be nothing. That's - alright, you need three things to have a pattern, but it's certainly a precedent. And the way he lied to "

Stephanie laughs.

"Nothing? Sure, Tim. Have you ever been to a party, Tim? Have you ever gotten a girl drank and took her clothes off like it's not a big deal? Done more? I mean, if you're her boyfriend, you're basically allowed."

That's an overreaction if I saw one. I turn to Barbara. She is looking at me intently. I shiver under her gaze.

Steph thumps her open hand on the table.

"Whose side you're on?"

"There are no sides!"

"Tim," Barbara interferes.

I expect a lecture on rape culture. She asks:

"Were you the guy who gave Jason's classmates information about his parents?"

I don't answer. I might as well, not denying is the same as agreeing. But there were extenuating circumstances, then. I didn't know about - anything, yet. And I needed money.

"It's not like it isn't true," I say eventually.

Steph exhales noisily. She grabs her backpack and nods to Barbara.

"I'm gonna - go stretch my legs."

I am not stopping her but I follow her exit with my eyes. Even after the door is closed behind her, I am still staring. There's an awful guess I just now had.

"Do you think Stephanie is in love with Jason?"

Barbara doesn't say anything. Maybe she's shocked I would even suggest that, so I quickly elaborate:

"There are women who write serial killers love letters. Marry them, even. And Harley Queen - and she was an intelligent woman, by all accounts. So it's nothing against Steph herself..."

I trail off under Barbara's gaze. It's not accusing me of being irreparably rude to Steph. It's mostly contemplative. Like she recesses some things she thought she knew.

"Harley Queen is still intelligent," she says. "Whatever her dating history or list of crimes looks like. And whether Stephanie has feelings for Jason, I don't have any idea. But, Tim. How exactly you found out about Jason's parents?"

Am I going to be in trouble? But Barbara stole information on the active case from a precinct she worked in. Does she have any room to judge?

"I found Mrs. Todd's death certificate. And Blackgate releases a list of inmates who died yearly during riots, among other information. They ask for funding, you know. More security measures. My parents used to receive those lists. I have seen that name before I connected it to a new schoolmate."

Barbara nods.

"Solid detective work, Tim. But next time, you will want to look deeper. Just so you know. As it happens, I spent some time with Jason, and while we didn't talk about his previous life much, what he loved to tell me is about how, before he was even born, his parents worked in a circus. It's a story his father used to tell him. Took him to a circus every time there was a decent one in town, even after Joker became a brand. Because Catherine's parents were against her being with Willis - who had no money, no name to him, no future, no skills except his good looks and strong body. So when she turned 18, she ran away from her Catholic school and from her future in gymnastics - she wasn't Olympic-level good, but she did get a scholarship for a Division 1 college. Them being still teenagers, barely young adults, their grand plan was to join a circus. They spent about half a year there, give or take. Then they had Jason and had to leave. So it wasn't the most illustrious career. But Willis Todd loved to tell this story to Jason. And Jason - to anyone who would listen. Because it sure beats a deadbeat junkie mom and a convict father. Can't say I blame him: I never talk about my biological parents, or my adoptive mother, or brother."

I don't know what to say. I never knew she was adopted, or that she had a brother - never wondered where Gordon-Sr.'s wife went.

"I'm sorry," I offer.

It doesn't seem like enough, and Barbara doesn't seem like listening. She taps the table with her nails.

"The riot Willis Todd died in was incited by Two-Face, for whom he worked before getting arrested. It was said Two-Face suspected Todd of double-crossing him on a job with Penguin. Though, it could have as easily been a setup by Cobblepot. And Catherine didn't die from gang violence. She just bought drugs from them."

"So why did he do it?" I don't give up. I feel shitty, but I don't give up. "He had to know how it would look like! He could have said anything as Shane suggested, any lie, they would have believed him."

"Or they would still hire you to check it out."

"He could have refused to say anything!"

"And they would still hire you."

"Then he should have..."

"What? Should have created a set of fake identities for his dead parents? He should have known someone could have looked into it, sure. But he didn't even think what Dick would think hearing this story - Dick's story, minus the dead by the gangster's bit, Jason wasn't dumb enough to tell him that, or presumed he knew. Instead, he thought it was something they had in common. Dick hated that and let me know about it extensively, though never Jason himself."

Barbara gives me a small smile. I feel ashamed even if I don't think I was wrong. Not thorough enough, maybe. I still say:

"I'm sorry."

Barbara just shrugs.

"Don't apologize to me. Maybe, apologize to Steph, because you were really dismissive of anything she tried to propose. But most importantly, think about what you're doing. You are doing a documentary. What's your angle? Stephanie has one, and you accused her of being in love with a boy she never saw in her life and knows only for being a murderer. But you?"

"I don't understand."

"You need to have an angle, Tim, and stick to it. Otherwise, your narrative will be a mess. What are you trying to show, here? How Jason did it? What made him do it?"

"There are more than 3 thousand teenagers..."

"No, this is a story not about how life without parole looks like for teenagers, about consequences or repercussions. You have a single case, and you're focused on what led to it, not how he's doing now."

"He's doing fine. I met with him."

"Is he? Because he is at the same prison his father died, with some of the people who killed him, or people who work for the man who ordered the hit, or the one who set him up. Not saying anything about him being the son of the richest man in Gotham, which paints its own target on his back. Or his youth and good looks. Or solitary confiment. Or..."

"I get it," I say.

It may come out somewhat defensive. I should say sorry again.

"It's about vigilantism," I say instead. Barbara flinches and I'm glad to see it. "Jason Todd took the law in his hands. He killed a man, endangered others, and didn't right the wrong committed. All it has done is ruined his life."

"Is that your angle?" she says in an even tone. "Vigilantism ruins lives? That's a good argument, I will give you that."

"No, it doesn't," I argue. With myself, mostly. "Batman did our city a lot of good. And original Robin and Batgirl are my heroes. But they all have a line, which Jason stepped over."

"Okay," Barbara says. "Remember what you said about Gloria Stanson's rape? Or the one Jason interfered with during a party? We don't know anything. There's no witness, no hard evidence. No confession. "I spooked him... He slipped." Those were his first words about what happened. And he never changed the story. There were a lot of suspicious details which the prosecution used to spin it as a very nefarious case of a mentally disturbed individual getting revenge for an imagined slight. But it all was circumstantial. And GCPD could be corrupt and incompetent. DA might use cases for political purposes. Jurors could be bought off or blackmailed or threatened or manipulated."

"Batman couldn't."

"Batman didn't arrive at the crime scene until after. And if he had any hard evidence, he refused to share it with the investigation team."

"You're just playing Devil's advocate."

"At least my devil is a teenage boy I personally know. You tried to defend some really nasty stuff that could have happened to any girl - or anyone, really. You heard a 'he said, she said' type of story and automatically assumed Shane was telling the truth."

"She didn't press charges!"

"Would you? I don't know if I would. I don't know if Stephanie would have. I know that the situation described hits differently when it - or something like it - happened to you before, or is a risk you have to take into account on the regular. But most importantly, I know that the story you're telling and what Steph wants to tell are two different ones. And you either have to find a middle ground or each work on their own versions."

"What's your version?"

"I told you before. Jason was the one who kicked Garzonas off the balcony, but Bruce Wayne was the one who put Jason on the ledge."

[freckledoriya]

“stakeout” (izuku midoriya x reader)

PAIRING: izuku midoriya x reader WARNINGS: slight self-deprecating angst, but really just fluff! WORD COUNT: 1.6k

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | requests are OPEN!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my entry for @bnhabookclub’s “celebrating deku” event! it’s also my third fic for bingo (see my bingo masterlist here). and a big thanks to @shoutosteakettle who helped me with this!

You had accepted your place at the pro-hero agency: a second-rate sidekick destined for nothing more than low-risk missions, paired with heroes that were far better than you could ever hope to be. It wasn’t that you didn’t try hard or didn’t want it enough; ever since you were little you longed to be the kind hero you grew up watching on TV: noble, brave, courageous… you’d like to think you encompassed those traits, but you never seemed to capture the public’s attention. You were more of a background person, someone who would choke up when the camera and microphones were pointed at you. You didn’t speak in heroic soundbites or have the kind of smile that sells magazines, so you had to make your name as the reliable sidekick in low publicity cases. 

You honestly had accepted the reality of it all. Besides, if being a notable pro-hero meant all the public scrutiny of an A-list celebrity, you were happy to pass. Still, it always stung watching new recruits to the agency getting assigned cases you were, on paper, much more qualified for. You were expecting the same kind of stinging feeling during this weeks’ morning assignment meeting, waiting for a lower-rank hero to pick you up as a side-kick for some kind of petty theft crime. Which is what made it all that more surprising when your name was called by the number one hero, Deku, requesting you as his sidekick for his recently appointed mission. 

“S-Sure,” you reply, caught off guard. Your response earns a few scoffs from the other side of the room from some popular heroes. 

Izuku Midoriya smiles as he locks eyes with you, before blushing and quickly looking to the side. “Let’s meet today at lunch and sync up about the villain.”

Deku was the kind of hero you wanted so badly to hate. You wanted to hate his heroic power, the way he seemed to encompass everything a hero should be. You wanted to hate how magazines and news reporters adored him, how every word out of his mouth could be a headline of how a perfect hero should act. Most of all, you wanted to hate him for his smile, the way it printed perfectly on newspapers and made your heart skip a beat whenever you saw it. Yes, you wanted to hate him. But of course, you couldn’t. Instead, your heart chose to fall for him. You would often catch yourself staring at him during agency meetings, envying his popularity yet loving him for how humble he was. 

You spend the rest of the morning racking your brain for an answer why. Why would the number one hero choose you? He had previously never spoken a word to you, just polite nods at the water cooler. Maybe someone had dared him to go on a mission with you? Was he actually much crueler than you thought, and he was just doing this as some kind of joke? You consider these possibilities as you sit down at the table for lunch, chewing your lip nervously. 

“Hey!” Izuku says as he pulls out the chair across from you to sit down. “This shouldn’t be long. It’s a fairly simple assignment.”

Simple. Is that why he chose you? You nod and gesture for him to keep talking.

“There’s a famous crime syndicate that’s taken up residence in the city. You’ve probably heard about their signature bank robberies” 

“Of course,” you say. “They’ve been able to evade capture for years now. I figured the city gave up on trying to catch them.”

“The city did, but I didn’t.” he responds. 

There he goes, with that heroic soundbite, you think. 

He swallows nervously before continuing. “I think I found out where their headquarters are, but I need some kind of confirmation before any infiltration.” 

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, curious to see what the hero has planned for the two of you.

“Just a stakeout. Should only take the afternoon.”

You inadvertently make a face at this, and Midoriya immediately starts apologizing.

“I’m so sorry to have asked you for such a boring mission but, you see, the agency wouldn’t let me do this by myself so they asked me to choose someone to watch my back during it and I just figured you’d be okay with helping out-”

“Of course!” you quickly say. “I was just surprised, is all. I’m not exactly known for doing stakeouts.” 

“It'll be fine,” he assures. “I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could do it.” 

You feel your face heat up at the compliment, finding yourself at a loss for words. The fact that Deku thinks highly enough of you to choose you out of everyone else sends your mind into a whirlwind. 

The two of you make plans to meet up that afternoon to start the stakeout. You find yourself constantly fidgeting with your hero costume, nervous for what the mission will bring. 

Izuku isn’t doing much better, spending the rest of his day on patrol, muttering to himself about how the night might go. He’s never been one to be nervous for assignments, but he knew this was no ordinary mission. 

Midoriya has had his eyes set on you for some time now, settling in on longing gazes and daily daydreams where he has the confidence to go up to you and ask you out. He’s always looked to you as one of the few people at the agency that really seem to grasp the purpose of being a hero; someone capable of so much if they were just given the chance. He liked to think that that was the one reason why he chose to team up with you on this stakeout. After all, he never would have picked you if he didn’t think you were right for the job. No matter how cute he thinks you are.

But you were right for the job. So he swallowed his fear and chose you.

You two leave the office that afternoon in an undercover van and ride to the suspected location in silence, both of you stuck in your own heads about what to say and how to say it. The conversations revolve only around the task at hand as you both settle in for the night, until-

“Why did you choose me?” the words spill out of your mouth suddenly, catching both of you off guard. “I mean, there are plenty of other heroes and sidekicks much more qualified for this than me. And anyone at the agency would kill to be assigned to something alongside you.”

Izuku lets out a quiet laugh. “They wouldn’t be very good heroes then, would they?” 

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not very popular at the agency and I know that. I don’t make headlines and never seem to say the right things to reporters... Not like you.”

He sighs before turning completely to look at you. “I chose you because I can tell that you understand what’s important about being a hero. You know, so many people think that being a hero is about a popularity contest. But never you. Everything you’re ever given, even things way below your pay grade, you give 100%. That’s something that I really… admire.” 

Izuku clears his throat and blushes before turning back to the house. You open your mouth to respond, but your mind isn’t working properly-- it’s too busy trying to process the kind words from the number one hero. Your breath is caught in your throat and it feels as if your heart is going to burst out your chest. 

“Thank you,” are the only words that end up leaving your lips. 

He glances back at you and flashes that picture perfect smile of his that sells magazines, but more importantly at this moment, makes your stomach do flips. “Of course.”

A beat passes before he speaks up again. “Besides, I definitely don’t always say the right things to the press. They really freak me out sometimes.”

“You? Freaked out by the press?” you question. You never would have guessed that the number one hero could be freaked out by anything.

“You’ve seen how flustered I get during meetings, let alone talk shows and interviews.” 

“Well, I think you’ve done a pretty stellar job,” you reply.

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” he says with a slight smile and shrug.

You sigh. “I feel like I’ve been faking it for a long time and I’m still not making it.”

Midoriya looks at you knowingly. He’s seen how you’ve been treated at the agency. He’s seen your potential go unnoticed. But the look he gives you stirs something inside of you, something you’ve been feeling since you were tasked with this stakeout. You finally put your finger on it:

“But… you make me feel like I can make it.”

Izuku looks like he could cry at your words. And he probably would have, if the sound of a slamming door didn’t catch both of your guys’ attention.

“Gotchya,” you say, snapping pictures of the villain entering the building. 

Midoriya grins. “Nice job.” 

“We should do this more often,” you say with a wink.

He blushes and fumbles over his word. “I-I promise to take you somewhere better than a stakeout van.” 

TAG LIST: @gallickingun @prismaroyal @wesparklebitch @bnha-violetnote @sunflower-kami-boi @shoutosteakettle @strwbrry-lia @ee-blue @shoutodoki @sadistiks @knifeewifee @viceofaladriel @saltie @khemz1312 @frenchspeakingfilipina @tessaisalbright @katsumi-kaminari @pixxiesdust

[the-toasted-teacake]

Carlando made my brain too noisy. I’m not sure what my point was.

On the eve of DTS, all the talk about how exactly Drive to Survive will create a rivalry from Carlos and Lando’s friendship got me thinking.

So… I actually don’t think it’s that ‘out there’ for Netflix to portray their relationship as a rivalry. (*winces* Don’t shoot me!) They do have a fiercely competitive rivalry, both on and off track. It’s not a nasty, bitter kind of rivalry–they don’t hate each other, sabotage each other, or wish each other ill. It’s healthy and respectful, and the desire to beat each other drives both of them to be better–but the rivalry is definitely there. It’s an integral part of the relationship, just like their supportive friendship and genuine affection for each other 🧡.

But I think that healthy rivalry gives Netflix more than enough ammo to build an exaggerated tale of animosity between teammates. Because who needs nuance when you can have mElOdRaMa? (I’m speculating. Who knows, DTS might offer a fair portrayal of their relationship--but based on Carlos and Lando’s reactions and the style of previous series, I’m assuming Netflix have been, er, liberal with the creative license.)

We know Netflix is prone to using radio messages, video footage, and interview quotes out of context–cutting the footage relating to one situation as if it relates to a totally separate incident. They mould the content to fit their narrative.

But where will they drum up the footage to craft their tale of rivalry and betrayal? My guesses:

Carlos’ bad luck at the start of the season → Carlos had a run of really bad luck early in the season, and most of it was totally out of his hands (good article here). While I don’t think he truly blamed the team for his misfortune, he was obviously massively frustrated at the time. Things just kept going wrong. Every time his luck seemed to have turned, at the next race he had another disaster. Tensions run high, and I’m sure his frustrations were reflected in comments and interviews. I can imagine how DTS could easily spin that frustration into a storyline about ‘Carlos feeling that McLaren were favouring Lando’.

Focusing on the tense moments as teammates, at the expense of all the cooperative ones → Lando and Carlos have a genuine friendship and a cooperative teammate relationship: *George voice* FACT. But it's true that your teammate is your biggest rival and performance benchmark, and that will inevitably create some tense moments. Lando has said himself there were times where they “hated” each other. I don’t for a second believe that they ever actually hated each other, but there were obviously moments where they were frustrated or angry–because of bad luck, because of dissatisfaction with their own performance on the day, because a car upgrade they received/didn’t receive benefitted the other and it felt unfair–and perhaps in those moments they resented each other. Made some comments out of frustration or defensiveness. It hurts when you’re beaten by your teammate, even if you’re happy for them too.

Emphasising the moments they actually were annoyed with each other → Lando and Carlos are close friends, but let’s face it–all relationships have their moments! No matter how strong your relationship with someone, sometimes they drive you mad. You get grumpy with each other and overreact to little stuff. Carlos has said that Lando is in a foul mood sometimes and not up for joking–it doesn’t mean anything deep, but it sure makes for dramatic footage if you catch it on camera and spin it just right 🙃 (I dread to think what storyline Netflix could make up about my sister and I–we’re really close and rarely properly argue, but sometimes she makes me 😤)  

Overplaying or misrepresenting their banter, maybe → Carlos and Lando are sometimes kind of savage to each other! 😅 They clearly enjoy winding each other up, having a little dig at each other. I don’t think there’s much edge to it. It’s all in good fun and just part of their friendship, but take it out of context and cut it the right way and it could easily look like animosity.

And, of course, interviews at opportune moments, full of leading questions to draw out every bit of drama and elicit spicy soundbites → If Netflix interviews people when they’re riled up and tensions are high, it’s easy to get the response they want–we’ve often seen the controversial comments made during the post-race interviews in the media pen. People say all sorts in the heat of the moment! Also, ask someone ‘how angry they were’ at a situation, and their response will be different from if you asked them ‘how they felt’ about it.

So that was a really long way of saying: I love Carlos and Lando’s relationship. (Shocker, I know.) As teammates they built a strong bond and cooperative environment to push McLaren forward, always respecting each other along the way. As friends they’ve shared a lot of laughs; supported and encouraged each other through the doubts; been each other’s biggest fan; just got each other’s little idiosyncrasies; and shown all of that affection in the face of a sport that still believes teammates need to hate each other to succeed. They want to beat each other on track more than anything, but they also seem to enjoy each other. Sometimes they probably irritated the hell out of each other too. But I think they found each other at the right time, in the right place, and were exactly what the other needed. Watching them together makes me smile.

So when Netflix inevitably hones in on the rivalry angle, I don’t think it’ll be a total fabrication–just a massive exaggeration of one part of their relationship. That said, I will be angry if DTS really, truly tries to suggest they hated each other or ever lost that respect.

I’m looking forward to watching DTS, and I’m glad we get a whole episode focused on Lando and Carlos, but I’ll watch it all with a very healthy dose of scepticism. And: they’ll never stop me shipping it 😁

So there you have it. My long-winded speculative analysis of the relationship between two blokes I’ve never met and its portrayal in a documentary I’ve yet to watch. What could possibly go wrong? 😬

(I may have forgotten to mention that I haven’t even watched DTS 1 & 2 yet. I’ll get round to it eventually, I swear…)

[buginateacup]

Its hot as fuck and I’ve successfully done 7 loads of washing today but I also realised I cant put the Vetinari conversation in Tea With Topsy where I originally planned so I had to write another chapter instead. So here’s an early look at something that’s not going to happen for months

------------

Roxanne was trying to hurry from downtown back to the office after what she thought was going to be a quick soundbite interview after lunch turned into a three hour investigation into how the fuck the southern suburbs municipal office lost the deeds to half a dozen high value properties, four of which were up for redevelopment.

Key word trying. It was another blazing summer day and there was no shade for the next four blocks to the bus stop.

It was hot enough that even Hal had fucked off early to take the van back to the station as Brad needed a cameraman at the waterpark and not even an hour alone with Roxanne in peak hour traffic was enough to dissuade him from "babes in bikinis"

Roxanne felt a little sorry for all the parents at the Toddler's and Tot's new pool opening, but not enough to correct him. She shifted her laptop bag to her other shoulder and forced herself to keep walking.

A rolling hum pulled up and followed her on the wrong side of the road, "You're going to get burnt again," Megamind called conversationally through the open window, steering with one hand, the other propped casually on the door of the invisible car. Roxanne grabbed gratefully at the edge of the door frame, 

"Emergency kidnapping?" she asked hopefully, leaning gratefully into the blast of cold air coming from the car.

"Absolutely not,"

"Please?"

"No," he slowed to an almost stop and reached behind him, a crack appeared in the view of the street behind him, "But I'll give you a lift, get in."

Roxanne gripped the edge of the crack, pulling open the rear door to throw herself in onto cool leather upholstery, "Oh thank god. I live here now" she groaned as he took off again. She glanced at the high collar blocking her view of his face, "How have you not melted?"

Megamind chuckled and twisted his watch. The collar and mantle dissolved and a pair of large vertical oval sunglasses appeared on his nose. He was in a black t-shirt with chunky silver zips running from the collar to the sleeves to allow it to slip over his head, short black driving gloves barely ran past his wrists.

"Nice arms," she noted. Wonder what they taste like? Seventeen year old Roxanne added silently.

Shut up you.

"They are useful, yes," Megamind agreed lazily.

Roxanne sat up to lean over into the front seat and look at her unexpected chauffeur, "Can I get in the front?"

"And run the risk of you pressing the fusion rocket button? I think not Miss Ritchi,"

"There's a fusion rocket?" she asked curiously, arms still hooked over the back of the front seat.

Megamind swapped hands on the steering wheel and put his hand over her face to shove her onto the back seat, "Sit down and put your seatbelt on."

"Why? Your not wearing one."

"I'm the bad guy. Its do as I say, not as I do. Now hold on."

Roxanne buckled up then laughed as he cut between two lanes and sped through a red light, just avoiding a turning truck. "What happened to this city would be utopia if they just did the reasonable thing"

"I was being reasonable. I didn't hit anybody."

"You ran a red light!"

"So? It's not like the cameras can catch me. I'm doing all this work to improve my city. The least they can do is get out of my way."

Roxanne rolled her eyes and peeled her shirt away from her undershirt, "Why has this summer been so gross?" she griped, "Speaking of, you should get them to plant trees down Fenton Road, its awful along there."

"Tell the flying menace to do it. Its the kind of photo op he'd love to feature in."

"Don't think you could compete?" she teased. 

He eyed her through the rear view mirror, "I know what your doing."

"Is it working?"

"No."

"Damn," Roxanne unbuttoned her short sleeved white shirt and shrugged it off her shoulders, revealing a thin white tank clinging damply to her skin.

Gloved hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, "Miss Ritchi what are you doing?"

"Relax, I'm just trying not to die of heatstroke." she laid the sweat soaked shirt over her bag and stretched on the back seat, glorying in the cold air.

"It might take a while to get you back to the office, I can't get through the roadworks on Twenty Second like this,"

"There's roadworks on twenty second?"

"There are supposed to be. Its too hot so they left half the road dug up and diverted all the traffic through a single lane.

"Oh. Good thing you caught me before I got to the bus then." Roxanne checked her phone and groaned at the forecast that ranged from firey pits of hell to literal volcanic explosion to why god why? "Why is the city an oven?"

"Well you see there's this thing called a virgin sacrifice, or in more modern terms, a Damsel. Who is supposed to scream and plead for mercy from the great evil threatening the land so that it is appeased and allows another year of bountiful harvests and clearly Miss Ritchi, you are not holding up your end of the bargain."

Roxanne flipped a finger skyward, "Hey sun, fuck off."

Megamind laughed and made a sharp left, "I have something I need to collect on the way" he said, turning towards the docks near the industrial district, "If I ask nicely will you stay in the car and not touch anything or do I need to hit you with the spray?"

"Will you leave the aircon on?"

"I can,"

"I'll be good," she promised dreamily, basking in the cool flow of air.

"I doubt it," Megamind slowed to a stop and got out, "I'll be five minutes," he said sliding the keys into his pocket, black jeans in this weather, brave alien. "Behave," he locked the car behind him.

[detectiveconnor]

for your consideration: following the news of Connor having a partner breaking the media, people arrange to have him on their shows talking about Android rights so that they can grill him, “So, what’s her name?” 

“Does the special lady in your life not like the limelight?” 

“Is she an Android?” 

And then (and the reporter will regret asking this for the rest of his life, Connor suspects): “ -- Is it North?” 

All of these questions aimed toward drawing out Markus’ identity - which Connor really doesn’t mind, he isn’t going to be sharing that detail of his life but that is simply because he doesn’t think it is any of their business, rather than because he is/rather than because they are trying to keep it secret (they have been affectionate with each other in public for months, at this point, people are just ignoring it because they make their assumptions about them and then project those assumptions) - but he answers things like, “No... I don’t think my partner really minds the attention,” and passes over it that way, until they mention North. 

Until they drag North into it and threaten to start rumours about her private life, about in-particular which “man” has “tamed her”, and the reporter who asks Is It North gets such a sharp look from Connor (it is cruel, to put North in that position, to drag her into this because they want a soundbite, because if this goes on then they’ll talk to her and ask about her personal life and pry into and examine every part of her interaction with him looking for some romantic or sexual undertone and -)  - such a sharp look from Connor that people think there might be something to it, and he shuts it down early before it gets off the ground.  “He isn’t North.”  “’He’ - you’re gay?” 

Connor relents not because it is any of their business (it is none, still; they should not have been able to extort the answer out of him like this; he is aware it was a conscious decision on that reporter’s part, to use her name to blackmail him into answering, he will be having a deeply unimpressed word with that reporter’s network head) but because it could cost North more to be rumoured about in that way than it costs Connor to play the stupid game and share that he is gay, because he has never actually minded people knowing, it just never seemed relevant. 

for your consideration, everyone assumes his “secret partner” with whom he is in a “committed relationship” is a woman, from square one, and Connor does not correct them up until they bring his friend into it, in a way that is exceptionally cruel (maybe they did not know; it does not matter), and he shuts it down hard and very quickly, but he doesn’t finish on, “He isn’t North,” he finishes on his next line: “We provide information and interviews to the media in good faith. The next time you introduce baseless, and stupid, rumours about me or my colleagues to leverage a soundbite, no-one from your company will be invited back.”  “But you are gay, though,” like the reporter is trying to be reasonable.  “Leave.” Like Connor is trying to be reasonable, back. 

I just ... for your consideration, Connor is “playing coy” and doesn’t mind being in the role so New Jericho has more airtime, and he will permit good-natured questions, and then they ask about North like they are entitled to do that and it is a flat-out line in the sand that they have stepped over, one of those stepped-off-a-cliff edges that not everybody knows Connor possesses, but no. They don’t get to pull her into it, and he won’t invite people digging into her private life in that sense because of something he’s refusing to answer when he doesn’t actually care who learns the information, anyway. for your consideration it occurred to me just now/it is why i wrote this post, there are not many things that would motivate him into correcting ‘she’ to ‘he’ when people make the wrong assumptions, but shielding North from the maelstrom is one of them. 

[digressfromreality]

The Fall of Baby Might

Lana Yagi had been famous from the moment it was revealed who her father was, All Might, Japan’s number one hero. But had that revelation been worth it: the media scrutiny, the burden of legacy, the crippling seeds of doubt? Did Lana crumple under the pressure?

Izuku x Lana x Tomura

Part 3/Part 5

Part 4. Why should I apologize for the way I feel inside? (Sorry not sorry by Gemini Syndrome)

Her hands were trembling in anger as she saw her media moniker trend on twitter. That interview was coming back to haunt her. Edits and soundbites of the interview were circulating different platforms.

This shouldn’t have happened. She had a well strapped PR team, that she didn’t have to pay for herself! The hero society behind the scenes had taken the initiative to scrub her public image. She had to uphold the legacy of All Might; his retirement ended an era of honest, good heroes. This doctored video might be the end of it all.

The video starts out with the title, WHAT THEY DIDN’T WANT US TO KNOW. It jumps right into her answers and cuts out most of the question the reporter had asked. She was probably halfway through the interview at this point, where she was starting to get frustrated.

“You know, I get asked this question a lot actually, but my answer never ends up in the final cut or in the written press.” She sighed, leaning back into her chair, “I feel like one of these days they’ll finally release it, so I can stop being asked to reiterate it.” The reporter leaned forward, appearing concerned, it was surprise for most in the studio to hear Baby Might sound so, pessimistic.

“Do you mind explaining once again?” She smiled, but Lana could see the excitement in the reporter’s eyes. Everyone wants to know more about her father’s private life. But her answer never satisfies them.

She was not there to sing her father’s praises, but genuinely tries to make a legitimate issue have a voice in public.

The video gave an overlay of static before settling on the end of her sentence, “Society is sick. There is such a focus on what is labeled inherently good and evil, that many people suffer from its symptoms without ever knowing what is happening isn’t their fault. They are victims of broken system.”

More static, “Most have been repressed for so long, they just need to do something that is their control. Why should we dictate how they grieve?”

A slight gasp from someone in the sound crew, caused Lana’s eyes to apparent dim and off center. Possibly to look over at the crew member with a questioning look, she couldn’t remember anything really after that noise of surprise had cut off her train of thought.

More static.

“Surely, your opinion has changed, during your…absence.”

“Despite my absence, my opinion really hasn’t changed. Power can be dangerous no matter what the power is, or who is wielding it. Now imagine my father being a villain, fucking terrifying right?”

More static.

Lana is raising her hands, looking like a lunatic, it cuts in, “…like Himiko Toga. Her quirk relies on the blood of others to transform herself. With the right help, she could have famous rather than infamous. With a tiniest bit a blood she could have been a stunt double for any celebrity. I mean her acting skills are nearly flawless in mimicry!”

More static.

“We all speculated that your father, late hero All Might,” spliced in soundbite, “would be disappointed with your cavalier attitude toward villains.”

Then more static, showing the bodyguards screaming at the reporter.

“She didn’t follow the script given to her!”

“How they dare interrogate her!”

“Lana don’t even look at them!”

“Give us this tape, we are confiscating this. You broke contract!”

Lana dropped her phone, pulling at her hair in despair. What the hell just happened? How did that get leaked? Did she really look as crazy as she sounded?

No, no everything was out of context. Even the last thing the reporter said in the clip wasn’t even correct.

…Or maybe it was. She had kind of zoned in and out during the interview itself. Izuku had seen the tape perhaps-

IZUKU! Yes! She stood up, looking for her keys. She had to find Izuku, he could help her. The door to their apartment slammed with a resounding thud.

---

Tired, Deku finally made it back to entrance of his agency. He hadn’t meant for patrol to take him as long as it did, but he happen to come across a strew of incidents. First one smash his communicator, and somehow, he was pickpocketed for his cellphone and wallet. He had really no way of reaching out to Lana during the day, hopefully she would understand his tardiness.

Perhaps, he could take a long, hot bath, ease out the kinks in his neck. Lana and he could probably order delivery, she had been favoring udon as of late.

He sighed, patting his pockets once again. He’ll have to get the receptionist to give him a new badge and deactivate his old one.

Never would he ever predicted that Lana would be raising hell with reporters in the lobby of his agency. She had a hold of one man’s shirt while she was glaring him down. The rest were eating it up as she attacked one of their colleagues.

His receptionist and sidekicks were trying to push through the crowd, confused on what was the cause of the pandemonium, but it seemed like Lana was at the center of it. Izuku shivered, as he quickly, but politely tried to get toward Lana. What the public didn’t know was that Lana did possess a quirk. Although weak in comparison to One-For-All, she could force a false memory in someone’s head. The side effect for the receiver was something usually unpleasant, and the sender, Lana, would get violently sick because of the mental strain.

“Lana.” He chastised, as he pulled her to his chest. She broke eye contact, making her nauseous as Izuku jostled her around, hiding her from the paparazzi. “Calm down, please don’t do anything irrational.”

She paused, tears streaking her bloodshot eyes, how could he stand so tall and stern, just to scold her? She needed the saving from them, not the other way around. How could Izuku look at her like a vi—