Tommy grimaces as he digs his thumb into his face and drags it along his skin, the pained look worsening when it comes back almost entirely stained black. He lowers his hand and rubs the inky part with his index finger, watching the latter turn a dark ashy gray. "Didn't have to fuckin' smear marker all over my face," Tommy grumbles. (Aizawa had looked like he wanted to hit him at first.)* "You've made mine worse than yours! It wasn't even bad in the first place!"
Aizawa scowls, showing Tommy the screen of his phone and pointing to the picture on it as if Tommy doesn't know the masterpiece he'd painted on the underground hero's face. "'Wasn't even bad,' huh?" He mocks, and without a single glance at his phone, zooms in on the blatant dick that Tommy most-definitely drew on his forehead. The fact that Aizawa's now using his other hand to rub some of the marks off using a wipe Momo gave him makes this even better. (There's a certain mirth to his eyes; Tommy relaxes.)
Tommy cracks a grin. "Just hide it with your mop of hair," he suggests, dramatically cowering when Aizawa crushes the cleaning wipe in his hand. "Okay, okay! I'll help you convince Mic to delete the photo."
Aizawa grumbles incoherently, casually tossing the cleaning wipe into a nearby trash-bin. There's still a few smudges of translucent black on his face, so Tommy counts that as a win until he notices and wipes them off, too.
"Monsieur," Aoyama calls out, holding out the same type of wipe Momo gave Aizawa. "Here." Tommy glances up; Momo gives him a small smile. He gives a slightly bigger one back in thanks, wiping his face while subtly taking his communicator out.
9:26
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Hey
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Hey cuckatoo
"Now that everyone's decided on their hero names," Aizawa begins to drawl, "we'll go back to talking about the internships."
<MEGAPHONE> whispers to <big man>: Please don't call me that, I'm begging you. /lh
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Sheesh alright
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Nyway, you have the pic right
<MEGAPHONE> whispers to <big man>: I DO!! YOU NEED IT?
Aizawa takes a stack of papers out, raising them vertically and lightly tapping the bottom on the little podium he stands at. "These will last a week. As for where they'll take place, those who had offers will have their own lists to choose from."
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Yeah kinda
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Told Eraser Id go and 'convince" you to dlete it
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: delete*
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Send it ere so that when you ddo that I can send it back
"Those who don't will choose from among forty agencies around the country that are willing to accept our interns."
<big man> whispers to <MEGAPHONE>: Tell everyoone else to save it for blackmail
YOU ARE READING
absolution.
FanfictionWhen Tommy dies, he expects to see Wilbur. Or Schlatt. Hell, even Mexican Dream. After all, that'd mean that there was at least an afterlife in the DreamSMP. What he doesn't expect is to wake up to another world, one that his communicator tells him...
