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ieatangstforbreakfast · 1 year ago

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌��𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ i thought about this plot over and over, and I hesitated publishing it since i don’t want to deviate so much from everything but i said fuck it, so now ere i am, greeting y’all with ‘wassup villain’

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @shuna-boin

⚠️ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ Mommy issues, mention of death,, profane language, plot progression. Pronouns keep shifting bc Miles thinks you’re a guy. A bit confusing? Anyways, congrats with your debut. I’ve got uh.. A little surprise? Enjoy.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

"Park behind the building B, McLaren. I’ll have to deal with a separate matter, for now, call backup."

"Yes, miss."

Ring. Ring.

Your head pivots at the sound of your phone’s ringing, eagerly answering the call without having to look into the ID, knowing a thing or two about a certain someone’s timing.

“What’s going on so early in the morning?” Your father haggardly asks. You could already smell the stench of his morning breath from the car.

“We have trespassers in the Warehouse.” You start. “Two of them, partners. The duo we know as the Prowlers.”

“What?” You hear the morning grogginess laced in his voice. “Who leaked the information?”

“I’ve updated Morrison and he’s currently investigating the black market. I suspect a traitor.”

“Evidence?”

“There’d been no reports of outsiders entering the vicinity. All employees have been given fake addresses and all of their gadgets have been monitored— and so far, no one’s been flagged, so my guess is.. A higher up who’s sold us out.”

There you go.

“… I’ll look into it.” Your father mumbles. “Make sure that nothing is released into the media. The election is coming soon, we don’t want to do anything that’ll stir the public.”

“Understood.”

And the call ends just like that.

You blankly look at the road ahead of you, skin itching from the tightness and texture of your leather coat. Laid before your lap was a flat screen, in it were nine boxes— each playing a variety of scenes brought to you by the hidden cameras. Across every box, two swift figures maneuvered past the rooms with incredible ease. Several workers and scientists were sprawled across the jagged floors, motionless like corpses. You grimaced at the possibility of them being dead, but after seeing the thick gas emanating throughout every crevice of the building, you safely assumed that they were simply knocked out.

The Warehouse housed one of your father's investments; an Oscorp-Alchemax experiment funded by the elites, done underground and tested on prisoners to find some sort of super serum. When the new money folks thrusted themselves into the world of High society, most of the higher elites came to applaud the idea of one man.

Harry Osborn.

As a kid, you grew up aspiring to be like Harry. Always so friendly and approachable to anyone and everyone he’s ever met.

He did it so effortlessly that you recognized his niceness as a talent.

Harry came from second generation money— hailing this scientific empire called Oscorp. Having been brought up by his father, Norman, who was an industrialist, Harry was all things sciencey.

After his father's death, Harry sought out a blueprint of his father's past works, finding a journal containing the records of several hypotheses in regard to a variety of drugs. A sort of instruction to turn into a superhuman being, he claims, that his father had put into mind but never really practiced.

A handful of the higher-ups adored the impressionable idea, one of its primary investors being your father. You never really understood his reasons, but when the drug seemingly began showing fruitful results, your father set you up under Antonne's name to supervise Warehouse 317 after Harry entrusted your family to house the experiment.

So at that moment, you weren't you.

And Miles wasn't Miles.

He didn’t know what he was doing here. But he never bothered to really ask since his Uncle seemed tense all throughout the journey.

When Aaron told him to strap up for a sudden mission, he wasn't expecting a raid— nor was he expecting him to bring him to a hidden laboratory containing all these alien-like fuckeries. From glass beakers to drums filled to the brim with some sort of neon liquid, it all varied in levels of strangeness. Everywhere he looked, he could find the same circular, yellow warning sticker staring right back at him. Behind his digital mask, he skims past the unconscious workers— checking every crevice to see if anyone had escaped the incapacitating agent.

“According to the drive, the stuff are located in the north building.” His uncle’s voice snaps him out of the haze. “I’ll be heading there. I’m sure you can fend for yourself?”

“F’course I can,” Miles answered. “I can knock a bitch or two out with these.” He grinned while unfoldding his claw.

“You kiss your mama with that mouth? Watch yo tongue.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aaron pats his shoulder. “Record the evidence, I’ll go find the blueprints.”

With a single nod, Miles sets off with his mission in mind. When the holographic interface materializes from his wrist-mounted control panel, he activates the scanner with a light tap. The digitalized purple light cascades over the room, gathering physical data with each passing step.

He prided in his cut-edge tech— developed into great usage by his and his uncle’s hands. In a way, it reassured him that he had epically great potential, despite the current crisis going on in the city. But of course, his greatest pride was the fact that you liked the idea of the Prowler. That alone harbored him confidence he never knew he had.

Miles never initially thought of himself as a hero, no matter how much he’s worked to save the lower class of New York. Heroes existed in the confines of comic books and kids’ TV shows. He wasn’t super, and he wasn’t a hero either. The term was black and white. Narcissistic, as you would put it.

But he liked playing along to the idea of being a superhero to you.

He wanted you to gawk and admire his vigilante identity. He wanted you to look at the TV early in the morning with a mug of coffee in your hands, pointing at the screen with a squeal, ‘It’s the Prowler!’

Most of all, he wanted you to know about it eventually.

When he passes by the computers, Miles heads straight for the manila folders, unraveling his gauntlet just to grasp the files better.

[ 11 | 10 | 2020 ]

•[𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: #𝟷𝟷𝟹𝟸] 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟻𝟼

𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

With the slightest jolt of his palm, the paper crumbles, and behind it sat another file. He peers through it diligently, only to find a name signed at the bottom.

And it crumples from the clamp of his fist.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

The surname, Primo-Chávez, was the household name of the family who owns the Primm Hotel, and a single mention of it alone only reignited the anger he was sparing for the upcoming plans. All of the rage he kept to himself was seeping out the cracks of his still-grieving heart, and the grief remained a permanent scar.

And with a whisper of the wind, the warehouse falls into darkness.

There was this chill crawling up his back, and it haunted him. And in the silence that surrounded him, he calls out for his uncle.

And it echoes, and echoes. No one replies. Only the silence answered to his desperate calls. At that point, all that he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating out of his chest— a sort of morbid reminder that he was still alive. It made him wonder if that was all his father heard when he was trapped beneath the fallen carcass all those years ago. Just like that carcass, in the midst of all that darkness, screams begin to bellow.

Oh. One of the scientists have woken up.

But all Miles could picture was all what could’ve happened that night, when everything fell apart. Did they scream like this? Call out for help like this? Did his father struggle to breathe like this?

A lone light shines above the metal rails— a watch window, large and square, gleaming in this daunt violent that flickered and flickered. There was a figure there, dark, willowy, and invasive in the way it stared.

Unmoving, watching. A gaze that lingered like the chill running down his back.

What did they do in here?

Like a croak, the question bubbles up his throat and releases.

“Who are you?”

Like a growl, the voice changer emits the query a too many tones lower. At that question, the being tilts its head.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Velvety, low, exhausted— and it oozed from the broadcaster mic like a tease. You stared at the Prowler, almost amused by his size. From above, he seemed much tinier, like less of a threat. You feel your breath cascade against the lenses of your gas mask, sweat sticking to the leather of your gloves. There, you see the digitalized magenta and the gleam of his steel claws, as though he meant to intimidate. You stood partially befuddled at the fact that the vigilante everyone revered and loathed was likely a teenager.

“… You don’t know what this place is, don’t you?”

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ.

The wall beside him crumbles into dust.

Miles shields himself from the impact, the cement’s fumes blinding his sights. Upon the activation of his night vision, he searches in behind the violet screen, finding only his uncle emerging from the smoke and debris, rushing with a USB in his hands. Behind him, a flock of guards came rushing in with their ray guns— flames of red bursting into a shower as the man signaled him to run.

Miles casts a quick glance at the window above.

No one’s there.

“ＥＶＡＣＵＡＴＥＡＬＬＥＭＰＬＯＹＥＥＳ

ＩＭＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ. ＩＭＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ.”

The digital voice commands along with a blaring alarm.

The warehouse that housed this elaborate labyrinth, it continued on and on like a maze. Bland green tiles and white walls, glass screens— like a pattern he immediately grew to dislike. It all went on and on like a fever dream, but Miles’ head was ringing with the sight of the man he saw up the window.

And he lays it all out in his mind, trying to piece it altogether.

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ．

The walls click and collapse, and the floors shake, but Miles doesn’t look back. The sound of the guards’ heavy stomps cease though, eventually replaced with a sort of screech that irked his ears.

It was unfamiliar to him. He’s faced over a hundred bad people, but only the sight of that being unsettled him more than the rest.

“Up ahead!”

He watches as his Uncle heads right out the window with a fall, the shards ricocheting behind him like specs of snow as he throws a carabiner right back at Miles to snatch. His fingers thinly reach for the cord when he’s suddenly assaulted to the ground with a powerful force.

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

“Agh!” He grumbles in pain, rolling down to the ground. But even then, it wasn’t the pain that made every hair on his limb stand, it was the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiles, and the sound of your metal blade scraping against the wall.

“Mornin’, Prowler.”

Exhaustion made the delivery deeper. He senses it in you, and you sense it him. Though he was unaware of what your head was actually filled of, I’ve got a lecture at nine, I still have to do my literature essay, and I want to sleep. Miles wasn’t all that interested at all in what your mind bore. To be fair, from where he was, Miles only saw this figure towering over him with a long knife poking out its sleeve. Some gas mask, and a black leather coat. Even then as you stood above him, he could only watch as you fixed your gloves, pulling farther beneath your sleeve.

“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”

Fwip. With a crisp cut, the cord that connected him to his partner was severed. You throw it out the window along with the metal piece. “I’m not so usually cruel, but you’re trespassing my family’s property—“

“So this is your family’s property.” He stands back up, hands aching to fight. “Primo-Chávez. As I recognized.”

He claws at you, but instead, the metal meets the end of your unsheathed blade with a clink!

“You’re smart.” And when you pull away, he stumbles backward. “Let’s see if that’ll save you.”

Crack! The walls quivered as Miles narrowly avoided the blade aimed for his neck. He raises his gauntlets, lunging right at you with swift punches, to which you countered gracefully with quick blocks. Eventually, he manages to take hold of your shoulders, shoving you back with feet tangled like knots. You lower down and hook your heel over his ankle, pulling with force as he falters.

You crack your neck, pressing your heel over his shoulder to keep him down. “I’ll be honest with you, I think you’re awfully underwhelming.” You lean down to his level, musing yourself in the way he heaved.

“But I can forgive all that.” Your fingers fiddle with the strap of his backpack. “You’re useful in a way—“

With a gauntlet over your neck, he slams you against the wall.

“I ain’t working for nobody,” He churned. “And I definitely won’t be fucking working for people like you.”

“I never said you had to work for me.” You calmly replied despite his grip. “You just have to make better decisions from now on.”

“Fuck you mean by that?”

From the ache your neck bore, you knew it was gonna leave a bruise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

He furrows his brows at that statement, holding himself back as he taunts. “… I wonder how your father is going to abandon you once I set this little investment of his on fire.”

Rather than the silence or panic he hoped, Miles heard you laugh.

“Do it.” You playfully suggest. “Do it, and kill all the other interns, employees, and guards in here.” Despite your façade, he could still sense the smirk creeping up your lips. “Then think to yourself, ask yourself; are you any better than my family?”

That alone catches him by surprise.

“… You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What do you m—“ Before he could even finish off his sentence, a powerful strike ricochets into his stomach, sending him off to the other wall. A loud grunt emanates from his lips, hands gripping the lower of his belly as you set your foot down. “The next time we meet, do promise me that you’ll be much more of a promising opponent. Today was.. Eventless.” Your gaze sets sights on the camera hidden in the corner.

“For now, I’ll have to let someone else do the job.”

As though on cue, you see his partner rush in with the broken cord in his hand. The same broken cord you’d thrown out. Without another word, he lunges at you with lightning speed, and the way you collide with the glass wall sends ripples across the corridor.

“You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Long time no see.”

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

And from then on, Miles watches as this figure and his uncle battled amidst the labyrinth. But your words struck him hard, ‘Long time no see’— what did that mean? Did his uncle have a sort of connection to the elites, or has he worked for the upper class before?

With how his punches flew, Miles sensed this sort of undying rage that crackled with the quiver of his Uncle’s fist.

Why did this battle seem so natural? Like the two of them know each other’s moves too well.

“I see you’ve resigned.” You curtly brought up, grunting as he mercilessly charges at you. “And seems like you’ve brought a little something with you.” Upon the mention of Miles, Aaron struck back with a blow, feigning ignorance at your words. Despite your state, you managed to put up a great fight. “Why did you bring him here? He doesn’t seem fit for the job—“

“Stop the small talk, Antonne.”

Antonne.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

“I’m simply being polite,” You grinned. “It’s been a while, don’t you think so too?”

With that alone, Miles somehow confirmed that the figure was the heir of the hotel in the flesh. The man responsible for the deaths of many— the man responsible for the death of his father. But something felt wrong, like a sense that was gnawing at his guts.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Just of now, Miles realizes that he had no place here, at least, not yet. But he was just as confused as the other guy, why did his uncle bring him here if it was too dangerous?

“Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?”

Sister?

“She’s a little more pacifist than all of us.”

You lie so naturally, it was like second-nature to you— as though it was your second, utterly ridiculous hobby next to scheming. To play the part of Antonne was excruciating enough, but it was enjoyable in a way. You haven’t seen the Prowler for about four years— last seeing him when you were twelve, when he worked for the Fisks until his abrupt resignation. Next thing you and the elite knew, the mercenary who once worked for the high-class was now a vigilante working against them.

No one particularly knew the reason why. You somewhat guessed what it was.

And when the both of you crashed past the danger zone, you knew that the situation was way beyond your grasps from this point on, and the best you could hope for was a perfect gamble.

The man grabs all that he could in his anger, from glass beakers to steel rods, he figures splashing you with whatever thing he could find can help in making you perish from his sights.

You fight back, without the usage of anything else except the blade, only until Aaron repeatedly smashes your head inside a closed-off frozen cage. The two of you fall right in, breaking some sort of container in the process.

“What the fuck?”

Like a flame, it sears your skin— causing you to panic and recklessly pat away at the tar-like substance enveloping you in its sticky embrace. Without even a shriek, it consumes your system entirely, sending you down on your knees.

And the next thing you know, everything else fades into black.

Aaron pulls away, in shock of the dark matter unveiling before him. Immediately, he places a hand over Miles’ eyes, ushering him away.

From afar, they could hear the police sirens coming.

“Let’s— let’s go.” Aaron hurriedly commands.

“Uncle Aaron.”

Miles exhaustively calls out to him.

“Uncle Aaron!”

As his mask unfolds, Miles squints as the sunlight seeping from the tall trees welcomes him, shielding his face with his hands while trudging across the stones to meet his Uncle’s steps. Aaron pauses for a moment, taking only one look back.

“Why’d you bring me there?” Miles directly starts. “I wasn’t strong enough to be there— who was that guy? How- How did you suddenly know about the location of the warehouse, how did— I don’t— I-I have school in three hours, I don’t get why you had to bring me along—“

“That girl you’re seeing,” Aaron intervenes without a waste of breath. “What’s her last name?”

Miles takes a step back, furrowing his brows.

“[L/n].”

Aaron nods. “… It’s the same as the file.”

“What?”

“Bring her to dinner.”

Now everything further confused him, what did you have to do with all of this?

“I-I can’t bring her to dinner yet— what do you mean part of the f— we haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

The date set for tomorrow. The trick-or-treating date Miles had always longed for. Aaron tosses his hand upward. “Just make it quick and let me meet her.” He commands in a rush, pacing his steps faster. “We’ve got to get moving before they find us.”

“But— I don’t get it. What does [Y/n] have to do with all of this?"

Aaron stops for a moment, looking up before heaving a long, jagged sigh.

“… I got a file last night. Sent by an anonymous number. Someone managed to take a picture of you and your girl earlier when you were walking her home.”

Hearing this, a bundle of worries begin to churn in Miles’ mind. This whole night enough was messy for him, and he couldn’t understand why things were getting so complicated. Like what Antonne said earlier, it was ingrained into his mind, Aren’t you supposed to be smart?

“Along with the pictures, I got sent a file. [Y/n] [L/n], is..” Aaron consequently looks into his nephew’s eyes, a sort of hesitation imbued in his system. “Somewhat connected to the Primos.”

Miles halts entirely, and over and over, like how he’s always asked for the last hour. “What?”

“I.. I’ll just tell you when we get home.”

It was many years ago, when your mother endowed this habit of sitting you down by her vanity just to comb your hair and fix you up like a doll.

At that time, you were a tiny little girl with tiny little legs that were unable to reach the floor, instead opting to dangle them with light kicks from your seat— thinking you were some kind of mermaid. During those times, you could only spot at least the whole of your head staring right back at you, but rather than yourself, you marveled at the sight of your mother and her clothes.

The colors she wore were patterned in dates. Mauve, pink, white, and sometimes vermilion in special occasions. Those were the days she used to pick out your clothes for you, and whenever you complained about the color being too bright or dull, your mother would claim that she'd know your colors the best.

As you got older, and when you started dressing for yourself, in the colors you liked, and in the sort of mauve and pink that suited you, you watched as your mother would stare at you from afar with an irate frown, and silently, you'd think to yourself.

Even in the way I rebel against you, you still see yourself in me, because when you look at me, you see only a mirror of your younger self grimacing in disgust. You'd come so far to convince yourself that you're at the height of your being, but your daughter and your child-self only sees mediocrity.

…

“Miss?”

A flurry of people. Lots of talking. You despised that.

“Miss, are you awake?”

“[Y/n], wake up this instant!”

And at your father’s instruction, your eyes peel open almost immediately. You’re greeted with the sight of the ceiling, and your skin covered in warmth. You look at yourself, finding bruises all over your arms, still wearing your white dress shirt and formal pants. Silently, you force yourself to sit up despite the ache you felt, wincing as you spot several faces surrounding you. There was your father, pacing back and forth, certainly distressed about something; Antonne, with his arms crossed, sitting by the edge of your bed; some physician, silently standing by the side with her hands clasped together; and Harry Osborn standing alongside her.

“What’s going on in here?” You haphazardly asked.

“You almost died.” Antonne stirs the silence. “The Warehouse was set on fire, and you were still inside.”

“The warehouse was set on fire!?” You jolt up, only now realizing the dirty looks from your father. “That’s impossible, how could—“

“There were traces of gasoline.” Emerging from the doors, your father approaches you with a sort of chagrin in his glare. “Since you failed to capture or at least slow down the perpetrators, that happened.”

“… You’re placing the blame on me?” You ask, hardly believing your ears.

“We’re not—“ Just as Harry’s about to speak, your father intervenes. “Yes, we are. Because of your incompetence, we lost millions worth of money in damages!”

“Sir, calm down.”

“Father, this is what I’ve been telling you about.” Antonne pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s sixteen! How could she have possibly fought against a mercenary!?”

“I did better than you.” Poison spewed from your lips, losing all sort of rationality. “This has never happened before. Whenever there was something any of you asked me to do, I did my very best. How could I possibly perform my best when I lacked sleep and I was dependent on coffee!?”

“Your brother is right.”

Hearing that alone was a nightmare.

“Although you’re talented in upkeep and information, you’re too young to fight against an ex-assassin.”

You helplessly scramble off the bed. “Daddy, you’re being unfair.”

Daddy. It’s like you were a ten-year-old fighting for his attention once again. You looked at Antonne, and then your father, shifting in complacency. “I worked for three years, ceaselessly. Even if it meant giving up my weekends and studying so hard that it made my nose bleed. I got the job done, even if no one paid me or thanked me, I still did everything.”

“We’ve lost a lot of resources,” Harry begins. “And we’ve been brought back to square one because of the fire.”

Before Harry could even finish off his explanation, you lift a finger and point at him accusingly. “This is because one of your people decided to leak information—“ In between your rant, Antonne attempts to soothe you. “Had it not been for the fact that you decided to let untrusted people into the faction, we wouldn— stop it, Antonne— we wouldn’t be dealing with this sort of thing. Mother warned you about it, and you brushed off her every warning— STOP IT, ANTONNE!” You finally yelled out. Your brother ceases, lifting his hands off of you after he sees that you’re shaking.

What’s wrong with me?

Why am I being more emotional than usual?

The way the rage consumed you left you in dismay. At a short moment of epiphany, you run your hands across your face and, like a switch, all of your emotions reboot.

“I apologize. I spoke out of line.”

That line alone was chilling.

“I’m sorry, [Y/n].” The tender way Harry called out your name was unfathomable. “I know it’s upsetting that your job is being taken away from you, and you have every right to get upset. However, for your sake and your health, you can pass on these responsibilities to Montrell for now.”

“Montrell’s in London.” You add. “He can’t possibly take over—“

“He’s not in London.” Antonne confesses. You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “What are you talking about?”

“… It was going to be a surprise but..”

Oh no.

“Oh,” You blankly state, your mind rioting. “I see.”

“It’s an unplanned decision, really,” Your father explains. “Montrell also has no idea that you’ve taken Antonne’s place in taking care of the hotel for the last three years. It’d be better for you, as well, to take a break.”

You wanted to scream, break down, curse at everyone.

“I’m sorry for being too harsh on you, [Y/n].” Harry eases, placing a hand over your shoulder. “However, you have to understand that it’s also for the best.”

“I understand.” Fuck you, and fuck all of you.

“We’ll leave you to rest for now.” Yeah, leave me the fuck alone before I melt the fuck down.

As they step out, all the tension in the room leave along with the squeak of their fine, leather dress shoes. You’re left with the silent physician, whose presence you’d completely forgotten despite the wildness of her dark curls. She shifts uncomfortably, parting her lips to speak, only to find that she didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?” You ask, lowering your voice so as to not intimidate. Prompting to break the silence in her place.

The woman blinks at you, somewhat relieved by your words.

“Can I be direct, Miss?” She sternly asks.

“It’ll be better off that way, frankly.”

She leans a little closer, tugging on the sleeve of your arm. “When you first got here, your body was riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken bones around— oh, can I touch you?”

You squirm. “I’m not a relic.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Most of the rich people I’ve worked with were usually snobby douches who think their skin shed gold.” She subtly laughs, raising the fabric up higher. “Initially, I believed you were exactly that kind of rich kid, but after seeing what happened, you don’t seem like anything they say.”

You raise a brow. “.. Have we met each other before?”

She looked at you as though you’d just insulted her, her eyes about to pop off her thick-rimmed glasses.

“.. I work at Alchemax. I’m the head of the research team in the particle accelerator project— we’ve spoken many, many times before.”

“.. You’re not my physician?”

Her lips tighten into a line. “I take what I said back. You’re exactly like all those other rich kids.”

“W-well, I’m sorry.” You grumbled. “I work with a hundred different people almost every single day, my mind usually shuts down when I’m at work.”

“Well, your father did just drag me out of the line and forced me to fix you up since they didn’t want to risk calling for a doctor who doesn’t know that you’re parading as your brother.” She spoke so quickly, it made you rethink what she just said three times. “Anyways— I needed to tell you that under my observations, you’ve healed yourself in a supernaturally fast rate that it’s groundbreaking.”

“What?”

“Six hours ago, you had broken bones in here,” She points her fingers at your shoulder. “Here,” Followed by your thigh. “And here.” Then your calf. “But after seeing your little drama session with your father, you were able to move yourself without any sort of pain. Initially, I concluded that you must’ve had some very high pain tolerance, but I noticed that so many of your cuts and bruises have all been healed, and that,” Her fingers trace a line over your neck. “That was red as hell just moments ago. Now, it’s gone.”

Oh, the mark you got from Prowler Jr after he choked the hell out of you.

You liked calling him that. Prowler Jr— a smaller, rustier protégée of the Prowler you grew up with.

“.. I wonder why so.”

There was a wily grin on her face that unsettled you tremendously.

“Well, without your father looking, I ran a test on you.”

“You what?”

Without even a single second to lose, the woman takes out few samples from her bag, laying them all out before you with a couple of handwritten documents.

“Here.” She states so proudly.

You marveled at all that she’s written— unfortunately for you, her handwriting was so messily done that you couldn’t understand a single damn thing.

“… You could get sued for this, you know that?”

“Your father wouldn’t. Unlike his children, he can’t find a replacement for me.”

Your mouth hung in disbelief at what you just heard. Rather than acknowledging the insult, however, she plucks out a print of what you assumed were tiny splotches of black tar on a petri dish.

“What the hell is that?”

“I got that swabbed out of your mouth.”

“Oh fuck, I thought I’d dieted enough for the performance!”

“It’s not sweets, sweetheart.” She answered defeatedly, clearly full of your unsure-weaponized-incompetence. “It’s a mysterious symbiote that we’ve recently caught hold of four months ago, and during your fight with the Prowler, it forged itself into your system.” Her fingers trace down your arm, grasping the center of your wrist while grinning. “And it can make you do this.”

As she squeezes your hand, a black matter ejects from your palm. You jolt away, slapping her hand off as you curse.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?”

“The symbiote.” She casually replies. “Isn’t it amazing?”

It retreats like a slimey being, pushing itself back into your skin as though it’d all been a mere hallucination.

“You mean to tell me there’s some alien slime living inside my body!?”

“Well, yes—“

“GET IT OUT OF ME!”

She winces at the loudness of your voice, moving back an inch away. “That’ll take a while for me to dissect. You have to come to my lab tomorrow if you want me to find a way to pull that away from you.”

“I can’t go tomorrow.” You had a date with Miles, and that alone was reasonable enough to miss anything and everything else. “I-I have practice for the fundraiser on Sunday, and I’m still the hostess, so I have to make sure that the preparations are seamless.”

“… I have a comment, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it since you probably hear it all the time.”

“What? That I’m just like my mother?”

She scrunches her nose. “I was going to say that you’re too young to be acting so old.” The woman turns away, beginning to pack up her things again. “You’re sixteen. You should be going out to parties, creating fake IDs, sneaking out to make out with your boyfriend— whatever other shit girls your age like to do.”

You try your hardest not to react at the last mention, since that was definitely what you just did a few hours before. You begin to rub your hands, the friction warming you up as your shoulders shrug.

“Well, as much as I want to do all that, I’ve got too much to do.”

“You won’t be sixteen forever, Miss.” She tosses the bag over her shoulder. “Take that from me. I’m forty-six, and I’ve went through a lot. I’d give everything to be your age again.”

As you watch her head for the door, you call out to her one last time.

“.. Call me [Y/n]. I don’t like it when people way older than me call me ‘miss’.”

She raised her brows. “Alright then, [Y/n].” Your name rolls off her tongue gently.

“How about you? What do I call you?”

With a hand over the knob, the woman beamed.

“.. I’m Olivia Octavius, but you can call me Liv.”

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merymoonbeam · 4 months ago

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Thin places – The Void – Cauldron – Elriel

So in hofas we learned about thin places...

“No,” Aidas agreed. “But Helena knew that Midgard possessed its own magic. A raw, weaker sort of magic than that in her home world, but one that could be potent in high concentrations. She learned that it flowed across the world in great highways, natural conduits for magic.” “Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.” (hofas)

It is long but what we get from this is that

Ley lines are used for moving magic and...communication between worlds

Ley lines are joined by time and space and void

The mist is a big give away for thin places

So how all of this connect to Elain and Cauldron?

When Elain got out of the cauldron...the water was "smokey"

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water. And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown. (Acomaf)

Maybe it is not smoke but mist...as in Cauldron is a thin place?

When Feyre threw the book of breathings into the Cauldron...it went to Crescent City. How? We dont know. is it bc Cauldron being a thin place between worlds?

Also Cauldron has "void in it"

I managed to stand. To take one step before I felt it. The … thing in the Cauldron. Or lack of it. It was lack and substance, absence and presence. And … it was leaking into the world.I dared a step toward it. And what I beheld in those ruins of the Cauldron… It was a void. But also not a void—a growth.It did not belong here. Belong anywhere. (Acowar)

And who cauldron is obsessed with? Elain...a seer.

In my mystics&seers post I talked about the connection between void and elain more. But in the same post I talked about Mystics and seer connection and they seem to be the same.

In hosab mystics are described like this

The old male cut in, as if he hadn’t heard a word of their hissed argument. “Most astronomers and mystics have been put out of business these days, you know. Thanks to fancy tech. And self-righteous busybodies like you,” he spat toward Bryce. She snarled at him, the sound more primal Fae than she liked, but he waved that hateful, ring-encrusted hand toward the mystics in their pools. “They were the original interweb. Any answer you wish to know, they can find it, without having to wade through the slog of nonsense out there.”

And we know how one of the mystics "went" to hel and talked one of the hel princes.

what do we know about ley lines? 👇🏻

“These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop.

So what if ley lines and being mystic/seer is connected? Did that mystic use the ley lines? As in they are the communication between worlds?

And we have world walkers...

“The black salt only repels the Asteri; the mists repel everyone else. But certain people, with certain gifts, can access the power of thin places—on any world. World-walkers.” Aidas gestured gracefully to Bryce. “You are one of them. So were Helena and Theia. Their natural abilities lent themselves to moving through the mists.”

Theia was one of them.

In myths theia is:

Theia (/ˈθiːə/; Ancient Greek: Θεία, romanized: Theía, lit. 'divine', also rendered Thea or Thia), also called Euryphaessa (Ancient Greek: Εὐρυφάεσσα) "wide-shining", is one of the twelve Titans, the children of the earth goddess Gaia and the sky god Uranus in Greek mythology. She is the Greek goddess of sight and vision, and by extension the goddess who endowed gold, silver, and gems with their brilliance and intrinsic value.

Maybe sight and thin places/ley lines are more connected than we think?

Also I have been fascinated by this all this time but we have "pocket" realms or any pocket related thing...theia can do it, rhys can do it, apollion and maybe...azriel?

With theia we see this:

By the grace of the Mother, she was paranoid enough about any new allies or companions that she hid the Horn and Harp. She created a pocket of nothingness, she told me, and stashed them there. Only she could access that pocket of nothingness—only she could retrieve the Horn and Harp from its depths. (Hofas)

with apollion we have this:

The seventh and most lethal of the demon princes of Hel was in his mind- “I am not in your mind, though your thoughts ripple toward me like your world's radio waves. You and I are in a place between our worlds. A pocket-realm, as it were.”

Acomaf rhys:

Rhys reached into a bag I hadn’t realized he’d been carrying—no, one he’d summoned from whatever pocket between realms he used for storage.

And with azriel we have this:

Azriel didn’t give them a chance to exchange another word before murmuring shadows swept around them. Nesta couldn’t help clinging to Azriel, gleaning on some innate level that if she let go, she would tumble through this space between places and be lost forever.

We always known azriel's type of winnowing is different...BUT HOW DIFFERENT?

Also side note...Fionn probably has Shadow powers bc Helena and Silene both have shadow and starborn power so them taking the shadow from fionn is possible. I went into more detail about elriel connection to fionn in this post you can read it there.

So...pocket realms maybe they can somehow access space between the worlds? Thin places maybe connected to it?

Also side note this is maybe kinda crack but elriel scene also has "space between"

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

Maybe Im reading into it but the fact that the only connection "the space between" them is TT...THE KNIFE THAT CAN UNDO THINGS...the knife with gwydion can create Void. The void that is connected with the ley lines/thin places.

The end. 🫡💜

#elriel #this post happened out of nowhere #also when I figured out the tt and elriel scene connection to this I sat there looking at the wall bc it cant be THAT simple lmfao #it is probably crack #thin places #ley lines #cauldron #mystics #seers #pocket realms

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 3 days ago

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tuesday again 11/12/2024

this one's a bit short. i am now thirty and still unemployed (ten months this week) ://// if you enjoy the tuesdayposts and are not maxed out on your charitable donations for other causes (american healthcare access, healthcare access in other places, war relief, any number of other good causes) i am going to be $300 short for december rent. here is my paypal.

listening

listening to a lot of pete seeger, for my health. there are about one zillion recordings of Old Man Atom, all ever so slightly different. it starts off as a perky gee-whiz-science! tune and continues frog marching the listener along in an increasingly jaunty manner. it's

Then the cartel crowd put on a show To turn back the clock on the UNO To get a corner on atoms and maybe extinguish Every darned atom that can't speak English Down with foreign-born atoms! America for American atoms! I hold this truth to be self-evident That all men may be cremated equal!

youtube

it's very depressing to listen to early anti-nuclear protest songs and realize they hold even more true today! song's a bop tho!

reading

the feds nabbed someone allegedly related to the semi-dire Snowflake data leaks that have been ongoing throughout the year (Santander Bank, AT&T, Ticket Master, Neiman Marcus, etc).

this guy has been a real thorn in krebs' side for a year or so and participates in some of the worst corners of the internet, which explains the adversarial nature of the writeup. i read through the whole thing going "yeah this guy is Very annoying but why is krebs so mad at him" and then got to the bottom section about other activities. italicized OH moment in real life but bad.

watching

continuing noirvember with The Maltese Falcon (1941, dir. Huston).

The Maltese Falcon is a 1941 American film noir in which a San Francisco private detective deals with three unscrupulous adventurers, all seeking a jewel-encrusted falcon statuette.[3] Written and directed by John Huston[3] in his directorial debut, the film was based on the 1930 novel The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett and is a remake of the 1931 film of the same name.[4][5][6] It stars Humphrey Bogart as private investigator Sam Spade, Mary Astor as his femme fatale client, and as villains Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet.

i have two really snotty thoughts to get out of my brain: the modern letterboxed reviews like "i liked this but the homophobia ruined it" weak. all of you are WEAK.

and

i appreciate the work of the tumblrinas trying to queer this story in a more 2020s friendly way. however. sam spade canonically calls someone a slur for using cologne that he deems too feminine. the noir detective series you want is Philip Marlowe, who is at least homophobic in interesting and less physically violent ways.

anyway! gorgeous gorgeous movie. mary astor goes toe to fucking toe with bogey in every scene. a very frantic and frightened woman who is one jump ahead of the pathway crumbling behind her at all times. but she takes the jump and makes it! every time! except for the most important one!!!

playing

having a normal one with 12 hours of powerwash simulator

new genshin update rapidly approacheth. there's a lot happening in this screenshot. accidentally careened right past this npc, with one bullet for the poor low-level slime in the background, floaty blue pet in tow. the npc wanted me to deliver something to her sister who is visible under the big tree in the background. i love early area spaghetti code.

making

deep cleaned my house again bc i had people over for my birthday, which was a very lovely and very drunk evening of star wars on in the background while we played trivia. not how i expected to enter my thirties! i am not in the life circumstances i expected to be in my thirties, i do not have the life i expected to have in my thirties, etc. feeling a little maudlin and need to do crafts about it but also all the crafts in my home are not quite right!

#feeling Weird and Bad about ebegging again. everyone has been so so so lovely since i moved and started having financial crises #one day i will have a job again. god only fucking knows what day that will be #i have like. accepted im going to need to work in person and get covid again but im really angling for like. office jobs.#and not food service #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Youtube

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theinfinitedivides · 3 months ago

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new CCTV from Yonhap showing him turning into a side street and nearly missing a car + weaving next to a woman walking past on the sidewalk once he's on it........................................

on the fucking scooter my brother...........................

#news: why the fuck you lyinggggggggg (scootergate)#not to dogpile on him rn bc he showed up at the police station and he looks pretty drained which uh. happens when the consequences #of your actions catch up with you but. once again. he could have found himself under the car the way he pulled out there and #the car was turning out. granted it could be the angle but that looked close to me idk #and it still looks like one of those newfangled delivery bikes. not necessarily as big as the giant mopeds but still moped adjacent #yk you pull up to an apartment complex with a delivery and head out on that and it works #then again the MMA says they're also opening an investigation into his public service even though they said earlier they wouldn't #be giving any further punishment bc the law and DUI were already handling that so this is not a good day for him #truly do not know what to say at this point. following this as it happens genuinely hope they handle this shit properly #and don't pull a stunt like they did with LSK leaking details to the media instead of going through the proper channels bc we all know #how that ended. some days i wake up and don't remember that's how that ended and then it's the sucker punch to the gut #let's not do that again and make this shit worse pls

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bibibbon · 2 months ago

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On the bluesky saw a post talking about the flying nomu.

And...it hits me how Shig saw a nomu going especially after Izu and ....did nothing. He didn't find that odd.

Did Izu recognized the flying nomu as the lackey?

Once again, the Nomus are wasted in this damn story.

So my ask here is

1) how possum/shig controls the Nomus? Bc if we go with "they have animal mentality" well, you can dominate a lion but you need to put work and shig didn't show us that

2) what happened after? Like the flying nomu was killed by Stain(if I remember right) and then...no one makes any investigation or smth??.bc I have two theories here either people did some research and find out who the kid was and opt to be silent or no one knew not even Izu and the bk's lackeys died completely unknown and uncared. Not even his grandpa gave a fuck.

Hi @mikeellee 👋

Agreed the nomu's do have a lot of wasted potential within the series and its a shame horikoshi didn't expand on them more whether be the horror, social and societal aspects surrounding the nomu's.

To answer your questions izuku didn't recognise that the nomu that attacked him was one of bkaugo's childhood friends. This seemed to be just a tiny easter egg for the readers and its a shame that it's never brought up again because

1)it would of played well into izuku's characterisation since he is really observant

2) would of added the horror into mha early on. You could have izuku doubting himself and saying oh this nomu kind of reminds me of tsuaba but then trying to brush that concern of until its brought back up

3) it would of connected early links to Dr garaki and important and underutilised plot point in the series

(Its weird hori did say that he would delve deeper into the nomu's but never truly did)

I don't think shigaraki sought to particulaty control the nomu's in the hosu arc he wanted them to cause chaos and bring awareness to his ideals and himself which is something that both the nomu's and stain helped achieve for him.

Now in terms of controlling nomu we know when they are given a lot of quirks they practically become braindead and their intelligence is significantly reduced. Some including I speculate that a brainwashing type of quirk or Dr garaki wires their brains to take instructions (however none is confirmed).

Yet this process is interesting because it suggests that a nomu can break out of that thought process like kurogiri and then what?

We know within the series that research was done on who the nomu's are and detective naomasa reports to all might about the nomu's identities. Iam assuming that this should be done for all of the nomu's discovered but this information was kept secret and never leaked to the public and therefore never leaked to izuku.

When the information was leaked after the war arc it was labeled to be so big to be the final nail in the coffin of hero society in general and ended up taking away any trust people had in heroes and hero society.

Nomu's could of been explored in multiple ways like:

Blurring the line between people and easily discardable puppets. It would make society question what it means to be a person since it can't be established by looks and it could tie in heteramorphis discrimation

Can heroes kill nomu's would society allow that? (Ending does talk a bit about this)

How are nomu's created?

Imagine one of your loved ones is a nomu and the way it would damage people like the situation to do with tsuaba and kurogiri

Puppets that can kill maybe the hpsc would want them if they can train them?

How are they created? What does Dr garaki do and how does he use them? Maybe they can be an ultimate super weapon of his that he uses to do his work

#mha #mha critical #bnha critical #bnha #horikoshi critical #thanks for the ask #bhna critical #thanks for the ask!#nomu #nomu's are wasted potential

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science-lings · 5 months ago

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more info for each option below

1- I just think it's funny if everyone knew who Sherlock Holmes was (Phoenix's 'Sherlock Holmes 2 baby!' moment) and it's a popular belief that he wasn't real but he was, just under a better name.

2- I can't help but look at these guys and point at them. Kazuma's concept art where he has his hair back is so Phoenix-coded and one of his thinking sprites looks a lot like Phoenix's and I think that in the afterlife whenever Phoenix is kind of a bitch Ryunosuke looks over at Kazuma and blames him for it. I don't know which one is trans and neither do historians, it's knowledge that has been lost to time. Though it would be funny if Ryu just popped out of nowhere to go to university where no one knew him so no one would know anything about him. Did he forge government documents to do it? who knows he's just living his best life memorizing tongue twisters.

3- It would either be something badass like a snake winding around her arm or something symbolic like a fleur-de-lys which is the flower-based symbol in TGAA for European prosecutors. I also think it's funny bc it's apparently based on an Iris (or a lily), and the iris has the connotation that it 'prevents fire' which would be funny subtle anti-phoenix symbolism.

4- as much as the fan renditions of scruffy beanix absolutely fuck, this guy has the most pathetic facial hair I've ever seen, he's trying so hard to look like a homeless rundown stoner but can only manage a sprinkling of stubble. In addition, Miles can grow facial hair and he tried to grow a mustache for a week in Europe but it was a sensory nightmare and he will never do it again.

5- idk there's a reason his little mascot is a mouse, I just think it's funny if he just appears next to people and they have no idea how he got there. quiet little guy (unless he's thinking loud enough for it to leak out of his mouth). If he was a little more chaotic he would make an excellent thief/ pickpocket. The closest he gets is making snacks disappear from the 221b pantry.

6- All the animals as evidence and his first defendant in seven years being an Orca, he has that disney princess vibe. He was buds with Polly the parrot during the trial and even Money the monkey warmed up to him, especially in the anime where he just chills on Phoenix's shoulders during the court demonstration. I also think eventually Taka would also warm up to him due to his immaculate bird vibes. Trucy's doves and rabbits love him, he does not know how this happened. He regularly has pigeons following him around during investigations. He accidentally makes friends with a crow when throwing out popcorn kernels, it regularly gives him things now and more than once it has retrieved evidence for a case he's working on. He names it Kay and refers to Human Kay accordingly.

7- A little detail I noticed was that a lot of the information Mia got on Redd White was from conversing through the spiritual veil which seems to be her strong suit even as a spirit herself. She can talk to Phoenix without having to use a medium. I think it would be interesting to delve into all the nuances of the Fey's spiritual abilities outside of channeling. There's definitely a whole lot more to it than we're provided. How does that magatama work? how does Pearl charge it with 'spiritual power' and why is she the only one that can do it? I'm a hoe for magical worldbuilding so I would love to get my grubby fingers all over the Fey's.

8- Just two haters who can't have the job that they worked so hard for and are bitter about it. I like to think that Ema visited America at least once a year to visit Lana in prison and she stayed with Phoenix to save money on hotels. It just means something to me that it's her pin that's on his beanie and she gets included in the Wright family (+ Apollo) new years official art, and he keeps the investigative tools she gave him for nearly a decade. They aren't the best influence on each other but they understand each other more than nearly anyone else. They send each other pictures of Edgeworth whenever one of them is hanging out with him so the other doesn't feel left out. Also, they both think it's funny to catch him in the middle of talking or making a weird facial expression.

9- Some guy can't just change how trials are done for everyone without a lot of political bs, Phoenix is famous in law circles and even outside of law circles but he needs to convince a lot of important people (and expose a lot of corrupt important people) before it can go through. At some point, Edgeworth is going to pick him up and they're going on a private plane to talk to the president. It's important to me that he has trouble grasping how important he has become and is surprised every time he's invited to speak at some fancy event even though he's literally important enough to have statues made of him. He is the most iconic defense attorney, he solved the deaths of the two most notable defense attorneys before him in some of his first trials. He is going to be in history books and that is unimaginable to him.

10- Obviously since his canon ancestor is Japanese he's at least part Japanese but I mean like, in my mind, he's fully Japanese American who can speak the language and was raised by immigrants, but I also think that so many other hcs are fun. Is he latino with his black daughter? love that, inject some melanin in these attorneys please. I see the ensemble artwork and am blinded instantly.

#i know not all of these are unique but I am giving them to those who want them #idk how good this batch is but I got to pull out my symbolism book so that's fun for me #ace attorney #phoenix wright #i kinda want to make polls for pride month to see all the headcanons #that kind of thing is always fun #let me know if you read this if that sounds interesting to you #andromedas poll hell #apollo justice #tgaa #tgaac #ryunosuke naruhodo #idk i don't want to spam tags so ill leave it there

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we-ezer · 6 months ago

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FFVII X BATMAN AU LESS GOOO

i had been struggling to come up with an idea for a crossover like this just bc i wanted to combine two of my favorite fandoms when BAM green glowing eyes that make u act up r u kidding me???? am i BLIND?????

SO cloud slips into a natural mako pool that had shinra’s dirty reactor run-off leaking into it that he had been investigating for the WRO. he is revived via lazarus pits into the batman universe. like we’re talking rising from the pits standing and covered in green glowing goo revival. in a pit-induced rage he burns the league hideout to the ground sephiroth-style. his eyes are slitted as he drags his sword behind him in the sand away from the wreckage.

ra’s shows up in the batcave to tell damian his mother is dead. damian believes it a trick until ra’s takes out a jar and pours it onto the ground. he claims it is her ashes and leaves. the batfam test it and the test confirms it. talia is dead. damian is conflicted and the rest of the batfam scrambling to figure out what happened. they find out about the destruction of the hideout and make to travel to the site to look for evidence.

cloud is stuck in a haze. he doesn’t know what day it is, where he is, and sometimes who he is. sometimes the sand looks green and he’s back in hojo’s tank, swimming in mako. other times he is desperately gulping down the liquid in hopes of quenching his thirst. then he’s back in a desert wasteland. finally he comes upon a house. a woman rushes out to help him as he collapses.

cloud stays at the house helping the family there until the batfam eventually find him. they connected him with the description of the hideout’s attacker. he is confused until they start describing the destruction and then he is seeing flashes of sephiroth’s ravaging of nibelheim overlaid with his own. he clutched his head then looks up with glowing cat eyes and attacks.

cloud overpowers them all until the little boy from the family that helped him jumps in the way when he goes to finish them off. cloud sees denzel then in place of the boy and backs off. his head starts pounding and he collapses.

the batfam transport cloud back to gotham. there he is processed and stuck into arkham with meta-cancelling shackles/collar. he’s deemed a joker-level risk and made his cell neighbor. joker’s constant needling mix with sephiroth’s. cloud is spiraling until poison ivy is brought in one day. she sits next to cloud in the cafeteria when he is given his only reprieve from joker and asks about his ribbon. cloud is startled to be reminded of it and tells her it is from a dear friend. poison ivy confesses she felt a pull towards him like the planet was telling her to help him. a tear runs down cloud’s face and he wipes it away. he’d thought he was abandoned here but gaia and aerith were still looking out for him.

cloud and poison ivy become fast friends and when harley is caught she quickly latches onto cloud too. someone has to protect him from the joker (no one protected her)! harley especially likes to treat cloud as a “long lost twin brother” considering how alike they look. she insists cloud is unfairly prettier than her tho. eventually they bust out together and get an apartment for the three of them. cloud loves cuddling on the couch with bud and lou. the girls do their best to help cloud heal.

one day red hood is waiting in their apartment in the dark. he wants to talk to cloud (he wasn’t there when ra’s showed up and the following investigation. he hacks the fam’s files regularly to keep up with their intel and saw the case flagged and locked under mountains of encryption. bruce didn’t want him finding out).

#i’m sorry blorbo!!!#ur pain is for a good cause ;-;#ffvii #cloud strife #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii rebirth #ffvii remake #batfam #batman #jason todd #poison ivy #harley quinn #arkham asylum #fic ideas #fic prompt #writing prompt #ao3

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f0point5 · 9 months ago

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Honestly, as a woman I have to say it is very interesting to me how different people have handled the Christian Horner investigation compared to the allegations against Susie Wolff a while back for example.

Bc I remember the outrage online for the Susie one was big and people were crying misogyny so bad the FIA finished/dropped their investigation after one (1) day and everyone was happy.

Christian was investigated by an independent investigator hired by the RedBull company not RedBull Racing. He was, supposedly, interrogated for 8 hours and investigated for weeks. Now the investigation has exonerated him but people will still rather believe rumors they read in a newspaper than the official result.

I myself am a little disappointed by the lack of transparency by RedBull but the hypocrisy in this is astounding.

I think society really has slipped too far into “believe all victims”. Because there was never even a confirmed victim. And people were still there with pitchforks.

As a woman, I feel bad for Christian’s wife, and his kids. He’s got daughters old enough to understand what people have been saying about their father, based on absolutely nothing. No one thinks about those women.

No one thinks about the fact that if every time a female makes a complaint about something, people just to accusing the guy of sexual misconduct, that it sets the precedent that women in the workplace are only to be sexualised. Or the fact that if every time a woman makes a complaint, a man is convicted in the court of public opinion before there’s any evidence (only to be acquitted when it turns out it was a rumour) it sets the precedent that these claims can very rarely be taken seriously. Or the fact that assuming any sexual misconduct in the office is entirely harassment by the man, infantilises and patronises women in the workplace. People are so quick to protect “victims” that they end up creating them out of thin air.

As much as I’d have liked to know the whole story, I think it’s good that Red Bull is not bowing to pressure to release details. They don’t owe anyone transparency. That employee filed a complaint with their employer, they didn’t call de telegraaf to make accusations. They didn’t go on TikTok to make this news. Their privacy should be protected. As should Christian’s. This is a company, not a government, they don’t answer to F1 Twitter. People have got way too comfortable demanding information they are not entitled to when it comes to “public figures”, especially in this sport. Good for Red Bull for reminding the mob of their place. (I do agree that Theresa certain amount of hypocrisy because I think they leaked the investigation themselves, but I have no proof of that and I think that it’s the best decision to give this the privacy it should have had all along)

#f1 #formula 1 #christian horner #red bull racing

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mirror-ralsei · 9 months ago

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initial sleep-deprived thoughts on the february newsletter:

- some memes referenced: doobie ralsei, eric andre, everyteenagers, warthunder leaks, cdi mario

- weirdly enough the sans “your mom” valentine creating a recursion of moms is really reminiscent of the joke book physics book recursion lol. probably doesn’t mean anything but jic

- i doubt the amv character is alphys. she already has valentines with her undertale version sprite depicted, and her deltarune counterpart is more focused on superheroes than anime.

- furthermore, upcoming characters such as elnina and lanino and arguably the strange letter character were teased. so i personally think this is a new anime-themed character, probably from chapter 3 with its focus on TV

- wait i just realized this would match up with the anime case in the garbage dump too

- as for the strange letter. my gut reaction was like many of us GASTER CONFIRM??!!?11 but turns out i just misremembered “SHOW YOURSELF! DELTARUNE!” as “SHOW YOURSELF! DELTA RUNE!” so scratch that

- the most compelling evidence against it being gaster is definitely the japanese version not matching his katakana quirk. using contractions and no line breaks in the english version too

- if it is a different character other than gaster it’s at the very least an intentional red herring making us believe it’s gaster... like the gaster reading seems completely intended.

- if they aren’t gaster or a version of gaster then they’re probably a character strongly connected to him, considering the illegible writing and the disappearance and redaction of the letter

- speaking of which, i haven’t seen anyone bring up [REDACTED] yet, who also talks in wingdings (assuming gaster is mysteryman and not [redacted]). probably not them but could be relevant

- as wandydoodles pointed out it could also be the “YOU’RE EARLY!” character

- “squint your heart” is an interesting concept. not sure we’ll find out what it’s referring to for a good while though. unless it’s just the soul

- “THE TIME IS GOING AROUND.” interesting phrasing. seems reminiscent of “the world revolving” or “take a ride around town” somehow but who knows the significance

- “EVERY DAY IS A DAY OF LOVE, IF ONLY YOU BELIEVE IT SO. DO YOU BELIEVE IT SO?” this also could be vaguely important. like belief determines things into existence?

- i don’t have much to say about the “there was someone i wanted to help” “i seem to have forgotten who” part bc like with the roaring knight this is just setting up a plot thread with virtually no context whatsoever at the moment. it’ll form the basis of investigations going forward but there’s nothing really we can determine with the information right now imo. like with the existence of the bunker and such, it’s just asking a question.

- the only context we have is “don’t forget” as a main theme of the series in the music title, sans’ lab, or occasional references to the phrase like spamton, but that really doesn’t tell us much of anything yet - this is just one more instance of that.

- the only part that helps us determine anything about the speaker is maybe “YES, IT’S QUITE IRONIC, BUT I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN” which could imply the identity of the speaker is someone who is good at remembering, or whose job it is to remember or catalog things.

- “WAS IT MYSELF? NO... WELL, PERHAPS.” another interesting bit of dialogue that we really don’t have context for yet. though if this is some other piece of gaster this would be evidence towards it i guess

- “YOU ARE VERY ODD, RESPONDING OUT LOUD TO A LETTER.” uhhh this character seems to have the ability to hear our responses... and it’s odd considering the letter would already be written, possibly implying further timeline weirdness

- i’d also just quickly like to point out that it’s possible, if not likely, that this letter is addressed to someone other than us the readers. i doubt it but we do have some of the other valentines like ralsei or elnina/lanino as precedent that this could be written to another person

- “HAPPY NEW YEAR! OR, WAS IT THE OLD YEAR.” “NOW, PUT ON YOUR COAT AND WASH YOUR FACE! OR, PUT ON YOUR FACE AND WASH YOUR COAT.” this reminds me of the river person dialogue and the egg man dialogue and again, the whole cat state egg stuff in general

- according to reddit im not the only one getting unused string vibes off the “put on your face” line lol

- “NOT NECESSARILY IN THAT ORDER. OR, IN ANY ORDER AT ALL.” chaos confirmed??? (joking haha jk unless...?? but probably joking)

- “GOOD BY!” clearly means something and isn’t a typo given there are no typos in the rest of the letter... but i have no idea what. a pun maybe?

- the tense shift from present - “It’s a strange letter” “It’s more or less” “if you squint” “you feel you could understand it” - to past - “There was a sound” “the letter was gone” - is interesting and seems to support the cat state egg things yet again (“there is a man here” “there was not a man here”)

ETA:

- actually... “Well, there is a man here.” “Well, there was not a man here.” “WELL, HAPPY NEW YEAR!” “WELL, IN ANY CASE,”

- overall i wonder if this character is associated with the past: an old timey letter, new or old year, the time going around, the character maybe having a good memory, the parent-y demand to wash up and put on a coat, and the shift from present to past tense?

- my crackpot first thought while first reading this (other than gaster) was “grandpa semi?” but that’s definitely not right lol

- they also might be associated with or affected by the timeline wonkiness going on: “HAPPY NEW YEAR! OR, WAS IT THE OLD YEAR.”, “THE TIME IS GOING AROUND,” the mixed-up order of coat and washing, the shift from present to past tense, and continuing a letter based on a response that hasn’t happened yet

- spamton love network: “the earth will stop spinning” might be a “the world revolving” reference... whatever “the world revolving” even means

- spamton love network: “where is the promise of perfection?” ???

- spamton love network: “my fears surging through me like suspicious waves” something with the ocean?

- spamton love network: once again i am operating on the assumption that the contents of the wayneradiotv spamton shows aren’t themselves canon yet have alluded to things within canon (eg. trouble dingle)

#this got long also hi still hiatusing sorry just popping by to drop this inane reaction.#and also maybe queue up a little bit #haven't really checked with theory tumblr just did a cursory reddit check so disclaimer that i could be missing a lot of important stuff

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strnger1985 · 7 months ago

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i had a dream about s5 and ngl i kinda like it

so there is a small leak about a new character called derek

he’s around 9-10, overweight, bully, hates adults

my guess is that he’s gonna be holly’s bully

anyway in my dream he was bullying holly about being the freaks sister and he was with his friend when they were bullying her in the park and suddenly out of nowhere his friend goes into the air, all his bones break etc.. but he literally explodes and blood goes everywhere and they both panic and end up not telling anyone and Holly was already doing some investigating on her own bc she always saw weird stuff happening in hawkins and she told derek about it and they have their own mission trying to figure out what is going on where they end up in the old lab looking around and they end up bumping into the hawkins kids including her siblings (mike and nancy) and her and derek despite hating eachother give them the info they have which actually helps them

#stranger things #stranger things 5 #holly wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler #nancywheeler #st 5 leaks #st 5 theories

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cinnamonest · 2 years ago

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When I first heard Cyno's title from leaks, as a good little simp, I went to investigate if a Mahamatra is something real.

Turns out, it is not only real, with being basically a morality police, but there's a type of Mahamatras whose duty is keeping tabs on women or something like that!

Imagine Cyno being also tasked as the keeper of the few women from Sumeru. He would, probably not intentionally, but terrify his darling by telling her how lucky she is to end up under his care. He treats the girls fairly, but once they are out of his watch to be distributed? He has seen the stuff men do to them. So stop complaining and be grateful for what he gives you! He actually treats you with decency.

(Fun fact! I had this entire thing already written and then windows auto-updated at some point while I was in urgent care bc I came home to it restarting and didn't save a temp recovery file in the appdata files :))))))

So I read a short entry about it, it seems like the exact responsibilities varied from subculture and households and communities, some of them over the general populace/common prostitutes but some of them were like a supervisor/babysitter + bodyguard combo to wealthier concubines and the like which is very :))))) and it also kinda reminds me of all the historical Chinese dramas where they have eunuchs that would guard emperor's wives and the like? And how a lot of cultures/eras within certain cultures had like "common prostitutes" and then like more elite brothels specifically for the wealthy/nobility/royalty that were often cared for, and some men would be appointed to watch over prostitutes and harems and the like

Sooooo I got to thinking of like a "more accurate to the time period the game is roughly based on" AU running with a similar idea (although of course I'm still wayyyyy deviating from historical accuracy entirely bc that makes things more fun)

//prostitute/concubine sort of darling, vaguely sexist stuff in a historical sort of way and heavily gendered, mentions of eunuchs because y'know historical AU stuff

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

Cyno being appointed to watch over and enforce rules on elite courtesans... Usually, these positions are only available to eunuchs, but some exceptions can be made for individuals who have been deemed worthy of the utmost trust, usually after proving themselves over the course of time. Thankfully, that's the classification he falls into... the notion of eunuchs makes him shudder to think about.

His dependableness, stoicism and clear self-control have earned him the trust of those in positions of authorities, and thus, he was assigned to this role. His observation skills and ability to keep tabs on more than one thing at once also helped. There's a few other such guards that take care of the lot of you as a whole, and that's part of his job as well, but he's the one personally assigned to you whenever you wish to go off on your own from the others, or into the public sphere.

He's not supposed to deny you that option, either, unless explicitly told not to by a superior, or if you want to go somewhere that is unallowed, in which case he is obligated to prohibit you from going. Otherwise, if you want to go somewhere, his job is to accompany you and tend to your whims, silently and stoically unless responding to something you say or speaking to a stranger on your behalf. Which he is expected to do, as you aren't allowed to speak to strangers, instead having him act as an intermediary.

When you go to markets (given a certain allowance of spending money to keep you happy and content), you point to the things you want or tell him what to get, and he does, speaking to merchants on your behalf. If someone approaches you for whatever reason - which is rare, seeing as most people know very well not to do so, especially with his intimidating presence beside you - he will, as he's trained and expected to do, physically step in between you and the other person, acting as a human shield in case someone were to approach you with the intent to attack, as well as a physical reminder of your status, communicating very clearly that the other individual should not be so arrogant as to assume he has any right to speak to you directly. And, of course, so you yourself don't get any ideas about talking to someone outside of the range of individuals you are allowed to speak to. If said individual is just pestering you to try and sell you something or harass you, he'll chase them off, otherwise he'll lean over so you can murmur your replies into his ear, allowing him to repeat it back to the other person.

As with that matter, with plenty of other scenarios, he's not just there to protect you. It's an unspoken condition, but understood nonetheless. He's there to keep an eye on your own behaviors. Your nature means that you can't be trusted to control your impulses or make good decisions, and if you weren't being closely watched, you may very well go off and sleep with someone else at the first opportunity you get. That's why you have him there, to ensure that that doesn't happen, to keep you in line, so to speak. Accompany you everywhere you go, sit in on your conversations with any and all visitors you have. To always know exactly where you are and what you're doing. For the few hours of night, there are guards at the end of the hall that watch the rooms where people are sleeping, but that's the only time he isn't by your side. Well, even then, he's assigned a room directly next to yours, even, to be able to spring up out of bed should you call for him, or if he's needed in any way, if you get sick in the night, and so on. So technically, he never really does leave your side.

Well, except for when one of the elites comes to "visit" you. Happens a few times a day, with the occasional break. Only certain individuals are allowed to do so. That's an important factor in your relationship. You live in a large complex, and only specific nobles and the highest-ranked individuals are allowed to enter your bed.

He's not one of them.

It's yet another class-standing issue. Sure, he may work for elites, he may dedicate his every waking moment to you and the others like you, but it would be considered defiling if he were to actually do anything to you. It's grounds for imprisonment... or worse. Only nobles have that privilege.

In truth, he resents said nobles. They're snobbish, selfish people that see you as an object, rather than a person. Usually cruel and critical towards you, never have anything nice or positive to say, always too busy to spend any time with you except to come to bed at night. It makes him grind his teeth, cover his ears so he doesn't have to hear. Likewise, you're supposed to act as though he couldn't possibly know, even though you both know full well he can hear anything that goes on in your room.

It makes him feel a very negative emotion. Anger? Bitterness? He tells himself it's because he knows they don't value you like you deserve. You've always been such a kind woman... he's seen you show concern and compassion for others, it's endearing. And in truth, while you're still of the weaker, inferior half of humanity, that kindness in and of itself is a very respectable thing... but those men would never appreciate that.

Yes, that's the real source of the anger, he knows that full well, and very quickly loses the ability to convince himself otherwise, after the first few weeks. It's because it feels unfair. They don't appreciate you, don't care for you, don't watch over you, they do nothing for you. He does all of that. He knows you far better. Yet they get to reap what logically should be his rewards.

But he stops that train of thought. "What should be his"? No, that way of thinking is dishonorable and selfish, defies the natural hierarchy of society. People of certain standing have privileges that lower members do not... even though he can't logically answer as to why. They just do. That is what is taught to the masses of the populace - the nobles and royalty deserve their palaces and wealth and feasts while the common man struggles to survive. A birthright bestowed by some higher power or the like. And as long as they have the ability to enforce that way of thinking, he has to accept it too.

And to even think of you in any way other than the purest of thoughts and a detached sense of guardianship, to have anything impure go through his mind, is sinful, filthy, almost a transgression when the thoughts intrude. It's his responsibility to push them away... even if that proves difficult.

No wonder they usually get eunuchs for this position. While the prospect is horrible, and he certainly doesn't envy them for obvious reasons, they do have the one advantage of not having to deal with the same extent of mental torment and temptation that he has to subject himself to. He starts to think he really didn't initially appreciate the trust placed in him enough, not realizing at the time of being appointed just how much willpower it would require.

And you don't make things any easier. To some extent, you're allowed to treat him like he's invisible, not even there. A lot of girls with such guardians do exactly that, pretty much never speaking to said appointed guardian unless needed, essentially going about their lives and acting like they don't even exist unless commanding them to fetch something or take care of some task.

You're rather talkative, though, at least with him. It is a bit surprising at first, albeit endearing. He's used to being seen as a tool, a sort of entity that exists to serve, and has been treated as such in past assignments in moral enforcement and dealing with violators of the society's rules, to the people he always reported to. He had some individual supervising roles before, but of all those jobs he's had in the past, you're the first one that's really... talked to him, for anything more than basic commands.

There's a good reason for that, too. You're not supposed to grow close to him in any capacity. It's not... proper, not right, it's frowned upon. There's no real given rule against it, but it's just one of those things that people don't do, that is understood without ever having to be addressed that you shouldn't. You're in a completely different world, your social role is too far apart from his for him to realistically be directly addressed by you so much.

And, of course, it's risky. People might get the wrong idea. Maybe it's just because you're quite literally trained in seduction and charm, but you always look at him with these half-lidded eyes, a sultry voice, a teasing way of speaking to him. It's basically just second nature to you, it's how you've always been taught to interact with every man you meet, to put on a flirtatiousness and sensuality with every word and every move and every expression.

It drives him up the wall, increasing with each day. The standards and norms of your role don't exactly dress you particularly modestly either, quite the opposite, which doesn't help. And you specifically are always on thin ice, always testing the boundaries, always pushing the limits of how much flirtatiousness can be excused. Perhaps that's why someone like him was assigned to you.

Well, he knows what he has to do. This is part of his job: correcting your behaviors when needed. There's a fine line of what he's allowed to tell you to do, an odd dynamic where you can tell him to do tasks for you, and yet, he also has the right - the obligation - to command you, when it comes to certain matters of behavior, and he's expected to judge each situation appropriately, to not go too far in reprimanding you, to always criticize when he should while avoiding overstepping a line. It's a learned skill, requiring a thorough knowledge of rules both documented and silently understood.

Whenever you sit on the floor next to him as you and all your sisters-in-profession converse each evening, when you lean over onto him and reach your hand over to his thigh, he grabs your wrist, and gently, simultaneously avoiding both unnecessary harshness while also ensuring he doesn't grip you for a single moment too long, pushes you back. It's probably best you get on to bed, you are weary.

When you skip around all excited as you do whenever there's music in the courtyards, come over to him and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, he grabs your hands and softly pushes them back to your chest. Please, be appropriate.

He makes sure you wear more modest clothing when you leave the main grounds, rather than those incredibly lewd outfits the nobles have you roaming around estate grounds in. Tells you to stop making eye contact and look downward and bow your head when stranger men approach, like you're supposed to. Always reinforcing standards and rules. You teasingly call him such a stick in the mud.

Better that, though, than subject to the wrath of higher-ups if he didn't perform his job.

When you shift to inappropriate topics, when you try and talk to strangers (he gets the sense you do it deliberately just to see him worry), when you stoop and bend and shift your legs in ways he knows is to catch attention. It's his responsibility to speak to you in a firm voice, tell you to behave yourself. You always roll your eyes, say something to the effect of affirming acknowledgement, but you never actually fix your behavior. It irritates him. Don't you know how serious what you do is? What if it wasn't him? What if it was anyone else? He asks you that, trying to get you to see reason, but even then, you shrug it off, clearly not understanding the gravity of the matter. It worries him. What if one day you get assigned to someone else, with far less self-control? What then? You're foolish and naive. It's a constant concern on his mind.

You don't mean it seriously, but you enjoy the reactions you get out of him in particular. You don't realize how significant it is, you think of it like just any other matter of poking fun at something. You think it's funny. You find it cute.

And far more dangerously, you think it's harmless.

Far from it, in reality. If people got the wrong idea, it could get him in trouble. Proof isn't needed for these sorts of things. If someone were to accuse him of something, it wouldn't matter if there was no evidence, or even if you were willing to testify or vouch in his favor. Your testimony can't be used in a court of law anyway. Even then, if the person accusing him was high enough in rank, there wouldn't even be a court of law, they would just command whatever their will may be. Not to mention, you would also get in massive trouble. The fact that you don't understand that, or at least don't take it seriously, is incredibly concerning.

He ends up having to draw a line. One night at random, completely unprovoked, so much so it catches him off-guard. You have always teased and poked fun at him with that grin on your face, tried to get him flustered and embarrassed. Overstepping the boundaries of appropriateness, which he always chastises you for as is warranted. You always obey for the moment, but return to the same thing within a matter of minutes.

The kind of teasing that bothers him the most, though, is when you pry about his own life, deeply personal things. There was that time you first managed to pry out of him that he wasn't a eunuch - oh, no, now I'm scared. Heheh... just kidding. There was the time you asked him if he had any children, or a lover back home. He had to reinforce the negative answer several times (crossing his arms and getting all stiff and looking away, which you seemed to find very amusing) before you believed him and left the matter alone.

And then, one night, walking back to your room with him by your side in the otherwise empty hall, you return to that topic he hates so much. You're so tense all the time. It's not good to be so stressed, you know.

Your footsteps stop. You turn to him with that smirk on your face, grab one of his hands and clasp both of your own around it, pulling it closer to you. You speak in that playful, sultry tone.

I can help you. No one has to know.

It actually takes him a second to reply, stunned into wide-eyed stillness and silence, an expression of shock you've never seen on his usually stoic face. His whole body goes stiff and rigid. Then, after that moment passes, he jerks his hand back out of your grasp with force, stumbles a few steps back. He looks back at you with a serious, intimidating expression, one that makes the grin on your face fall, makes you shrink back.

Never say such things to me.

Even in all the times you've been reprimanded, he's never used that firm and rebuking of a tone. It makes you take a step back. You hang your head, speaking quietly, all traces of the flirtatious tone from moments before vanished.

...I'm sorry.

You can hear the frustration as he lets out a heavy exhale. Brings his hand up to his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Mutters something about how you're too careless for your own good.

Go on to bed. I will forget this. You ought to as well.

You clearly feel hurt and guilty, and in truth, he really does feel bad about it, almost starts to apologize for being so firm to you, as you nod and turn to your door, hurriedly shuffling inside. But consciously, he knows you needed that firmness. Better to learn that now, than learn it by making a much more grave mistake. So he lets you go inside without another word exchanged.

And more importantly, it's best you go inside so you don't see the state he's in. He's on the verge of losing composure, managing to hold himself together right up until the moment your door shuts, before stumbling back to the wall, leaning against it as he slowly sinks down to the ground. Holds his hand out in front of his face to see it trembling. Presses two fingers to his neck to feel the rapid pounding of his heart. It takes a while, sitting there staring blankly to your door on the other side, before he can bring himself to stand up again. Even then, he has to hesitate a moment. Going in there would be so easy. All he would have to do is open the door. Put one foot in front of the other. It would be so simple.

And there's a voice in the back of his head that says you would be right. No one would know. He could probably get away with it.

It takes every ounce of willpower in his entire being (and, as a great motivator, thinking of the consequences if he were caught) to instead turn and go back to his own bed. Staring up at the ceiling all night.

Yes, it really was incredible that they would trust him so much.

Not that he can bring himself to leave you, no. He's terrified of what could happen to you if he left, he clearly sees how you disregard all of his warnings as to how dangerous the way you behave would be to anyone else. And he also can't leave because... he cares for you too much. His whole life revolves around you. To remove you from it would be like tearing his heart of out his chest.

But at the same time, surely he can't stay. It feels like an hourglass reaching the last few grains of sand, like a clock slowly ticking down. Something is bound to happen. Because of you... or maybe, if something in him finally breaks, because of himself. Or maybe because of you both. It's evitable. Like an animal in a trap, and he doesn't know how to get out. The only thing to do is wait for the inevitable day something happens, perhaps because of you... but now he's starting to think his downfall will be his own doing.

#.cn

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