#but she’s technically not part of cannon yet

[honey-olive]

A moment of silence for all of those Kiane fans who expected to see kiane’s kids after this draft from the grudge of Edinburg

My pain is too deep and my disappointment is unmeasurable

[bokettochild]

Okay, so, working on a fic here, but does anyone remember when JoJo posted Shady Escape Part 4? The arc where the shadow first smushed Wind and opened a portal in front of them?

Well JoJo posted this with the comic

This would mean that prior to this point the Links have been in the same world the whole time (and the portals are apparently not portals, but "gates"!) and since Shady Escape, they've only traveled to one other era, the one we're still in in the Dawn arc.

Jojo originally never meant this story to be an actual story, just quick AU comics and sketches

So I understand that things are still a bit unclear as she shifts from having random ideas to having to create a cohesive plot, and honestly she's been doing a fantastic job of setting the stage for us and slowly introducing concepts, characters and other important pieces of the story, but it does leave us with one major question: do the original doodles count as cannon?

The Malon Arc, the Chain meeting Ravio, these things would have required the boys to shift worlds previously, or be in either Time or Legend's eras in order for them to have happened. They haven't been to both though. Thus far, they've been to two different eras, the second being one where none of them knew where they are, and it's only the conversation between Twilight and Four in Divine Dark Reflections that tells us they are even aware of the fact that they're traveling through time!

So, this would mean that anything that has to do with them being in any hero specific era until now has not yet happened! Other than perhaps Time's era, which is only supported by this panel from Deep Shadows part 2

Time knows the woods they're in, so his recognition would indicate that this is most likely his era. So, maybe they've met Malon at this point in the story, but that means anything else (Linkle, Ravio, anything fro the others' eras) hasn't yet happened, and considering the fact that the Malon arc isn't included with the rest of the official story, but instead with the early doodles, we can't even be certain that it has happened yet.

All this to say, fic writers technically have free reign with what they want to boys to know about the other eras, and who they want the to know about (other than the Ordonian people, who Twilight apparently can't shut up about lol). That, and, we have no clue whether JoJo is going to rehash old comics or cut them entirely from the story cannon.

[lisa-russell]

Another point I will stick onto my GreyScale Agent 4 Hijacked Security System Avatar Conspiracy Board.

EDIT: Saw the new info. A copy of Four is Still...in a loose sense Four, like have you seen the Lesser Four Copies? The way they all pose and how the last one is just pulled down in the Grey Ooze cause they weren't focusing on 8...It's like the main Copy has all of the Ogs agents skills and drive. Yet pieces of Fours funky personality from in-game cannon got carried over by the portion of Said Soul being drawn in to form a pallette!

Click or tap images tah read and zoom in...So yah gonna tell me non of this has any real correlation or claim? *jabs finger at the images below.*

EDIT: I WAS RIGHT!, so what if The Parallel Cannon is said to be just a copy surronded by lesser copies. Order still had to capture a fraction of Fours Soul and than Copy a template or construct of Four, in the process of also Greyscaling those copies and reprograming them into a Security Force for its own use!

Meanwhile the Original Soul Fragment was WAS USED, to form a Pallete.

So...yah. Its maybe not the full 4 BUT it's also still technically 4 to a degree!

EDIT: Hmph. So I was pretty clam close to the lore!)

I am like 71% convinced that it is Agent 4. Despite. What. The. Game and Off the hook reacts to. Theirs faaaar to much evidence to not considered or convenience, me otherwise!

Another interesting detail is the very boss name itself...

And than these little tid bits below...theres far too much stuff HINTING AT 4...like we all know how Nintendo loooooves tah hide der lore.

EDIT: JUST LIKE THE JELLOTONS FOURS COPY WAS REPROGRAMED AND RECONSRRUCTED INTO A ROLE ONLY ORDER WOULD WANT.

And from dat ominoius statement Baby Order left on 4s Soul Weapon Pallete, I point to this other little fact.

Overlorder...so many little hints at the corrupted A.I twists what was going to be 4s job, or rather reaaaaally likes that idea.

And just inking goes for 4.

We or those who have read Marina's Dev Dairies know the rather horrifying and painfully traumatize process of being Sanitized.

And I point out GreyScaling sounds pretty similar no?

The memverse was made to REVERSE IT, or at least help bring life back to those poor empty husks. Yah, they legit said Husks.

I'm thinking Overlorder took dat Data and used it to form the Greyscaling process, taking advantage of the Glitch or Security Risk in the memverse and sucked up A Soul Fragment of Agent 4s portion via the Shellphone -to form the Copy Amalgamation of Parallel Cannon.

Ironically creating a Security System Avatar.

For its own purpose.

And may I point out, in my run after defeating Marina...it was them who I encountered next as if my 8 had activated the Avatar by excuting some form of alarm system built into the spire. And I recall that Marina made the whole thing to be repeatable, helping 8 or any Sanitized Octo regain their memories--yet when yah defeat dah boss, she reacts if she had never designed or even put in a template for that boss...unlike the other two. Which would explain dah new info e got on Order capturing and copying 4s Agent Skillset and Biodata for its own foul use!

-------(Edit: The famistu interview duddddes.)

A MUCH clearer new info about 4...

See dah part where der made out of sludge?

GREY FAMILIAR LOOKING SLUDGE. Grey Oooze...apparently capable of not only erasing memories and the conscious self, but also copying the Soul Fragments of captured victims when installed or pasted into it, thus creating an Artificial and rather freaky constructs or Avatars for Order to use...

A copy they maybe...but it still had to come from the Original Agent 4.

And I don't think Four would have willingly allowed the Corrupted Order A.i to use their biodata and skillsets for such a dark purpose.

IF yah think about it dis way, they had a fragment of der soul torn from themselves, thus becoming a victim and vulnerable to Greyscaling. THAN that Fragment was, forcibly copied without OGs Fours permission and most likely put through some kind of Greyscaling process, it's body and much like the Jellotons, was reconstructed and copied again tah be used as a weapon...

THAN that remaining OG Soul Fragment as turned into 4s favorite weapon...

Like hers how the describe Fours personality and traits directly from in-game lore:

"Agent 4 is described as a silent squid who goes with the flow even in raging waters, and values freedom and flexibility. They also "blast through any situation with ease." Agent 4 did not initially know who the Squid Sisters were, but later came to respect them after their journey in Octo Canyon. Agent 4, as seen in promo pictures and art, has a diligent work ethic, a lot of confidence, and is extremely free-spirited. Compared to Agent 3, they are shown to be more easygoing and relaxed, yet slightly upbeat in their mannerisms and are constantly depicted as smiling in official art."- Inkipedia

Now try and imagine how having a fragment of their soul captured would effect such a sunshine ray of an Agent... and I could see why Order made a moldable copy of Four. Four would rebel with all der might against Order, like Corrupted Order sounds like their worst nightmare...

And that is my thoughts on dah whole Agent 4 Thang.

[katshelluvacritic]

Not sure if you've seen the finale of the show yet because I'd love to hear your thoughts on how absolutely useless Charlie was once again

I’ve pretty much all the eps for season 1 so you don’t have worry about the spoilers.

As for the ep, I’mma just immediately rip the bandaid off and say that I had to watch it again to remember what happened, yet my brain is still kinda processing it again so I’mma type this to the best of my ability and if I do miss some parts I do apologize.

To start off with one of the things I didn’t like that included Charlie (mostly a personal nitpick) was her “battle fit” (if you could even call it that)

I feel like it should be self explanatory but I’ll explain anyway; for one, the fact that Charlie wearing what I like to call “the evil star butterfly cosplay” just doesn’t make sense to me. Like even though I don’t like Vicky’s fit either, at least she’s wearing something that could cover her skin to lessen the risk of cuts and injuries.

Charlie however is not only wearing a dress but also HIGH HEELS, which realistically would prob have her dead from the spot because for one, you can’t run in heels and two, like I said before she’s at higher risk to be injured compared to Vicky.

Like I’m honestly shocked that she only got a few rips from her clothing and a few bruises, like I get she’s the princess of hell but damage is still damage.

Not only that since Charlie is a princess then, wouldn’t she have access to wear royal armor??? Assuming she did (because there’s gotta be a reason to where she got that shield from), why didn’t she just wear that???? I feel like it would’ve been the most logical thing to wear since after all, YOUR GOING TO WAR AGAINST DEMONS.

Also speaking of the shield, why does she only have a shield and nothing else? You would think that since she’s the princess of hell she’d have some sort of weaponry but no.

She just guards herself a shield while occasionally throwing up magical fireworks like if that’s gonna do anything. Like, I get all niffty did most of the time was stab already dead angels before she killed adam, but at least she actually tried to do some damage compared to Charlie.

And then Razzle and Dazzle.

Listen, I can understand her not being able to save sir pentious because she was trying to protect Vicky and a lot of stuff was going on but why did she summon them? Isn’t she the daughter of lucifer? Wouldn’t she have transforming powers or something to get up there

I mean we’re shown in this gif that he can transform into different animals as he so pleases and can EVEN GROW WINGS.

Wouldn’t Charlie technically have those abilities? And even if she doesn’t have those abilities, these fuckers have guns and cannons with them that could shoot/blast Adam down.

Also gotta love the fact Charlie just stays on the roof of the hotel and watches the Lucifer and Adam fight happen UNTIL ADAM RAY BEAMS THE HOTEL IN HALF, ONLY FOR HER TO BE SAVED BY LUCIFER was so dumb. Women do SOMETHING WHY WERE YOU JUST STANDING THERE????

then like the ending. Omg the ending…

“Omg guys I lost sir p and the hotel guys, I failed” PENDEJA. YOU DID JUST DICK ALL DURING THAT WAR OTHER THAN WAVE SOME SHIELD AROUND WITH SOME FIREWORKS. CRY HARDER. BOO HOO I GUESS.

And I just gotta say, I doesn’t entirely include Charlie but like these parts of the lyrics

What???? Tf you mean redemption may take a while???? We’re still going with that??? After the war against heaven you guys just had??? Did Charlie forget what happened in episode 6, where like there was some shit about heaven being a lie and this evil place???? Why are you guys still trying to redeem sinners when YOU Charlie, realized heaven is evil???

But don’t worry, they rebuild the hotel guys! They can live happy ever after right?

Even though like… let me check my notes…. Oh right! Angel is still stuck with valentino, husk’s soul is still taken away by alastor! Oh yeah, I guess viv forgot about that part I guess.

I know I’ve already said this to friends of mine but ngl this episode especially just reminded of this one page from sonichu where Chris and his chars execute a guy in an electric chair but make it viv’s characters and Adam/heaven.

But uh, yeah. I don’t like Charlie, I don’t like this episode, I don’t like this series. I don’t know anymore.

[sansthepinecone]

So can we talk about shaggy and scooby doo?

So Shaggy is the beneficiary of several of his elderly relatives estates right?

Including his mad scientist uncle who has robotic servants?

As well as the fact that not only does he descends from wealth BUT he also descends from pharaohs? from presidents? FROM KING ARTHUR HIMSELF???

The fact that he in canon owns Camelot! as well as part of ancient Egypt!?!?

And that he is always welcome in hundreds of towns due to the fact that he helped solve people's mysteries?!?!

He also is incredibly fit? Like incredibly fit???

So much so that he has several awards from the County level to the international level?? [ including pole vaulting ]

So much so that not only has he played basketball with the Harlem Globetrotters BUT he also aced his astronaut exam???

Or the fact that he is the fastest human being alive since guess what? Great danes like scooby doo can run up to forty miles an hour

....thats faster than Usane bolt

[ side note: the reason scooby and shaggy are so hungry all the time is that they are running at inhuman speeds constantly ]

As well as the fact that he in cannon is very smart??? Like i said earlier he aced his astronaut exam!? ........ as well as coming up with ways to delay monsters from getting near him constantly?? and jimmy rigging machinery often?? Like some engineer level stuff upon occasion???

Or the fact that he is one of the worlds fastest speed eaters???

What about the fact that he has not only been a werewolf in cannon but also that he has been super powered? ALSO SENT INTO A VIDEO GAME???

As well as many other such things!

Or that he in cannon has seen some elder cryptids? He has seen the real loch ness monster?

As well as fighting/befriending/meeting/romancing a whole lot of undead?

There are the Thirteen Ghosts as well as a witches ghost? He was pretty friendly with some werewolves that one time where he offroad raced Dracula [ and many more things like these]

Or that he is a good fighter?

He one-time wrecked a whole bar of bikers...BY HIMSELF???

Or that time where he slaughtered a army of sentient pumpkins [ he did have help besides scooby this time but still ]

Or that time he went terminator mode on robot security guards at a prison camp

He also fought those gladiators in cyberspace

Also has had adventures the like of which can be compared to those of the Doctor? [ Yes i am referring to Doctor Who right now ]

And throughout all of this he only has mild fame [in cannon of course]

so Daphne is rich but all that wealth is her fathers technically

As well as the fact that she has four sisters and several cousins

Shaggy is and will continue to be independently wealthy due to reasons already listed

He also owns the mystery machine even though Fred is the one to drive/repair/clean/love the mystery machine

And shaggy just hangs out with these people solving mysteries and having a good time

What a lad just traveling the world, eating food, meeting countless new people...

So whats not to love about him?

But yet some people think he is just comic relief

Well to those people i scoff at you *scoffs menacingly*

[swords-of-a-soilder]

My QSMP Headcannons vs in game Canon

Feel free to correct me if I get the Canon wrong.

•Tallulah uses hearing aids-this one is actually cannon but people tend to leave it out in art.

•philza uses a walking cane after purgatory- while Phil stated multiple times that the condition of his wings gave him poor balance, even though his wings are somewhat better I imagine the constant back and forth for someone who was never really good a balancing paired with the weight of his new wings probably make it very difficult to stay balance while walking.

•Fit, Tubbo lost limbs in purgatory- correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure Tubbo didn't lose a lib in Canon, and I'm also not sure if the texture of Fit new skin is meant to be read as a prosthetic but I like the idea.

•Richardslyson has a prosthetic leg- this isn't excalty clear whether or not it's canon, we know his model in game has a leg that doesn't connected to his shell but it also important to note that Phil adjusted Richards statue to reflect a prosthetic leg, so you could technically consider it canon.

•Phil is demi-romantic- I know Phil never gave a clear sexual orientation to his in game character, but watching them interact with other love interest he gives the vibe of a demi-romantic person.

•Fit and Phil are divorced on really good terms- the kind were you realize your better as friends, which would also play a part in Phil discovering his is demi-romantic. Obviously in canon they was no clear past relationships established between them.

•Bolas actually does see Phil as a father figured- obviously Cellbit calmed he was joking when he called Phil dad, however Baghera still seems to call him that. I also really just want Cellbit to have a good father figure lmao.

•Rose is Phil's mother- I could go into detail of how the goddess of life birth the angle of death, but I equate it to her being his mother as God is your father but like she's his mother directly. She made him, she raised him, she'll protect him like her like depends on it.

In canon Rose just seems to be the Spawn entity but I like to imagine her as his Spawn entity. That would mean that she spawned him into existence in the hardcore world.

•the federation isn't evil, just misunderstood- I'm not saying they are good, just more morally grey. They do horrible experiment and treat the residents curly in our eyes, but in their eyes this is normal.

They do things thinking the residents don't know any better and therefore their complains are invalid, quite like a narcissist parent.

•the eggs can shape shift- I love the idea of the eggs taking on physical traits of the person (s) that they feel loved by slowly the more fond they become of them.

So the original Chayanne would stay an egg for the first two days then shock his parents by appearing as a little boy with blond hair.

When badly injured they go back to egg form.

•Charlie is in fact part slime and that's how he shape shifted into gegg- technically the qsmp info channel confirmed this in the qsmp full story videos

•Jaiden was a part of project blue bird- again not confirm, but I really like the idea that she was raised by Cucuchroo and that's why she naturally acts kinder to him (but she doesn't remember)

•the island has a respawn entity- following the concept of Rose aiding Phil's spawn, I like to imagine the whole island has a entity that revives players after death, and thus respawning in other demension ie the nether, takes much longer as that a different entity all together.

•the radiation of the blast from purgatory turned Foolish into a shark human hybrid, I mean technically canon since has the speed fins now.

•Forever has a survivor complex- this is up to interpretation of whether or not it's canon but I perceive Forever's behaviour as someone who feels he had to save everyone; He is the president after all.

•Forever likely still has feelings for Phil- or better yet the feelings have developed into genuine love as opposed to obsession, but from observing Missa learnt the best way to love Phil is to respect his wishes.

•Lovejoy is canon in the qsmp and is sponsored by the federation hence why Wilbur often leaves for tours. I'm actually not sure if this is canon or not, I recall Phil joking about it but I don't know if that's the Canon explanation as to how he's allowed to leave the island.

•Missa like Wilbur is sent on sponsored trips by the federation; in which he gather information on other islands, the resources of said island and whether or not their populated

•The codes are corrupted dead eggs- I'm mostly getting this theory from the codes disguising themselves as eggs and codaflipa, but I really like the idea that the codes are eggs that have died in the past with past residents and are restless.

A good backing for this is how Sofia found the eggs to be non organic, which makes me think that in a way they are computer programming, an sentient artificial life.

That does however bring the lore question of how their ghost can return, I think codes are a store of ghost form for them, with the code of their existence being shattered after a while they degraded to code monsters.

This would explain why they kill eggs (they want more company) and how they're able to disguised as them. Codaflipa can only return a few times because it's difficult to keep that form with shattered codes.

Now it is hinted at that the eggs are artificial, Sofia and the details of A1 being hints at that, but there is no Canon confirmation of such to my knowledge

I also know that Etoiles seem to believe the code killed eggs because they were being controlled by the federation, but I don't believe that seeing as the federation went out of their way to get the eggs back.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #11] Perry

warnings: birds! jaykay gets kissed in a club :( paint party! fun!! b and jk then proceed to have a totally platonic shower :) normal friend things!!

soundtrack: better - khalid; & cry! - middle part

wc: 5.9k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

Jeongguk ignores the look on Taehyung's face as you enter the bar that evening. It's not the hug that Jeongguk greets you with that's unusual, nor your typically sparkling appearance - but the smile on Jeongguk's lips? Yeah. Taehyung hasn't seen one like that in a while.

Still, he doesn't make a big deal of it, for Danbi's following just behind you. He's far more interested in his attempts (and failures) to chat her up, instead.

Namjoon watches on with shallow curiosity. His watchful eyes lounge on you as he takes a sip on his drink, a little more reserved than the others. Taehyung and Jimin greet you and Danbi like old friends, and in a way, it sort of feels like they are.

The club is empty - hasn't opened to punters yet, and won't for another half an hour. The suppliers hired for the paint cannons are still setting up; doing test runs into an empty space where patrons should be. It's strange to see this perspective of a club. Like a liminal space, it feels like you shouldn't be there - but the boys are unphased. Are used to it by now.

"And Hoseok?" Jeongguk questions when he notices the lack of sunshine shadowing behind you.

"Having drinks with the boys," you tell him without much care. You forget Jeongguk isn't as intricately weaved into your social life as he is into your personal life.

"The boys?" 

He doesn't mean to sound so affronted, but he'd always just assumed it was the singular boy; that your little trio was a friendship that existed within a vacuum. Of course, it doesn't. You've an entire social circle that he's none the wiser of.

You pay his confusion no mind. "Yeah. How are you? How have you been?"

The conversation moves on, Jeongguk leading you into the room behind the bar in which they're pregaming.

"It's technically the staff room," he says with a shrug. "But what the boss doesn't know can't hurt him."

There's an airiness to his demeanour; his tipsy brain just as fluffy as the clouds that float around the ends of rainbows. There's safety there. No promises of gold, just certainty of a stable foundation. 

It's a side to him you've never had the luxury of witnessing before, but part of you feels like you always knew he'd be like this. Always knew how he'd smile after a few drinks; how his giggle would sound just that little bit brighter.

"No Seoyeon tonight?" Jimin asks Yoongi as he arrives just a little after you. His cheeks are pink, the clammy heat of the club already getting to him, even when it's empty. Namjoon passes him a bottle of beer, unopened. Yoongi's unphased. Clamps the soft metal cap between his teeth and prizes it off, before he takes a sip and shakes his head.

"Nah, nah, she just dropped me off. Has brunch tomorrow with her friends so doesn't wanna be hungover," he explains as he takes a seat next to Taehyung.

Jeongguk leans over to you, quietly clueing you up. "His fiancée."

"Ah," you nod, before Yoongi turns his attention to you and Danbi.

You're reintroduced, and are quick to learn that Jeongguk and Jimin only ever seem to refer to you as Disco Ball amongst their friends. Yoongi mentions it first - 'you really do look like a disco ball' - but the rest of the boys chime in agreement. 

There's protest from you. Sure, you've got enough glitter to decorate a Christmas card on your eyelids, but your outfit is pretty subdued. Jeongguk had told you not to wear anything fancy - "the paint is water-based, but just in case. Don't want you to wreck your favourite party dress, or anything like that." - and so you'd listened. 

He doesn't tell you, 'cause he doesn't think you'll need it, but Jeongguk brought a spare shirt with him. Just a white one. Big. Wasn't sure if you'd think about the logistics of a paint party - but it isn't your first rodeo. You've been to a handful of events like these in the past, and know what to expect. 

You're in a big white shirt of your own, wearing it like a dress with a flannel layered on top.  Admittedly, the tights are giving disco ball chic - fishnets with teeny tiny gemstones sparkling underneath the dim lights of the backroom. 

Jeongguk can't decide on how the fuck to describe your style. It's not grunge - too sparkly for that. Equally, there's too much of an edge to you for it to be considered 'girly'. He doesn't understand it. Quite likes it, though. Likes that you're still wearing those black hightops you always seem to be in. 

Normally at the club you'd be in heels - but again, it's not your first rodeo. You know better than to tempt the paint party gods with a stiletto and sopping wet floor combination. Learnt that mistake the hard way back in university.

Jeongguk taps his foot against yours. No one else notices, too busy engaged in their own conversations. When you glance down, you realise why - he's in his converse, too. The only shoes he doesn't mind wrecking. They've been through the wars before. A little paint won't hurt them.

You knock his foot back. He smiles. 

There are no words exchanged, just an understanding; you and he are cut from the same cloth.

You pay attention to everyone else's shoes now. Are looking for other kindred spirits. Jimin's in Chelsea boots- black leather, a little tarnished, in need of a polish. 

Taehyung's in brogues for some reason, and you can't think of a worse shoe to have chosen for such an occasion. So many holes. So much to wreck.

Danbi, ever smart, ever stylish, is in a pair of white sneakers. She knows the game she's come to play. It's why she's in all white, too. 

Yoongi and Namjoon are both sporting Nikes, not too fussed about the evening ahead. 

And so it's just you and Jeongguk. You tap your feet against the floor and smile. "Stop copying me."

"I was here first, Byeol," he banters back, but is cut off by Yoongi declaring the need for you all to play a card game. It's one you don't think you've heard of, but make no objection. With the number of drinking games you've played over the last few years, you're almost certain you'll know it.

He deals cards and you quickly come to realise that you don't know the rules. Jeongguk tells you it's fine - "I'll help you out, c'mere." - and encourages you to show him your cards. He organises them; gets them in an order that will work for the game.

"Hey, I'm just as clueless!" Danbi pouts, and so Jimin grabs her cards to redistribute them. 

"We'll work as a team," he says, eyes flicking over to Taehyung, just to check how he feels about it. Danbi is oblivious, but you catch the way Taehyung raises his brows in Jimin's direction. There's a slight smirk on his lips. 

"Don't mind them," Jeongguk mumbles quietly, just for you to hear. "Jimin's just winding him up. Told Tae if he doesn't make a move that he will instead. Think he's just trying to encourage him. Making him be proactive, yanno?"

"He better bloody be," you muse, taking a sip on the drink Jeongguk had put in front of you when he started messing about with your cards. Tequila slammer. Fucking vile. Does get you fucked up, though.

"Jealous, are we, Byeol?" he smirks, swapping one of your cards with his. "Here, it'll help."

You don't dignify him with a response. It's a stupid thing to tease you about, because you know there's no way in hell Danbi would sleep with Jimin. While sharing is caring, sexual partners aren't something the pair of you have ever shared. Hasn't happened before, and won't happen in the future. It's an unspoken rule.

One that Jeongguk would do well to remember.

The evening carries on just as it began; light banter, drinks far too strong, and electromagnetic force somehow keeping you and Jeongguk attached at the hip. You're in the smoking area far more than you are on the dancefloor. You're not smoking, mind you, just talking nonsense. Making bets. Being stupid. 

"Have you read him yet?" You ask when Jeongguk finally presents you with Perry the paper pigeon.

He shakes his head. Bites his lip. "No. You can do the honours."

He watches your hands as you unfold the paper, but the soft laugh you produce draws his attention to your face. 

"Ask for someone's number," you read out, bemused at how shy Jeongguk apparently is.

He groans. "God, that's so embarrassing."

"Nooo," you laugh, drunk body swaying into his a little. He's giggling too, now. Can't seem to help it. "It's cute."

"So lame."

"Shut up," you beam. "It's a start! A good bloody place to start as well. Something easy."

Jeongguk vehemently disagrees. Tells you as such. Says, "imagine asking for a number and getting rejected over something so simple. Would be mortifying. A very valid fear."

"So you go for a girl you know is interested," you say. "Look, this is the best place for it. Remember how many girls find you on Instagram after they come here? It won't be any different now that you're out from behind the bar. If anything, you've got far more chances!"

He spends the next fifteen minutes moaning about it. You decide a drink is the only remedy to his whining.

You order four Purple Starfuckers from Yeonjun. Jeongguk is offended. Insists he can make them, despite the fact he is quite literally covered head to toe in paint. and has a permanent grin from just how tipsy he is. Yeonjun tells him no. Says the bar is off-limits. Jeongguk says he'll fire him, and Yeonjun just laughs in his face. 

"Alright. Bet you 10,000 you won't remember trying to fire me in the morning."

"Deal."

"Disco Ball, you're our witness," the blue-haired menace winks towards you. "Make sure he pays up."

"Aye, aye, captain," you wink back, and instantly regret the rogue pirate shtick because Jeongguk looks at you like you've got three heads. 

"The fuck?"

"What?"

"Captain," he snorts. "Captain."

"Oh, don't get jealous," you tease. "Is this because you want me to call you Daddy, again?"

This time, Yeonjun stops what he's doing. Looks at the pair of you with a slack jaw and wild eyes. Doesn't know what the fuck is going on between you, but knows he wants to watch every second of it unfold. 

When he serves you shots, he smirks. "Here you go. Captain," he nods in your direction, and then in Jeongguk's. "Daddy."

"Never call me that again," Jeongguk gags. 

"Sure thing, Daddio."

"Oh my God." 

Yeonjun walks away laughing to himself, all very amused. Will never stop calling Jeongguk Daddy now that he knows it'll get a rise out of him. Imagines you'll probably get a very different kind of rise out of him when you call him Daddy, but that's neither here nor there.

"I hate you for that," Jeongguk tells you, and you kind of believe him - but God, that broad smile of his is on full display, and the glitter on your skin is reflecting in his eyes like a clear nights sky. Impossible to feel anything remotely close to hatred around him, you think.

"It doesn't matter," you tell him, having noticed the girl behind the pair of you check him out at least three times since you've been at the bar. You kind of recognise her. Think you must have seen her before, whether it be on his follower's list or in the club. She seems like a safe bet. Interested.

"Girl behind you - look, quickly, but don't make it obvious -" Jeongguk turns around like a deer in headlights. "I said don't make it obvious! The girl with the high pony. She's been looking at you for a while now. I think she's into you."

Suddenly, Jeongguk feels very out of his depth. "Maybe we should go outside."

"Nope," you say so sternly that he feels like he's being told off at school. "Perry says you have to ask a girl for her number. Just a number. It's not a big deal. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She'll say no."

"Boo-hoo. Cry about it. It's two letters, Gguk. One word. It won't ruin your life. Here -" you pass him the final Purple Starfucker "- Down it. You've got this. If she says no, fuck her."

"If she says no to giving me her number, I don't think she'll want to fuck."

"Christ, not literally, Gguk." You spin his shoulders around. Give him a nudge. "Go. Do it."

He takes a breath. Psyches himself up. Swallows back the taste of his shot - which is a lot better than the tequila slammers he's been drinking all night - and catches her eye.

You retreat back a little bit, trying to make yourself look busy. Yeonjun watches on from the bar, even more confused than he was before. Were the two of you not just flirting? Are you not definitely boning? He could have sworn you were.

The DJ transitions into a shitty remix of an old Sean Paul song, and you wish you'd have kept Jeongguk around for a little longer to orchestrate a better soundtrack for him. None of the crowd cares how shitty it is though - cannons are launching buckets of neon paint onto revellers, covering every inch of the place in a technicolour haze. 

Your flannel shirt is in the backrooms, as is your bag. Danbi's handprints are on your tits, yours on her ass, but the rest of your shirt is just a haphazard mess of colour. There's no rhyme nor reason; just paint. So much fucking paint. It feels like you're back at work. 

A mirror runs along the back of the bar, and you use it to observe Jeongguk's adventure. You kind of feel like a proud parent as they begin to talk.

"Hey," the girl smiles. Jeongguk thinks she sounds sweet. A lot raspier than he expected. He quite likes that, though - although he can't really hear her all that well above the bass of the speakers. The way her lips curve thanks to his approach makes him feel a lot more secure in his endeavour. "You're normally behind the bar, right? I think I've seen you before."

"Oh," Jeongguk cringes, a little embarrassed. This is why he doesn't go for punters. He hates that there's never a clean slate. Always feels unfair. "Yeah, yeah. I manage the bar. I'm surprised you noticed."

"Well you do a very good job," she compliments, twirling a little hair from her ponytail with her index finger.

"I do?"

"I keep coming back," she shrugs. "So you must do. Could be something to do with how cute the bar manager is, though."

You watch on as he talks to her, bemused by the way his weight shifts from one foot to the other. Clearly nervous, you think it's wild that Jeongguk is so scared of rejection. He's a catch. Sure, his working hours are a bit unsociable, and maybe he doesn't have life figured out just yet, but you don't think he's too far off.

It'll take a little time for him to get where he wants to be in life, but he's actively working for it. He's studying, laying down foundations. Has a great social circle and is yet to present any qualities you think could be problematic for a healthy, enduring relationship. In a room of walking red flags, he's gleaming white.

"Who is she?" Yoongi asks with great intrigue as he comes to stand beside you.

"Not a clue."

"Does he know who she is?" He laughs. Knows that you and Jeongguk have only been hanging out for a little while, but can also read the dynamic between the pair of you fairly well. Knows that your opinion clearly matters to Jeongguk, and is trying to gauge your thoughts. 

"Hopefully he will do soon," you say with a warm smile. The girl is laughing at something Jeongukk has said, making his bashful gaze all the more endearing. "He's getting her number."

Yoongi chokes on his drink. "Holy shit."

It's been months since Jeongguk has even entertained the idea of another girl. Maybe even a year. Yoongi might not have known the ins and outs of his former fling, but he knows Jeongguk hasn't quite been the same since.

"Uh-huh."

"Is this Jeon Jeongguk finally back in the game?"

"Could be."

"Well, I never," Yoongi exhales. "You know how many times we've tried to get him back in the saddle?"

"You needed a woman's touch," you laugh, biting down on your lip slightly as you watch Jeongguk scratch at the back of his head. The girl is laughing, flirting, clearly. She rests her hand on his bicep, and Jeongguk seems all shy again. He looks up. Catches your gaze quickly. Doesn't let it linger, but finds himself thinking he should end the conversation and report back on everything that's happened - but when he looks back to you, he sees you engaged in conversation with Yoongi and decides against it.

"Clearly," Yoongi agrees. "I dunno what you've done to him, but he's finally acting like himself again."

"I'm just a good distraction," you shrug. 

You're right. You are. You make Jeongguk forget all about his inner turmoil, cause he's always worried about yours instead. He's thinking about it now, as the girl's hand lingers on his shirt. Trails down his arm. Reaches for his hand.

"Y'know, I've actually gotta get back to my friends," he says. He's snagged on thoughts about you. Nothing in particular. Just the fact that you exist. That you're there. That he's not hanging out with you, and he feels like he should be.

She nods. "Yeah, me too. Text me, yeah?"

He returns the nod, almost too eagerly. "I will. Have a good night, yeah?"

She pulls a little on his hand. Is aiming for a kiss she isn't gonna get.

But then Jeongguk feels your gaze on him again, and there's pressure to perform; to act as if he's doing well, as if he isn't absolutely shitting himself. He doesn't stop her when she leans in. Doesn't stop her when her palm rests on his chest. Doesn't stop her when her lips press against his. 

He wouldn't say he's encouraging it per say, but he definitely is letting it happen. He's not against it. In fact, he actually quite likes it.

"You're a miracle worker," Yoongi tells you. 

"Miracle workers deserve free drinks," you tease, because you're very much in need of one. 

"Right you are," he agrees, and turns to the bar. 

You let your eyes linger, watching Jeongguk as his awkward arm finally moves from the frigid position next to his body to the small of her back. Wonder if he tastes more like tequila or lemonade. Think it doesn't really matter. You don't like either.

"Stop staring, you perv," Yoongi calls back to you and tells you to choose your drink. Says it's on him, but you both know it's on Jeongguk's tab.

When he finally returns, there's a triumphant smile on his lips. Proud. And you have to admit, you feel a little pride, too. The Jeongguk you met a few months ago would have never kissed a stranger in a bar. 

The night rolls on without a hitch. 

Danbi and Taehyung leave first. Leave together. You don't think anything will happen - you know she's playing hardball - but it's an achievement nonetheless. Also proves that there was nothing to be concerned about when it came to Jimin, who also left around the same time with a random girl none of you knew. 

Yoongi ends up calling Seoyeon, gushing about how much he misses her and is in a taxi no more than five minutes later. Namjoon hops in for the ride, leaving you and Jeongguk to meander back to his place. 

By the time you arrive, the paint is dry on your skin; cracking. It's uncomfortable to say the least, and earned you some questionable looks when you ran into a takeaway to pick up some chips on the way back.

You blabber gibberish together like you so often do. You're both too tipsy for your own good. Jeongguk feels like he's been chewing on a ball of cotton wool. You immediately head for his fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. Just one. You'll share.

"She was pretty," you say softly, sitting on the floor of his kitchen. Side by side, you're watching the sun rise through his windows.

Jeongguk nods. Feels like he's being tested. Doesn't know the right answer, so he goes with the truth. "Yeah."

There's silence. Neither of you really want to discuss it. You're not sure why.

He steals one of your chips. Knocks his shoulder against yours. "The boys seem to like you."

"You think?"

He nods, and says, "you should meet Seoyeon, too. Next time we all do something, I'll let you know. She's always saying how we need more women around. I think you'd get along."

You smile. Yoongi is so easygoing that you're sure Seoyeon must be just as friendly. "I'd like that."

The silence resumes. There's a heaviness. It's probably just the alcohol, and it's probably nothing serious, but Jeongguk hates it. Things with you have only ever been light. Airy. Easy. It's not that it feels difficult now, just... different. Abnormal. Strange. 

"I-"

"Do-"

The jarring nature of your voices speaking over one another is unsettling. You bicker all the time. It's not unusual for you to fully disregard the words he speaks just to voice your own dumb point, and he often does just the same. There's no reason why either of you would stop talking now. 

You're holding back.

So is he. 

He takes another chip. Doesn't eat it. Throws it at you instead. 

"You little fucker," you laugh, and so does he. 

But then the silence settles again. Makes itself at home. Tucks itself into bed, says it going to stay for a little while.

"Byeol," Jeongguk eventually says, so quietly it's almost a whisper. His eyes are wise as he looks at the golden sun that rises on the horizon. 

"Hmm?"

"The longer the paint sits... the harder it will be to get out of our clothes."

"Mmm," you nod. "You're probably right."

"I am," he tells you. He knows he is. It's not his first rodeo, either. "We should..."

His words are weighted so heavily that they become lodged in his throat. He's drunk, and he knows he maybe shouldn't suggest what he's about to but he can't seem to help himself.

"We still have a bird to do."

You know what he's insinuating. Your first bird. The waterpark one. The one that was totally botched because it was more important to try than it was to be faithful to words written on paper.

"Gguk..."

He's not looking at you, just at the sunrise. "It's just a shower. Just to get the paint out. It's nothing like, deep. Doesn't mean anything."

You don't say anything. Truthfully, you think now is a really good time to do it. Things are so much easier when you're drunk.

"You kissed another girl tonight," you remind him.

He nods. "Mhmm."

"Do you not think that maybe it's a bad idea? A conflict of interest?"

He shrugs. "Think about it. Why did I kiss a girl tonight?"

"Because you wanted to?"

"Because I'm trying, Byeol. We made a commitment. Made those damn birds, and said we'd do them. You told me to get her number."

"Actually," you interrupt. "The bird did."

"Exactly. I did what the bird told me to do - but only after you encouraged me to do it, too."

"The bird never told you to kiss her. And the stakes are a little higher, here, no? Showering together surely is... I don't know. More?"

More of what, you couldn't say. Your tipsy brain isn't connecting all the dots. Nor is his. You both know it's a bad idea. You both also confusingly think it's a really good idea.

"No," he says, all rather plainly. "It's no different to the waterpark - it's just that maybe this time we'll need to wash our hair."

You consider the proposal. It's tempting. It really is. 

"Clothes on?" You ask.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you want."

"Y'know, for someone with a fear of rejection, you're pretty forward."

"I'm not scared of you," he laughs. "It's different."

And he really thinks it is. Thinks that it doesn't count. Thinks you're an exception, not the rule.

If you were sober, you'd tell him to fuck off.

But you're not sober.

And you're feeling a little irritated with the fact he's made progress and you haven't. Failure isn't something you enjoy, and being behind feels like failure to you.

So you stand. Kick your shoes off and pick them up. They'll need to go under the water, too. "Are you coming?"

For some reason, he's startled. Doesn't know what he was expecting. Maybe more refusal? Maybe he was looking for you to reinforce the boundaries already established by the pair of you.

But instead, you walk towards his bathroom. Start the shower up. Toss your shoes beneath the falling water, and call for him again. "Am I doing this alone, or what?"

You're standing by the basin by the time he approaches the door. He leans against the frame. Looks at you in a way you don't quite understand. You don't realise he took so long 'cause he had to sort his breathing out first - make sure he actually was still breathing. 

"You go first," you whisper so quietly he almost doesn't hear you above the torrent of water cascading down onto the tiled floor. 

He pauses before he reaches the water. "If you need to tap out, just say the word."

"What word?" You grin, as if anything like that has ever been discussed before. 

"Oh. Shit. I dunno," he smiles back. "Um... Chicken?"

"Chicken?"

"Chicken."

"Alright. Chicken it is."

You think it's fucking ridiculous, and you're right. It is. But it gets you both laughing. Has Jeongguk holding his hand out for you and pulling you into the water with him. Eases the weight on your shoulders as he rubs some of the now wet paint from your cheeks. 

"See, told you it'd be better to wash it off," he says a little triumphantly, his pretty teeth resting down on his bottom lip.

You reach up and reciprocate his kindness. "You're such a mess."

"So are you." 

Well and truly stained, your shirt is peach as the water runs through it. Jeongguk holds the shower head up and lets it run over your body, but there's nothing inherently intimate about it. Nothing sexual. It's platonic in potentially the weirdest way it could be - but most importantly, it feels safe. 

Again, you reciporcate. Let him take the lead. You can follow.

But then he catches you off guard.

"I'm gonna take my shirt off. There's paint underneath it I wanna get off."

The news is delivered so carefully that you almost think you're imagining it. Think that your tipsy brain has run wild - until he says, "okay?"

He waits for you to nod before he does it. 

Once you do, he grips the back of his neck, and pulls the shirt over his head. It falls to the ground with a thud. The water around it runs green. Your eyes are on the trail that seeps into the drain, and not him.

"Should I?" you ask quietly. "Should I take mine off?"

Jeongguk watches you closely. His heart thumps in his chest. He swallows. Studies your eyes; how they're refusing to look at his. Makes note of your shoulders and how they're slightly more curved than usual. You're cowering. Are a shadow of yourself. It really does seem like there's a deep-rooted fear, here. He feels guilty.

"If you want," he says. His voice is gentle. Temperate. Kind. "There's nothing to be scared of, Byeol. It's just me. Just us."

And you know he's right. The stakes are so low with him that it really feels like there's nothing to lose. What's the worst that could happen?

He'd see your body. That would be it. It wouldn't matter if he liked it or not. You're not seeking his approval. You know he wouldn't tell you his thoughts either way. Wouldn't comment on your appearance like that.

When you finally grace him with your gaze, he turns around; back to you, hands up like a white flag. You take in the sight of him; shoulders broad, the dip of his spine running like a river down his back. His efforts at the gym aren't for nothing.

You start to feel bad for evaluating him. It's all complimentary, but you shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not when you've just told yourself he wouldn't do the same to you.

"Tell me something," he says, not favouring the silence.

"Mhmm?"

"Why was this on your list?"

He hears your shirt slap against the floor of his bathroom, and then the soft pat of your feet on wet tiles as you turn around, too. It's only fair if his back is also turned. 

You're still in your fishnets, but you've only got a matching black underwear set on beneath them. Jeongguk's still wearing his trousers - until, pretty soon after your shirt is discarded, so are they.

Now it feels even. You're both are bare as one another.

"No reason."

Jeongguk knows you're lying. "I'll choose to believe you."

You smile. The way he speaks to you makes you want to tell him. Tell him everything. It's just stupid insecurities; nothing obscenely deep-rooted, you think. Chalk it up to a couple bad experiences. Underestimate just how severely Seokjin fucked with your head. 

"It's stupid," you whine.

"I highly doubt that."

And so you relent. "It's my fault, really. I... You ever just have like a gut feeling?"

"Sometimes."

"Had one of those, once. In the shower," your sentence comes out a little staggered. A little awkward. "Was with my ex and I just... His hair had smelt like candyfloss all week. Said it was a new shampoo."

Jeongguk thinks he knows where this is going. You pause. 

"Anyway, I did his hair," you continue a little flippantly. You're playing it off like it was no big deal. "He did mine. Yada yada yada, you know the rest. Realised later that evening that his shampoo was fucking mint scented. No sweetness, no nothing. So... yeah. The candyfloss scent..."

"Was someone else's shampoo?" Jeongguk guesses the end of your sentence, and is correct.

"He still denies it," you say. "I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Found myself in this god-awful cycle of insisting that we showered together - just so I knew he wasn't showering with someone else - only to end up crying halfway through it every single time. He was so fucking fed up with me by the end of it all. Told me I was fucked in the head. Said that if he did do the shit I'd accused him of, then it'd be my fault for driving him to it."

"Christ," Jeongguk hisses. He's heard some manipulative shit in his time, but that really fucking takes the biscuit.

You hum in agreement. Sound small when you say, "he smelt like candyfloss again the week before he ended things."

Jeongguk's at a loss for words. Wants to wrap you up in cotton wool. Can't believe someone would actually do that to you.

"Byeol?"

"Mhmm?" 

"Your ex-boyfriend's a prick."

"Yeah," you laugh, but it's cut short. There's a stutter in your diaphragm. You let out a deep breath. Hold back the pathetic tears you know are just dying to get out of your system. "Yeah, he was. Kind of my fault, though, isn't it? I'm the one who let him lie to me. Should have known better."

The fact you blame yourself is devastating to him.

"I'm gonna turn around," he says. "And I'm gonna give you a hug, okay?"

You nod, not that he can see it. Choke an "okay" out, and within a second, Jeongguk's arms are wrapped around you. He squeezes you tight, skin warm, heat beat firm beneath his ribs. Your back is to his chest, his head resting on yours. "He's such a fucking prick. It wasn't your fault, Byeol. Wasn't your fault at all."

He's never met your ex, but he decides there's no one in the world he despises more. Doesn't like violence; would definitely consider it for him.

You shrug. "Feels like it was."

"It wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

"Shit happens." 

He hates the way you deflect. Knows you'll never change, but dear lord, does he wish you'd realise that it's okay to struggle. 

There's a slight shift in your body, and he knows it means you're done with the hug. Been vulnerable for too long. Wanna get back to the 'normal' version of you.

You're still covered in paint, so Jeongguk tells you as such. You apologise for being such a mess - emotionally and physically. 

"S'cool. We both are, Byeol."

He leaves you to get washed up alone. Thinks you could do with a little privacy, and it means he can get his room sorted before your arrival into it. 

There's a scowl on his face as he organises the pillows. Can't believe how manipulative your ex had been. How dare he make you think you were imagining things, when it was evident he'd been straying. How dare he make you feel like that.

Jeongguk's no saint. He's done his fair share of fucked up things, but never anything like that. It infuriates him. Makes him want to fucking cry - partially out of frustration, but mainly because of how badly it had affected you.

He thinks of the night before you'd made the birds, and wishes you'd have just gone out with Danbi and Hoseok instead of seeing your ex.

You take your time in the shower. Are sad to wash off the feeling of Jeongguk's embrace, but know that you have to. You'd get too consumed by it otherwise. 

He leaves you a spare shirt outside the bathroom door, and tells you to come through to his room when you're ready. Jimin is still out, presumably asleep in some other girl's bed, so Jeongguk doesn't care too much for sneaking you around - not that he has to. You're just friends.

He takes the floor. Doesn't give himself half as many pillows as he gave you the last time. Still leaves his special pillows for you, though. 

"Uh-uh," you shake your head as you come into his room to find him already curled up in the pillow pile. "On your bed. I'm on the floor."

He shakes his head right back, defiant. "Too sleepy to argue. Go to bed, Byeol."

You're about to fight back. About to quite physically move him up onto his bed - but the soft sound of paper against pillows distracts you. 

"Shit."

Jeongguk sits up. "What is it- Oh. Shit."

You both just stare for a moment. Freeze, like you're in some kind of low-budget action movie. Look at his bed, then look at one another.

Another bird has fallen.

And as Jeongguk assesses from how bloody wonky it is, it's definitely one of yours.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[multifandomfanficss]

Home Is Wherever You Are P6

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: When the device fails, you and Adrian go to a friend for help.

Warnings: mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language, homophobia

A/N: Sorry I skipped a week! It was a very intense and demanding week. I was actually getting lifeguard certified! Thank you guys for all of your support on this story. Enjoy!

“What the fuck do you mean he left?!” Harcourt yelled. She wanted you back just as badly as everyone else, but as the team leader she had to make the hard choices and she couldn’t afford to lose anyone else because of this mission.

“He’ll get there. He’ll find them and he’ll find a way back.” Economos sounds optimistic for once in his life.

“Since when have you become so optimistic?” She asks.

“I can be surprising!” John huffs.

September 13th, 1994

You wake up to an empty bed. It all must have been some fucked up dream. You had to get Gut and Chris out the door for school. Adrian should already be there. Diane would have driven him into his first day this morning. Your eyes blur with fresh tears about to drop as you rise from bed. Your vision clogged by tears, so you don’t see Adrian’s suit peaking out from under the bed. You trip over one oh his shin guards and hit the floor. You hear footsteps race up the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Adrian busts open the door.

“Yeah I’m fi- what are you wearing?” You look up to find your boyfriend in one of Diane’s old baking aprons.

“My mom’s apron.” He says as if that’s obvious.

“I mean why are you wearing it?” You question, as you start to stand up.

“Why? It’s because it’s floral and lacy and technically for a woman isn’t it? I didn’t think you’d been in the 90’s that long, but-“

“No, you can wear it, but like were you cooking…or…” You trail off.

“Sorry. I just spent too much time with teenage Chris.” He sighs

“He saw you?”

“Yeah and he kept calling me voice message guy. I don’t even know what that means.” He looks at you in confusion.

“Don’t worry about it! You know Chris! Always a dick!” You blush, trying to change the subject.

“He’s more of a dick than I remember. I made him breakfast and I didn’t even get a thank you! He just called me Nancy and left with Gut for school! That’s not even my name!” You pull him into your embrace.

“Baby, he’s calling you gay.”

“Okay? He’s not wrong. I am queer. I don’t just like girls. He’s queer too. What’s the point in bringing it up at breakfast?” Adrian questions.

“Well, I don’t think he’s fully come to terms with or maybe even realized that yet. He’s still technically living with his dad and it’s the 90’s. Everything is gay in a weird way. I know it sucks, but we have to allow time to breathe and change. We’re the ones out of our time here. We can go beat up homophobes and not mess up the timeline in our own time.” You kiss him. The 90’s are a shock to him since he doesn’t remember them very well. They were a shock to you too, but he’s just been thrown into it. You had over a week to adjust. It’s not pretty. Discrimination never is, but when you know better times are coming, you can’t do anything that could risk your better future. Home isn’t perfect, but it’s a little better than this. Fighting homophobia now would be like traveling back in time to fight segregation or women’s rights. It’s such a big fixed point in time that if you mess with it, you could change everything and you have no guarantee it would be for the better. People always talk about time travel like it’ll be wonderful. They never stop and think about all the awful responsibility that comes with it or how it affects your morality. “And before you get the idea no, you’re not killing his dad.”

“Why not?” Adrian asks.

“Because if you kill him that would affect history too much. We have no idea what that could do to Chris. We may never stop the butterflies or any other major threat in the future because maybe Chris didn’t become a hero or maybe he followed in his dad’s footsteps while mourning. Peacemaker as we know him would probably cease to exist. Do you know how many people he’s saved? They could all be dead. Emilia could be dead. That could start a whole different chain reaction. I wish we could kill Chris’ dad now, but who knows what kind of chaos that would cause to the timeline. We could completely break it.” You remind him.

“You’re right. Let’s just get out of here before we fuck anything else up.” He digs around in his pocket for the time travel grenades.

“Were those just in your pocket?” You ask.

“Yeah. I’m not an idiot (Y/N). I wasn’t gonna let them get lost or stolen.” He hands you one.

“Why does mine have a light on it?” You ask.

“It’s supposed to.” He informs you.

“Then why doesn’t yours have one?” You ask.

“Oh fuck! I thought I heard a crack when I sat on it earlier, but I was really hoping it was just the chair.” Your jaw drops to the floor as he gives you one of his famous Adrian Chase ‘I fucked up’ faces.

“Does that mean we’re stuck here?” You ask. He grabs his suit and starts going through all the pockets.

“It’s gonna be fine because Adebayo gave me a piece of paper with the address for the old ARGUS headquarters. They’re gonna help us which means under no circumstances do we need to freak out.” He reassures you.

“Oh shit! Adrian!”

“What?”

“No, not you. I’m sorry. Well, sort of you, but little you…I have to pick him up from preschool later. He has a half day today. I forgot. If I don’t do it nobody will.” You remind your boyfriend.

“What if we go, figure out a plan, pick up little me and go back later if need be. We need what? A battery? It can’t take that long.” Adrian suggests.

“Okay. You’re right we’ll probably be fine. You agree and head off to the address.

When you arrive there you find a little girl sitting on a bench doing homework. She’s all by herself outside of ARGUS headquarters.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” You ask her.

“I’m homeschooled. My mommy says traveling with her is a better education.” She smiles, kicking her feet, filling in the next math problem.

“So you travel a lot?” You ask her. She nods.

“Where have you been?” Adrian asks her.

“I’ve been all over North America, most of Europe, and a ton of places in South America, but my mommy goes all over the world for work.” She tells you. You get a better look at her homework to see she’s doing math at a level that you assumed she was years away from. She looked like she was doing basic middle school math, but couldn’t be more than 7 or 8.

“Is that math hard?” You asked.

“Not really. It’s kinda boring though.” She shrugs.

“Woah! Looks like we have a little artist in our presence!” Adrian points at a dog she’d drawn in the corner of the page.

“I love dogs and I’m really good at drawing them! One day I’m gonna have so many!” She beams.

“Leota!” You hear her name being called from the doorway of the old ARGUS headquarters.

“You guys seem really nice maybe we can go exploring sometime together!” She says before running off.

Suddenly everything makes sense. Both you and Adrian proceed to laugh.

“Everyday this feels more and more like a fever dream.” You say, walking inside.

As soon as you walk in you start looking for any excuse to be there. Looking at the front desk person only ten steps away you didn’t plan this very well.

“Why did we think coming in here with no plan was a good idea?” Adrian asks you.

“It was your idea!” You remind him.

“You followed it!” He argues.

“It’ll be fine just think think think think think…” Your eyes scan the mailboxes in the entry way until you see one you recognize. No fucking way.

You pull Adrian up to the front desk.

“Who are you here to see?” They ask.

“We’re here to see John Economos.” You smile.

“And who should I say is here?” They ask.

“Some old friends and colleagues.”

The front desk person gives you a key card which will only let you take the elevator to John’s floor and gives you instructions on how to get there. When you arrive he isn’t ecstatic to see you, but that’s fair. He doesn’t even know you yet.

“You’re not my mom bringing my lunch.” He groans. John may only be 27, but his attitude is still the same.

“No, we’re not, but we need your help.” You start.

“Why should I help you?” He asks.

“Why shouldn’t you help us?” Adrian retorts.

“There are literally so many reasons. I’m not losing my job over this.”

“Trust me. You won’t.” Adrian laughs loudly over a joke that would go over John’s head.

“We have to tell him the truth.” You tell Adrian.

“What truth? I don’t even know you people.” John says.

“I thought you said nobody can know…”

“Well we kinda have to tell him about the time travel device in order for him to be able to fix it.” You remind him.

“So let me get this straight. You two nutcases think you’re time travelers?” John laughs.

“I can prove it! We’re friends and you have to believe me because I know you have an 11th Street Kids tattoo on your arm that you got at a Hanoi Rocks concert in Finland when you were 14!” You tell him.

“That’s not the most difficult thing to find out about me. It’s literally written on my skin.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well here’s a picture of us in the van and here’s a picture of you feeding Eagly. I actually took that one while you weren’t looking because you get annoyed when I say you like him. Here’s a pic-“

“That’s enough, Adrian!” You push his hands down, hiding his phone from John’s view.

“You’re the one who said we could tell him!” Adrian says, getting frustrated.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about him learning too much about the future.”

“So what? I’m supposed to believe you because you just because you taught yourself the new Adobe Photoshop 3.0 to get ahead on your job resume? And then stuck it on what?…a digital frame?” John is annoyingly skeltical, but it is still his first year at ARGUS. He hasn’t seen everything his older self has yet. You sigh.

“Catch.” You toss him the broken device. “If you can fix this and send us home I promise we’ll be out of your hair for the next 28 years.”

“So who’s the idiot who broke it” Economos asks, looking it over.

“It’s not broken broken though, right? Can’t you just like recharge it?” You ask.

“Dude the power source is crushed. What did you do; sit on it?” John questions.

“…No” Adrian lies, poorly concealed behind an exaggerated expression.

“Can you fix it?” You’re hopeful.

“No, I can’t fix it. What do I look like? George Jetson? This is some weird power source that I’m pretty sure doesn’t even exist yet.” John says in his classic pessimistic tone. Good to think some things never change.

“Well then how do you know it’s the power source?” Adrian challenges him.

“There’s an on/off button” John says, bluntly.

“We’re never getting home…” You sigh. Adrian picks up your hand as a gentle reminder everything would be okay. It was something you two often did when he saw you becoming a bit anxious and you needed something to anchor yourself. At least you had him back.

“Well I might not be able to fix it, but I could probably amplify the field of one device to be able to take two people, but it would take a little bit of time.”

“How long is a little bit? I have to pick up the kid I nanny from preschool.” You ask Economos, concerned about Adrian’s younger self.

“Oh no! You can’t just dip on me. I’m not putting my job at any further risk for a 3 year old.”

“Well that 3 year old grows up to be 30 and meets you and then proceeds saves your life more than once, so I’d rethink that. Without that 3 year old most of us would probably be dead.” You defend Adrian.

Your adult boyfriend proudly smiles and waves at your younger friend.

“Gross! You’re nannying your fucking boyfriend?!” Economos is appalled.

“I didn’t have a lot of choices, okay!” You defend yourself.

“Yeah, tell that to Freud!” Economos laughs at his own joke.

“We’re not going back in time again. We’re trying to go forward in time.” Adrian missed John’s joke, but to be fair his tone has apparently never in his life been easy to read.

“He’s using a figure of speech, babe.” You smile, squeezing his hand. “I have to go pick up his younger self at preschool. Are you gonna help us or not?” You ask.

“Come back by tonight and I should have this all figured out. Let’s just hope for everyone’s sake, my theory works.”

[amethystfairy1]

hi again. i did end up posting some of my art but idk if there's a way to link it in the ask (kinda new to tumblr lol), so im just gonna trust that you know how to find it. Anyways, I have more questions for you :)

jumping into the deep end w/ traveling thieves:

is there any way to remove a collar without the owner's permission? Could a non-collared person do it? Are they physically destructible? What happens if the owner dies? Basically anything that could free Jimmy and Scott T-T

Can any nether-born wield fire, or just blaze-borns? bc hypothetically, we could get some team ZIT going if impulse is a nether-born (he's normally head cannoned as a demon, but I like the idea of wither skeleton instead for this au, if you don't already have plans for him). he could join Zed and Tango :)))

how does the siren song work? can you get anyone to do anything with it if you were good enough? considering song is in the name, is it more effective if it's more melodic?

how do the rune trigger thingies work? Does the staff need to be continuously touching the person to trigger the collar, or does it have a time limit, or is it a secret third option? (this is for a lil piece i've written that I may or may not post lol)

That's it for now, although I do want to say that it would be adorable if Katherine got Shelby a sun-lamp so she could grow over-city plants down there :3

actually that's not it. it'd be fun if you wrote a piece where Grian helps Mumbo and Scar pull a (not so ethical) job. just an idea :)

ok goodbye

Hello hello!

I found the art! I reblogged the art! I LOVE THE ART!

I said it in my reblog but again here they are SO PRETTY I love Cute Guy his wings are beautiful and his shoes are so KILLER and then the SWAGON from Traveling Thieves! It's even got Grian's lil bay window! It makes me so happy! I will treasure them, thank you so much for sharing!

Questions questions! 🏃‍♀️

Short answer: No. Long Answer: Not any way that Scott or Jimmy currently have access too. If their current owner dies the contract has a clause that will automatically transfer them to whoever said owner designated as the inheritor, this being a built in safety measure to ensure enslaved hybrids don't try to one-hit kill their masters before a punishment can kick in to go free. They are technically physically destructible but any attempt at cutting them or unlatching them will trigger the punishment runes. And they are very tough, reinforced by the magic in the runes, again to ensure this isn't attempted, so it would be far to painful to attempt to just endure the punishment long enough to cut them off. This doesn't mean it's completely impossible for them to get them off without their current masters permission...but we haven't gotten to that yet. 😉

Blaze-borns specifically can wield fire as physical parts of their body, but other nether hybrids are able to pull similar tricks such as heating up their hands to work metal, and obviously they're fireproof. Plus, considering our lovely dark fantasy AU, some of them have proficiency with fire magic! I do have plans for Impulse in Traveling Thieves! Please look forward to it!

It's basically voice-based charm magic. I may have messed this up, but I'm pretty sure I only ever refer to it as 'siren spells' and not 'siren songs'? Is there anywhere I screwed that up? Siren spells also give the user the ability to make their voice more pleasant and tend to have good singing voices anyway. If someone is extremely good with it (ex: Scott's Dad) they could 100% use it to strongly compel others, but it's not like brainwashing. Like when Scott used it, all it really did was make the ice mage suddenly care about his opinion, and that confused her enough that she hesitated on using magic. It still has to be something understandable. It wouldn't have been enough to, say, get her to fire a spell at her companion and kill him. It's more like it makes the users words much more influential in the mind of whoever is hearing it. It can also do other things, though! Like how I mention that Scott's Dad would sing for the Queen, Scott's Mom, to help her relax, that's not just because he's a beautiful singer (which of course he is) he's also using siren spells to lower her stress.

One hit triggers the punishment runes. A second hit makes them stop. Like an on-off switch! They also specifically have to get hit with the gem at the end of the rune trigger. If you do post anything anywhere please do send another ask/post it somewhere I can see, I'd absolutely love to see what you do with the AU! ☺️

Awwww...Katherine could totally get Shelby a sun-lamp, that'd be so cute! Also I totally plan on writing a piece at some point where the Swagon Trio steal something, it's a series called Traveling THIEVES and there has been a distinct lack of thievery so I need to fix that. 😤

Thanks so much for all your lovely questions, and thank you again for sharing your beautiful art! 💖

[gilbirda]

So, I have an idea to contribute to the anger management brainrot:

I know how we all say that Jason's pit madness is just corrupted ectoplasem, BUT! hear me out, what if the pit madness is the result of his body coming back, and his spirit/soul being still (at least partially) trapped in the infinite realms?

Add a dash of Good BatDad!Bruce to this AU, and he tries to help Jason by doing a ritual to free Jason's soul from the ghost king. Only problem is, Batman CAN do magic, he's just generally very bad at it and too stubborn to admit it or call Zatana for help in most cases (Yes, this part is actually DC cannon) . So the ritual works- technically. Jason gets his soul back, but by obscure infinite realms law, he's now "bound to the ghost princess", which is a fancy way to say that Jason and Jazz are now betrothed.

But! Here's the real kicker: neither Jason nor Jazz have met yet. They both get "rashes" (actually marks symbolizing their union) on their ring fingers, and are frustrated that no amount of skincare will cure them. It can even start off with neither of them realizing that they're engaged. Jazz is just wildly confused when ghosts keep asking her when the wedding is, because she isn't even dating anyone, and hasn't really felt attraction to anyone since Johnny.

Jason, on the other hand, thinks he's been cursed. His liminality is flaring up with a vengeance. Randomly he's been passing through objects, turning invisible, all sorts of out of control ghost hijinks. He has his soul back, he just wants to move on and be with his family, make up for lost time. After Bruce losing more hours of sleep over research than should be humanly possible over research, they find out the truth. Jason is horrified. He thinks that whoever the "ghost princess" is, she must be a spooky monster.

The bats try to correct the situation, and immediately attempt to summon the ghost king. They beg and plead with him to remove the betrothal. Danny, being a little chaos gremlin says that he won't, his sister will have to decide for herself.

I loooooooooove funny arranged married shenanigans 🥰🥰🥰

Also I think it's hilarious if Bruce is the one that fuck things up because he doesn't want to call for help

At least after everything is said and done, and everyone can look back and laugh, he could joke that he is a matchmaker

Also I would love Danny being pissed off at being summoned, again, and this summon is so sloppy and shitty he expects some kids joking around and trying to be edgy-

and its freaking BATMAN?

and as they explain what's going on he starts laughing and he is like "im sorry, this is very serious, but my sister, the princess, can and will fuck you up for this"

-> cue everyone thinking this princess is as jacked and tall and eldritch as Danny

So Danny goes fetch her and batfam like "okay, game plan, once she is here he try to apologize and beg to not be smited-"

And then the princess arrives, she is a 7 feet tall Tired(tm) goddess that looks so pissed off-

And then she sees her betrothed

"hi"

I want to read this so baaaaad

Thanks for the ask! Love it a lot 💖💖

[vectorisheree]

Miscellaneous Sun and Moon Head Cannons Part 1

Not TSAMS! I will probably make a separate post for that

Despite both being physically unable to eat, Moon is programed to be a sweet tooth as well as a picky eater while Sun is programmed to enjoy all foods.

If asked, both Sun and Moon would descrbe themselves as pan but they don't really dwell on the thought of romance. Work comes first.

Both Sun and Moon have paws instead of humanoid feet

Sun seeks attention while Moon waits for attention to come to him

Sun and Moon both enjoy media and objects based on their namesakes and will get strangely jealous or upset seeing someone they are close to pick something based on the other's namesake

Moon is the more 'normal' one of the two and just acts silly because it's fun

Both use any pronouns but have different preferences

Moon prefers it/him

Sun prefers he/she/they

Sun is technically the older of the two as their body was first turned on in the light. Sun likes to use this fact to tease Moon

Sun and Moon compete to see who can get the most plushies of themselves. Moon is winning by a lot

Sun sees himself as ugly and scary, often wishing he looked less creepy. Moon thinks he looks fine as fuck

Both Sun and Moon move in a very animated way to make up for their lack of expression

Sun has white lights in his eyes simialrly to how Moon has red lights, it's just hard to see them when it's bright

Moon has a slight interest in robotics which is one of the reasons why it tears apart staff bots. The other reason is that it's fun

Moon is very easy to entertain

Moon has a facebook account purely to look at facebook memes. It is a guilty pleasure for him

Sun vehemently belives that she is not bald because of her rays despite it not being actual hair

Ever since Moon was infected by the vanny virus, Sun has found it harder to comfort children after 'naptime', often even lashing out at others

Not even Moon knows how it's hat stays on it's head all the time

Sun and Moon both enjoy 'stretching' after charging or sitting down for long periods of time even though they are made of metal and do not need to

Sun and Moon are able to feel everything the other does no matter who is in control of their body

Moon can be almost shy at times

Sun and Moon have a openable chest compartment that is supposed to be for storing sun/moondrops, first aid materials and emergency craft supplies. It is a cirular space that is split into two semicircles, the semicircle that is at the front of their chest switches depending on who is in control of their body so that Sun and Moon have seperate storage compartments, although they are both able to forcefully access each other's storage by manually spinning the compartment which causes slight discomfort to both. (22/02/2024 edit - I have drawn diagrams of their chest compartment here and here!)

Moon likes to store random trinkets in his storage compartment

Sun and Moon are both scared of having maintenence done on them, similarly to how a child would be scared of the dentist

Sun often feels overwhelmed yet understimulated at the same time

Once, Sun got stuck in one of the tubes in the daycare because of his rays getting jammed and being unable to be brought into his head

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | eleven

"See, told you it'd be better to wash it off," he says a little triumphantly, his pretty teeth resting down on his bottom lip. You reach up and reciprocate his kindness.

"You're such a mess."

"So are you."  Well and truly stained, your shirt is peach as the water runs through it. Jungkook holds the shower head up and lets it run over your body, but there's nothing inherently intimate about it. Nothing sexual. It's platonic in potentially the weirdest way it could be—but most importantly, it feels safe.  Again, you reciporcate. Let him take the lead. You can follow. But then he catches you off guard. "I'm gonna take my shirt off. There's paint underneath it I wanna get off."

Bad Decision #11 - Perry

warnings: birds! jaykay gets kissed in a club :( paint party! fun!! b and jk then proceed to have a totally platonic shower :) normal friend things!!

soundtrack: better - khalid; & cry! - middle part

wc: 5.9k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

Jungkook ignores the look on Taehyung's face as you enter the bar that evening. It's not the hug that Jungkook greets you with that's unusual, nor your typically sparkling appearance—but the smile on Jungkook's lips? Yeah. Taehyung hasn't seen one like that in a while.

Still, he doesn't make a big deal of it, for Danbi's following just behind you. He's far more interested in his attempts (and failures) to chat her up, instead.

Namjoon watches on with shallow curiosity. His watchful eyes lounge on you as he takes a sip on his drink, a little more reserved than the others. Taehyung and Jimin greet you and Danbi like old friends, and in a way, it sort of feels like they are.

The club is empty—hasn't opened to punters yet, and won't for another half an hour. The suppliers hired for the paint cannons are still setting up; doing test runs into an empty space where patrons should be. It's strange to see this perspective of a club. Like a liminal space, it feels like you shouldn't be there, but the boys are unphased. Are used to it by now.

"And Hoseok?" Jungkook questions when he notices the lack of sunshine shadowing behind you.

"Having drinks with the boys," you tell him without much care. You forget Jungkook isn't as intricately weaved into your social life as he is into your personal life.

"The boys?" 

He doesn't mean to sound so affronted, but he'd always just assumed it was the singular boy; that your little trio was a friendship that existed within a vacuum. Of course, it doesn't. You've an entire social circle that he's none the wiser of.

You pay his confusion no mind. "Yeah. How are you? How have you been?"

The conversation moves on, Jungkook leading you into the room behind the bar in which they're pregaming.

"It's technically the staff room," he says with a shrug. "But what the boss doesn't know can't hurt him."

There's an airiness to his demeanour; his tipsy brain just as fluffy as the clouds that float around the ends of rainbows. There's safety there. No promises of gold, just certainty of a stable foundation. 

It's a side to him you've never had the luxury of witnessing before, but part of you feels like you always knew he'd be like this. Always knew how he'd smile after a few drinks; how his giggle would sound just that little bit brighter.

"No Seoyeon tonight?" Jimin asks Yoongi as he arrives just a little after you. His cheeks are pink, the clammy heat of the club already getting to him, even when it's empty. Namjoon passes him a bottle of beer, unopened. Yoongi's unphased. Clamps the soft metal cap between his teeth and prizes it off, before he takes a sip and shakes his head.

"Nah, nah, she just dropped me off. Has brunch tomorrow with her friends so doesn't wanna be hungover," he explains as he takes a seat next to Taehyung.

Jungkook leans over to you, quietly clueing you up. "His fiancée."

"Ah," you nod, before Yoongi turns his attention to you and Danbi.

You're reintroduced, and are quick to learn that Jungkook and Jimin only ever seem to refer to you as Disco Ball amongst their friends. Yoongi mentions it first—"You really do look like a disco ball'—but the rest of the boys chime in agreement. 

There's protest from you. Sure, you've got enough glitter to decorate a Christmas card on your eyelids, but your outfit is pretty subdued. Jungkook had told you not to wear anything fancy —"The paint is water-based, but just in case. Don't want you to wreck your favourite party dress, or anything like that."—and so you'd listened. 

He doesn't tell you, 'cause he doesn't think you'll need it, but Jungkook brought a spare shirt with him. Just a white one. Big. Wasn't sure if you'd think about the logistics of a paint party, but it isn't your first rodeo. You've been to a handful of events like these in the past, and know what to expect. 

You're in a big white shirt of your own, wearing it like a dress with a flannel layered on top.  Admittedly, the tights are giving disco ball chic: fishnets with teeny tiny gemstones sparkling underneath the dim lights of the backroom. 

Jungkook can't decide on how the fuck to describe your style. It's not grunge. Yoo sparkly for that. Equally, there's too much of an edge to you for it to be considered 'girly'. He doesn't understand it. Quite likes it, though. Likes that you're still wearing those black hightops you always seem to be in. 

Normally at the club, you'd be in heels, but again, it's not your first rodeo. You know better than to tempt the paint party gods with a stiletto and sopping wet floor combination. Learnt that mistake the hard way back in university.

Jungkook taps his foot against yours. No one else notices, too busy engaged in their own conversations. When you glance down, you realise why. He's in his Converse, too. The only shoes he doesn't mind wrecking. They've been through the wars before. A little paint won't hurt them.

You knock his foot back. He smiles. 

There are no words exchanged, just an understanding; you and he are cut from the same cloth.

You pay attention to everyone else's shoes now. Are looking for other kindred spirits. Jimin's in Chelsea boots- black leather, a little tarnished, in need of a polish. 

Taehyung's in brogues for some reason, and you can't think of a worse shoe to have chosen for such an occasion. So many holes. So much to wreck.

Danbi, ever smart, ever stylish, is in a pair of white sneakers. She knows the game she's come to play. It's why she's in all white, too. 

Yoongi and Namjoon are both sporting Nikes, not too fussed about the evening ahead. 

And so it's just you and Jungkook. You tap your feet against the floor and smile. "Stop copying me."

"I was here first, Byeol," he banters back, but is cut off by Yoongi declaring the need for you all to play a card game. It's one you don't think you've heard of, but make no objection. With the number of drinking games you've played over the last few years, you're almost certain you'll know it.

He deals cards and you quickly come to realise that you don't know the rules. Jungkook tells you it's fine—"I'll help you out, c'mere."—and encourages you to show him your cards. He organises them; gets them in an order that will work for the game.

"Hey, I'm just as clueless!" Danbi pouts, and so Jimin grabs her cards to redistribute them. 

"We'll work as a team," he says, eyes flicking over to Taehyung, just to check how he feels about it. Danbi is oblivious, but you catch the way Taehyung raises his brows in Jimin's direction. There's a slight smirk on his lips. 

"Don't mind them," Jungkook mumbles quietly, just for you to hear. "Jimin's just winding him up. Told Tae if he doesn't make a move that he will instead. Think he's just trying to encourage him. Making him be proactive, yanno?"

"He better bloody be," you muse, taking a sip on the drink Jungkook had put in front of you when he started messing about with your cards. Tequila slammer. Fucking vile. Does get you fucked up, though.

"Jealous, are we, Byeol?" he smirks, swapping one of your cards with his. "Here, it'll help."

You don't dignify him with a response. It's a stupid thing to tease you about, because you know there's no way in hell Danbi would sleep with Jimin. While sharing is caring, sexual partners aren't something the pair of you have ever shared. Hasn't happened before, and won't happen in the future. It's an unspoken rule.

One that Jungkook would do well to remember.

The evening carries on just as it began; light banter, drinks far too strong, and electromagnetic force somehow keeping you and Jungkook attached at the hip. You're in the smoking area far more than you are on the dancefloor. You're not smoking, mind you, just talking nonsense. Making bets. Being stupid. 

"Have you read him yet?" You ask when Jungkook finally presents you with Perry the paper pigeon.

He shakes his head. Bites his lip. "No. You can do the honours."

He watches your hands as you unfold the paper, but the soft laugh you produce draws his attention to your face. 

"Ask for someone's number," you read out, bemused at how shy Jungkook apparently is.

He groans. "God, that's so embarrassing."

"Nooo," you laugh, drunk body swaying into his a little. He's giggling too, now. Can't seem to help it. "It's cute."

"So lame."

"Shut up," you beam. "It's a start! A good bloody place to start as well. Something easy."

Jungkook vehemently disagrees. Tells you as such. Says, "Imagine asking for a number and getting rejected over something so simple. Would be mortifying. A very valid fear."

"So you go for a girl you know is interested," you say. "Look, this is the best place for it. Remember how many girls find you on Instagram after they come here? It won't be any different now that you're out from behind the bar. If anything, you've got far more chances!"

He spends the next fifteen minutes moaning about it. You decide a drink is the only remedy to his whining.

You order four Purple Starfuckers from Yeonjun. Jungkook is offended. Insists he can make them, despite the fact he is quite literally covered head to toe in paint. and has a permanent grin from just how tipsy he is. Yeonjun tells him no. Says the bar is off limits. Jungkook says he'll fire him, and Yeonjun just laughs in his face. 

"Alright. Bet you 10,000 you won't remember trying to fire me in the morning."

"Deal."

"Disco Ball, you're our witness," the blue-haired menace winks towards you. "Make sure he pays up."

"Aye, aye, captain," you wink back, and instantly regret the rogue pirate shtick because Jungkook looks at you like you've got three heads. 

"The fuck?"

"What?"

"Captain," he snorts. "Captain."

"Oh, don't get jealous," you tease. "Is this because you want me to call you Daddy, again?"

This time, Yeonjun stops what he's doing. Looks at the pair of you with a slack jaw and wild eyes. Doesn't know what the fuck is going on between you, but knows he wants to watch every second of it unfold. 

When he serves you shots, he smirks. "Here you go. Captain," he nods in your direction, and then in Jungkook's. "Daddy."

"Never call me that again," Jungkook gags. 

"Sure thing, Daddio."

"Oh my God." 

Yeonjun walks away laughing to himself, all very amused. Will never stop calling Jungkook Daddy now that he knows it'll get a rise out of him. Imagines you'll probably get a very different kind of rise out of him when you call him Daddy, but that's neither here nor there.

"I hate you for that," Jungkook tells you, and you kind of believe him—but God, that broad smile of his is on full display, and the glitter on your skin is reflecting in his eyes like a clear nights sky. Impossible to feel anything remotely close to hatred around him, you think.

"It doesn't matter," you tell him, having noticed the girl behind the pair of you check him out at least three times since you've been at the bar. You kind of recognise her. Think you must have seen her before, whether it be on his follower's list or in the club. She seems like a safe bet. Interested.

"Girl behind you. Look, quickly, but don't make it obvious"— Jungkook turns around like a deer in headlights. "I said don't make it obvious! The girl with the high pony. She's been looking at you for a while now. I think she's into you."

Suddenly, Jungkook feels very out of his depth. "Maybe we should go outside."

"Nope," you say so sternly that he feels like he's being told off at school. "Perry says you have to ask a girl for her number. Just a number. It's not a big deal. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She'll say no."

"Boo-hoo. Cry about it. It's two letters, Kook. One word. It won't ruin your life. Here"— You pass him the final Purple Starfucker —"Down it. You've got this. If she says no, fuck her."

"If she says no to giving me her number, I don't think she'll want to fuck."

"Christ, not literally, Kook." You spin his shoulders around. Give him a nudge. "Go. Do it."

He takes a breath. Psyches himself up. Swallows back the taste of his shot - which is a lot better than the tequila slammers he's been drinking all night - and catches her eye.

You retreat back a little bit, trying to make yourself look busy. Yeonjun watches on from the bar, even more confused than he was before. Were the two of you not just flirting? Are you not definitely boning? He could have sworn you were.

The DJ transitions into a shitty remix of an old Sean Paul song, and you wish you'd have kept Jungkook around for a little longer to orchestrate a better soundtrack for him. None of the crowd cares how shitty it is though - cannons are launching buckets of neon paint onto revellers, covering every inch of the place in a technicolour haze. 

Your flannel shirt is in the backrooms, as is your bag. Danbi's handprints are on your tits, yours on her ass, but the rest of your shirt is just a haphazard mess of colour. There's no rhyme nor reason; just paint. So much fucking paint. It feels like you're back at work. 

A mirror runs along the back of the bar, and you use it to observe Jungkook's adventure. You kind of feel like a proud parent as they begin to talk.

"Hey," the girl smiles. Jungkook thinks she sounds sweet. A lot raspier than he expected. He quite likes that, though - although he can't really hear her all that well above the bass of the speakers. The way her lips curve thanks to his approach makes him feel a lot more secure in his endeavour. "You're normally behind the bar, right? I think I've seen you before."

"Oh," Jungkook cringes, a little embarrassed. This is why he doesn't go for punters. He hates that there's never a clean slate. Always feels unfair. "Yeah, yeah. I manage the bar. I'm surprised you noticed."

"Well you do a very good job," she compliments, twirling a little hair from her ponytail with her index finger.

"I do?"

"I keep coming back," she shrugs. "So you must do. Could be something to do with how cute the bar manager is, though."

You watch on as he talks to her, bemused by the way his weight shifts from one foot to the other. Clearly nervous, you think it's wild that Jungkook is so scared of rejection. He's a catch. Sure, his working hours are a bit unsociable, and maybe he doesn't have life figured out just yet, but you don't think he's too far off.

It'll take a little time for him to get where he wants to be in life, but he's actively working for it. He's studying, laying down foundations. Has a great social circle and is yet to present any qualities you think could be problematic for a healthy, enduring relationship. In a room of walking red flags, he's gleaming white.

"Who is she?" Yoongi asks with great intrigue as he comes to stand beside you.

"Not a clue."

"Does he know who she is?" He laughs. Knows that you and Jungkook have only been hanging out for a little while, but can also read the dynamic between the pair of you fairly well. Knows that your opinion clearly matters to Jungkook, and is trying to gauge your thoughts. 

"Hopefully he will do soon," you say with a warm smile. The girl is laughing at something Jungkook has said, making his bashful gaze all the more endearing. "He's getting her number."

Yoongi chokes on his drink. "Holy shit."

It's been months since Jungkook has even entertained the idea of another girl. Maybe even a year. Yoongi might not have known the ins and outs of his former fling, but he knows Jungkook hasn't quite been the same since.

"Uh-huh."

"Is this Jeon Jungkook finally back in the game?"

"Could be."

"Well, I never," Yoongi exhales. "You know how many times we've tried to get him back in the saddle?"

"You needed a woman's touch," you laugh, biting down on your lip slightly as you watch Jungkook scratch at the back of his head. The girl is laughing, flirting, clearly. She rests her hand on his bicep, and Jungkook seems all shy again. He looks up. Catches your gaze quickly. Doesn't let it linger, but finds himself thinking he should end the conversation and report back on everything that's happened—but when he looks back to you, he sees you engaged in conversation with Yoongi and decides against it.

"Clearly," Yoongi agrees. "I dunno what you've done to him, but he's finally acting like himself again."

"I'm just a good distraction," you shrug. 

You're right. You are. You make Jungkook forget all about his inner turmoil, cause he's always worried about yours instead. He's thinking about it now, as the girl's hand lingers on his shirt. Trails down his arm. Reaches for his hand.

"Y'know, I've actually gotta get back to my friends," he says. He's snagged on thoughts about you. Nothing in particular. Just the fact that you exist. That you're there. That he's not hanging out with you, and he feels like he should be.

She nods. "Yeah, me too. Text me, yeah?"

He returns the nod, almost too eagerly. "I will. Have a good night, yeah?"

She pulls a little on his hand. Is aiming for a kiss she isn't gonna get.

But then Jungkook feels your gaze on him again, and there's pressure to perform; to act as if he's doing well, as if he isn't absolutely shitting himself. He doesn't stop her when she leans in. Doesn't stop her when her palm rests on his chest. Doesn't stop her when her lips press against his. 

He wouldn't say he's encouraging it per say, but he definitely is letting it happen. He's not against it. In fact, he actually quite likes it.

"You're a miracle worker," Yoongi tells you. 

"Miracle workers deserve free drinks," you tease, because you're very much in need of one. 

"Right you are," he agrees, and turns to the bar. 

You let your eyes linger, watching Jungkook as his awkward arm finally moves from the frigid position next to his body, to the small of her back. Find yourself wondering if he tastes more like tequila or lemonade. Decide it doesn't really matter. You don't like either.

"Stop staring, you perv," Yoongi calls back to you and tells you to choose your drink. Says it's on him, but you both know it's on Jungkook's tab.

When he finally returns, there's a triumphant smile on his lips. Proud. And you have to admit, you feel a little pride, too. The Jungkook you met a few months ago would have never kissed a stranger in a bar. 

The night rolls on without a hitch. 

Danbi and Taehyung leave first. Leave together. You don't think anything will happen - you know she's playing hardball - but it's an achievement nonetheless. Also proves that there was nothing to be concerned about when it came to Jimin, who also left around the same time with a random girl none of you knew. 

Yoongi ends up calling Seoyeon, gushing about how much he misses her and is in a taxi no more than five minutes later. Namjoon hops in for the ride, leaving you and Jungkook to meander back to his place. 

By the time you arrive, the paint is dry on your skin; cracking. It's uncomfortable to say the least, and earned you some questionable looks when you ran into a takeaway to pick up some chips on the way back.

You blabber gibberish together like you so often do. You're both too tipsy for your own good. Jungkook feels like he's been chewing on a ball of cotton wool. You immediately head for his fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. Just one. You'll share.

"She was pretty," you say softly, sitting on the floor of his kitchen. Side by side, you're watching the sun rise through his windows.

Jungkook nods. Feels like he's being tested. Doesn't know the right answer, so he goes with the truth. "Yeah."

There's silence. Neither of you really want to discuss it. You're not sure why.

He steals one of your chips. Knocks his shoulder against yours. "The boys seem to like you."

"You think?"

He nods, and says, "You should meet Seoyeon, too. Next time we all do something, I'll let you know. She's always saying how we need more women around. I think you'd get along."

You smile. Yoongi is so easygoing that you're sure Seoyeon must be just as friendly. "I'd like that."

The silence resumes. There's a heaviness. It's probably just the alcohol, and it's probably nothing serious, but Jungkook hates it. Things with you have only ever been light. Airy. Easy. It's not that it feels difficult now, just... different. Abnormal. Strange. 

"I-"

"Do-"

The jarring nature of your voices speaking over one another is unsettling. You bicker all the time. It's not unusual for you to fully disregard the words he speaks just to voice your own dumb point, and he often does just the same. There's no reason why either of you would stop talking now. 

You're holding back.

So is he. 

He takes another chip. Doesn't eat it. Throws it at you instead. 

"You little fucker," you laugh, and so does he. 

But then the silence settles again. Makes itself at home. Tucks itself into bed, says it going to stay for a little while.

"Byeol," Jungkook eventually says, so quietly it's almost a whisper. His eyes are wise as he looks at the golden sun that rises on the horizon. 

"Hmm?"

"The longer the paint sits... the harder it will be to get out of our clothes."

"Mmm," you nod. "You're probably right."

"I am," he tells you. He knows he is. It's not his first rodeo, either. "We should..."

His words are weighted so heavily that they become lodged in his throat. He's drunk, and he knows he maybe shouldn't suggest what he's about to but he can't seem to help himself.

"We still have a bird to do."

You know what he's insinuating. Your first bird. The waterpark one. The one that was totally botched because it was more important to try than it was to be faithful to words written on paper.

"Kook..."

He's not looking at you, just at the sunrise. "It's just a shower. Just to get the paint out. It's nothing like, deep. Doesn't mean anything."

You don't say anything. Truthfully, you think now is a really good time to do it. Things are so much easier when you're drunk.

"You kissed another girl tonight," you remind him.

He nods. "Mhmm."

"Do you not think that maybe it's a bad idea? A conflict of interest?"

He shrugs. "Think about it. Why did I kiss a girl tonight?"

"Because you wanted to?"

"Because I'm trying, Byeol. We made a commitment. Made those damn birds, and said we'd do them. You told me to get her number."

"Actually," you interrupt. "The bird did."

"Exactly. I did what the bird told me to do - but only after you encouraged me to do it, too."

"The bird never told you to kiss her. And the stakes are a little higher, here, no? Showering together surely is... I don't know. More?"

More of what, you couldn't say. Your tipsy brain isn't connecting all the dots. Nor is his. You both know it's a bad idea. You both also confusingly think it's a really good idea.

"No," he says, all rather plainly. "It's no different to the waterpark - it's just that maybe this time we'll need to wash our hair."

You consider the proposal. It's tempting. It really is. 

"Clothes on?" You ask.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you want."

"Y'know, for someone with a fear of rejection, you're pretty forward."

"I'm not scared of you," he laughs. "It's different."

And he really thinks it is. Thinks that it doesn't count. Thinks you're an exception, not the rule.

If you were sober, you'd tell him to fuck off.

But you're not sober.

And you're feeling a little irritated with the fact he's made progress and you haven't. Failure isn't something you enjoy, and being behind feels like failure to you.

So you stand. Kick your shoes off and pick them up. They'll need to go under the water, too. "Are you coming?"

For some reason, he's startled. Doesn't know what he was expecting. Maybe more refusal? Maybe he was looking for you to reinforce the boundaries already established by the pair of you.

But instead, you walk towards his bathroom. Start the shower up. Toss your shoes beneath the falling water, and call for him again. "Am I doing this alone, or what?"

You're standing by the basin by the time he approaches the door. He leans against the frame. Looks at you in a way you don't quite understand. You don't realise he took so long 'cause he had to sort his breathing out first - make sure he actually was still breathing. 

"You go first," you whisper so quietly he almost doesn't hear you above the torrent of water cascading down onto the tiled floor. 

He pauses before he reaches the water. "If you need to tap out, just say the word."

"What word?" You grin, as if anything like that has ever been discussed before. 

"Oh. Shit. I dunno," he smiles back. "Um... Chicken?"

"Chicken?"

"Chicken."

"Alright. Chicken it is."

You think it's fucking ridiculous, and you're right. It is. But it gets you both laughing. Has Jungkook holding his hand out for you and pulling you into the water with him. Eases the weight on your shoulders as he rubs some of the now wet paint from your cheeks. 

"See, told you it'd be better to wash it off," he says a little triumphantly, his pretty teeth resting down on his bottom lip.

You reach up and reciprocate his kindness. "You're such a mess."

"So are you." 

Well and truly stained, your shirt is peach as the water runs through it. Jungkook holds the shower head up and lets it run over your body, but there's nothing inherently intimate about it. Nothing sexual. It's platonic in potentially the weirdest way it could be - but most importantly, it feels safe. 

Again, you reciporcate. Let him take the lead. You can follow.

But then he catches you off guard.

"I'm gonna take my shirt off. There's paint underneath it I wanna get off."

The news is delivered so carefully that you almost think you're imagining it. Think that your tipsy brain has run wild - until he says, "Okay?"

He waits for you to nod before he does it. 

Once you do, he grips the back of his neck, and pulls the shirt over his head. It falls to the ground with a thud. The water around it runs green. Your eyes are on the trail that seeps into the drain, and not him.

"Should I?" you ask quietly. "Should I take mine off?"

Jungkook watches you closely. His heart thumps in his chest. He swallows. Studies your eyes; how they're refusing to look at his. Makes note of your shoulders and how they're slightly more curved than usual. You're cowering. Are a shadow of yourself. It really does seem like there's a deep-rooted fear, here. He feels guilty.

"If you want," he says. His voice is gentle. Temperate. Kind. "There's nothing to be scared of, Byeol. It's just me. Just us."

And you know he's right. The stakes are so low with him that it really feels like there's nothing to lose. What's the worst that could happen?

He'd see your body. That would be it. It wouldn't matter if he liked it or not. You're not seeking his approval. You know he wouldn't tell you his thoughts either way. Wouldn't comment on your appearance like that.

When you finally grace him with your gaze, he turns around; back to you, hands up like a white flag. You take in the sight of him; shoulders broad, the dip of his spine running like a river down his back. His efforts at the gym aren't for nothing.

You start to feel bad for evaluating him. It's all complimentary, but you shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not when you've just told yourself he wouldn't do the same to you.

"Tell me something," he says, not favouring the silence.

"Mhmm?"

"Why was this on your list?"

He hears your shirt slap against the floor of his bathroom, and then the soft pat of your feet on wet tiles as you turn around, too. It's only fair if his back is also turned. 

You're still in your fishnets, but you've only got a matching black underwear set on beneath them. Jungkook's still wearing his trousers - until, pretty soon after your shirt is discarded, so are they.

Now it feels even. You're both are bare as one another.

"No reason."

Jungkook knows you're lying. "I'll choose to believe you."

You smile. The way he speaks to you makes you want to tell him. Tell him everything. It's just stupid insecurities; nothing obscenely deep-rooted, you think. Chalk it up to a couple bad experiences. Underestimate just how severely Seokjin fucked with your head. 

"It's stupid," you whine.

"I highly doubt that."

And so you relent. "It's my fault, really. I... You ever just have like a gut feeling?"

"Sometimes."

"Had one of those, once. In the shower," your sentence comes out a little staggered. A little awkward. "Was with my ex and I just... His hair had smelt like candyfloss all week. Said it was a new shampoo."

Jungkook thinks he knows where this is going. You pause. 

"Anyway, I did his hair," you continue a little flippantly. You're playing it off like it was no big deal. "He did mine. Yada yada yada, you know the rest. Realised later that evening that his shampoo was fucking mint scented. No sweetness, no nothing. So... yeah. The candyfloss scent..."

"Was someone else's shampoo?" Jungkook guesses the end of your sentence, and is correct.

"He still denies it," you say. "I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Found myself in this god-awful cycle of insisting that we showered together - just so I knew he wasn't showering with someone else - only to end up crying halfway through it every single time. He was so fucking fed up with me by the end of it all. Told me I was fucked in the head. Said that if he did do the shit I'd accused him of, then it'd be my fault for driving him to it."

"Christ," Jungkook hisses. He's heard some manipulative shit in his time, but that really fucking takes the biscuit.

You hum in agreement. Sound small when you say, "he smelt like candyfloss again the week before he ended things."

Jungkook's at a loss for words. Wants to wrap you up in cotton wool. Can't believe someone would actually do that to you.

"Byeol?"

"Mhmm?" 

"Your ex-boyfriend's a prick."

"Yeah," you laugh, but it's cut short. There's a stutter in your diaphragm. You let out a deep breath. Hold back the pathetic tears you know are just dying to get out of your system. "Yeah, he was. Kind of my fault, though, isn't it? I'm the one who let him lie to me. Should have known better."

The fact you blame yourself is devastating to him.

"I'm gonna turn around," he says. "And I'm gonna give you a hug, okay?"

You nod, not that he can see it. Choke an "okay" out, and within a second, Jungkook's arms are wrapped around you. He squeezes you tight, skin warm, heat beat firm beneath his ribs. Your back is to his chest, his head resting on yours. "He's such a fucking prick. It wasn't your fault, Byeol. Wasn't your fault at all."

He's never met your ex, but he decides there's no one in the world he despises more. Doesn't like violence; would definitely consider it for him.

You shrug. "Feels like it was."

"It wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

"Shit happens." 

He hates the way you deflect. Knows you'll never change, but dear lord, does he wish you'd realise that it's okay to struggle. 

There's a slight shift in your body, and he knows it means you're done with the hug. Been vulnerable for too long. Wanna get back to the 'normal' version of you.

You're still covered in paint, so Jungkook tells you as such. You apologise for being such a mess - emotionally and physically. 

"S'cool. We both are, Byeol."

He leaves you to get washed up alone. Thinks you could do with a little privacy, and it means he can get his room sorted before your arrival into it. 

There's a scowl on his face as he organises the pillows. Can't believe how manipulative your ex had been. How dare he make you think you were imagining things, when it was evident he'd been straying. How dare he make you feel like that.

Jungkook's no saint. He's done his fair share of fucked up things, but never anything like that. It infuriates him. Makes him want to fucking cry - partially out of frustration, but mainly because of how badly it had affected you.

He thinks of the night before you'd made the birds, and wishes you'd have just gone out with Danbi and Hoseok instead of seeing your ex.

You take your time in the shower. Are sad to wash off the feeling of Jungkook's embrace, but know that you have to. You'd get too consumed by it otherwise. 

He leaves you a spare shirt outside the bathroom door, and tells you to come through to his room when you're ready. Jimin is still out, presumably asleep in some other girl's bed, so Jungkook doesn't care too much for sneaking you around - not that he has to. You're just friends.

He takes the floor. Doesn't give himself half as many pillows as he gave you the last time. Still leaves his special pillows for you, though. 

"Uh-uh," you shake your head as you come into his room to find him already curled up in the pillow pile. "On your bed. I'm on the floor."

He shakes his head right back, defiant. "Too sleepy to argue. Go to bed, Byeol."

You're about to fight back. About to quite physically move him up onto his bed - but the soft sound of paper against pillows distracts you. 

"Shit."

Jungkook sits up. "What is it—Oh. Shit."

You both just stare for a moment. Freeze, like you're in some kind of low-budget action movie. Look at his bed, then look at one another.

Another bird has fallen.

And as Jungkook assesses from how bloody wonky it is, it's definitely one of yours.

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[marvelmymarvel]

Okay so I have major writers block but I have to share my LOTR idea with yall. And I'm almost certain I am breaking so much cannon lore with the idea but I wanna do it anyway because I can. So please do not correct me, I know I'm wrong just have fun with it.

So here is my idea.

The reader is someone from here and ends up in Middle Earth. Elrond found her and put some of his blood in her to make her immortal. She technically is an elf but looks like a human. The orcs have been chasing after her for thousands of years. so Elrond, to keep her safe, sends her off to Mirkwood to stay with Thranduil. She hates it and manages to sneak out and join the dwarves on their adventures. They don't know she has elven blood in her until they meet with Elrond in Rivendell.

The scene where they are in Rivendell is where my newest idea is placed. Elrond pulls her aside and states that they (Elrond, Thranduil, Gandalf, and Galadriel) haven't been honest with her and have finally decided to open up about her true origin.

Also, all of this is to the song Ptolomaea by Ethel Cain (https://youtu.be/aLy27Xo-gos?si=AcO8odVHGrtgKGIp) Mainly the last part where the darker voice is talking... Art of Elven Sauron below is by Csanikainferna

Elrond eyed you, hesitant with how much to say and how much to show. "I haven't been honest with you... How old do you think you are?"

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes slid to Gandalf standing beside the fountain. The three of you were outside in the courtyard, the moonlight shining down and illuminating his gray hair. "I'm around 3,000 years old..." you trailed off as you looked back to Elrond who only stared at you blankly as he gnawed on his lip. "Who found you?"

"You did, what are these questions??" you bit back, nerves finally eating away at you as dread fell over your senses. Elrond sighed before moving towards you, "I should have done this a long time ago, but I was afraid doing so would put you in danger-"

You stepped back away from him, hand coming up to stop him from advancing. "I'm scared-"

"3,000 years ago I took your memories away. I'm going to give them back. All you need to remember is that he won't hurt you... Do you trust me?"

You were frozen but slowly felt yourself nod at the one person you trusted more than anyone else on this continent. His fingers came up and rested on your forehead, "You're safe, I'll be here when you come back-"

Darkness sucked you in before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Your eyes blinked open, blearily looking around the dark space around you. Rocks stabbed into your skin and a terrible heat was making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, ugly faces hovered over you and you gasped in fright as the orcs hauled you up from the ground. Your feet were kicking and you screamed out for them to let you go as they dragged you to the castle. It had dawned on you rather swiftly that you were in Mordor.

Fear coursed through your veins as large doors opened before you, showcasing a large room with a man sitting rigidly on the throne. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you at the sight of the blonde man before you. You didn't know how and you didn't know why, but he felt familiar.

He felt like home.

"Why hello there... What might your name be?"

You knew who he was, knew him as the dark lord. He was the nightmare mothers would tell their children about when they were misbehaving. He was murderous. A monster.

And yet, all you felt when looking up at him was peace, as if you had been searching for him for many millennia and you finally found him.

"I'm-"

The scene shifted and suddenly multiple images and moments flashed before your very eyes. Tears started to stream down your face as you took in just how much the feared man loved you. You had begged him to give up his desire for power and control, questioning if he really loved you. That argument seemed to anger him, because he loved you more than anything, and his power would be shared with you.

The both of you would rule the world.

The scenes continued to flash quickly as the conversations morphed into a high-pitched scream before it all went silent and you were looking down at your peacefully sleeping body that was wrapped in black silk sheets. The door to the room opened and you whirled around in fright.

From the darkness emerged Elrond and it finally dawned on you that you weren't saved from Sauron.

You were taken from him.

You stepped in front of your sleeping body but Elrond moved through you as if you didn't exist, only reminding you that this was a memory.

A memory that was stolen from you.

"Oh my... What... Who is she?" Another voice came from the doorway and you knew it was one of Elrond's generals. "I thought she was a myth... But I can already see his magic wearing off... If we don't give her something, she won't last through the night..."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over their shoulder and you noticed the color from your face draining. Elrond scooped you up in his arms, "Gandalf can transfer some of my life force to her, but we must hurry" he said swiftly as they moved out of the bedroom.

The scenes morphed again before flashing, showing you the memories you were allowed to remember. From waking up in Rivendell, acclimating to immortality, being transported to Mirkwood, meeting Thorin, to all the way up to now where you were on the ground kneeling in front of Elrond. Tears streaming down your face as he held you close.

You tilted your head down at the sight, confused as to why you weren't in your own body still, but you would soon get your answer. Your head fell backward, mouth opening as a scream ripped from your throat. Your chest lifted up into the air as if you were being possessed.

The scream cut off, leaving you all in silence. Gandalf was gripping his chest in disbelief as Elrond stroked your cheek with his thumb. "Y/n-"

Your head snapped forward, e/c eyes now blazing red, the same red of the lovers they stole you from.

"Y/n, wake up-" Elrond stated firmly as he tried to shake you out of it.

"I am no good nor evil, simply I am and I have come to take what is mine" The dark tone coming from your lips had you reeling back in fear, realization dawning on you that you had indeed been possessed.

Elrond paled at the words as my possessed lips slipped up into a snarling grin. He opened his mouth to curse at the dark lord in your body, but you continued. "I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood. I am here now, as you run from me still."

Gandalf rushed forward, hand coming out to try and rip the dark lord from your body.

Your red eyes flicked to Gandalf, "Run then, child," Gandalf ignored the threat and slammed his hand onto your head, making you start to slump over. The red in your eyes started to fade and you began to feel the pull of your by-standing soul into your once-possessed body.

"You can't hide from me forever."

[lokiinmediasideblog]

Loki S2 Ep 2

Spoilers ahead

I really am enjoying this season way more than the first. There's just more going on, and I like that.

I was pleasantly surprised that the pruning of timelines was not framed as a "necessary evil" as I expected it to be, and our protagonists tried to stop this or mourned it.

Also, I kinda love that there's a bunch of grey or somewhat scummy characters that are either similar or worse to Loki? I was expecting Loki to torture some guy that randomly grew a conscience for being a little shit, either in some copagandic move by Disney or "look at how evil Loki is" move. And lol, this will inspire a lot of Dark!Loki fic...

I mean, Loki DID get to be an evil little shit, after Brad brought up his mother (these people need to learn that's how you get on Loki's shit list). But Brad was just some self-serving guy that only cared about his own survival and fame, and would have let the rest of them die if his neck wasn't on the line as well. I will have to rewatch it because he either distracted them so Dox got to achieve her plans, or he was just self-serving and happy to let them all die as long as he was safe. Seemed pretty loyal to Dox until his neck was on the line.

I am STILL hoping the pie is drugged , and I am upset that it doesn't seem likely yet. The muscle memory of the TVA workers thing is very weird though, so it's not a discarded theory yet. Their bodies yearn for the pie. Hope it doesn't affect Loki too, as he had some as well.

I thought OB being like "figure it out yourselves; I've got to keep this place from collapsing" was so relatable, as someone in a technical field. Casey fanboying over OB was cute. And I liked how Sylvie has that cool punk aunt vibe towards the McDonald's kid, and she's shown be so traumatized to not be able to stomach the TVA, to the point of staying in a potentially pruned branch.

I liked how Mobius can't stomach the idea of having lost some good life.

I think my only complaint for now is that the dialogue in the reunion felt a little weird (and somewhat frustrating, but that might be intentional). Maybe my opinion will change after a rewatch.

I won't really complain over Loki claiming it's his feelings getting out of hand that caused the invasion. Loki has a tendency of being euphemistic regarding pain (e.g. time slipping being "not that bad"). And it still does not fuck up my head cannons (and a part of me would be scared the MCU will go the "Thanos was a good boss that gave everyone employee benefits" route because he's some writer's pet due to his whole eco-fascist schtick being framed as an "ethical dilemma", so I am scared of them touching that, like they did in "What If?" despite him canonically torturing children for the lulz).

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!Master x Reader

The Power of The Doctor - Part One

Summary: This is it. This is the day the Doctor dies. The plan is slowly falling into place, and the Master is ready for the show. UNIT and the Doctor have their questions, but the main ones are clear- What is he up to? What is going on in 1916 Russia? And why does nobody know where you are?

Notes: This is it! The big one! So big in fact, it has to go over 2 parts! The culmination of a month of daily fics, this remaster is the finale of my 31 fics of fright series (technically 32 now! Halloween part 2!). We were sufficiently fed with master content, and I was absolutely thrilled that it went out on my birthday! So enjoy part one of this remaster. My longest fic to date! As always, this is dedicated to @plethora-of-imagines​. Enjoy the roast session, and wish me luck for part 2!

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, mentions of death

A knock came at the door to the cabin, the winter wind bellowing beyond the wooden walls. The woman glanced over towards the desk, her husband’s pen placed down delicately onto the parchment. She made her way to stand, hiking her skirts and placing a hand upon the shoulder of her lover. 

“I’ll get it.” She said softly, before crossing over to the door. The latch opened easily, her eyes falling upon the soldier present at the door. The rosy cheeked military man gave a small bow of respect, her hand resting upon her hip, the winter chill biting at her nose. Removing his hat, he held it within his hands.

“Madam Praskovya,” He said. “I have been sent on a matter of urgency from the Tsarina. Is your husband home?”

The floor creaked beside you, the figure at the desk moving to stand. Footsteps made their way across the wooden boards, the man emerging to present himself at the door.

“Father Grigori, your presence is urgently required at the Winter Palace. The Tsaravich has been taken ill.” 

The figure nodded quickly, turning his head to glance upon his wife. 

“Fetch my cloak, my dear.” He said urgently, before blowing out the candle upon the desk.

“If we correlate the latest tremor detection data, with the aforementioned ground deformation measurements-”

The familiar voice from the conference hall grew louder as the Doctor and Yaz traversed down the corridor. The light bled into the wooden room from the doorway, the Doctor positioning herself as a shadow before the dark. Yaz stayed close behind, her teeth already on edge. She remembered, vividly though not fondly, what happened the last time she left the Doctor alone with the Master. That was a scenario she was keen to avoid this time, with more of the universe under her belt. 

This Yaz was older and wiser than the one who had taken the first step onto Gallifrey. This woman had faced the Flux, travelled the world in the 1900’s, fought sword to sword with Sea Devils and beaten the Daleks to midnight. This Yaz had learned to fly the TARDIS. This Yasmin Khan was ready for anything. Yet despite her newfound confidence, a part of her still trembled at the sound of his voice. He was still the Master after all.

The Doctor showed no fear as she stood at the top of the staircase, her eyes falling to the pews filled with shrunken TCE victims. Yaz had tugged on the sleeve of her coat, her attention falling to the rest of the room. There were dozens of them, tiny figures lining the seats. The Master had killed them all.

It was then the Doctor realised the Master had stopped talking. Turning back to the podium she saw him leaning against the wood, a smug smirk on his face. The look was new, his messy hair now neatened and curled, face cleanly shaven. At least he hadn’t devolved into a full goatee like last time. He’d forgone the purple and dressed himself in a tweed jacket and colourful shirt, a pair of suspenders hung over his shoulders. The Doctor scoffed internally. If he’d added a bowtie, he’d have been the spit of her old self. She supposed the mockery was likely intentional.

From beyond his tortoise shell glasses The Master peered at the Doctor and Yaz, wiggling his fingers in a taunting wave. He pushed himself from the podium, swaggering to the front of the stage as he placed a hand on his hip.

“Do you like my seismologist collection? I think I've got the whole set now. First time I picked one up I swore to myself I wouldn't get addicted again, think of the storage space- But then I found out some of them were rare and you know me, such a completionist-”

“Is this just a ramble session or is there a point to your little breadcrumb trail?”

The Doctor said, copying the Master's pose from her position near the bottom of the steps. Yaz found her head bouncing between the pair like a game of tennis, shadowing just behind the Doctor. The Master scrunched his nose, crossing one foot over the other.

“Oh go on, what’ve you got so far?”

“Well, according to some you’re Rasputin, your cyber minions have stolen a quarunx, and all of a sudden there’s a second moon above 1916 Russia. Only it’s not a moon, it’s another planet. Made of metal. Wired up to a TARDIS. Do I get bingo if I say it’s one you made yourself?”

The Master nodded along, counting on his fingers sarcastically at each point, the Doctor stepping down a stair with each moment of emphasis. By now she was on the main floor, watching as the Master pulled the pair of glasses from his face and slid them into his top pocket.

“And do I get a full house if I figure out how it all fits together, or are you just going to explain it all to me with that smug look on your face?”

The Master smirked, hopping down from the stage and raising his hands in surrender.

“Be patient, we’ll get there eventually. By the way, hello to you too-”

“How did you escape Gallifrey? How are you still alive?”

The Master chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“How many times, Doctor- It’s almost like you’re still surprised. If you paid a little more attention to detail, maybe you would know. Speaking of-”

The Master turned to face Yaz, strolling past the Doctor to lean against the front row of pews. He made a good effort to bump her shoulder on the way, the Doctor rolling her eyes as he went.

“Travelling a little thin on the ground, aren't you, Doctor? No room in the TARDIS for the whole Brady Bunch? I get why you dropped the boring one, I could never remember his name anyway. No hard feelings Yaz, but I was hoping if at least one of you was going to stick around it would be Graham. But then again, no prizes for guessing why you lasted longest. She has a bit of a thing for earth girls.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Yaz said, pushing back her shoulders and sending the Master a steely glare.

“Where’s yours? I thought she’d be sitting in the front row drawing love hearts around your name in a notebook. Don’t tell me you got dumped.”

The Master smirked, tilting his head and looking Yaz up and down.

“That shade of green doesn’t suit, Yaz. I know you were rather fond of O, but as a married man I cannot sanction all this flirting-”

“And I can’t sanction all this killing. Why?”

The Master sighed, turning to face the Doctor and moving off from the edge of the pew. The Doctor pulled her gaze from Yaz, the proud burst within her chest hardening into disdain as the Master stood inches from her face. The Masters expression softened, eyes melting from his devious glare into wide eyed innocence. For a moment the Doctor found herself back in Australia, staring at the face of a supposed friend. But the dark reality came seeping back at his words. By now her friends, both new and old, were long gone. This was all that remained of the pair of them.

“To give you a simple warning, Doctor. Leave earth, right now. Or it will be the death of you.”

“Why, finally going to make good on all those threats?”

“Because this is the day you are erased.”

“I’ve dealt with that before-”

“From existence,” The Master whispered. “Not just history. This, Doctor, is the day you die.”

The two Timelords stood before one another, almost daring each other to break away from each other's gazes. They were old eyes, each gaze burning with a thousand memories of the universe. Shared histories, crossed paths. Broken trust, broken hearts. The Doctor's cogs were turning in her brain at full throttle, trying to poke a single hole in the Master's exterior that would break open his entire facade. But there was no speck of dishonesty within the Masters hypnotic stare. That was the most worrying part of all.

Eventually, the Master broke the stand off with a melodramatic sigh.

“Wow, quite the conversation stopper. Bit awkward, right Yaz? You see-”

All the energy had returned to the Master's body, his feet dancing across the floor as he slid towards Yaz’s chest. Yaz grit her teeth together, letting her eyes shut as the Master brought his face close to her own. She could feel the villainy radiating off of him like a stench of evil. She’d learned how to sense this sort of thing. Memory always put a vile taste in her mouth. The Master was no exception.

“Now she’s stuck and doesn’t know what to do, because I've just been brilliant and made her second guess everything. She doesn’t want to leave, because she doesn’t trust a single thing I have to say, which quite frankly, my hearts doth break. But she ALSO knows she has to take it seriously, because when I make a threat, it’s no empty one. Scouts honour. Cross my broken hearts, hope to die- we have to hope, because we both know, that never tends to happen-”

The Masters maddened rambles were cut short by a commotion at the back of the room. The Master whipped around in a frenzy as the soldiers of UNIT began to filter into the room, the harsh clatter of police boots stomping down the stairs, every possible exit slamming open as the soldiers began to pour in. Yaz stepped to the Doctor's side and watched as the soldiers began to encircle the Master, the Timelord spinning in a circle not unlike a dog before it sat down. His eyes were busy with thought, his hands once more raised in surrender as the backup descended on their prey, the Master scrunching his nose at the Doctor and chuckling.

“Oh, you brought soldiers! Are these for me? You shouldn’t have!”

The Master spread his arms wide as the soldiers stomped their way onto the floor, finding himself unable to withhold a smirk as he watched one crush a shrunken doll beneath their feet.

“Oh dear, there goes all hope of solving climate change. Those poor polar bears!”

The soldiers, now seemingly privy to the Masters taunting, began to watch their step as they made their way to make the arrest. The Doctor watched with her perfected poker face, the Master smirking as the soldiers took grasp of his arms and began to pull them into cuffs. He shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders and gasping.

“Oh, gentle, gentle boys! It’s a good job my wife’s not here, she’s really into this sort of thing. A good old bit of roughhousing.”

The Master read the name badge upon the soldiers’ uniform, and caught the Doctor's glare with a devious glimmer in his eye.

“Am I going to UNIT? I really hope I am.”

Yaz glanced towards the Doctor. The Timelord was breathing heavily, though she was doing a good job at hiding it. The Doctor looked at the soldiers around her, and memories came flooding back. The last time this situation occurred, with Missy and Kate in London, it had cost the life of Osgood. She knew the Master had more up his sleeve than he was letting on. To leave him alone without any supervision would be to sign the death warrant of all the soldiers in the room. 

Maybe he was right, perhaps it was a good thing you weren’t here, no matter why. You weren’t here to encourage him. But you also weren’t here to hold him back.

“Give her a gun.”

The Doctor said bluntly, and the world around her sprung into action. The soldiers, guns aimed at the Master already, intensified their grip. Yaz rushed towards the Doctor with concern, confusion riddled over her face. Even the Master seemed slightly confused, his eyes panning between the Doctor, Yaz, and the handgun that had been thrust from the pocket of a soldier- now primed and ready to be taken. This was new. This was interesting. This meant the Doctor was deadly serious about what was about to occur. The Master found himself sufficiently excited, pressing his lips together to suppress his laugh.

“What?” Yaz asked, her hand lingering in the same spot on the Doctor's arm.

“Why?”

“Cover him. We’re going to take him in the TARDIS. Take the gun.”

“C’mon Yaz,” The Master singsonged, watching her squirm with sick pleasure.

“I thought she didn’t like guns. She must be worried. C’mon, I'll accept it as an apology for insulting my marriage.”

The Master grinned as Yaz accepted the gun, her gaze lingering on the Doctor's eyes. He watched as something unspoken spread between the pair, the Doctor urging Yaz with just the power of her glance. Yaz could see the Doctor was worried, she’d learnt the microexpressions upon the Timelord’s face by heart. All those years of that hologram, she knew what the smile lines at her eyes meant, the furrow of her brow at her anxieties. The Doctor was anticipating the worst. Yaz knew this meant she had to be at her best.

“There you go. Do you need me to show you how to use it, dear?”

Yaz cocked the gun and aimed it directly at the Masters head. She stared at him with hatred down the metal barrel, her finger primed and ready at the trigger. The months and months of police weapons training still lingered in the memory of her muscles, her shoulders hardening as she watched her target.

“The only green I've been is in weapons training. So don’t you worry. Now move.”

The Doctor watched as the Master relinquished his resistance, the UNIT soldiers flanking every side of his body as he was paraded towards the same staircase the Doctor arrived from. Yaz stayed at his tail as he was yanked up the stairs, the Master glancing over his shoulder towards the conference room with a dramatic sigh.

“We’ll pick up on the volcanic ash radius next time. Great chat, brilliant questions. Nice to see some familiar faces. Oh and boys, when you’re done stamping on them, clean up the tiny bodies and inform the loved ones for me. It was Daniel's wedding anniversary, his husband will be so upset!”

The Doctor watched the troupe of UNIT soldiers disappear from the room, a dark feeling twisting in her gut. Everything was so… disjointed. She had the larger pieces of the puzzle to hand, but there were still gaping holes in the picture, one shaped just like you. She knew the Master, and she knew you.

 If you really were gone, she also would have known by now. The Master would have pulled something ridiculous- gone on another rampage, destroyed a civilization, scorched a message into the side of a planet begging you to come back. It was the most dangerous part of this current face of his. Beyond his temper, his disdain for good, and his seemingly self destructive nature- he had you. 

You were somehow a part of this plot, the Doctor knew for sure. Only where you fit in, and how, were still a mystery to her. All she knew was that your card was still in the deck, and the Master had still to play it. The Doctor sighed as she followed the crowd. Something big was about to come over the horizon. 

Though luckily, she still had her own cards up her sleeve- she still had her Tegan and her Ace.

“Tsarina, Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina approaches.”

A maid declared to the Tsarina of Russia, the grand doors to the Winter Palace opening on command. The man from the cabin and his partner strolled elegantly into the hall, the man's hand reaching forwards to accept the touch of the Tsarina.

“Father Grigori, Madam Praskovya, thank you for coming. It is my son…”

“His haemophilia is a cruel illness.” The woman said softly, Madam Praskovya nodding at the presence of the Tsar at the planning table.

“Such a cruel illness, such a small injury… it is a test of faith indeed.”

“That is the problem I face, dear Father.” The Tsarina admitted through a pained whisper.

“I fear my faith is failing- I worry he has worsened, ever since the second moon emerged in the sky.”

“Such cosmic wonders are nothing to be feared, Tsarina. As I'm sure Father Grigori has told you, the universe is a benevolent leader.”

“Indeed, my dear Praskovya. A new moon, a new test of faith. Times such as these are sent to strengthen our faith, to test our commitment. They are a challenge we should not fall to.”

“I simply fear-”

“You should fear not. You should trust in my words, in the advice of Madam Praskovya. You should place your trust in us. In me.”

“But how-”

Rasputin's words were careful, soft and intentful as he met the Tsarina’s gaze.

“Are my eyes not full of certainty?”

Indeed they were. The Tsarina felt the compulsion within her, the hypnotic pull of command that eased her back into the comfort of obedience. She could trust Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina. She must trust Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina.

“They are.” She whispered, before falling back in line.

“Put him in the bunker. Full security detail, constant monitoring. I don’t want him out of our sight.” Kate commanded, the UNIT soldiers standing to attention from the moment the TARDIS had materialised inside HQ.

The Master gave a hop step as he sauntered out of the TARDIS, the strong arms of the UNIT personnel returning to grasp hold of his handcuffs. The corridor was flanked like a bridal procession- soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, every inch of path the Master was about to walk down armed to the teeth. The Master smirked at Kate Stewart, standing there in all her familiar glory. Unknowingly still stood in the looming shadow of her father. One that everybody still casted her in, no matter how hard they denied it.

“Learned from last time, eh Kate? Ooh the bunker! Sounds so dramatic!”

The Master gave another hop step, the arms of the soldiers keeping him in the air. If he were any other Master on any other day, he might have proceeded to swing his way down the corridor like a child. That was more Missy’s style, however. He liked to think he still kept her fun side, not for a lack of heels and a lack of trying. 

“I do love a good bunker. Anybody want to join in? Bunk up in the bunker? As long as you don’t snore.”

The Doctor had slipped out of the TARDIS behind the Master, watching him stroll down the corridor with a stone faced expression. Yaz had followed, standing beside her with the gun hanging from her hand. A soldier had opened their palm for her to place the firearm in, and she’d accepted the opportunity with thanks. As much as she hated the Master, she hated guns even more. That was something she’d proudly learned from the Doctor. Guns never solved anything.

The Master suddenly stopped, leaning over his shoulder. Kate had followed him behind, keeping a watchful eye on her prisoner. The Master smiled sickly, leering towards her face.

“You can try all you want Kate, you’ll never be your father. As much as an idiot he was. Your dad had a bespoke little prison made just for me, meanwhile you’re about to throw me in some ratty old cage like an animal. You pulled this stunt last time with the plane. That Briga-dear old dad of yours had a little more respect for me than that.”

Kate smirked, her resolve firm as she stepped closer towards the Master. She’d been preparing for this moment for years, her institution ready ever since the Cyber invasion in 2014. It was the nature of the Lethbridge-Stewart line: every one of them was able to handle the likes of the Master. Or at least, they prided themselves on trying to. No matter how hard the situation seemed.

“You seem to believe I harbour any respect for you at all.” Kate replied, unflinching.

“I suggest you correct that before you rot in the basement of my building. It’ll make things easier for you.”

“Awe, spoken like a true Lethbridge- Stewart. Don’t try and play the girlboss, darling. That was my thing. You think you got this job because you earned it? Tell me, how can the head of scientific research fail her GCSE Maths twice?”

Kate leant in closer, narrowing her eyes and curving her lips into a grin.

“I should start charging you rent, the amount of times you’ve been held captive in one of my facilities.”

“Are you offering frequent foe stamp cards?”

“You wouldn’t qualify. That would suggest we see you as an enemy worth our time.”

The Master grinned, his voice velvet smooth, tongue pricked and tainted with venom.

“If we’re so keen on saving time, why don’t you point out your favourite assistants to me now and I can kill them like I killed Osgood?”

The Master turned away, feeling victorious in his endeavour. He liked to believe he was above such trivial matters as a petty verbal squabble. He liked to think it, but he knew he wasn’t.

The biggest surprise to the Timelord came as he passed under the top deck, emerging out of the corridor and into the main hub of the building. He glanced over every face, each sad state of affairs that bore the UNIT logo upon their chest or name tag. There were soldiers, scientists, assistants and interns. Poor souls hired to pour the coffee. Merely additives to the death toll that was to come later.

But stood on the stairs, oh what a treat. The Master broke into a gasp of delight at the sight of two old faces leaning over the balcony of the stairs, two of the Doctor's old companions stood waiting for him to arrive. Tegan and Ace, those old friends of hers. Certainly, much older than they were when the Master first met them. Still holding the same glare of hatred. Some things never changed, he thought. It was nice to know they still held him in such high disregard.

“Oh, Tegan Jovanka!” He grinned, casting his glance towards the Australian woman. Oh, how wonderful her narrow eyed glare was.

“How’s your Aunty Vanessa? Do you keep ‘er in a liccle doll’s house?”

He teased in a silly voice, watching her face morph into a fury. It was rather adorable.

“Aur naur, hit a nerve did I?”

“I’m going to enjoy watching you get locked up in a tiny cell.”

“That's it, you go girl. Stick it to the Master. Speaking of tiny, where’s that little wife of yours? I expected you to be taking high tea on Trakken with the other ladies of the royal court, not skulking around UNIT in your sensible shoes. Oh don’t tell me… did Nyssa leave you too?”

The Doctor's glare began to burn a hole in the back of the Master's head, her eyes staring daggers into his mess of hair. Yaz watched as her stoic face began to silently crumble, the Master's words digging deep into her guilt. Tegan gave a disgruntled huff.

“Aw, bless. Well If you see her, let her know I made good use of her daddy’s body. Of course, after a few genocides he began to wear a bit thin. So she can sleep easily knowing people around the universe quake in fear at the thought of him, and he’s currently burned out of existence.”

“You destroyed Trakken, you ignorant dick.” Tegan hissed coldly, leaning further over the railing. Ace took hold of her arm to stop her lunging across the bar to throttle him. The Master gasped proudly.

“Did I?”

“When you thought it was a brilliant idea to unwrite reality.”

“Oh wow, I genuinely didn’t know. Oi, Kate, are you hearing this?” The Master called over his shoulder towards the head of UNIT.

“Unwriting reality, destroying planets. Sounds like stamp card material to me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ace called from the top of the staircase, her hand still holding on to Tegan's arm. The Master turned to look back at the pair, smirking fondly at the woman in the striped suit.

“And Ace too! Aren’t I lucky! Or should I call you Dorothy? Are we a bit too old for our old gang nicknames, or are the 80’s well and truly back?”

“You’re one to talk, Master.” She spat, looking the renegade Timelord up and down. The Master shrugged his shoulders indignantly.

“See, doesn’t it sound nice? Rolls off the tongue. Like your Prrrofessor. Or is that a sore spot for you, considering she ditched you?”

The Doctor was a few steps away from charging down the corridor, but she knew better. The Master was buying time, enjoying picking at the threads of each and every person in the building. It was all he had, now he’d been caught. He was like a bratty child, trying to grab attention while being ignored.

“A little fall out, perhaps? With your machiavellian maestro?”

Ace leant forward across the railing, knuckles white against the metal.

“Last time I saw you, you were half cat.” She hissed, glaring down at the Timelord. The Master smirked, looking from side to side at the two soldiers that had kept a tight grasp on his collar and arm. He remembered the Cheetah planet well, the effects still burning hot within him.

“A man’s allowed to experiment.” He grinned, baring his teeth and turning his hands into claws. 

“I mean seriously, is this the best you could do? The Aussie and the street rat? Sorry ladies, but today was going so well. Seriously, Kate. You couldn’t have gotten me Jo Grant? At least I would’ve been nice to her.”

Kate sighed, stepping forwards and taking control.

“Show’s over. Take him away.”

The Master nodded in agreement, scrunching his nose and nodding along with Kate's command. He looked up to see several more faces had joined the audience, staring down at the commotion from the upper levels of UNIT HQ. The Master grinned. You would have loved this.

“Oh yes, yes! Take me away! Because then we’ll all feel safer with me in the building, in the hole, in the dark, right beneath your feet. Great job, Kate!”

The Master was yanked backwards into the lift, the doors starting to close. He suddenly burst forward, sticking his leg out and craning his neck. The door retreated back with a metal hum, the Master turning to stare at the Doctor with the same innocent eyes as earlier.

“You’re not going to leave them alone again, are you Doctor?” He giggled deviously, the soldiers yanking him back once more. This time the doors to the lift managed to close, the Timelord grinning dangerously as they shut before him. 

From within the lift shaft his excited whoops could be heard, the soldiers that once flanked the lift dissipating from their post. Kate looked towards the ceiling once more, staring at the onlooking faces.

“I said the show's over!” She stated firmly. At once the onlookers disappeared.

 The Doctor took a step forward, meeting Kate’s eyes as she turned towards the looming blue box.

“Kate, put the building on high alert. He’s planning something. His wife-”

“Is currently unaccounted for. I’ve had a team monitoring the chatter, she hasn’t been seen ever since his defection from MI6. We’re working under the presumption that she's planning an attack.”

“The Master has an army of Cybermen in 1916, they could strike at any minute. If he’s in your bunker, somebody else has to be watching over things.”

Kate turned and whispered towards an aid, who scurried off in another direction. Ace and Tegan made their way hurriedly down the steps, watching the Doctor retreat to the front of the TARDIS. The Doctor peered over Kate’s shoulder, looking at her two former companions

“Keep an eye on the Master. We won’t be long.”

Ace stared at the Doctor in disbelief. All of a sudden the same creeping feeling that had plagued her long ago returned. She wasn’t the strong woman she had grown into now: she was a teenager again, standing there watching her mentor, her closest friend, disappear into those police box doors. Disappearing without her.

“Professor,” She called. The feel of it on her tongue felt sour.

“Where are you going?”

Tegan frowned, already disgruntled from her argument, yet more than happy to enter into one with more meaning. But the Doctor didn’t stay- just as the Master had predicted. The two women watched the Timelord beckon Yaz into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her without a second word.

“She really doesn’t want us in there.” Tegan sighed, hands falling to her hips. There had to be a reasonable explanation- perhaps she’d redecorated and knew they’d be more than happy to judge. Maybe she was simply thinking ten steps ahead as usual, and this was part of the grand plan. Whatever it meant, Tegan and Ace were staying in the building. Staying at UNIT HQ. Perhaps that’s where they were meant to be.

Beneath their feet, the Master was pushed from the door of the lift and into the corridors of the basement. He glanced around the dark corridor, categorically observing every turn and side of the route to his destination. He began to whistle a jaunty tune, waving to all the soldiers that flanked his path once more.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He mused, the soldiers tugging at the back of his jacket once more. He let out a grunt as he was shoved forwards, clattering against the far wall of the metal cage known as the bunker.

 He turned up his nose at his surroundings. God, what a dump. He supposed it must have been his fault the standards were so low these days. All the budget must have gone towards defeating his bigger and better schemes. 

“At least the plane gave me a seat.” He grumbled, scuffing his shoes against the concrete floor as the guard secured the lock to the gate. He took a run up to the front bars, plastering himself across the locked door and calling to the guard.

“Excuse me darling, I booked the cage with a bed? And I don’t seem to have the room service menu.”

The guard stared down at him unimpressed, yet the Master continued on.

“I’ve got allergies, you see. Ever since they changed the recipe, I’m suddenly UNIT intolerant.”

The renegade Timelord chuckled as the guard turned away with a scowl, slamming the second door of entry to the bunker shut with a heave.

“You laugh now, but mark my words, the wife will NOT be happy when she gets here.”

The Master grinned, pushing off from the front of the cage. He began to hum a simple tune, sitting himself down in the far corner of the cage and stretching out his legs. He gave a small wave to the large camera in the top corner, before reclining with his hands behind his head. Oh, he missed the early days of UNIT imprisonment. How wonderful his past cage had been, with his workout equipment and colour TV. He’d spent many happy hours watching earth TV shows and scheming, the UNIT sanctioned prison uniform was dangerously comfortable. Oh, and that cape! With its glitter and stars and jewelled clasp. He still had it somewhere in the TARDIS. You were awfully fond of it too. He often thought the world wasn’t as magical as it used to be. You somehow kept the magic alive, though.

“Not long now…” He hummed to himself, staring at the ceiling and settling back down. “I love a good reunion. Oi, warden! Any chance of the WIFI password?”

“My dear Tsar, this endless war- I fear for our people as much as you do. Have you made a decision upon sending in more troops? Or do you intend to withdraw?”

Madam Praskovya approached the planning table, the Tsar pinching the bridge of his nose in concern.

“The decision is difficult. So many lives. What do you suggest?”

The woman smiled, placing a hand upon her stomach.

“Much like my husband, I fear for your family. As a mother myself, I believe the stress brings great turmoil to you all. I’m sure my husband would agree… a holiday for you all is a powerful remedy.”

The Tsar tilted his head in thought as Father Grigori stepped to his wife's side.

“Indeed, a long holiday, very soon. Some time away shall benefit you, don’t you think?”

The Tsar nodded in agreement, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yes… a long holiday… very soon. That’s what I want… isn’t it?”

Rasputin stepped nearer.

“Yes, it is. I shall care for your beautiful Winter Palace, your staff shall follow the guidance of Madam Praskovya. And you shall remain assured of your one certainty. Which is?”

The Tsar was unable to look away, his eyes locked within the gaze of Grigori Rasputin. The man's wife, Praskovya Dubrovina, watched by his side, a knowing look upon her face. One that understood the instruction within his mind. One that was present when it was first placed there.

“That you… are the Master.” The Tsar spoke, the words falling from his tongue. The Master smiled, your own lips curving into a grin by his side.

“And I will obey you.”

“I really hoped I'd seen the last of him. But y’know, cats and their nine lives.”

Rattle. The brown backpack Tegan had kept slung over her shoulder had spread itself out over the floor. 

Clang. The material at the top lip of the bag had rumpled and split open, the contents of the carrier spilling itself onto the linoleum. Tegan watched the bag curiously, taking an anxious step towards the brown bag. 

Ace briefly glanced up from the computer screen, watching her friend anxiously.

“You alright?”

“No… the toy-”

Tegans hand nervously made its way to clutch upon the striped material of Ace's sleeve, instinct pulling her away from the other side of the room. The chair the bag had fallen from was spinning idly, her books and papers scattered. But the Cyberman toy, the small doll the Doctor had gifted to her, had somehow walked across the room and positioned itself in the middle of the walkway. It was a stand off between the two women and the small Cyber toy, each one daring it to move and praying it wouldn’t. The screen behind them suddenly began to fizzle and crackle, the picture of the Master’s cell blaring itself in glorious black and white. 

“Oh dear, did she want to come out already?”

The pair span around at the sound of the Master's voice from the speakers. The Timelord was sitting in the corner of the room, flexing his bound wrists and staring dead straight into the camera. Tegan was right, the sight of the criminal in a tiny cell brought the pair some sense of comfort. A miniscule sense of justice, just as big as the toy. But the smirk on his face and the glimmer in his eye spoke of something not to be trusted. How was he even communicating with them? How did he know where they’d be?

“I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. It must be awful being trapped inside a tiny little figurine. Mustn't it?”

“How the hell is he doing that?”

Ace whispered to herself. The Master scrunched his shoulders happily.

“Trust you, Tegan the brave heart. Should have nicknamed you Tegan the naive. Did you really think the Doctor would go out of her way to send you one tiny little toy?”

Tegan inched closer to Ace’s side, the woman's fists already clenched, her face calculating what he was saying. The Master was relishing in the cruelty of nostalgia today. It was a loose thread the two were determined not to let him pull. But he was tugging rather hard.

“The Doctor didn’t send you that toy. I did. I must thank you for taking such good care of her. Parting is such sweet sorrow, after all. But I knew I could count on you to keep it close if you thought your beloved Doctor still remembered you.”

The Master had risen to stand, bringing his face inches from the camera as he stared down the lens from the dingy basement bunker. Up close, the pair could see the evil speckled across his eyes. No wonder he’d been so adept at using them to control others. Even his eyes spoke of everything they and the Doctor stood against.

“You kept it close, because deep down you know you have nothing else. It’s poetry in motion, you’ll see. Especially with this next part. I hope you’ve been paying attention.”

“Why do you keep calling it a she?”

Ace suddenly asked, matching his look into the camera. The Master chuckled, tapping his fingertip against the glass.

“Oh, gold star for Mcshane! You see, that ain't just any Cyberman. It’s rather special, close to my hearts. All I have to say is, I don’t know… ‘Activate protocol 23’... and something rather magical happens.”

At the Masters declaration, the Cyberman began to shudder and grow. The doll's limbs began to expand and lurch outwards, the entire figure swelling and shooting up and size at rapid speed. The two women stepped back in shock as the figure soon reached north of six feet, the centre bond between the two half’s glowing and splitting itself open.

“Meet my Russian doll. Sweet Tegan, you should have held on to your dear old aunt. Because y’know what the best part of tissue compression is?... It also works in reverse.”

The Master laughed madly as a wild glow began to emanate out of the Cyber figure, the familiar stomping of Cybermen echoing through the office. Two by two the legion of Cybermen began to bleed out into the HQ, their metal feet punching into the ground as they assumed strategic formation. Ace was quick on her feet- the woman suddenly sprung into action, sliding across the floor of the office and grasping hold of the two handles in a floor panel beneath the main desk. The panel was yanked from its place in the floor, revealing a secret compartment- large black guns and strips of ammunition sat in floor-bound holsters, the gold bullets shimmering within their casings. UNIT knew how to handle a Cyber invasion. They’d had more than enough experience.

The layers within the Cyber doll continued to peel away, until the glimmering white faded into a silhouette of jet black. The doll split open as before, but this time an unfamiliar sight stepped out. It was a Cyberman, decayed and rusted, one arm covered in cloth and wielding flesh, half of its face broken and shattered, revealing the pale skin of its body beneath. The Cyberman glared at the two women with its still human eye. The Master clasped his hands together with glee. 

“Don’t be scared girls, meet my friend Ashad! I killed him once but he’s forgiven me now, because now he’s become useful to me. Call him the head of security.”

The figure had yet to finish its lightshow. The black layer had slipped away, revealing a layer of shimmering metal, engraved in circular Gallifreyan and glimmering gold. The join in the middle split once more, revealing a distant figure between the hazing glow of the doll. Two feet stepped out from the doll before it came crashing down into a screwed up mass of metal, the figure's shoulders rolling back and arms stretching to the heavens. Rocking on their heels before sighing with a flourish, the figure gave a teasing wave to the two women.

“Lovely day for an invasion, isn’t it?” You grinned, before pulling two blasters from the holsters on your belt.

“TEGAN!” Ace called from across the room. Tegan instantly sprinted across the screen, the Master smiling devilishly as he peered into the screen.

“The basement calls, Love. Why don’t you let the Cybermen play while we catch up?”

You watched as Tegan hastily flipped the front desk onto its side, Ace wielding the large black guns. You gave a teasing laugh as you waved your blaster in the air.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but places to be! Boys, you can take it from here.”

The Master's laughter echoed in the distance as you sprinted from the room, the sudden sound of gunfire slamming into the walls. Oh, how incredible it felt to stretch your legs again! To feel the wind in your hair as you ran through corridors, terrorising men in uniform. You were practically skipping through the corridors, the tribes of UNIT soldiers bursting in from every direction as you made your way through the building. One by one you unleashed your blasters into their chests, their heads, any place you could land a hit. They had bigger things to focus on than little old you. Cyber invasions always tended to be rather show stopping. Metal men always managed to steal the attention away from the important parts of the plan.

“ATTENTION. UNIT HQ IS UNDER ATTACK FROM CYBERMEN.”

Kate’s voice blared over the speakers, the sirens calling out through the tannoy as you sprinted down the stairs towards the basement. You navigated every turn, the dark grunge of the basement alight with gunfire as you took your quest to find the Master. The corridors were sensical, the path ahead of you easy to navigate as you shot down soldier after soldier. You could feel them all, waiting to get that wonderful kill, a badge of honour. What a shame for them. What fun for you.

The last door in the corridor burst open, and you made your way inside. The two that were waiting were an easy shot, two blasts into their exposed chests were easy hits to make. You dodged the close range fire determinedly, a few near scrapes making you jolt. The soldiers fell like wonderful dominoes as you ran towards the next corridor, the sound of familiar laughter floating from down the hall. You felt your hearts lurch within your chest at the sound, the last two soldiers falling to the ground as you sent the blasts into their necks. There was a door at the end of the corridor, an entryway lined with fencing. That was where the sound was coming from. 

You paused just before, shaking your hands and taking a breath. You fixed the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place, smoothing down your outfit with the sides of the blasters before aiming at the locking mechanism on the door. The lock sparked with fire at the impact, the door to the bunker swinging open, inviting you inside.

Your eyes widened with delight as they fell upon the Master. He’d switched up his look since the last time you saw him, your heart fluttering within your chest as you ran towards the bars. The Master raised his hands to shield his face as you aimed your blaster towards the second mechanical lock, the black box bursting open with the force of the blast and sending the door swinging open with a start. The Master growled excitedly, his wrists ripping apart the chain connecting the two cuffs as he flexed his arms, the Timelord letting out a delighted sigh as he unbuttoned his tweed overcoat.

“Oh darling.” He grinned, his voice as velvet as you remembered it to be. 

The distance between you was gone in an instant, the Master's arms opening wide as you flung yourself into his embrace. His hold wrapped tightly around your shoulders, his face plunging into your neck as you buzzed with excitement. Here he was, and here you were. Both alive and well, thanks to his genius. 

“I knew it would work; I knew compression would keep you safe. Oh, that Tegan, she did so well. She brought you exactly where I needed you.”

You pulled away from his tight grip and gazed at your husband with adoring eyes. You’d missed him so much, the blood pumping through your veins as you felt his lips press against your hairline.

“Right by my side.”

“UNIT hasn’t changed.” You mused, tugging him forwards towards the exit of the cell.

“Still run like a circus, still just as fun to break out of.”

“I still think my stamp card idea is worth the investment.” The Master purred, his smile like the Cheshire cat as he shook his hands with merriment. All that energy built up in his system, now notched up a level by your arrival. He’d missed you terribly, the ache in his chest at your absence now replaced by the deafening thud of his heartbeats. Now his plan was well and truly in motion.

The Master took hold of your hand, your blaster slipped back into its holster as he leapt through the destroyed gate and into the perimeter around the bunker.

“They thought chainmail would keep me in.” He teased, leaning down and admiring the sparking wires of the lock.

“How cute.”

You watched the Master lean down to the base of the gate, running his fingers over the metal and grasping hold of the rod that connected into the lock box. He tugged hard, letting out a feverish grunt as the metal began to warp, the rod bending and creaking as he yanked it out of its position. The rod came free in the Master's hands, the Timelord snarling like a wild animal as he clutched the metal, and as if wielding a baseball bat, swung forwards and clubbed at the glass circuit breaker in the wall. The frosted glass shattered into a thousand pieces, the Master digging his fingers into the mains and ripping out a section of the wiring. Only this wasn’t any old part of the wiring, the way it shone in the light of the basement and churned within the Timelord's hands. You watched him grip the TCE with pride, his finger slipping into the copper ring as he stood before you with a flourish. You clapped your hands together with glee, the Master preening at your praise. He always worked better with an audience. 

The Master suddenly surged forwards, his free hand slipping around your back and the other gasping your hand. The Master began to spin you, feet waltzing across the concrete floor, his eyes meeting your own. You danced to the sweet sound of bullets and screams, just as you’d danced to the destruction of Gallifrey. He’d kept you safe all that time, carrying you between his hearts until he was sure you could be safe. Until he could ensure nothing would stand in your way when it came to your part of the plan. Here you were once more, right between his hearts. Where you always were meant to be.

The sudden arrival of Ashad at the door told the Master it was time.

“The soldiers are moving down the stairs.” He grated, metal on metal.

The Master sighed, tilting his head and pushing your hair behind your ear.

“We need to get moving, don’t we?” You asked, shivering at his touch. The Master nodded, tapping his finger on the end of your nose.

“Yes, my love, we certainly do. I’m so glad I cloned him.”

“We should keep him, like a neutered pet.”

“Trust me, dearest. If it’s a pet you’re after, I have one in mind. You’ll see.”

The Master hummed once more to himself as he spun you one last time, elated giggles pulling themselves from your throat as he leant you down into a dip. Your hands flung to wrap around his neck, the Master's arm that held the TCE extending out beyond your head.

“Welcome home, love.” He grinned, before allowing his thumb to activate the trigger. Your faces met as the trigger was pulled, the Master's lips meeting your own as you disappeared in a whirlwind of teleportation energy.

There was truly no place like home.

The winter wind bellowed beyond the walls of the wooden cabin, the haze of teleportation energy sending light shining against the dark wood. You landed in the Masters embrace, your eyes adjusting to the darkness as you kept a tight hold upon his shoulders. 

“Welcome to Russia, 1916.” The Master grinned, his hands refusing to leave your body. He’d been apart from you for far too long.

“I hope my disguise is warm enough.” You teased. The Master chuckled fondly.

“You won’t need to worry about the heat, the Winter Palace is cold in name only.”

“The Winter Palace? Am I about to be a Tsarina?”

The Master shook his head, causing you to give a melodramatic pout.

“Close, but no cigar. We’ll be having a little more fun than that.”

The Master's hand guided your lower back towards the wardrobe in the corner, the doors opening with a creak. Two different garments, similar in style, hung upon wire hangers- your hands instinctively went to caress the material.

“We won’t be Tsar and Tsarina, love. But we’ll be the next best thing. Say hello to Madam Praskovya, and Father Grigori.”

You paused, the name ringing familiar. You turned towards the Master with a raised eyebrow, the Timelord smirking proudly.

“More likely known to history as Praskovya Fedorovna Dubrovina, and her husband: Grigori Yefimovich-”

“Rasputin.” You breathed out, the same smile spreading across your face. You sank back into his hold, the Master’s head resting against your own. His excitement was tangible through his skin, the Timelord buzzing with anticipation.

“Russia’s greatest love machine?” You asked, hope in your tone.

The Master simply winked in reply.

[bellmo15-blog]

The Most Beautiful Host for Carnage

And here we have in the list of old Ko Fi Requests Ammer has done for me a technically old concept since I've gotten a bunch of Symbiote related art before this but also technically new because it's with a different symbiote instead of Venom this time but still also technically old because if we are respecting Marvel lore than Carnage is still the child of Venom but it's still technically a new thing because even with there relation to Venom Carnage is still pretty different from Ven... Is your head hurting yet? Good lol!

I've gotten A LOT of Symbiote related stuff relating to Venom up to this point and there's always been a good reason for that. Aside from being the main Symbiote that people will usually think of when they think about this parasitic species of aliens, I just really like the design of that suit regardless of what universes design it is. Main, Ultimate or Rami verse. However even with that, Venom's child Carnage is another Symbiote I'd had a lot of interest in getting something with. Problem is that for the longest time I couldn't think of a good host to pair them with. Until I played Skullgirls and saw Eliza. Putting aside the fact I do have a thing for Eliza's design in general bonding her to Carnage made two much sense NOT to do.

I mean Eliza herself in cannon is well over 1000 years old thanks to the parasite she's already bonded to with, Sekhmet, which has allowed her to make herself young and beautiful perpetually thanks to blood magic as well how the charity blood drives she helps run are only used her her own selfish reasons not to mention she's shown in her own story mode to be pretty ruthless and not above getting her hands dirty. She's pretty much a vampire at this point. Plus her animations in game have her morphing her body in a way very similar to how Symbiotes are able to in most depictions. So bonding her to ANOTHER parasite that is a lot more violent, takes pleasure in violence, has a pretty high kill count and who's name is literally Carnage was perfect... And also probaply pretty scary given she's likely now even more dangerous. Thankful even most people who don't know a lot about Marvel lore know how dangerous the Carnage symbiote can make someone so I'm sure people will remember to be careful around the otherwise beautiful Egyptian Diva.

Genie Michael: Most people know? That's pretty ironic coming from the same guy who didn't even know who Moon Knight was until a few years ago despite Moon Knight existing in Marvel since 1975.

Hey, that example Marvel barley did anything with the character outside of comic books anyway save for that one Spider-Man game from 2008 he cameo's in and only recently decided to have him be part of the MCU with his own series on Disney +. Carnage and Venom on the other hand Marvel's done a lot with so I have no doubt more people know them!

Inkling Michael: I don't know man, with the way some Mellenials and Gen Z's act over some of the stuff you talk about IRL I'm not getting my hopes up high. Hell, I'm not even from this universe and even I can tell you I get surprised when I see people here who have never owned or heard of Bionicle despite it's legacy.

GM: Yeah and not to mention we got people acting like the recent Dune movies are some sort of revolutionary Si-Fi story even though the franchise has existed for decades at this point thanks to there being several books, a movie from the 80's and lots of video games.

Artist is AmeerAshourDraws.