#yellow as a villain's colour

[probablyaseamonster]

So you know how my Witchcraft SMP theory got almost 500 notes? Like I'm talking in the late 490s?

Well I'm doing it again. This time with Pirates. On Day 1. Because I can.

... I'll probably update this later.

ANYWAY

I was thinking about the weirdos who took Guqqie. I didn't catch their nametags if they had any (my screen was being super blurry, it's been a problem for like a week), so I'm starting to call them the People of the Yellow Ship (Because notably they're the only ones with a brightly coloured sail and we need more yellow as an intimidating colour. Too many derederes. Not enough Bill Ciphers).

I was wondering, because they explicitly singled her out out of a large crowd of currently loud people. Was it her bright pink hair? The mysterious gleaming circle thing on her shirt, whatever it is? Maybe, but I think it'd be more interesting if the hatred (or admiration? whatever emotion behind the intent) wasn't based on something so surface level. If the People knew some deeper things about Guqqie.

My first thought? They targeted her because she was vulnerable. Like how real cultists operate, because I assume from the shot of the temple at the end of Guqqie's animation that they're meant to be interpreted as cultists. Now obviously real life cultists don't sacrifice people most of the time (although most media doesn't seem to acknowledge that), so keep in mind that these characters are probably not going to be realistic depictions. Of course. It's a story about pirates and eldritch horror made by gamers and influencers.

ON A SIDE NOTE. I think I'm the first person (at least on tumblr) to point out that the Faction/Pirate Isles have their own temple, as shown at the end of the intro. A caved-in greco-roman inspired structure that is surprisingly more overgrown on the very-much-inhabited pirate hotspot compared to the island with the abandoned and corrupted village (and somehow when Guccie made it to the deadly temple it started snowing. How exactly was it snowing on a tropical island? I hope this will be answered... are gods real? and at least one of them condones this?... hm... the eldritch vibes are getting stronger the more I think about it). Also I want to mention that it would've been so easy to make the temple aztec or something but I'm so glad they didn't. Adventure movies do enough damage.

But back to the theory. How is Guqqie vulnerable? Well, in Owen's YouTube series so far, we only see Guqqie a few times. Mostly getting along well with Aimsey, but one time is particularly relevant. I think it was before Owen had chosen to join the Herons, when he was considering all options (as skeptical as he was). Guqqie mentioned that she rarely leaves the island, as she is uncomfortable on the open sea. Mentioned that she gets seasick, and most interestingly, that her parents say that the act of getting seasick is "unladylike".

This sentence set off alarm bells in my head. Honestly whenever someone uses the term unladylike it concerns or enrages me, but past that. We don't know much about Guqqie's home life, other than that she was probably raised a Kestrel, much like how Scott was raised a Heron. On Aimsey's stream she said that c!Guqqie didn't like c!Aimsey at first, which at least to me implies that Guqqie's parents had instilled a hatred of Kites in their daughter, which Guqqie eventually broke out of when she fell for the swag enby with the tentacle tattoos.

Guqqie's parents instilling the importance of appearing ladylike to Guqqie reads that they wanted her to be a model aristocrat (at least among pirates), much like Scott and Owen. But the part where it gets dark is they told her this in the context of her seasickness. They thought it was unbecoming of a woman to need to throw up over the gunwale (yes I looked up what the railing of a ship was called just for this post, what of it), her face green as rotting bread. Which is, in a word, scummy. If your kid has health issues like this, don't be like that. You know, if there are any parents reading this, which I doubt.

cc!Guqqie had only an hour and a bit to tell her story to the other cc!s and their chats. And she chose to tell Owen's that tidbit of information. It seems like a comedic throwaway line, but I keep coming back to it. Something tells me that this was important. That it may have been part of the reason she was chosen.

I just realized something as I was writing this out. Oh god. If I'm right, then they'll probably go after Scott next.

pt 1.

[plasticbag23457]

Dead poet society and Villainous cross-over nobody asked for 🫣

[naixaie]

.🌹✨

[phoenixcatch7]

I'm sorry, I can't deal with the svsss anime 3d style, I can't take it even slightly seriously lmaoooo. It looks so hideous next to the gorgeous 2d mdzs and tgcf, with their flowing robes and ribbons and exquisite lighting and stunning effects. I just, I know it's a parody comedy that isn't as polished as her next two books, but mxtx please, you're letting your first born down ToT.

The fact that this fandom is going strong even on the other side of the world nearly a decade later, too. Like. Bingqiu deserves to look slightly decent compared to the other two but if we can't have that could we at least have that second season :'). I'm sure people would be more drawn to it if it didn't look so much like boneless plastic dolls in cosplay.

[loz-the-noob]

CAPCOM ACTUALLY TREAT ATHENA LIKE A MAIN CHARACTER CHALLENGE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[wyrm-with-a-why]

What if the villains eyes turned bright blue or yellow when they became evil huh?

[aria0fgold]

English is failing me today yall, I forgot the word squishy. I blame this all to mhyk's new au event.

[possession1981-moving]

anyways. i have a jcob set from the ep as well but i have a migraine so i’m not gonna be finishing it until tomorrow look forward to it pls it doesn’t look good lmao

[peachpitfics]

Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you. 

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

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

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[dumbseee]

stalker.

f1 au: in which, you and charles break up after years together, because he cheated on you.

masterlist.

charles leclerc x reader. / ? x reader.

fc: lalisa manoban.

note: no hate to charlotte ofc!! but i needed a villain :(

liked by lilymhe, yourbestie, landonorris and 917 628 others.

y/n: his bitch used to ask me for makeup advices.

_

fan1: oop-

fan2: POP OFF QUEEN

fan3: that’s my girl

fan4: the caption >>>

fan5: y/n in her reputation era and we’re here for it!

lilymhe: yellow is YOUR colour!

y/n: @.lilymhe ikr?? for years i thought red was the deal, but i was so wrong.

fan6: Y/N????

fan7: not the charles shade 😭

fan8: destroy him queen make him regret loosing a bad bitch like you.

view all 158 800 comments.

taglist: @ferrariloverr

[conflictofthemind]

holly wheeler - who/what are you? an informal post about all of the holly oddities I've discovered so far.

where do I even begin with this one? I'm just going to jump into it and show you all the weird connections I've found that mostly relate to holly-el/jane, holly-alice and holly-sarah. I have no real conclusions so far so I invite everyone to take a look and share their thoughts.

oddity one: the hair

All four are blonde girls, and three have pigtails or twin braids, reminiscent of rabbit ears.

oddity two: the rabbits

terry ives' home, inside what should have been jane ives' room:

holly wheeler and her rabbit lite-brite:

alice creel and the dead rabbit:

And why the rabbits? Well, they're all a reference to Alice in Wonderland. The first rabbit in the painting in Jane's room is just literally the rabbit from AIW, fitted with a pocketwatch.

Alice in Wonderland:

Just check out #whiterabbitgate for more on the two above, the song 'White Rabbit' is also connected to El and just general HNL activities.

The Rainbows:

(above is the Terry Ives flashback from season two)

Holly's outfit in Season 5 is incredibly colourful and there are at least 3 different rainbow items inside her room.

The Flowers:

^ Holly even has yellow red and blue flowers on her bicycle basket.

My questions have already been: why is Vecna/Henry seemingly interested in her enough to not only lure her but continue 'playing' with her for multiple scenes? Why is Holly suddenly relevant?

I'm also a BTVS fan, and the idea of a younger sister suddenly introduced had me thinking of Dawn. Dawn was Buffy's younger sister introduced suddenly in Season 5 (literally out of nowhere) - until it turned out that she wasn't a fully real person, but a powerful energy turned into a human that was sent to the Summers' house where they would protect her. She never existed until she was fourteen, but they all believed she had with false memories. Furthermore, she becomes the target of that season's villain which Buffy has to protect.

So then we get to Holly's room:

Most notably for this post are ALF and the 'A Royal Pain' book. Let me just show you the plot summaries for both, starting with ALF:

I initially thought the ALF reference was just a reference to El (and it very much could be a dual thing). But considering the strangeness.... and the parallels that are coming to light between them.

A Royal Pain:

There has already been baby-switch precedent in the show. In fact it's a major theory about Jane Ives and El - that they aren't the same child. But when it's been specifically brought up, it's been in relation to the Wheelers. Karen, was your other daughter swapped in the hospital? Or something even crazier?

I'll get to more when my ideas are less of a mess. But there's also something interesting @bylerposting has brought up - the way that Mike has this whole interesting out of place dialogue with El.

But what if it wasn't about El - what if it was also subtext for Holly? She came into the family even though she wasn't a biological daughter. The Wheelers were like her new parents, and Nancy was like her new sister.

And there's so much more I'm thinking of but can't get to right now, like Holly with the lights and her perception of the supernatural before others sense it. I just want to get this ball rolling for real.

[the-modern-typewriter]

ive been obsessed with your work and i honestly just can't get enough of them! Could i make a request please please please! Supervillain captures hero and tortures them for months until they suddenly get bored of them and ask villain to get rid of them. Villain doesn't know that it's hero he was ordered to kill by supervillain and when he enters the cell where hero was he becomes shocked by what he sees and can't get himself to kill hero. Please continue this however you like im so excited!!

The villain stopped in the doorway of the cell.

It would be wrong to say he stopped dead, given being dead was supposed to be a relatively peaceful thing after the horror of it all.

(The hero, surely, wished that they were dead.)

The villain's mouth worked, but no sound would come out at first. He felt like he'd been punched in the windpipe. In the stomach. In all the vulnerable, gasping places.

(The hero, surely, would find that laughable given the state of them. They would love to only have the air knocked out of them.)

They lay in a broken heap in one corner of the otherwise pristine cell - no chance of infection or disease ending their suffering early, oh no. They were a blot of colour against the white of it all. Bruises yellow and purple and green. Blood red. The glint of bone where no bone should be visible.

Perfectly clean, glossy hair. Intricate, shiny restraints untouched by the violence around them. No clothes.

"Have you come to kill me?" the hero asked.

Their voice was raw, raspy, whether from disuse or screaming he couldn't be sure. It was impossible to miss the most tentative note of hope in the hero's tone.

The villain swallowed. Hard. "Yes," he said. Then, "I've been ordered to. I -" He swore. "I didn't know you were here. I didn't - oh god. How long have you been here?"

He willed down the nausea. What right did he have to be nauseous?

It was impossible to miss the hope and, abruptly, equally impossible to fulfill his task.

He crossed the room in one swift movement, kneeling at the hero's side, flailing to pull off his jacket. To cover the hero with something soft and kind against the bitter chill of the dungeons.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay? It's going to be alright."

He didn't want to bring a blade down on the hero's ruined flesh, he wanted to offer soothing creams and bandages. He didn't want to invite the hero to drink poison, when he could give painkillers. How could he destroy? All he wanted was to fix.

The hero's gaze finally moved over to him, with seemingly great effort. There was very little behind their eyes. Everything except desperation had been carved out, leaving them some hollowed thing with their innards dumped like garbage on the side.

The villain was reminded of Halloween pumpkins and husked-out dolls, rabid dogs too exhausted to do more than froth and whine.

"Please," the hero said. "Don't."

Once upon a time, the hero had never pleaded. At least not without a glint in their eyes, a mocking twist of their bright mouth, like pleading was a favour, an inside joke that they were both in on.

"You don't want to get out of here?" the villain demanded.

"I don't want to wake up here again tomorrow."

"I won't let that happen."

"Like you didn't let this happen?"

The villain flinched. There was nothing he could say to that, was there? He could beg forgiveness, but the hero didn't even say it like accusation. It was just a matter of fact. Resigned.

"Finish it." The hero closed their eyes, apparently done with the conversation. "If you ever cared about me. Just...just finish it. You need to finish it. Please."

The villain pulled a knife obligingly from one of his many sheathes. He'd seen a lot of dead bodies. His hand wavered, utterly unable to imagine the hero as one of them.

"No," the villain said. His shoulders squared. "No. You're right, I let you down. God, I let you down. But I - I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix this."

Maybe it was selfish. He'd never claimed to be an altruistic man.

He stepped out of the dungeons some twenty minutes later, gently cradling the hero's body in his arms.

He stopped a second time.

The supervillain lounged against the stairs leading up, eyes glittering, a delighted grin upon their face.

The villain's mouth dried. He glanced down at the hero, who tensed, but did not seem surprised.

They seemed...guilty.

The villain's stomach plunged icy.

"Oh, you failed," the supervillain crooned. They pushed to their feet. "I really wasn't sure which way it would go. We had to have a little bet."

"You-"

The supervillain attacked with monstrous swiftness. Both hero and villain cried out as they hit the floor; the sounds impossible to distinguish from each other. Everything rang sickening with pain.

The supervillain caught hold of the villain's hair, yanking their head back. In an instant, the villain felt their powers sweep over his body, locking every joint and muscle in place. Rigid. Rigor-mortis.

"Good job," the supervillain said, to the hero, in the tone of one promising a lollypop to a toddler. "As promised, you can go now. Crawl away if you can. The front gate locks in one hour! You know what happens if you don't make it."

The hero choked on a sob.

The villain and the supervillain both watched them, agonisingly, try to move. They managed a mere inch. Dragging themselves, with bloodied-nails, across the polished floor.

Then the supervillain turned their attention, dismissively, back to the villain. They tightened their grip, dragging the villain's body back towards the cell, the way they'd come.

"Ah well," they shrugged. "That's a them problem."

"No." It came out a wheeze, barely audible through the villain's frozen lips. "[Hero], please, what-"

"This," the supervillain declared, throwing him down where the hero had been. "Is going to be so much fun. Traitor."

[the-kr8tor]

Oh so you want dad!Hobie requests? Take this shot;

dad!Hobie planning a mother's day surprise for R with the twins 🥹 he wants to make something handmade (of course) with them as a gift and a family dinner and R can't move a finger! It's her day so Hobie is the one responsible for everything as she rests and/or gets some quality time with the three loves of her life.

(R may be a bit skeptical because for a week Hobie's been acting weird from all the hiding but she just gives him the benefit of the doubt and in the end it's just him being utterly in love for her)

(Ow why'd you have to shoot me, bleaky?) Thank you for the lovely request!! 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, dad! Hobie, mum! Reader, Billie and Ramona AU, dad AU, twin AU, Fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You wake up to silence, it's quiet, and you smile, muscles relaxed as you hug your pillow. Eyes opening wide awake, you realize that it's too quiet. You've overslept, judging from the clock that blinks eleven am. This would be heaven for you but the eerie quiet has you flipping the covers away hastily, almost tripping over your own feet as you leave your shared bedroom; not even bothering to put on your slippers. Your mind races to different scenarios, a villain has your daughters, your five year old girls are currently making their own breakfast downstairs and now there's a fire. Or worse, green goblin is making breakfast for them.

“Billie!” You call, feet bounding down the stairs. “Mon—!” Skidding to a halt, you release a sigh of relief at the scene in front of you.

Your little family has their own aprons on. Hobie has your purple frilly one, while Billie and Ramona have their own, pink and yellow with little butterflies that's a bit big on their little frames. Their curls all tied up atop their heads neatly, courtesy of Hobie. All three of them are properly dressed up, like they've been awake for hours. You guess that they have been based on how messy the kitchen is, yet there's no speck of sauce or icing on their chubby cheeks or on their cute outfits.

They freeze on the spot, like you just hit pause on the remote control. Billie has her finger floating above a bowl, probably sneaking a taste while her dad is turned away, kneeled in front of the oven where he's halfway taking out a freshly baked cake. His mouth agape, hazel eyes blinking like a deer in the headlights. You just now notice how your home smells like a bakery and a restaurant. Sporting a pair of baking mitts on, he winces at the ruined surprise. Mona's eyes are wide, a box of sprinkles in her smaller hands. A huge dollop of the sugary treat escapes the confines of the box, colourful sprinkles raining down on the pink icing.

“Hi mummy—” Mona tries to nonchalantly greet you but Billie surrenders, arms raised, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy mother's day, mummy!” Billie quickly climbs down the stool with the grace of a baby giraffe. Socked feet running towards you, you bend your knees to catch her before she hits your legs. Giggling, she embraces your neck. “Surprise!”

“Oh thank you, dovey!” Pecking her temple, squeezing her tight, you feel Mona tugging down at your shirt. “Hi, baby.” Beaming down, you scoop her up, already an expert at carrying your two babies at once.

Mona holds out a candy flower for you, a shy smile on her lips, eyes soft and adorable at how she looks at you like you deserve the whole world. “Happy mummy's day, mummy.”

“Thank you, my flower.” She hides her face on the crook of your neck, you'd shower them both with kisses but someone else gets your attention.

Hobie saunters over to you, a bouquet of flowers in his arms that he procured from somewhere. All multicolored petals and seemingly out of this world. Still in your apron, he reaches for you all smooth and suave, eyes glued to your flustered face. Pulling you by the waist, he single handedly holds the three of you.

“Mornin’”

“It's definitely a good morning.” The twins watch the interaction, their eyes flicking over to the enticing flowers that seem to be painted with watercolors and with its petals opening and closing slowly. “What's all this?”

“It's mother's day, love. Did you forget?” Hobie teases, mischievous smile that you eagerly want to smooch away. You resist while your babies are still in your arms.

“Actually I did, I had a busy week.” You apologetically say even though none of it was your fault. There was trouble at work, to which you had to stay far longer than you should have for a couple of days. Then there was Mona who had the sniffles, and of course Billie followed with her own fever. On top of all that, you missed Hobie dearly while he had to stay overnight in spider society.

Hobie knows you had a crappy week, he appreciates everything you do, to the smallest things, to the heavier stuff that he wouldn't have solved if not for your help and mere presence alone. He wants to say so much gooey lovey stuff to you, to show how much he still loves you even after all these years of being together. And how that love has never wavered even for a second.

But for now, he'd settle for the breakfast that he and his girls prepared for you. There's lunch too, and dinner. He thinks that the surprise isn't all ruined since he still has a few tricks up his leather sleeves.

“Let's help you remember, yeah?” Hobie turns towards Billie and Mona who are mesmerized by the flowers. “What do you say, mac and cheese, let's give mum the best mother's day?” They stay quiet, eyes glued onto the other wordly flowers. Looking at it closely, it's all mechanical. You then realize that he made the entire bouquet, the thought has your heart melting.

Hobie shakes his head with a smile. “When I told you lot to keep quiet while baking, I didn't say to forever be this quiet. You two are scaring mum and dad.”

You chuckle, shaking them lightly in your arms. They look like they're out of the spell. Grinning up at you, eyes sparkling under the kitchen lights. They hug you simultaneously, you can feel how they relax completely in your arms just like how they used to back when they were still in their cribs. There's a part of you who wishes they don't grow up too fast so you could have more moments like this.

“How'd you get them to stay all quiet?” You ask, there's heat behind your eyes. Tears of happiness almost spilling over when Hobie places the flowers behind him and on the counter to hold you fully in his arms. He subtly helps with carrying the girls with how his arms snake around and under yours .

“Simple, told ‘em it was all for mum.”

You could feel the sob in your throat, Hobie laughs, not at how your lips wobble but it's the only thing he manages to do from how deep he is in the fog of affection around you four.

“Happy mother's day, love.”

[straightforthefl00r]

sidekick? more like sidechick!!

There were three main outcomes Tomura had prepared for, when he schemed to attack USJ.

One: the ideal result was that he would succeed in killing All Might with his state-of-the-art nomu, and move onto the next stage of his plan to world annihilation. The world would hail chaos in one move. He would be known to everyone that he was the bringer of fear; the one who destroyed their precious peace.

Or two: All Might would, annoyingly, not die, but would be fatally injured by the nomu. This would still be partial success, as the Symbol of Peace would be out of commission, and this would mean that society would be well on its way to falling without its stability. Not only that, his League of Villains (well two villains right now, counting Kurogiri) would gain traction in the media, and publicity is always a plus. Tomura could use this to expand the League and his influence across Japan.

As much as he wanted his plan to go in any of these ways, Tomura knew he had to be prepared for any scenario — even his failure.

His third outcome was that if All Might defeated his nomu (which should not be possible due to its extraordinary power), then he should retreat and build up his forces again for another attack.

Unfortunately for Tomura, his attack on USJ resulted in the final outcome.

He escaped with three-ish, four-ish, five-ish bullet wounds, no USJ underlings and no nomu, not even its bloody body.

At this point, he was just glad he had the foresight to plan his failure. Not only were his underlings arrested, the nomu was apprehended by All Might, and he proved to be stronger than ever, despite Sensei insisting All Might has been drastically harmed in their last battle together.

He needed a fucking drink.

“Kurogiri, I’m heading out.”

The door slammed shut and Tomura disappeared into the night.

oOo

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life.

Exams were finally over and that meant you could finally release your inhibitions, in the form of obnoxiously loud music and sweaty clubs.

You had just finished a lovely evening out with your boyfriend and friends. After a night of raving and dancing and (fairly) responsible drinking, you were just coming out of the club and on your way home.

Your boyfriend went to his apartment earlier before you, a few hours ago due to “something”. You couldn’t hear him clearly above the booming music, you assumed it was because of his chronically weak stomach. He always said that, whether it be nights out or dates. You brushed it off like it was nothing because his health mattered first.

He’ll make up for it.

Probably.

oOo

It was around 4am when it happened.

“What the fuck?” You yelped and found yourself sprawled on the floor, outside a closed bar. The street was empty, save for a few stray cats, occasionally yowling into the night.

The mass you ended up being entangled with was wearing a black hoodie. Dishevelled hair could be seen peeking out from the hood - light coloured, a stark contrast to his hoodie.

You sat up straight on the floor, trying to make sense of what was happening, veins pulsing. You could hear shallow breaths coming from the body turned away beside you.

You tried to shake the person awake, he groaned and the stench of alcohol and iron greeted you. His shoulder felt slightly damp too. You raised your hand up slightly to the yellowing street-light. Your hand had a tinge of orange, leaning more to the red side.

Blood?

“Oi, get up,” You frantically whispered into the person’s ear, “You’re fucking bleeding!”

He started mumbling incoherently under his breath. You could make out weak swears and a few mentions of “stupid fucking heros”.

You stumbled to your feet, pulling him up with you, surprisingly warm and pliant against your shoulder. You wrapped his arm around yourself to steady the two of you.

“Come on, we’re off to the hospital.”

As if snapped out of a trance, the man tried to tear himself from you and shook his head furiously. The both of you barely managed to stay standing, leaning against the nearest rough wall.

He was already facing you, when you looked at him, his eyes glaring at you, as if you were the scum of the earth.

Your hand gripped onto his wrist to steady your centre of gravity. His fist was clenched, so tightly that each knuckle looked like they would burst from his skin to reveal blood as dark as his eyes.

His brows were furrowed furiously.

You frowned at him back.

You could make out the dry skin on his forehead and, despite this, his face was surprisingly good-looking. A faint scar trailing from his cheek to his mouth caught your attention. You started to wonder where he got it from, an accident? Or was it a self-inflicted wound from scratching?

You were a bit drunk still, but the situation was causing you to sober up.

You sighed and tried to signal to him that you were only here to help.

“No hospitals,” he croaked, words low and slurred, “h-hate them.”

You agreed as to not agitate him further, “Let’s go to my boyfriend’s then. His apartment is only a street away from here.”

The man’s face contorted into a look of scepticism, as a strained “why” was pulled from his lips.

“First aid kit.”

He stared at you for a moment, debating on something, before mumbling, “I can walk by myself.”

oOo

Tomura should’ve just drank at the hideout. It was a literal bar after all, however he wanted to get away from all the scheming, nagging and his failure.

And so, into the barrel he went.

“I’m hungry.” He mumbled, eyes glazed over slightly as he stared at the head in front of him.

He was met with a hum in agreement.

“We’re almost there,” You took a breath, “but there’s a convenience store on the corner.”

He doesn’t know why you’re even doing this.

Helping him outside that bar and trying to care for his wounds brought you nothing. You looked so soft.

Stupid sidekicks and their idiot saviour complexes. Tomura was starting to get annoyed. It would be so easy to just turn you into dust.

Poof.

He concluded that it was pity driving your actions.

You looked non-threatening enough and you were still slightly buzzed. He would go through with this and then you would part ways and never see each other again. It didn’t seem like you recognised him.

A roll of bandages came into his view. The convenience store lights were harsh white and made the bandages seem brighter than they were. His head was starting to throb a bit.

“The big roll or the small roll?”

“Small.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Out on the dark streets, you couldn't see him very clearly, let alone his injuries, but in the store, it looked like his hoodie was drenched with blood from his shoulder to the middle of his chest. Even his black sweats were glowing in red if you looked at him from a certain angle. You were still deciding whether you should just cart him to the hospital after all.

You chucked the big roll of bandages in your basket. It was already full of a variety of sweets.

You giggled at the basket.

“What are you laughing at?” Tomura accused, miffed due to his answer being ignored.

“You don’t seem like a sweets guy.”

“Anyone can have sweets.”

“Just saying.”

“Right.” He answered dryly.

“Why are you all bloody?”

“Why are you buying bandages?” He shot back, “I thought your boyf had a first aid kit?”

“Because I don’t think he’ll have enough,” you gestured to all of him. “for your situation.”

“Stupid sidekick.” He muttered.

You rolled your eyes and leaned towards him, “So! Why are you head to toe in blood?” You said with a slight lilt in your voice.

Tomura wondered if you were still a little drunk. He was one to talk.

“Because I ripped a few stitches while drinking.”

“And how did you rip them?”

“Some guys were yapping about how hard ‘All Our Heroics’ was — even when he downloaded the helpers mod for it.” He answered in disgust, “All I did was engage in a conversation with him and told him how stupid he was. And then, we ended up in … disagreement.”

“Clearly.” You deadpanned. “Still. Where did you get your stitches from?”

“Work.”

“Work?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Sue them?”

“Sue them.”

“Annihilate them?”

“Sure, annihilate.” He gave a faint smile.

OoO

By the time you arrived outside at your boyfriend’s place, the sun was starting to rise. A melody of colours took to the skies: swirling clouds painted the perfect picture of peace.

You stopped in your tracks and gazed upwards. Tomura ended up walking into your back. He cursed, as the two of you stumbled.

“This again?” He hissed, “We already knew you couldn’t walk straight at that bar and now you're sending me flying?”

You laughed at him.

“Just look up. Isn’t that pretty.”

“No.”

“Zip it before I push you.”

“Technically, you did.”

“Even more technically, you pushed me. You walked into me.”

“Yeah, exactly, walked into you, not pushed.”

You grinned at him and rolled your eyes.

You walked into the elevator and Tomura followed you in. The two of you were in a comfortable and easy silence.

You were walking to the door before you just suddenly stopped. Tomura prevented himself from bumping into you.

“Seriously? Again, again? I almost dropped our stuff.”

“Sorry about that, but I just remembered, what’s your name? I’ve just been calling you the bloody-hoodie guy in my head.” You questioned.

“I don’t give my name to strangers.”

You stared at him incredulously and gave him your name.

“There, we’re not strangers anymore.”

He was silent.

“People also don’t follow strangers to their homes.” You pointed out, “What’s your name?”

“S-Shimura Tenko.”

“I feel like you just made that up just now.”

“Aw. Shucks.”

You shook your head at him while you opened the door.

The two of you walked in and what greeted you shocked you both. You dropped your plastic bag full of junk food and bandages on the floor and stormed further into the apartment.

Two bodies were on the couch, near the balcony, heads close together and lips touching. Unneeded sounds of pleasure could be heard from where the two of you were standing. They were kissing. Very passionately.

Ouch.

You yelled out your boyfriend’s name in flaming anger.

Two heads turned so quickly to look at you, you could’ve sworn you heard a crack.

It all became clear as you slotted the puzzle pieces together.

“So, you never had chronic diarrhoea,” you sneered, words dripping with sarcasm, “you had a chronic case of cheating scumbag!”

Your boyfriend’s face was flushed when you came in, but it became even redder as you glared at him.

A resounding smack made its way through the room, making you turn your attention towards the other person on the couch.

“I was with you for two years! You fu-“

“What?” You exploded, “You literally asked me out a few months ago. How dare you do that to your partner!” You followed that with curses.

Out of nowhere, laughter echoed. And three heads turned towards Tomura. His laughter was bright and full of amusement.

When he finally stopped, a stunned silence filled the room and he spoke, “So,” he started in the same tone as you when you spoke to your boyfriend, “you’re no sidekick, you’re a sidechick!” He started to laugh again.

You stared at him in pure shock, anger dissipating into slight amusement.

“That was a shit joke.” You said after you managed to dig some words out.

“Who’s he?” Your ex-boyfriend accused, “Were you cheating on me? With that?”

It was your turn to laugh as you told him that you weren’t cheating on him but you were only helping a poor guy out, while he was being scummy.

“I’ve had enough of this,” you frowned, “We’re leaving Shimura!”

You marched over to him and grabbed his wrist.

“No, don’t use your quirk here!” Your ex pleaded, “The landlord is going to have my head.”

You huffed out a self-satisfied puff of air. “Watch me!”

“I hope you don’t mind too much. We’re off to my place.” You muttered to Tomura.

“Oi! What are you trying to-“

Tomura was cut off before he finished his sentence.

He fell through the floor with the convenience store bags grasped tightly in his hands, with your hand gripping his wrist. His pinky was aching and his head ached even more.

He yelled as he found himself on the floor with you once more, legs tangled and things rolling around on the now-dusty ground.

The two of you were laying on the ground, looking at the white ceiling. Tomura could see the walls in the corner of his eye, the colour of it matched your top.

“Sorry about that.” Your voice coming from his right, “My quirk is Rabbit Hole. I can teleport by creating literal holes in the ground. That’s why we are at mine right now and not at that idiot’s.”

“I couldn’t have guessed. Ha.” Tomura replied, oddly calm, “If I touch things with all of my fingers, I can make things turn to dust. That’s why the ground is all dusty.”

You hummed in reply.

“I’m really fucking tired.”

“Same.”

“What’s the time?”

“Shit, if I know.”

“I hoped I left a massive hole at that asshole’s. I hope that it went through all his plumbing and that his apartment is flooding right now!”

“He’s going to sue you.”

“So? Sue me!”

[herejusttosufferalong]

Y'all defending Lukey Newts need to touch some grass.

If 🐜, this villainous mastermind (omg) or her mother were behind fd up pap walk, why was he still with her weeks after it happened? Maybe up until today?

Tif said the paps only miraculously appeared when L and A and L's sister left the building, so someone called them to let them know when to come. Exactly, accidently when these two rolled out in their blue and yellow polin coloured outfits. Btw, DM was not in the building, not was Ant's mother. This was someone who knew exactly when they are leaving. Hence A, L or L's sister. But Ls sister on her own is not really plausible due to the coordinated outfits.

But would the guy who deeply cares for Nic, and has nothing to do with this gross pap walk, stay with the situationship after she backstabbed him and hurt Nic? And also hurt him, bc pap walk did not work for his benefit, we can all agree.

But most importantly, would he double down and bring 🐜 to all the places he happened to show up with her during summer? Milan, GQ, Sorrento, maybe Spain?

Because he is sooo in love with her ? We all know he isn't.

Because he doesn't know? I could believe it before Sorrento. But he is not stupid, he could have put together the picture by then.

Also, why did Nic leave so early? Because she was hungry? 😄Or rather angry, not? She loved this season deeply, and this was it's closing party.

Maybe he did not want any handholding because he did not want to confirm, just hint, that is why Ant sabotaged and grab his hand. But he wanted to end the shipping and launch "Cool Guy Luke" . End of the Colin era. He even mentioned in one of the interviews on London red carpet, that he is happy that secrets will be revealed soon (breaking the settee was revealed later, bc it was not part of the mirror scene, so he did not mean that...).

Sorry Ladies, probably this was executed by DM with his or A's help, but he knew about it. Probably did not expect the hand grab at the hotel, but that does not prove he didn't know.

He misread the room and it fall back on him. Hence the defiant silence all summer.

He took it badly fans were not fascinated by him and Ant.

He is a person, not a saint.

.

[donutdrawsthings]

The master

This regeneration of the Master seems more chipper than they were before. Perhaps, a bit of the forced regeneration rubbed off on them? With a pep in their step, the Master dances through life and around the Doctor's path, enjoying bothering her before leaving again. As an (unfortunately for others) affectionate person, they often get in your personal space. The master tends to use those around them as furniture and greets someone with 3 kisses on the cheek. To those who've only just met the Master, the Doctor's suspicions seem rather unwarranted... But those who do, know there are more quarters in an hour.

Another addition to the fan regeneration and companion list!

bit of a character design ramble here!

I wanted the master to look deceiving in their design, with a beaming smile and yellow thrown all over their palette to create a false sense of security. portray them as a "truly friendly" and "harmless" regeneration of the Master who's physically been affected by having turned into the Doctor. They've got yellow-ish suspenders and similar boots to the 13th doctor, to play into this thought more.

I also gave them a slim body type with a coat that's Just a little bit too wide for them at the shoulders to make them look like they really don't quite fit the villain role appearance wise, since their coat has most of the traits typically associated with villains (the colour purple and angular shapes). Their shoelaces are another nod at the Doctor and the Master's fate being tied together, while also adding to the goofiness of their person.

The ear jewelry is gallifreyan (not precisely, i went to a generator and spiced it up a bit visually) for Mauvais quart d'heure, a brief unpleasant experience. I thought this would be a very fun choice for an ear piece given the mention of time and all the different meanings it could have based on context. It could refer to regeneration itself being briefly unpleasant, but also the Master themselves being pleasant for 3 quarters before the 4th quarter announces their devious nature.