#can telepathically communicate with him in that state

[fel-fisk]

luka finally worked out he's a wereshark a few sessions ago in stormkings so have some hybrid form doodleses 🦈✌

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Written in the Stars

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott; fluff & angst

summary: Mattheo Riddle figures he must have the worst luck in the universe when his soulmate mark appears, only to lead him right to his best friend. The last person he wanted to ruin his relationship with.

a/n: was genuinely so inspired by this concept i wrote it in record time. and yes, i did draw the silly little soulmate marks bc i was that obsessed. okay okay, enjoy all my lil mattheodore shippers ♡

The day his soulmate mark appeared on the inside of Mattheo’s wrist, he knew he was fucked. He swore he could hear the universe laughing it up at his misery, the great misfortune of it all. If you didn’t know him, you’d think maybe he just didn’t care for the concept of soulmates at all. Or he just wasn’t all that interested in settling down. But how wrong that was. No. Mattheo Riddle desperately longed for a soulmate. Someone who would love him unconditionally through all of his flaws and imperfections. The problem then? It just so happened to be his best friend.

So when he wakes up that morning, skin burning like it was doused in fire and sees that, that stupid little…coffee cup? he damn near has a panic attack. It’s like he can feel his lungs closing in slow motion as he turns and peeks out of the curtain enclosing his four poster, eyes finding the bed directly to his right. Theo’s bed. Fuck.

Mattheo quickly pulls the curtain closed once again, deciding in that moment he won’t be going to classes today. Or maybe ever again. If that’s what it takes to avoid Theodore. And Merlin’s beard, just the thought of never again hearing that Italian accent, the stupid jokes, the late night conversations with nothing but the smoke and stars to hear them, makes his very being ache, heart constricting worse than his lungs just moments ago. He stares up at the ceiling, white noise of Enzo snoring in the next bed over slowly drowning out his thoughts as he wills himself to calm down.

Somehow he must have managed to fall back asleep because he’s rudely awoken by Enzo being loud as fuck as he stumbles around getting ready. He finally pulls back the curtain at a particularly loud thump of Enzo bumping—no, slamming—into his bedside table, eyes still half shut.

Blaise’s voice comes from the direction of his bed, “mate, some of us are trying to get a bit of extra sleep, can you not?”

There’s a moment of silence before Enzo is mumbling out what can only be assumed to be an apology. Mattheo groans and, noticing the curtain is still pulled closed on Theo’s bed, decides now is the best time to make his escape. Thank Merlin there’s no Quidditch practice today. Maybe he can put this whole soulmate thing off until tomorrow…or never. If he’s lucky. He gets ready in record time and before Enzo has figured out how to tie his shoes in his barely awake state, Mattheo is out the door and halfway up the flight of stairs out of the Slytherin common room.

When he stops by the Great Hall it’s relatively empty, only a few groups of people scattered around the various tables. Draco and Pansy are already up and talking over breakfast when he goes to swipe a couple pieces of toast. Stupidly, he reaches out with his right hand. The one with the soul mark. Fuck. How many times is that going to run through his head today? It’s not off to a good start, he thinks to himself.

Of course, ever the insufferable gossip, Pansy immediately notices. “Matt! Is that—”

“No.” His response is a bit too fast, the motion to yank his sleeve down a bit too jerky. Her eyebrow raises skeptically. She turns to look at Draco and for a moment, Mattheo swears they can communicate telepathically. He’d be more annoyed than surprised if they could.

This time Draco responds, “you sure? Because it sure looks like—”

“Yes! I’m sure! Thank you Draco!” Mattheo shoves his toast in his mouth, dry, and he has to stop himself from making a face of regret. Before they can continue their interrogation, Mattheo is promptly turning and leaving the dining hall. To where? He’s not sure.

When Theodore wakes up, he’s alone in the dorm. Not the most unusual thing except for one critical piece: Mattheo is also gone. As Theo looks to his left he notices his best mate’s bed is a mess, giving him more reason to pause. Figuring he must have had something urgent to do, Theo tries to push the thought from his mind—before his attention is pulled to a dull ache on his left wrist.

A snake coiled around a cigarette, smoke rising from the end and dispersing into stars is etched onto the skin there and…oh. Oh.

If there’s one thing Mattheo is particularly good at, it’s evading people. So really, Theo shouldn’t have been surprised to find out he could not corner the other boy, no matter how hard he tried. At breakfast he was told Mattheo had been in and out in a hurry, curtesy of Draco and Pansy; the pair looking like they had a million questions for him. However, they knew Theo well enough to understand it would be pointless to try and squeeze anything out of him. At least something is going in his favor this morning.

Next he attempted to get Mattheo alone in one of their lectures. They usually sat together and everyone knew it, so Theo allowed himself to hope today would be the same. He was sorely mistaken.

As he walks into the Transfiguration classroom, he sees Mattheo alone at a table. Perfect. He starts to head that way, but just before he could make it, Mattheo is grabbing Enzo’s arm as he walks past and yanking him into the chair beside him. Enzo seems a bit stunned but doesn’t argue. Theo has to hold back a groan and string of curses in front of McGonagall as she steps up to the front of the classroom. Reluctantly, he takes a seat next to Blaise. He spends the rest of the period staring at the back of Mattheo’s curls, like it will somehow let him figure out whatever is going on in his soulmate’s thick head.

By the time lunch rolls around, Mattheo had managed to dodge him at every turn. The next two classes after Transfiguration had been a bust, despite Enzo learning his lesson and side stepping Mattheo’s attempt to grab him again. Mattheo had even elected to sit next to a Gryffindor to avoid him. If Theo didn’t believe Mattheo was doing this out of some weird anxiety response, his feelings would have been hurt. With the new mark on his wrist, it was like he felt Mattheo’s absence tenfold, rejection tugging the very fibers of his heart apart. No matter, he’ll just have to be persistent.

Theo is one of the first Slytherins in the Great Hall, finding their group’s usual spot and sitting down. His eyes are trained on the doors, waiting for the curly haired boy to walk through. It takes several minutes and dozens of students coming in for Matt to show up. Brown eyes almost instantaneously find his, a small grimace appearing on Mattheo’s features. It’s like a swift blow to the gut.

Nonetheless, Mattheo plops himself down at the table with Enzo close behind. As the rest of the lads file in, Enzo looks between them. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but it’s making the vibe weird.” Blaise smacks Enzo upside the head for the comment, earning a disgruntled “hey! rude!” in return. On Theo’s side of the table, Draco and Pansy are having one of their silent conversations, looking between Theo and Mattheo like they’re trying to dissect them. Mattheo stares down his plate as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen, while Theo continues to look at him, stoic and unwavering.

Pansy’s eyes trail down to Theo’s hand where it rests on the table next to his untouched plate, gaze locking in on the bit of skin peeking out of Theo’s sleeve, a hint of black ink on his wrist. Her eyes go wide and Matt, with his instincts almost as sharp as that of a wild animal, immediately notices. He sends her a glare, challenging her to say something. She just slyly smirks, only serving to send an anxious wave over Mattheo, settling in his stomach.

The moment he’s done eating, Matt is grabbing his bag. “Woah, where are you going in a hurry?” Blaise asks, eyes a bit wide in surprise.

“Yeah, you always wait until the last possible second to leave,” Enzo adds, head cocking to the side. “Seriously, what’s gotten into you mate?”

All the while, Theo is staring holes into Mattheo so hard it makes his skin tingle. “Just uh, gotta finish that DADA essay. Got at least a foot left. Could take all afternoon. Busy busy busy, y’know,” Mattheo is internally screaming at himself to shut up please, but he’s rambling nervously and Theo can definitely tell. Hell, Blaise and Enzo probably can too.

As Mattheo makes his hasty exit, Theo decides to get up and follow him out. Enzo tags along if only to watch the drama unfold. “Wait! Matt!”

He only stops briefly outside the doors to the rest of the castle, “sorry, can’t. Gotta go to the library. Bye guys.” Then he’s disappearing out another set of doors. Theo groans.

“Does…does Mattheo even know where the library is?”

“I don’t think so. Cause it’s in the opposite direction.”

Mattheo in fact does not know where the library is and manages to get himself lost. Twice. The second time he has to ask for directions he’s tempted to just give up and go hide out somewhere to wait for his next class. How the hell did he not know where the damn library is? He’s been going to school here for years.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes Theo is always leading the way and if not for him, Mattheo doesn’t think he’d ever step foot in the musty place. But Theo said it had charm, liked the way the books smelled or some nerd shit like that. He groans. Merlin, he kinda misses Theo’s stupid intellectualism. Especially now when he doesn’t even know where to begin with his stupid essay.

Fuck.

Evening slowly hits and Mattheo finds himself sitting in the common room feeling like a shell of himself. Just a husk of person, wanting to sink into the sofa permanently. The day has felt like one of the longest of his life, lonelier than he has felt in years. He’d grown so accustomed to Theodore’s constant presence that he felt the lack of him everywhere in everything. As the clock ticks by and the bustle of the common room fades into a monotonous blur, he sits there, lost in his thoughts. Maybe there was some merit to this whole…destined by the universe thing. Theo was the one person Mattheo felt he could trust implicitly. Someone he can talk to for hours and never truly run out of things to say. Even when there are dips in their conversations there’s a simple sort of serenity to just existing with him. And for the first time all day, Mattheo is no longer scared of the little mug on his wrist.

And he doesn’t bolt the moment Theodore walks down the stairs.

“Can we talk? Preferably not…here?” Mattheo surprises himself when the words come out of his mouth as soon as the other boy is within ear shot. Theo just nods dumbly.

They make their way up to the Astronomy Tower like so many times before, each step up the many staircases heavy, a thick tension in the air that penetrates your bones. But it’s not uncomfortable. It never is with Theodore.

There’s no one up here this early in the evening, the sun setting in an ocean of pinks and oranges before stars with inevitably begin twinkling in the sky. The pair make themselves comfortable on the ground, Theo’s legs in a lazy cross while Mattheo pulls his knees to his chest in a nervous gesture he never quite managed to shake. Theo doesn’t speak, doesn’t even look his way immediately. He just waits for Mattheo to be ready.

They sit in silence for a few moments while Matt gathers his thoughts. Then slowly, “so…soulmates huh?”

Theo pulls his gaze away from the lowering sunlight to Mattheo’s face, getting caught in the way his brown eyes seem to glow a softer shade in this light. “Yeah. Soulmates.”

“Are you…disappointed?” when all Mattheo receives in response is a confused quirk of Theodore’s eyebrows, he elaborates, “that I’m your soulmate and not someone…I dunno, better? Less…me?”

The intense expression evaporates from Theo’s features, instead replace by a softness. “How could I possibly be disappointed? We’ve been best mates since forever, why wouldn’t I want to be with you for the rest of it?”

“Well, it changes things, right? Everyone will expect us to be…romantic and all that bullshit.”

“So? I’m not soulmates with everyone else, I’m soulmates with you. Why should anyone else’s opinion matter?”

Mattheo takes a moment to think it over. It’s true he supposes, it’s up to him and Theo alone to decide what the terms of their relationship is, everyone else be damned. But there’s something in him, repressed and shoved so deep down he barely recognizes it, but it’s there. He doesn’t want to be just friends. Couldn’t be just platonic soulmates with Theo. So for the second time that day, he surprises himself and reaches out for Theo’s hand.

Physical touch isn’t exactly uncommon between them, but it’s usually reserved for roughhousing or instances they could wave away as just guys being bros. But this is different, closer to the way they tend to sit just a bit too close on the sofas in the common room or the way their thighs graze in the Great Hall or any of the little moments they keep between the two of them. And it feels right.

Mattheo picks up Theo’s hand in his, turning it so he can see the soul mark. His eyes scan over the snake and cigarette and breathes a sigh of relief that there’s nothing resembling the dark mark in it. He doesn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if he’d managed to unwittingly brand Theodore with even a hint of the damn thing. “At least yours is immediately recognizable, what even is this? A cuppa?” He flips his wrist over to display his own mark. Theo chuckles good-naturedly.

“It’s a latte, you can tell because the snake is made of microfoam,” his finger traces over the snake in the mug. Next to the mug on the saucer is cigarette much like the one on Theo’s wrist, only this one’s smoke forms a heart. Mattheo thinks it’s rather cheesy, but he can’t deny it suits Theo well.

“What the hell is microfoam, Teddy?” a grin has worked it’s way onto Mattheo’s face as he listens to his best mate—no, soulmate—explain the intricacies of espresso and the many ways you can prepare it. All while he watches damn near lovestruck, like the boy in front of him is the one who hung the stars overhead just for him.

And yeah, maybe Mattheo is glad he got lucky enough to have Theo as his soulmate.

[soul-collectors]

SOUL Collectors 101 - #2 : SOUL Collectors

Presented by Edu! A sci!Sans Variant, featuring Soul and Vess, both SOUL Collectors!

(previous class)

-What are SOUL Collectors?

Vessels, of any shape or form, specifically molded or created with a SOUL Fragment from their “Maker”’s SOUL embedded in them. The SOUL Fragment must be shattered to fully fuse with the chosen vessel.

-What’s a Maker?

…Anyone who makes a SOUL Collector..pay attention.

anything with a SOUL can be a Maker, they just have to find a way to safely shatter a piece of their SOUL off without dying...

-How are they different from a “Souless” being (Floweys and their variants)

Soul Collectors and all their brethren (Created by the same Maker) are directly connected to that Original SOUL that made them.

Their bodies cannot absorb SOULs, Only able to Contain or ‘collect’ them.

Unlike “Souless” Beings, The SOUL fragment in SOUL Collectors doesn’t provide any hint of emotions, awareness, or consciousness. Only after collecting a SOUL do they gain them.

Think of it as just, existing. No thought, no reason, no nothing other than the PURE need to feel a SOUL inside them. That’s how Soul described it to me.

-Why Create them?

(Answered by Soul!)

Each Maker has their own reasons for creating their SOUL Collector-!

Other than that We’re pretty helpful since we’re the only beings able to contain Anomaly SOULs properly!

-Types of SOUL Collectors

Identified by which type of SOUL They’re able to Collect.

The Process of which type the SOUL Collector will end up as depends on the first SOUL they collect.

Human SOUL Collectors

SOUL Collectors able to Collect ONLY Human SOULs. First SOUL Collected being a human’s. An example of this is Soul!

2. Monster SOUL Collectors

SOUL Collectors able to Collect ONLY Monster SOULs. First SOUL Collected being a Monster’s. An example of this is Vess!

3. Human+Monster SOUL Collectors

SOUL Collectors able to Collect All SOULs. First SOUL Collected is a SOUL Containing both human and Monster SOULs (Monster absorbing a human SOUL or Human Absorbing a Monster’s SOUL)

I haven’t personally met an example face to face, so I can’t directly talk about Him- or any of them I guess…

-Why do SOUL collectors collect SOULs?

Soul described it as a “need” at first then a choice.

So, I’d conclude it’s a sense of primal instinct to collect SOULs, it fills SOUL collectors with life, a need to fill their vessel. 

Another is the moral obligation some of them feel to protect the timelines they visit, since anomaly SOULs will always pose a threat to the timeline, even if they don’t currently.

-Is the SOUL Safe inside a Soul Collector?

(Answered by Soul!)

Yes! Absolutely! If they’re content or calm, the collected SOUL would be in a sort of..dream-ish state!

The ones that aren’t content..they’re a little more..aware- and they take shape as horns growing on the SOUL Collector.

-Can SOUL Collectors use magic?

Soul collectors have little to no magic, they usually use the SOULs they collect to aid them by calling for help.

"Calling for help" allows the SOUL Collector to use the magic provided by the SOULs, even the specific ones tied to each SOUL trait.

They may "call for help" from the SOULs they collected, if the SOULs are content, they would let the SOUL collector use their abilities. If not, the SOUL collector's cries for help may be left unheard.

SOUL collectors can communicate with collected SOULs telepathically, knowing if they are pleased or not. However the more SOULs they collect, the harder the communication becomes

Soul: it's like talking to an entire stadium at once-!

Although They're able to teleport:

A. to and around a timeline they or another SOUL collector had already visited.

B. A random timeline with SOUL anomalies present.

C. directly to another SOUL collector.

D. To the Void and Anti-void.

-''Silencers''

Whenever SOUL Collectors fight using the help of the SOULs they’ve collected, the clothes they wear act as a "silencer", softening the blow on the SOULs so they won't shatter immediately or counter back in retaliation and attack the SOUL collector.

The basic Theory I have is that the amount of clothes they wear distributes the magic more freely rather than it being trapped directly to their bodies...

Soul uses the jackets he collects from different timelines/universes as his silencers, Lygo uses a Flowey variant I believe is named “bud”, Vess uses random items they find and keep in their inventory!

each SOUL Collector has their own unique method!

-Basic Facts;

Not all SCs share the same Maker. obviously–

SCs usually look similar to an already existing person, rarely ever seeming original in their appearance. (Soul looks like a sans, Vess looks like a chara, so on..)

SCs are naturally grayscale, only when they collect SOULs would their appearance begin to obtain colors slowly.

SCs' tastebuds are different from those of humans or monsters. They usually describe food as “sweet, sour, salty” but also “Soft, cold, painful.” …I’m not sure why.

There's still so much to learn about SOUL Collectors! but I wouldn't want to push Soul with so many questions haha-!

-Creator Notes;

I Based SOUL Collectors on the Vessel from Deltarune, I once saw an idea that Gaster created those parts of the Vessel himself, to me it basically meant he could create vessels-

I loved that idea so much that I used it as inspiration for SOUL Collectors.

A lot of the characteristics and stats for SCs you might see are somewhat inspired by the Survey section :>>

[cillivnz]

THE OTHER WOMAN [anakin skywalker]

pairing. ANAKIN SKYWALKER x JEDI!READER

trope. unrequited love, ‘the other woman’.

word count. 1.6k

warnings. 18+. f!reader, cursing, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, heavy angst, rough sex, no aftercare, degradation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, size kink, tummy bulge, creampies, crying, unrequited pining, clit-play, sadism & masochism, emotionally vulnerable reader and unavailable anakin.

a/n. personal experiences inspired this. could possibly be the prologue to a series, depends on reception. single quotes ‘’ indicate telepathic communication. descriptions are not intended to offend, just to depict a state of vulnerability.

“HIT ME!” MOANED THE MASOCHIST, “NO,” SNEERED THE SADIST.

Love’s a silly little thing that’s made Saints do questionable things, so how were you expected to be any different as a Jedi with tainted ethics? Except, the sole purpose of being one— a Jedi, is to be damn near a Saint. Well, you’re near one, now.

With your face buried in his sheets, and his cock buried inside you.

“Ani— fuck,” you sighed in fulfilment.

this was home, homely; beneath him every night after a long day of you awaiting the sight of him in the Temple, and for him, distracting himself by killing all evil and bottling up all thoughts of his lost love.

“How many fucking times have I told you not to call me that?” You flinched at the smack landing on your ass cheek. The hopes of him rubbing the supple flesh to soothe the pain went in vain.

The sole reason for the success of your “relationship” or even why Anakin agreed to your pathetic advances in the first place was because you were symbiotic, yin and yang of a very wicked balance.

HE LIKED INFLICTING PAIN, YOU LIKED BEING INFLICTED UPON.

When Padmé Amidala left the Coruscant for Naboo, abandoning her Ani with a broken heart, you volunteered to pick the pieces.

“ANAKIN, TALK TO ME,” you urged, clutching onto his onyx Jedi robes. His jaw clenched, an eyebrow irking at your audacious hand placement.

“Leave me alone,” he pushed himself away from you, but you were adamant as ever.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Your gut churned out a warning, intituition telling you you’re digging a hole that’s bound to be deeper than the bond you’ve formed with Anakin Skywalker over the decade of knowing him— from Slave to Saviour of the galaxies.

His head whipped towards you, his broad back tensing as he turned threateningly slowly towards you.

“I can,” you were unsure of what you were going to propose— hell, you were unsure of what you were even going to say.

‘I can make you forget her.’

He sneered, you squirmed.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.”

First pet name Anakin Skywalker learned to use, coincidentally, too, for you. He had heard a sleazy man on Tattooine say it to his mother. For the longest time, he had thought of it to be vulgarity, until little Skywalker used it for you in front of Obi-wan and was quick to learn that it expresses endearment, not disdain.

After ten years he calls you ‘sweetheart’, and you knew better than to blush over it, but you were flushed, anyway.

You strip yourself bare; physically and egotistically. You lay yourself bare for your first love to unravel, even if there wasn’t much to remove physically; you were laying your soul bare to him, for him.

Mere virgin, inexperienced and shielded. Jaded just from communicating with two-timers, but so, so willing to bend over backwards and break your back for Anakin Skywalker’s mercurial self and pretty face.

While he sees your naked flesh on display for him, you see the first emotion on Anakin’s face that was not indignation towards you. Desire. He desired you, but the speed at which he masked his emotions proved to you that it wasn’t half of what he felt for her.

“You have no idea what you’re setting yourself up for.” He grabbed your chin with his metallic arm, one you’ve admired for the valour that gave it to him and one you’ve shamelessly fantasised about.

One snap was all it would’ve taken for him to break you in half with that faux robotic limb, but Anakin wouldn’t do that. Not just yet.

“What makes you think you can compare to her?”

“She is the kindest, strongest, most generous and most beautiful woman in the galaxy. What makes you think you can compare?”

What really makes you think you can compare?

You’ve been selfish, cursing the entirety of their relationship, which was as one-sided as your love for him.

You’ve been impatient, reckless and impulsive, and it’s evident in your performance as a Jedi.

You can’t even fulfil your sole purpose because, by Maker, he’s clouded your mind with himself and left little room for rationality.

‘I can try,’ you think, and of course he’d read it. ‘To fill the void.’

‘Let me in, please.’

‘Please let me try.’

“Bend over, ass up, face down.”

That’s how you two started, and how you persist.

He insists on fucking you in the same position, same force and speed of his thrusts, every night.

You know better than to ask for more. Maker’s giving you more than you deserve, isn’t it? Gratitude has been a virtue of yours, so you stick to it.

Even if there are days when he doesn’t show up to your room, knock curtly thrice before barging in to find you stripped and on your knees for him, you still love him.

He’s forgiven, he’ll always be.

You take those days to forget him, to jump down the Tower instead of climbing further up the spiralling stairs of a love doomed before it blossomed.

Anakin Skywalker only brings despair with him, a fact even the Order knows now.

“An-ah!—Anakin, slow down!” You squealed, his thrusts never faltering.

He was taking out his frustration for the Maces of the Order onto you.

“Shut up and take it,” he grunted, going faster.

You were crying, a mere mess in his bed.

The tip of his cock was assaulting your g-spot, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You felt him there, too, snaking a hand down to your tummy to feel the bulge of him going in and out of your tight channel.

He rubbed your clit vigorously; the swollen bundle of nerves had been begging for his attention, which, his balls slapping against it was sufficing, but the extra heed paid had you writhing in overstimulation.

You were sobbing, softly, but loud enough for him to hear over the sound of skin-on-skin slapping and his own haggard breath.

He pulled out, making you clench around just his tip. It was like your body was trying to keep him in.

“Can’t have me stay and can’t have me go,” he said under his breath. He spread your cunt with his hands, watching your abused hole leak your juices.

He eyed you for several moments, making you self-conscious as jolt away from him. He only spreads you further apart to spit into your hole.

Your body jerked away from him, but his metallic fingers were faster in being shoved inside of you.

The cold metal felt like ice to your hot insides, the juxtaposition of a sensation sending a shiver down your arched spine.

“Oh, you like this?” His human hand cupped your mound. “Is cock too much for your little pussy to handle?” He mocked, but you sensed a tinge of amusement underlying his tone.

“You have one purpose, and you fail to meet it.” He pulled out his fingers, causing your head to snap back to look at him.

You see him seated on the bed, leisurely stroking his cock as if he has all the time in the world, no necessity for release while you ached to come undone.

‘I’ve given you more than she has.’

Anakin’s cock may be the biggest in this galaxy, but your pride’s bigger in every other.

His jaw clenched, but his cock twitched.

With one swift leap, he was on top of you— the predator atop his prey— pounced and ready to penetrate— eat you alive.

“Not a word out of you, y’hear?”

“Not. One. Word.”

He aligned the tip of his member with your tight entrance and forced his way in, fucking you dumb with merciless thrusts, just the way you wanted.

You were drooling, panting, screaming, moaning, crying, all while Anakin drove his hips into yours wordlessly.

The silence was eerie and scary, not even a grunt was sounded, and how you yearned to hear his groans of pleasure, knowing they were for you.

He then moaned, once again reading your mind with that impeccable bond of Force that Maker’s aligned your souls with, but your heart nearly dropped to your cunt when he said,

“Padmé, fuck.”

You clenched out of instinct, spinal cord taking over all senses while your brain was too weak, too fucked to react.

A normal person with self-respect would ask him to get the fuck out and never, ever come see you again, but you had ego, not the former, and the difference between the two is what’s allowing you to let him finish and go, like every other night, like a part of you would normalise this foreplay as long as you feel his touch— feel wanted by him.

When his seed tainted your walls once more, you sighed in relief. You couldn’t bear to look at him with tearful eyes.

You hear him shuffle into his robes, then silence, yet his presence was still felt.

You hear the doorknob twist, so you turn around to lie on your back, not expecting a lurking Anakin lingering by the doorframe. You peer at him through wet lashes, doe-eyes reduced to slits while you reciprocated the venom exuding out of Anakin for the first time towards him, clenching your jaw. Your chest huffed with forced respiration, drawing Anakin’s attention to your breasts.

It was then he used the force not to hear the string of curses flowing through your mind for him, but to talk to you, for the first time.

And for the first time he ever said,

‘If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t come to you.’

“Like” isn’t “love��,

But it is something—

‘—But you mean nothing to me, so your love is useless.’

‘And I won’t always be around as the other woman,’ you were going to go berserk.

But which one of you was lying, sneering sadist or moaning masochist?

main masterlist. more of Anakin. blog directory.

[ambrozjas]

johnny with a shy reader

johnny and ponyboy x shy!reader hc’s ꨄ︎

johnny cade x reader, ponyboy curtis x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐notes 🧸 ᰔᩚ

aaah!! loved this request!! i put my soul into these small blurbs 😭 i got two reqs for johnny and pony x shy reader so i just decided to kill two birds with one stone, yknow?

✧˖*°࿐warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of scars in johnny’s, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ first off, JOHNNY is also a little shy and quiet so you two would legit probably be the quietest people in the room

❥ i feel like youd guys would be very in tune with each other though, like even with just one look, you guys could understand each other

❥ like i could just imagine you and johnny sitting next to each other, you fiddling with his hands when nobody’s paying attention to you two

❥ like you guys can just understand each other, no words needed??

❥ do you get what i mean 😭😭??

❥ that being said though, if needed, johnny will come to your aid

❥ like, if dally’s bothering you an awful ton or you’re getting picked on, he’d def stand up for you in his own little way

❥ you both are quiet but nothing gets better than the late night whispers of affection you two exchange

❥ LIKEE..???

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

“how come you ain’t talk much either, johnny?” you asked the boy in front of you, who lay on his side in your bed, gazing into your eyes with that kicked puppy dog look as usual.

you and johnny were never chatty, who needed words when you guys could just understand one another just by a blink?

everybody used to joke how you guys could communicate telepathically, but sometimes that thought didn’t seem so silly. it was like you guys were telepaths, and you could just read each others mind at any time.

but even with few words, you two didn’t get bored. it was at night when all the words came out. which is where you were now, tracing johnny’s scars with a gentle hand, nothing but love and admiration coating your touch.

he seemed to think for a moment, eyes darting around your face as if to memorize every feature of your face in case one day he’d never see it again.

“only words i seem to ‘ave are f’you,” he paused, taking a second to lick his slightly chapped lips, “feels like you the only person who actually hears me.” he confessed, looking back into your eyes and almost wincing, waiting for the blows that never come. he waited for the insults that would never dare leave your lips, but when you didn’t say anything, it almost made his nerves worse.

“johnny cade.” you said his name, eyes not leaving his face once. “yeah..?” he whispered, almost inaudible.

“i love you.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

❥ you and PONYBOY are literally so cute together

❥ ponyboy is somewhat more talkative than johnny, so he’d be able to make more conversation, even if it’s awkward

❥ but sometimes ponyboy is a bit oblivious , so you might need to be a little more forward with how youre feeling

❥ sodapop always teases you both with how shy you are with each other

❥ would be more direct with telling people off for teasing you with ill intentions though

❥ you guys saw how bold he was for spitting at bob 😭

❥ AND UGH JUST IMAGINE HIM READING TO YOUUU

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡

your head was in ponyboy’s lap as he read one of his favorite books to you, ‘great expectations’. he was mid sentence before you dozed off, his hand buried in your hair and gently rubbing at your scalp with his free hand.

“.. and the clocks all stopped together. an e..ep—épergne, or center piece of some kind was in the middle of this cloth.’ did i say that right?” he had asked you, unaware that you had already nodded off.

“hey? you there?” he asked, tilting his head forward a little bit to check on your face, before taking notice of your sleepy state.

“oh—! shit..” he whispered. his hand still caressed your head, a soothing mechanism so you wouldn’t wake up. he couldn’t help but look lovingly at you in your serene state, how did he end up with such a perfect partner?

he smiled softly, before readjusting the book in his hand and continuing to read, still scratching at your scalp with his right hand. he didn’t mind if his legs fell asleep, as long as you got some sleep was all that matters.

boy, was ponyboy whipped.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ dkfkejddksk SORRY I HAVENT BEEN PUMPING OUT FICS THAT MUCH IVE BEEEN SOO BUSY WITH SCHOOLWORK !!

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[highhhfiveee]

can I request mike, reader, and Abby going to the beach :p!?

[i'm combining this with another ask! they requested the same setting, but with a scenario!]

wc: 3k tags: sweetgf!reader + dickheadbf!mike, light smut (oral [deepthroating and come swallowing], m!receiving), mostly fluff and being grateful for life and the people who you live it with [: proofread but maybe there are still errors! kill me, i'm human! a/n: i wish i could go to the beach so bad!! i fucking love the summer and it's damn near the dead of winter where i live ],: i also get cold so easily and i can't take freezing every morning lmao

i am imagining:

you and mike are sitting on the couch on a late friday morning, hypnotized by daytime television after a big, indulgent breakfast and chats about mike's shift. abby had retreated to the adjacent loveseat, fast asleep with a stomach full of pancakes and eggs.

"it's so hotttt," mike grumbles, stretching his sweaty body out like a starfish. the limbs on his right side invade your space, leaving you to shrink into the couch with a groan.

"yeah, mike, too hot for you to be doing that. stoppp," you return his irritated tone, bringing your hands up to push into him. it was the hottest day of the summer so far, and it wasn't like you weren't also feeling the elements. not even the AC unit turned to full blast could cool the living room, and it made every breath feel thick and labored.

mike stands from his spot on the couch, dramatically dragging his body over to the kitchen. you watch as he yanks the freezer door open with impatience, craning his head into the crystalized cool and saying, "it's too hot to be living."

you turn your body to extend across the whole sofa, thankful that your hair is up and out of your face so you're able to feel the tickle of a breeze on the nape of your neck. you bite at your bottom lip as the gears of your brain churn through a heat-induced fog, thinking of how to keep cool at a time like this.

abby stirs then, stretching and yawning and squealing, "it was hot in my dream too." you turn your head to her, pursing your lips to the side in disappointment.

"aw, abs, i'm sorry. that sucks."

"i was at the beach though, which i think makes up for it---"

"omg, the beach! we should go!" you cheer, but mike shuts you down once he hears abby wholeheartedly agree.

"uh, the closest beach is six hours away."

"well, maybe we can make a weekend out of it," you suggest, motioning for abby to come sit with you. she delicately settles on your thighs, relaxing into the couch and swinging her legs over the edge.

"yeah, with what money?"

"i can dip into my savings a little bit, at least for the hotel and gas," you offer, and mike is shutting you down again, shaking his head as he cranes it towards you and humming "nuh uh"s.

"c'mon mike, i don't mind! listen, i want to do this for us," you're hugging abby into you, pressing your cheeks together and telepathically communicating for her to help you convince mike with her own set of puppy dog eyes. "we'll leave in the evening so you can get some rest, and we can split the drive."

"abby doesn't have a license."

your face scrunches as you confusedly mutter, "why would you include your eleven year old sister in a 'we' of that context?" as abby states, "you're weird, mike." in the same tone.

"i know, my joke didn't land, i guess," mike sighs, letting his head drop between his shoulders as he closes the freezer door. the sound of suction punctuates his action, and he turns to you and abby with a grimace before saying, "three hours behind a steering wheel just doesn't seem appealing. two would be a hell of a lot more digestible."

"oh my god, mike, you're so pitiful," you playfully chide, crossing your arms over your chest. "i promise that you'll survive, grumpy. tell you what, i'll drive four hours so you'll only have to drive two."

the sweet drawl of your voice and trivial suggestion to take on more work is all it takes for mike to fold and drive all six hours.

he doesn't do it with a smile, but you're still grateful for his sacrifice, cupping his face and kissing his cheek as he drives into the sizzling orange pulse of the sunset. "i love youuuu," you sing, and he grumbles for like the millionth time that day as you ignore him and muse, "and abby loves you, and we're gonna have so much fun on our beach weekend!!"

you and abby begin to whoop and cheer and dance in your seats, chanting, "beachbeachbeach!", and you pretend not to notice the slight smirk that cracks the perpetual stiffness of mike's mouth.

you spend the first half of the trip singing along to an old CD abby had burned sometime ago--"you always have to keep a road trip mix on hand"--, playing various word association games, and sucking fluorescent orange dust from your fingers after you chuck a cheeto into mike's mouth and pass the bag back to abby.

the second half is stiller; abby has fallen asleep again, soothed by the motions of the car, and you're staring at mike's side profile as he drives. he's so tired; it's painted in his eyes and over his body, with the way he slumps into the driver's seat and focuses on the road like nothing else is around him.

he catches your gaze after a bit, breaking himself away from his trance. he switches hands on the wheel so he's able to clutch your thigh, gently kneading at your skin, and with a small grin, asks, "got a nice view?"

"yeah, but it seems the view isn't feeling so nice," you raise your hand to his shoulder, your turn to massage into him. he's so tense under your touch, and you watch his eyes flicker with your words, training back on the four lane highway ahead. "i think this will be nice for us. we all deserve a nice vacation; especially you, mikey. you've been working hard, and i know you're tired."

"yeah," mike breathes softly, the gentlest you think he's been all day. "i'm sorry about the way i was acting about the drive. i just couldn't think straight after my shift, your delicious breakfast, and sitting in the heat."

"i understand. three hours of driving isn't fun, but that's why i offered to take more of the load after you made that...bad joke."

"so now it's just categorically bad?" mike pouts with comical sorrow, and you giggle at him, nudging at his shoulder with soft pressure.

"yes, because why was she included in we? obviously abby can't drive."

"it was supposed to be one of my sillies,"

"you're just usually better at them," you argue, and it sends the both of you into a laughing fit that gives you a stomach cramp, mike affirming, "yeah, yeah, you're right, you're right. shit, are you okay?" as you try to calm down.

after relaxing back into a comfortable silence, you're bringing mike's hand to your lips, kissing at his knuckles when he blurts, "thank you for putting up with me, and for paying for stuff so short notice."

"oh hush. i love you, mike. truly. we take care of each other, don't we?" you squeeze his hand as you continue, placing it over your heart. "there hasn't been a second i've been with you where i haven't felt supported, and now it's my turn to support you. plus, this is like abby's first real vacation. i want her to have the best time too. we don't have any money when we're dead, so we might as well say we had experiences, yeah?"

"i love you. you're an angel on earth," mike hums lovingly as he pulls off of an exit, able to relax his head against the headrest and leer at you once he brakes at a red light. "our angel on earth." you writhe under his enamored stare, blushing and gnawing on your bottom lip with an airy giggle, and later, after you've gotten to your hotel and tucked abby into bed, you're back in the car doing that same giggle with his dick lodged in your throat.

"my angel on earth," he repeats as he folds his fingers into your hair so he can pull on it, maintaining eye contact while you sloppily guide yourself on him. his toes curl and his thigh muscles spasm, and he's panting down on your face as his other hand grabs his steering wheel in a white hot grip. "fuck, baby."

you're grateful that you were able to book a room facing outwards on the first floor of the hotel; you could be disgusting with mike in the car while ensuring abby's safety through the front windshield.

it helped solidify that there were no worries in your orbit; everything here was perfect, and you feed that passion into taking mike deeper, holding his gaze even as a tear runs down your cheek after an obscene gag that resonates through the whole car.

you swallow around him as you reach down to caress his balls, and crack a triumphant smile when he tenses, brokenly whimpering and bucking his hips into your face with sinful desperation. he doesn't stop as he shoots his come into your mouth, using the hand in your head to tilt your head back so the overflow doesn't choke you.

you moan as you taste him on your tongue, drinking it down while you flash mike the watery, filthy twinkle in your eyes. he thinks that it extends his orgasm, his balls tightening with another spray of white down your throat.

though his body burns with fatigue, mike brings his thumb to the corner of your lips to collect a spilt remnant of himself, pushing it into your mouth where he feels the warm plushiness of your tongue wrap around his digit. "god, i think you're gonna kill me one day. this mouth is deadly."

"one day, yes, but not today or saturday or sunday. not while we're on vacation."

you both retire to the room after, two immovable stone statues in bed until 7 am, when you're both ripped from your sleep by abby's noisy movements. she's enthusiastically throwing the curtains open, drowning you two in painfully bright sunlight and skipping over to hop on the bed, narrowly missing your shins and knees with her uncoordinated steps.

"abby, abby, abby," mike drones groggily, reaching out for her ankles.

you blearily watch as she snatches it out of his reach, and you can't help but laugh as you two make eye contact. "come on!! we're on vacation!! we've gotta start vacationing now!!"

"we don't have to start at...seven twenty-two in the morning," mike complains, wiping at his eyes after throwing his gaze to the alarm clock. "maybe we can do...ten."

"ten is way too late! if we eat now, we can wait it out and then go to the beach and stay all day! pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--" you wrangle abby into your arms, squeezing her close to your body in an attempt to quiet her.

you smooth her hair down, tucking it behind her ears as you whisper, "hey, hey, how about we go get breakfast and meet mike a little later, okay? we can go in our pjs and everything," abby's eyes light up at your plan, and she's nodding excitedly, pulling on your wrist in order to wrench you from the warm bed. "let's go now then!"

"let me brush my teeth first, sweet thing, at least."

after another generous breakfast, two cat naps, and endless searching through bags marked with the sharp zztt zztt zztt of zippers, you, mike, and abby are established in the warm sand of a southern beach; it'd been a bit of a hassle to put the umbrella up, with its complicated, ancient instructions, but your tired muscles and mind are extraordinarily grateful for the effort as you lounge in your chair, leaning your head back into a neck pillow and scanning your eyes over your science fiction read.

after a bit, you stick your bookmark into the crease of your pages and remove your sunglasses from your face so you're able to get a clearer view of abby and mike along the shoreline.

they're laughing together, running back and forth and taunting the tide as it crashes against the sand in a white foam. "you can't let the tide get you, abby! the sea monsters will take you whole!" you chuckle as mike sweeps her up in his arms, swinging her over the water as he treads deeper.

you set your book down and travel towards the tide, picking up more of their conversation over the soft wind.

"wait, what---what---oh no, the sea monsters are speaking to me. they're saying...i have to give you up." mike shakes his head in faux despair, beginning to fake cry as abby yelps in his arms. "they say they've been looking for an eleven year old girl named abby for their mission!" he continues swinging her, pretending to dunk her in some moments and keeping her away from the water in others, claiming, "no, i won't let them have you!"

you place your hands on your hips, raising your eyebrow in preparation to play along as they make their way back to land. "everything okay over here? i heard something about...'sea monsters'."

"the sea monsters have mastered mind control," abby matter-of-factly explains, wiggling from mike's grasp and curling her toes back into the wet sand during her impromptu intermission. "they specifically need an eleven year old abby, but mike is such a great brother that he wouldn't dare give me up."

"wouldn't do it for all the money in the world," mike affirms with a smile and finger wag pointed to the sky. after a moment, he winces and squeezes his eyes tightly in pain, rubbing at his temples with two fingertips. "they're still in my head though. it's taking all my willpower to fight against them."

you nod at the both of them, an oddly fascinated smile etched onto your face. "well maybe you two can take them down and make them reform. ask them why they need children for their mission in the first place."

"well they don't always, do they, abs?" abby shakes her head as mike reaches out for you, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "in fact...they're asking for...you now."

you widen your eyes, playing up your shock with a hand to the heart. "oh jeez. well, thank god it's an adult this time. what would the world be without abby?"

"what would the world be like without me? you ask great questions, y/n. that's why i love you."

"i love you more, abs. i'm not letting them get you either," you reply, running your hand over the crown of her damp head with an affectionate grin as you feel mike sneakily wrap his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. "mike, wh--"

"the sea monsters have spoken. they want you!" you're off your feet before you can even finish your screech, flying towards the cresting waves. one moment, mike had you in his arms, trudging into deeper surf, and the next, you're shrouded in icy ocean water, the salt stinging your eyes and coating your unexpectant tongue in a disgusting layer of minerals.

mike's laughing as he slowly makes his way to the sand, his back facing the shore while he waits for you to come to the surface. he's beside abby when you finally rise, the joy dropping from both of their demeanors when they take you in.

your staunch displeasure could be seen from football fields away and it makes abby mischievously gulp, "uh oh" as you irritably trek through the water, stopping when it reaches your mid-thigh.

you're like a goddess, appearing from the ocean in your simple black bikini, water droplets beading over the exposed parts of your smooth bronze skin, and it's all mike wants to make you feel like in order to atone for his obvious mistake. he wants to throw you into his arms and apologize profusely and plant kisses all over your body and ask you what he can do to make it right; he'll do anything if it means he won't see you with crossed arms and a deep scowl.

your attitude has mike sprinting over, almost face planting as his feet slip in the waterlogged sand. his eyes are overwhelmingly remorseful, and he begins to spew sentiment as he grabs for you.

"i'm so sorry baby, are you okay? are you hurt?" his voice cracks as he examines you thoroughly, grazing his hands over your face and body. you nearly give up your act at his attentiveness, but you maintain, rolling your eyes at him. he deflates at that, whimpering, "fuck, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i should've asked before i did that, i-i-i just thought since you were playing along that maybe it'd be okay...." mike's ramble trails off as he focuses on you stepping back into deeper water, and even more terrifyingly, your continued silence. "baby, hey, hey. are you okay?"

he follows you closely, and it's a foolish mistake on his own part; his consideration leaves him vulnerable, and you're able to ram your small frame into his torso, wrapping your own arms around his waist and tackling him into the chilly water. he goes down with a yell and comes up soon after with a cough and a smile, shaking the saltwater from his hair.

he wipes at his eyes as he reorients himself, rasping, "oh, i see. you were just getting back at me, being all cold and shit."

you watch him with your lips pursed amusedly, traversing around his recovering form so that you have an unobstructed escape route. "you gave me to the sea monsters, mike. i couldn't not get revenge."

"yeah, well, now this sea monster's gonna get you!" you noisily squeal as you run with high knees all the way to abby, who jumps and cheers for you back at the dry shore. "don't let them get you, y/n!"

"i won't!" you scream back, your words broken up with chuckles as you try your best to escape mike's aquatic nefariousness. you've made it out of the water, pulling abby into a wet embrace when mike clammers into the two of you, sending you all down to the lush sand.

it sticks to your skin as you belly-laugh with abby under mike's weight, feeling his heart pump through his ribs with adrenaline, and you can't help but think about how memorable this time will be for all of you.

mike and abby would be your family forever, and moments like this cemented that.

cute beach time!!! i love sweetgf and dickheadbf, they warm my heart.

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

[jungkoode]

THE 25TH HOUR | O6

“𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓”

“The term timeline shift shouldn’t mean anything to you, yet somehow; it does. Which is why you push to be included in the Conference Room reunion, and how you end up paired with Agent Min to go on a field trip. Talk about unexpected."

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 5,5k

content: timeline shifts, conference room shanenigsns, y/n being as curious as usual and yoongi having none of it, protective grumbly ‘i care but i dont’ yoongi, jimin being iconic, hobi being here only for the chaos, seokjin and namjoon trying not to have an aneurysm, taehyung and jungkook using telepathy to laugh at everyone

— author’s note

PHEWWWW. OKAY. Hello, everyone!!!

So. 5k-6k words. As you’ve seen in the word count note for this chapter. Yup. I suddenly remembered this is, in fact, a fanfic (which means 250k+ words in my terms) and not a Netflix limited series, so I have free reign to up that word count like it’s nobody’s business. From now on, we’re just embracing longer chapters. You’re welcome. (Or, alternatively, I’m sorry. Pick your fighter.)

ANYWAY. We’re starting to get into some things in this chapter, and I, being the benevolent god that I am, have decided to let the side characters explain some of it in dumbed-down terms so that you silly little rabbits can keep up. (It’s me. I’m silly rabbits.)

Also, CAN I JUST SAY how much I love Jimin in this fic??? Say what you want about him. He’s bitchy. He hates Y/N (us). He is actively praying on our downfall. And? I love him for it. So what now, huh?? Be mad about it.

Also yes, Hopemin are a thing in here. No, I don’t regret anything. Yes, you’ll see more of them.

Speaking of dynamics, I love that Jungkook and Taehyung are the only two that can communicate telepathically. That ability is Taehyung’s, but since Jungkook has ability mimicry, he can use it too. So they’re the only ones who can actually go both ways (ha). Isn’t that SO COOL??? (It is. Shut up.)

Oh, and yes, Yoongi loves us in a ponytail. I screamed. He is so down bad that it’s almost pathetic. Almost.

Final housekeeping note—if you want more context on the worldbuilding and backstory, I highly recommend you read Before Time Stops, which is a drabble I wrote that gives a tiny peek into Yoongi’s state before Noma came back on her 17th reset. It’s not required reading or anything (because I am merciful), but if you’re gnawing at the bars of your enclosure wondering wtf is going on, it might give you some clarity. (But if you like using your brain and connecting dots yourself, then do not read that. You do you.)

Anyway, enjoy Chapter 6!!! Mwah mwah.

— read on

ao3

wattpad

Agent Min's fork clatters against his tray with such precision that your temporal readings automatically register the sound at 72.3 decibels. 

Too loud for the simple act of dropping cutlery.

His eyes unfocus for exactly 1.8 seconds—pupils dilating by 23%, respiration decreasing by 3 breaths per minute. It's the kind of minute physical shift that shouldn't register to your analytical mind, yet it does. With alarming clarity.

"Timeline shift," he murmurs, voice lowered to 38 decibels. The quietest you've heard from him.

Namjoon's vitals spike instantly—pulse accelerating by 7 beats per minute, pupils contracting 15%. His fingers stop mid-motion, suspended over his neglected broccoli. 

"Right now?"

"Right now." Agent Min confirms, jaw tightening by precisely 4 degrees.

You blink once. Twice. Then repeatedly, your eyes struggling to process what your ears have just registered. A curious physiological response to cognitive dissonance. 

Timeline shift. As if time itself could simply... change tracks. Like a train switching rails.

The term shouldn't mean anything to you. Yet your body reacts with a 12% increase in adrenaline, your fingertips suddenly cold despite the room's regulated 22.7°C temperature.

You've heard them use these terms before—resets, shifts, timelines—always spoken in fragments, always without explanation. The rational part of your brain insists you should be panicking. You should be demanding answers, threatening legal action, retreating to the comforting certainty of your apartment.

Yet here you sit. 

Calculating. 

Observing. 

The strangest part isn't their cryptic terminology—it's your inexplicable calm. Your willingness to remain in this underground facility with people who speak of impossible things as casually as discussing the weather.

Why?

The question loops through your mind at 3-second intervals. 

Why aren't you running? Why does this place—with its non-regulation blue walls and golden traces—feel more like home than the apartment CHRONOS assigned you?

Agent Min stands abruptly, his movement carrying too much precision for genuine spontaneity. His back straightens to an exact 87-degree angle as he nods toward Namjoon. 

"Conference room."

Namjoon rises fluidly in response, abandoning his meal without hesitation. Their synchronized movement triggers something in your temporal cognition.

"Where are you going?" The question leaves your lips before you can filter it.

Agent Min doesn't even look at you. "To the toilet."

Your eyes narrow, calculating the probability of his statement being accurate: 0.02%. The sarcasm is deliberate—a diversionary tactic to discourage further inquiry. 

Interesting. 

And irritating.

"I'm going with you." You stand, body already moving before your mind has finished formulating the decision to follow.

Agent Min whips around so quickly that the air displacement creates a 0.3-second vacuum of sound. His eyes fix on you with laser precision. 

“No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." 

Agent Min's jaw tenses with such force that you can practically calculate the newtons of pressure being applied to his molars. He takes exactly 1.7 steps toward you, his body coiling with the kind of restrained energy that suggests imminent verbal confrontation. The temperature between you seems to drop by 2.3 degrees.

"A-735, your clearance is—"

Namjoon raises his hand, the gesture cutting through Agent Min's trajectory. 

“Yoongi." 

Just his name, but loaded with meaning.

Agent Min's posture shifts minutely—shoulders dropping 0.4 centimeters, breath holding for exactly 2.6 seconds. 

"She's not ready." 

"You know she'll do more good than bad," Namjoon counters, voice steady but firm. His eyes flick between you and Agent Min, measuring something invisible. "Her temporal analysis skills were crucial last time. We need that perspective."

Last time? 

Your brain automatically starts calculating possible interpretations.

"Last time ended with her being reset," Agent Min hisses, voice dropping to 41 decibels��just low enough that he thinks you can't hear. But your auditory processing has been unusually heightened since waking up in this facility.

"She always remembers eventually," Namjoon argues. "You can't keep protecting her from her own abilities."

"I'm not protecting her from her abilities." Agent Min's voice carries an edge. "I'm protecting her from..." He stops abruptly, his gaze flickering toward you for exactly 0.7 seconds before returning to Namjoon. "From unnecessary temporal exposure."

Your eyebrows raise by precisely 0.3 centimeters.

 The pause in his statement is statistically significant—a data gap your mind immediately attempts to fill. 

Protecting you from what? The question hangs in your cognitive processing, weighted with importance you can't yet quantify.

"She deserves to know what's happening," Namjoon pushes gently. "Especially if the timeline is shifting. You know how this affects her signature."

Agent Min's gloved hand twitches—an aborted movement toward you that's quickly redirected to his side. The restraint in the gesture is almost painful to observe. 

"Fine," he finally concedes, jaw still tight. "But if her temporal signature starts destabilizing—"

"Then you'll do what you always do," Namjoon finishes with a slight smile that carries too much knowledge for comfort. "Stabilize it."

Agent Min doesn't respond verbally, but his pupils contract by 17%—a physiological reaction that suggests heightened alertness or possibly discomfort.

"I appreciate being included in decisions about my involvement," you interject, your tone dry enough to decrease local humidity by 3%. "My temporal signature is perfectly stable, Agent Min."

Your Chrono-Sync Watch beeps softly, disrupting your statement with perfect irony. The display flashes briefly: Temporal variance detected. 0.7% deviation.

Agent Min's eyes flick to your wrist, then back to your face. His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his gaze—something that looks disturbingly like vindication.

"You were saying?" he asks, voice flat.

Your jaw tightens by exactly 2.3 degrees. "Statistical anomaly. My baseline readings have been consistently within acceptable parameters."

"Your baseline shifted the moment you woke up in the 25th hour," he counters. "Which means your perception of 'acceptable parameters' is fundamentally flawed."

The technical precision of his argument catches you off-guard. It's the longest string of words he's directed at you without looking away or creating additional distance between you.

It's also frustratingly sound logic.

"Then perhaps," you say, keeping your voice measured despite the 4.2% increase in your heart rate, "I should be present for discussions about timeline shifts. Since they apparently affect my temporal signature."

Agent Min opens his mouth, likely to argue further, but Namjoon cuts him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"She's right, Yoongi. And you know it."

Something passes between them—a wordless exchange loaded with history you can't access. Agent Min's shoulders drop another 0.2 centimeters, his expression shifting from resistance to something more complex.

"Conference room," he finally concedes, his voice carrying a flatness that doesn't quite mask the tension beneath. "Five minutes. And if you start bleeding again—" He stops abruptly, jaw working around words he seems reluctant to release.

"Then what, Agent Min?" you press, curiosity overriding caution.

His eyes meet yours directly, and for a fraction of a second, you swear they flash gold.

"Then you head out."

With that statement, he turns and strides from the room, his gait perfectly measured—each step exactly 0.76 meters in length. 

Too precise to be natural. Too familiar to be coincidence.

Namjoon sighs, shaking his head slightly as his gaze follows Agent Min's retreating form. Then he turns to you, expression softening.

"Don't take it personally," he says, tone gentle. "He's been through this more times than you can imagine."

"Through what?" you ask, frustration edging into your voice. "No one will explain anything. Timeline shifts? Resets? You all talk about me like you know me, yet I just arrived yesterday."

Namjoon's expression shifts, his eyes studying you. "Didn't you?"

The question sits between you, weighted. You want to say yes, but your mouth doesn’t open. Your temporal cognition tries to catalog the possible implications, but the variables are too numerous.

Too contradictory.

"Five minutes," Namjoon reminds you softly. "Don't be late. Yoongi counts seconds when he's anxious."

He doesn't wait for your response, simply follows Agent Min's path out of the cafeteria. 

You stand still for exactly 7.3 seconds, processing.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 12:47:08 PM.

For the first time since arriving at this facility, you consciously choose not to check it again after exactly 7 minutes.

Instead, you follow them.

"Why is she here?"

Jimin's voice slices through the conference room like a poorly calibrated temporal blade, pink hair practically vibrating with indignation as he points at you. 

The casual dismissal in his tone would be offensive if it weren't so mathematically consistent with his previous behavior pattern—83% of his direct communications with you have contained similar disdain.

The conference room is at capacity—seven people including yourself arranged around a table designed for six. 

The spatial inefficiency bothers you more than it should.

Seokjin looks up from what appears to be a modified temporal monitoring device, his eyes narrowing at Jimin. 

"Shut up, Jimin. You know we need her analytical capacity."

"That's what you always say," Jimin retorts, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated nonchalance. "Yet she's the one who always—"

"Enough!"

Agent Min's palms slam against the table with 47 newtons of force—excessive by 32% for standard emphasis. The sound reverberates at 81 decibels. His breathing pattern shifts to a 4-count inhale, 6-count exhale—a technique you recognize from temporal stabilization training.

Jimin scoffs, the sound deliberately theatrical. Seokjin sighs, focusing back on his device with pointed concentration.

Your attention shifts to Taehyung and Jungkook in the corner. They're not speaking, yet their microexpressions synchronize with suspicious precision—pupils dilating at identical intervals, breathing patterns matching within 0.2 seconds. 

The probability of such coordination occurring naturally: 0.07%.

Jungkook suddenly snickers, the sound disrupting the tension.

Jimin whips around, glaring at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Jungkook replies with a lazy smile that contradicts his statement by approximately 85%. "Just telling Taehyung that if you keep getting that worked up, your face is gonna match your hair real quick."

Taehyung groans, hitting Jungkook's shoulder with exactly 12.3 newtons of force—enough to communicate disapproval without causing actual discomfort. Then his eyes shift to you, then to Agent Min, then back to you. 

The sequence takes 1.4 seconds to complete.

"Sorry," he says simply, though you're not entirely sure who he's apologizing to or for what specific infraction.

Namjoon sighs with such volume that it borders on exaggerated. He adjusts the holographic display projecting from the center of the table, his movements betraying a familiarity with the technology that contradicts standard temporal monitoring training.

"Well," he says, drawing out the word to 1.7 times its normal duration, "here's the information we've gathered on the timeline shift."

Data streams materialize above the table—complex temporal frequencies and ripple patterns that shouldn't exist according to standard CHRONOS physics. 

Your eyes automatically begin tracking the inconsistencies, mind calculating variables and constants before you consciously decide to analyze.

"CHRONOS initiated a Class 3 reality adjustment at 12:42 PM," Namjoon explains, manipulating the display to highlight a particular frequency pattern. "Minimal but significant alterations to the base timeline."

Agent Min leans forward, his focus sharpening on the data. "Differences?"

"I was getting to that," Namjoon replies, his tone betraying mild irritation despite his neutral expression. "CHRONOS has implemented three key modifications to the current timeline."

He expands a section of the display, revealing what appears to be geographic alterations to Boston's layout.

"First, they've restructured Sector 4's central monitoring hub—moved it three blocks east and increased security protocols by approximately 27%."

You stare at the display, knowing with perfect certainty that the monitoring hub has always been in its original location. 

Yet according to this data, CHRONOS has simply... changed reality. 

Rewritten it.

Every standard citizen in Boston would now remember the hub always being at its new location, with no awareness of the alteration.

But not you. 

Not any Outlier.

And that's precisely the problem.

"Second," Namjoon continues, "they've altered the temporal compliance check schedule. The citywide sweep that normally occurs at 19:00 hours has been rescheduled to random intervals."

Seokjin looks up, expression colored with concern. "That's a deliberate countermeasure. They're trying to catch Outliers off-guard."

"And third," Namjoon concludes, his voice dropping slightly, "they've implemented new chrono-dampeners at all major transit points. Anyone with temporal variance above 0.3% will trigger automatic detainment protocols."

The room goes silent for 3.4 seconds. Even Jimin's perpetual attitude seems temporarily subdued.

"That's..." Seokjin starts.

"Deliberate," Agent Min finishes, jaw tensing visibly. "They're hunting."

The implication settles over the room like a weighted blanket. They're hunting Outliers—people like you, whose memories don't align with CHRONOS' rewritten reality. People whose very existence creates temporal friction.

"The problem," Namjoon continues, "is that we can't accurately assess all the changes from within our temporal blind spot. The dampening field that protects us also limits our ability to detect subtler reality adjustments."

Hoseok, who has been uncharacteristically quiet until now, suddenly perks up. "Field trip?"

The eager tone contradicts the apparent gravity of the situation by approximately 76%. 

Your confusion must show on your face, because Namjoon gives you a quick, apologetic glance.

"We need to go out into the city," he explains. "Physically observe the changes to understand exactly what we're dealing with. If we don't, we risk walking into CHRONOS' traps without even knowing they exist."

"Timeline dissonance," you say, the term surfacing to your mind. "Deliberate reality manipulation designed to create cognitive inconsistencies in those who maintain previous timeline memories."

"Mandela Effect on steroids," Seokjin supplies helpfully. "When CHRONOS rewrites reality, they're counting on the fact that we'll remember the previous timeline. It makes us easy to identify."

That... shouldn't be possible. Reality alterations of that magnitude would require energy equivalent to—

Your nose starts bleeding. Again.

Agent Min's movement is too fast to track properly—one moment he's across the table, the next he's beside you, black handkerchief already extended. 

His proximity causes your temporal readings to stabilize by 0.42%, a correlation your analytical mind files away for later examination.

"Thinking too hard again," he mutters, though there's something in his tone that doesn't quite match the criticism of his words.

"I've barely begun analyzing the quantum implications," you counter, accepting the handkerchief with what you hope is clinical detachment despite the inexplicable 8% increase in your heart rate.

His lips press together, a muscle in his jaw twitching exactly once. "That's the problem."

"Sooo," Hoseok interrupts, dragging the word out with deliberate enthusiasm, "can I go with Y/N? I really want to see her super—" he catches himself, glancing at Agent Min's suddenly rigid posture, "—her temporal analysis skills in action again."

Jimin stubs his toe against the table leg, the impact producing 34.7 newtons of force judging by his wince. "They're not superpowers. We're not cartoon characters."

"Says the guy who can see thirty seconds into the future," Hoseok retorts with a teasing grin.

Future prediction? 

Your mind automatically starts calculating the theoretical energy requirements for chronological precognition.

"Can't even call it that," Jimin mutters, throwing Hoseok a look that's both annoyed and affectionate. "More like probability fragments. Completely useless beyond half a minute."

Agent Min's glare at Jimin intensifies by approximately 47%, freezing the whole room in milliseconds. The reaction seems disproportionate to Jimin's statement until you feel another warm trickle from your nose.

Another nosebleed threatens at this new information. 

Agent Min shifts 2.3 centimeters closer to you, gloved hand hovering near your elbow without making contact. 

"We'll need three teams," Namjoon says, drawing everyone's attention back to the mission. "One for the monitoring hub, one for transit point verification, and one for civilian interaction assessment."

Your mind is already categorizing likely team compositions based on the abilities you've identified so far:

Namjoon: Temporal analysis

Agent Min: Restoration

Taehyung: Interface capability

Jungkook: Ability mimicry

Jimin: Short-range future prediction

Hoseok and Seokjin remain unknown variables, though you suspect their abilities must complement the others in some way.

Agent Min straightens, posture reflecting the precise stance of someone about to issue orders. "Taehyung, Jungkook—monitoring hub. Your interface capabilities will get you past security."

The pair nod in unison, their timing synchronized to within 0.11 seconds.

"Namjoon, Seokjin—transit points. Your abilities are ideal for detecting the new chrono-dampeners without triggering them." He pauses. Then. “Hoseok, Jimin—civilian assessment. Your network connections and—"

"Hold on," Jimin interrupts, his expression switching from boredom to alarm in 0.73 seconds. "You're pairing me with him for civilian interaction?" A slow smirk spreads across his face as he casts a sidelong glance at Hoseok. "You sure about that? Last time we were paired, we didn't exactly get much... reconnaissance done."

The implication in his tone is impossible to miss, especially when Hoseok responds with a matching grin.

"True," Hoseok says, leaning into Jimin's personal space. "That empty supply closet on Level 3 still has the broken shelf to prove it."

Agent Min exhales sharply through his nose. "If you two can manage to keep your hands off each other for longer than fifteen minutes, we might actually accomplish something."

"Fourteen minutes is my record," Jimin replies with a shameless grin.

"Thirteen," Hoseok corrects, knocking his shoulder against Jimin's. "I timed it."

Agent Min ignores them both, his focus shifting to you. 

"A-735 comes with me."

The statement produces statistically significant reactions across the room:

Jimin's eyebrows rise 0.4 centimeters

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange a 0.8-second glance

Hoseok's smile widens by approximately 15%

Taehyung and Jungkook maintain neutral expressions but their pupils dilate by 12%

"I thought you were maintaining professional distance," Jimin says then.

Agent Min's jaw tightens, the tension visible in his masseter muscle. "Her temporal signature is unstable. I'm the only one who can stabilize it if she encounters chronological anomalies in the field."

"Sure," Jimin drawls, drawing out the word to 1.8 times its standard duration. "It's purely professional concern."

"Field deployment in 30 minutes," Agent Min announces, ignoring Jimin completely. "Standard gear, modified watches, minimal temporal signatures."

The meeting disperses with suspicious efficiency, team members filing out easily. 

Agent Min remains beside you, his presence creating a localized reduction in ambient temporal static by approximately 18%.

"Your temporal dampening effect," you start, unable to resist the scientific inquiry any longer. "The probability of it occurring naturally is—"

"Nothing about this is natural," he cuts you off, voice low enough that only you can hear. His eyes meet yours with unexpected directness. "Be ready in 20 minutes. And wear the full tactical gear."

"The statistical likelihood of encountering a situation requiring—"

"It's not for protection from external threats."

The statement hangs between you, weighted with implications your analytical mind struggles to process.

"Then what is it for?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

His gaze flickers briefly to your gloved hands before returning to your face.

“Protection from me."

Before you can begin to calculate the meaning behind that statement, he turns and walks away, each step measured to exactly 0.76 meters. Too precise. Too practiced.

Too familiar.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 13:17:42 PM.

In 20 minutes, you'll be leaving the temporal blind spot with the one person everyone seems to think you should avoid.

He materializes outside your door like a fixed point in spacetime.

Agent Min stands there—not waiting, not loitering—just existing with an unsettling permanence, as if this specific position 72.4 centimeters from your doorframe is his designated coordinate in this reality. His posture is too precise, shoulders squared at exactly 92 degrees, weight distributed with mathematical perfection across both feet.

Your door swings open, and his eyes find yours with a precision that defies probability—like he calculated the exact microsecond your gaze would emerge. 

The contact holds for 2.3 seconds before his attention deliberately shifts away, the movement carrying too much control to be casual.

Your pulse accelerates by 8.7 beats per minute.

Statistically significant. Medically inexplicable.

Time: 13:42:17 PM. Temperature: 21.4°C. Probability of this encounter being coincidental: 0.03%.

The ponytail still pulls your hair back from your face—a practical choice for field operations that his eyes tracked for precisely 0.4 seconds. Something in his microexpressions shifted upon seeing it—pupil dilation increasing by 12%, the corner of his mouth twitching upward by 0.2 millimeters before flattening again.

He likes it. The knowledge surfaces without analytical foundation, yet carries 98.7% certainty.

Agent Min turns without verbal acknowledgment, his stride measured at precisely 0.76 meters per step. You follow, automatically adjusting your gait to match his. Not behind him as protocol would dictate for a subordinate, but alongside—matching him step for step, establishing positional equality despite having no conscious intention to do so.

A sound escapes him—too controlled to be natural, too soft to be conscious. The acoustic analysis places it somewhere between amusement and resignation.

You raise an eyebrow, analytical mind already calculating the probable causes for such an incongruous response. "What?"

"You always do this," he says, the words carrying a weight disproportionate to their syllabic structure.

"Do what?" Your tone maintains professional detachment despite the 3.2% increase in your skin temperature.

His eyes remain fixed forward, avoiding yours. "Walk beside me. Not behind."

The observation is objectively accurate but contextually perplexing. 

Standard CHRONOS protocol dictates hierarchical positioning during transit—superiors lead, subordinates follow. 

Your current alignment violates regulation 12.4 regarding proper procedural formations.

You don't correct your position.

"Is there a tactical advantage to maintaining traditional hierarchical spacing within an organization that explicitly opposes CHRONOS protocols?" The question emerges with more edge than intended, attempting to mask the uncomfortable awareness that your body has made this choice without conscious direction.

His lips quirk at exactly one corner, the asymmetry statistically inconsistent with standard microexpressions. "No."

"Then the positioning is irrelevant." Your pace synchronizes with his to within 0.03 seconds—a coordination that should require conscious effort but somehow doesn't.

"Not irrelevant," he corrects, his voice dropping 0.4 octaves. "Telling."

You catalog the statement for future analysis. "Telling of what?"

He doesn't answer, but his stride adjusts by 0.2 centimeters—not enough for conscious detection, yet your body automatically recalibrates to maintain perfect alignment.

The silence stretches precisely 17.4 seconds before he speaks again.

"Most people tend to walk behind me." His tone shifts subtly, the change barely registering at 0.2 decibels lower. "Create distance. Establish hierarchy."

Your eyes track his profile, noting the rhythm of his breathing. "And this bothers you?"

"No." The denial comes too quickly—0.47 seconds faster than his average response time. A statistically significant aberration. "It's protocol."

"Which we've established has no practical application in a resistance organization."

"What I find..." he pauses for exactly 1.3 seconds, "interesting is that you've never followed it. Not once. Not in any—"

He stops abruptly, both verbally and physically. The sudden halt creates a minor temporal distortion—a 0.3-second lag in ambient chronological flow that you automatically register.

"In any what?" you prompt, cataloging the uncharacteristic break in his speech pattern.

"In any situation," he finishes, the correction carrying a 73% probability of being a substitution for his original intended statement.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 13:47:23 PM, the seconds counting with suspicious regularity despite the microscopic temporal fluctuations you can feel emanating from his proximity.

"Perhaps I assess operational efficiency over hierarchical formality," you suggest, attempting to apply logical reasoning to behavior that feels increasingly pre-programmed.

He makes that sound again—the one that isn't quite amusement but contains traces of it, like fossil remains of an emotion long extinct.

"Or perhaps," he says, voice lowered to precisely 42 decibels, "some patterns transcend memory."

The statement triggers a 0.4-second arrhythmia in your heart rate—a physiological response that correlates to no known medical condition. Your brain struggles to process the implications while your body seems to understand perfectly.

His pace resumes at exactly 0.76 meters per step.

You match it without conscious thought.

He doesn't comment further, but the space between you carries a charge measurable at approximately 0.06 millivolts per cubic centimeter—enough to raise the fine hairs on your arm beneath your tactical gear.

"Where exactly are we going?" you ask, redirecting to quantifiable data.

"Sector 4," he replies, all trace of that almost-emotion now absent from his voice. "The relocated monitoring hub."

The information raises several questions: "How is civilian compliance maintained during reality restructuring? The cognitive dissonance alone would trigger mass—"

"They don't notice." His voice cuts with precision. "For them, the hub has always been there. Their memories adjust automatically."

"I know that much. But how? The energetic requirements for mass memory manipulation would exceed—"

"Don't." He warns. "Your nose is already threatening to bleed again."

You touch your septum reflexively, finding it dry. When you glance at him questioningly, his focus remains deliberately forward.

"It would have started in approximately 12 seconds," he states, as if calculating the exact moment your temporal resistance would trigger physical symptoms. "Thinking too deeply about CHRONOS' mechanisms accelerates the process."

"How do you know that?" The query emerges softer than intended.

His stride never breaks rhythm. "Experience."

One word. 

Four syllables.

Somehow containing multitudes.

You want to press further, to dissect the precise meaning behind his claim, but your attention shifts to your surroundings as you approach the deployment bay—team members checking equipment, reviewing objectives, preparing for extraction.

Agent Min's pace finally slows as you reach a console near the bay doors. He inputs a sequence too rapidly for you to track, though your fingers twitch as if they know the pattern.

"My watch is modified," you state rather than ask, eyes fixed on the device encircling your wrist. 

The design appears identical to your standard-issue Chrono-Sync, but the readings flicker with patterns that contradict CHRONOS protocols.

Agent Min hums in acknowledgment, sound vibrating at exactly 147 Hz. "What did you think Namjoon meant when he shouted 'stabilized' across the lab yesterday?"

The memory surfaces with clarity—Jin's interrogation, Namjoon's interruption, the moment your temporal readings suddenly aligned despite no obvious intervention.

"But he never touched my watch," you counter, examining the device more carefully. "How would he modify it without physical access?"

"We already had your calibration data," Agent Min explains, his tone shifting into what you recognize as lecture mode—precise, controlled, 0.3 octaves lower than his standard register. "Your temporal signature has specific frequencies, like a fingerprint. Namjoon analyzed those patterns and transmitted the modifications wirelessly when you entered our dampening field."

You run your finger over the watch's display, noting the subtle differences in the readout interface. "That would require quantum-level transmission capabilities. The technological limitations alone would—"

"You're thinking too conventionally again." There's a hint of something almost like fondness in his tone. "CHRONOS technology isn't the pinnacle of temporal science. It's deliberately limited to maintain control."

The implication triggers several cognitive pathways simultaneously. 

If CHRONOS has been restricting technological development, then your entire understanding of temporal physics could be fundamentally flawed…

"So this watch..." you begin, carefully selecting terminology to avoid another nosebleed.

"Is calibrated to resistance frequencies instead of CHRONOS ones," he finishes. "It helps your body recognize its natural temporal pattern rather than forcing compliance with CHRONOS’ one."

You check the device—still showing 13:52:17 PM, though something about the secondary readings catches your attention. 

The temporal variance indicator flashes briefly: 0.88%.

"It's..." you pause, recalibrating your response based on the unexpected reading. "The variance is higher than standard parameters."

Agent Min finally turns to face you fully, his eyes tracing your expression with unsettling precision. "That's normal when we're preparing to exit the blind spot. The temporal dampening field here stabilizes your signature artificially. Outside, it'll start fluctuating."

"By increasing variance? Shouldn't the watch compensate for that?" The inconsistency troubles your analytical mind.

"The watch helps, but it's not enough on its own." His focus shifts to your wrist, where the modified Chrono-Sync device continues to flash its warning. "Think of it like this: your body is trying to operate on your natural frequency, but CHRONOS has been forcing it to run at a different one for years. The watch can guide you toward the right pattern, but the transition creates instability."

The explanation, while simplified, aligns with quantum resonance theory. 

"So outside the blind spot..." you start, forming the hypothesis.

"You'll need additional stabilization until your signature fully integrates with the resistance calibration," he confirms. "Like training wheels on a bicycle."

Your eyebrow raises at the antiquated analogy. "And you're the training wheels in this scenario?"

Something that might almost be a smile touches his lips for 0.3 seconds before vanishing. "My temporal signature naturally counterbalances the instability in yours. Proximity helps smooth the transition."

"Why you specifically?" 

He purses his lips. "Temporal physics."

The explanation is statistically insufficient, containing 97.3% less detail than would be expected from someone with his apparent knowledge base.

"That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting for now." His tone sharpens by 0.7 decibels. "Unless you want another nosebleed before we even leave the facility."

Your analytical mind begins calculating potential correlations between his evasiveness and your temporal stabilization, but the mere formation of the hypothesis triggers a familiar pressure behind your nasal septum.

Your nose starts bleeding.

Agent Min doesn't look surprised. His hand extends with the now-familiar black handkerchief.

"What did I just say about thinking too deeply?" It’s an attempt at annoyance, but you can detect a warmth that registers at approximately 0.3 degrees above neutral.

"Temporal analysis is literally my job," you reply, accepting the handkerchief.

"Was," he corrects. His gloved hand adjusts a setting on your modified watch without asking permission, his fingers moving with such familiarity that the intrusion hardly registers as one. "Now your job is to stay alive long enough to remember why you're really here."

The cryptic statement deserves further interrogation, but your attention is diverted by the arrival of the other teams. 

Jimin and Hoseok enter with suspicious dishevelment, Jimin's hair slightly mussed at precisely the angle that suggests recent contact. Hoseok's grin carries approximately 22% more satisfaction than mission preparation would typically warrant.

Namjoon and Seokjin arrive with more professional demeanor, though you note the way Seokjin's eyes immediately scan for you and Agent Min, cataloging your proximity to each other with too much interest to be casual.

Taehyung and Jungkook materialize last, synchronized movements carrying that unnerving precision that corroborate interfacing capabilities beyond standard human parameters.

"Everyone ready?" Namjoon asks, though his eyes linger specifically on you.

Agent Min answers before you can. "As ready as possible given the circumstances."

Namjoon nods, understanding some subtext that eludes your analysis. "Remember, minimal interaction with standard temporal structures. We observe, we analyze, we return. No engagement with CHRONOS elements unless absolutely necessary."

The instruction seems directed at everyone but carries special weight when his gaze returns to you.

Your Chrono-Sync Watch reads 13:58:43 PM.

In 1 minute and 17 seconds, you'll be leaving the only safe place you've known since waking up in the 25th hour.

Agent Min shifts 2.3 centimeters closer to you—not enough for contact, but enough that your temporal readings stabilize by 0.12%.

"Stay close," he says, voice calibrated to exactly 44 decibels. "Your body knows what to do, even if your mind doesn't."

The statement should be nonsensical. Paradoxical. Impossible to quantify with any scientific rigor.

Yet as the bay doors begin to open, exposing the tunnel that leads back to standard temporal flow, you find yourself already adjusting your position to maintain precisely 47 centimeters of distance from him.

Close enough for temporal stabilization. Far enough to avoid Protocol 47.3 violations. Perfect synchronicity without conscious calculation.

Your body does know. 

The question is: how?

goal: 50 notes.

next | index

— taglist

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @ktownshizzle @yoongiiuu93 @billy-jeans23 @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218

© jungkoode 2025

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[wanderingblindly]

HELLO LIQUID!! So much congrats on your milestone!! 💕💕 could I please ask for a curse of obedience fic with pairing of your choosing? ☺️

HELLOOOOO LOVELY!!!!! And thank you so sosoossoosososo much!! I couldn't decide who i wanted to pair together for this, so i just made everyone cursed and let the grid decide :))) enjoy a little bit of grid chaos + norapinto <3333 Celebratory prompt list here!

Truth or Dare

"Well, I'm not playing," Lando rolls his eyes, settling into a spot against the wall, arms crossed. "Oscar, tell me I can't play."

"You can't play," Oscar repeats immediately, groaning once he's done. "Mate, you can't –"

"He's playing," Alex claps a hand on Oscar's shoulder, that irritating mischievous smile on his lips. "Tell him he's playing."

"You're playing." Oscar parrots, trying to shrug off Alex's hand. "Can you both stop –"

The emptied out steward's room is buzzing with chatter, the entire grid shoved inside and locked in unceremoniously.

Charles and Carlos accidentally made each other unable to speak by shouting commands at the same time, argument devolving to close-lipped yelling and flailing hands; Lewis and Valtteri have hidden themselves in the corner, content to watch the younger grid members chase each other about like terrors. Franco has latched himself onto Checo, speaking a mile a minute in Spanish – seemingly not spurred on my any order.

And George, watching from the center of it all, claps his hands loudly.

"Right then, everyone quiet down!"

The room falls dead silent, everyone turning to look at him with murder in their eyes.

He winces. "Didn't mean to order everyone, sorry." He doesn't, notably, revoke his command. "Alex had a great idea –" Lando smacks Alex in the chest, harder than necessary but softer than he wanted. "That we play a game of truth or dare."

Lewis flashes George a middle finger as Fernando simultaneously gives a thumbs up from the opposite side of the room; their eyes catch, Lewis rolling his and Fernando smiling with a few too many teeth.

"I'll command you all of the rules, then Alex will do the same to me. Does that sound fair?"

Pierre's tapping away on his phone, holding it up for the room to read: opened to a blacked-out Instagram story, the words "WHO MADE YOU KING?" in bold white font.

Esteban holds his phone up in turn: "PRESIDENT**"

Pierre types furiously: "HE'S BRITISH THEY HAVE A KING"

Esteban rolls his eyes before responding: "OF THE UNION BOUFFON"

George sighs exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Everyone, put your phones by the door. Face down. Alex, tell me to do the same."

"Put your phone by the door." Alex says, already moving mechanically towards the door with the rest of the drivers, phone ready in hand.

----

"Ground rules," George says, standing int he middle of the circle he instructed – forced – them to sit in, neatly paired by teammates. "We're all going to play truth or dare, all of us." He flashes a look towards Lando, glowering next to Oscar and his constant state of mild disinterest. "Each person will get to ask one other driver one thing. No double questions. All topics are fair game, but nothing we say he can leave this room. That is all an order. Alex, repeat it back to me."

Alex does as he's told, the rest of the grid in various states of disarray. Yuki looks giddy – probably ready to torment Pierre in whatever ways he's cooked up; Liam seems two seconds away from throwing up – intimately aware that he's the newest of the bunch with the fewest cards in hand; Max keeps looking at Charles like they can communicate telepathically, maybe plotting a way to overthrow George, possibly trying to threaten each other with the worst dares imaginable.

And through that is Franco, looking at Lando like there's something he really wants to tell him.

Which isn't terribly surprising; Franco always looks like he wants to tell someone something – it's sort of his entire thing.

George claps again – the irritating git – before opening the floodgates. "Let's play!"

----

They're all sitting in silence again, willingly.

Pierre told Yuki to admit who his favorite teammate had been; he said that he found them all equally annoying.

Esteban told Pierre to show off his hairline; Lewis laughed a little too hard, resulting in Valtteri forcing him to confess to a Turkish vacation some time in the 2010s.

Charles smugly demanded Max name the driver he felt was the biggest threat – to which he immediately replied "no one".

The entire circle had exploded into uproar; Charles insisting that Max was lying, that he clearly found a loophole because George "had been foolish and not demanded honesty"; Carlos saying that Red Bull was going to blow the constructors as is, so maybe Checo was the real threat; Checo told him to go fuck himself, chucking his hat and completely missing; and Lando, looking with fire in his eyes, bit his tongue.

"Big of you," Oscar whispers under his breath, resisting a smile.

"Fuck off," He hisses, not willing to admit that he was keeping anything back. He knows that he can beat Max; he's beaten him already this season. If Max wants to keep his head in the sand and not admit that, if he thinks he's above all of them, that's not his –

"Lando, Lando, Lando," Carlos smiles at him, eyes glimmering like the devil.

Fuck, Max might not be his problem.

"The most handsome driver on the grid, you are going to give him a kiss."

Carlos is.

"No." Lando says, already rising up to his feet with his consent. "Carlos, that's not – that's not what we're meant to do, right George?" He drags his feet, weak to stop them.

"It's his choice," George is grinning, just shy of rubbing his hands together like a fucking fly. "Who're you gonna snog, mate?"

"I'm not –" He looks over his shoulder at Oscar – trying to tell him to command he stop. But his tongue freezes, unable to go against the ground rules George had set. He's drawing nearer to Alex, sat just on the other side of the circle, who looks like he's about to burst into laughter.

His voice has gone pitched with hysterics, "Lando, mate, what're you –"

"Shut the fuck up," Lando grits, face running so hot he can feel his pulse in his cheeks. "It's not you, bastard. Fuck you, actually, this was all your fucking –"

Lando's traitorous feet stop, shins bumping into Franco's knees – sat with his feet tucked like an excited child. His head whips up, eyes wide. "Wh–"

"I dunno, mate," Lando sighs, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a facade of… something better. Before he can say anything else, his body lurches forward, hands reaching for Franco's jawline and forcing him to sit up a little straighter, to tilt his head as Lando presses their lips together.

The room bursts into chaos, the command melts away – but Franco slides his tongue into Lando's mouth before he loses the chance.

[reds-skull]

Thank youuu

I love them too, I'm thinking of having them as a big brother/little brother duo maybe?? Anyway here's them buying tea for the base like stereotypical Brits

Ok first time I read this my heart melted because it's so sweet :]

I keep thinking up aus for mw2, but they're all too complicated for a one-off comic, and I just finished a series so I'm not doing another one for the time being. But I had a superpower au for them, that I'm gonna explain under a read more because I know it's gonna be long lmao

But before that thank you for everyone again! I read all your lovely comments and they warm my heart <333

SO in this au, some people gain powers the first time they die. The powers are based on how they died (also when they die they meet these cool eldritch beings called reapers that have a little chat with them to decide if they're worthy of those powers).

Soap died from an explosion. Got blown out of a building. So his powers are explosion resistance and creation. His fingertips are always on fire because he's practically blowing the air around them all the time.

Gaz fell off a helicopter :( so now he can manipulate gravity, either objects around him or himself. He also floats a few inches off the ground most times.

Price was kinda hard for me to decide but I ended up making him die by abandonment. Now he can telepathically communicate with people.

And Ghost... he died in that coffin. Got pulled out by a reaper and received the powers to control limbo, the space between life and death. He's not authorized to use them unless he's alone, so he gets sent on solo missions only, until Price recruits him to the 141.

That is, until he pairs up with Ghost.

Before being recruited to the 141, Soap mainly defused bombs. Since, even if it's too late, he won't die. Thing is, Soap still gets hurt. His bones get crushed, his heart stops, his limbs get torn apart. He does heal, but the worse the injury, the longer it takes.

That made him kinda depressed. Because he felt like a glorified bomb robot. Except he's cheaper, since it doesn't cost the military any money when he fails to defuse on time.

Ghost isn't immune to bombs. He himself doesn't enter limbo, since that traps anything alive.

He and Soap go on a mission where intel suggests the enemy has rigged various explosives around the intel they need. They split up, Soap goes to defuse them and Ghost slowly makes his way through the facility.

And Ghost does help him. But he treats him like he would a regular, non-powered human. Stops when he's in too much pain, encourages him through it. Does his best to stop the bleeding.

Ghost completes his objective, but Soap gets spotted by an enemy and detonates the bomb he's working on to save himself.

Ghost find Soap after he fails to sitrep, impaled by a rebar. He whimpers and begs Ghost to help him off it, since he can't heal.

Because Ghost sees him as human. He watched as Soap kept trying to make jokes with him, but more importantly, how he treated him no differently from anyone else.

Soap, for his side, isn't used to that... gentleness. And that's how his interest in Ghost begins.

They exfil and return to base. A few months pass, and Ghost keeps an eye on one Soap MacTavish. Looks through his medical records, past missions. Finds out just how much he suffers through.

But Ghost isn't his commending officer, so he can't do anything. Until he's approached by his captain, John Price. He brings up the option of adding a new member to the taskforce. He gives Ghost the candidates he considered, Soap was brought up, Ghost stops him and states that he would agree to a new member if it was Soap.

Now if I had like, better writing abilities I would have absolutely written this as a fic. Butttt I don't and even if I did, I don't have confidence in them so I won't. But this idea is now out there and you can do whatever you want with it.

Also I got like a lot more sketches of this au but I only posted the ones I made for the ask.

[inthiseverymoment]

silhouettes emerging: prologue

the vampire isabelle de la rue, upon realizing that she has been erased from history, decides on a whim to set the record straight.

iwtv oc, prologue ~500 words (short n sweet)

welcome to our framing device! my girl is a study of the messy morals of iwtv, deceptive artistic communities through the tdv, the purple-prose-ish-yet-strikingly-earnest storytelling style, and being hopelessly in love with assad zaman. WOOT WOOT

i am not sure how many chapters this'll wind up being but A Lot Is Going To Happen, I Can Promise You That

enjoyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

fic masterlist chapter i

Twenty Twenty-Three, Chicago, United States of America

“...That motherfucker.”

Instinctually, she did a double-take, despite knowing that what the page held wasn’t truly a surprise at all.

She’d been intrigued upon seeing the book in a shop window-something told her that this one was different from the thousands of fictions regarding her kind. That something had proven to be right when she glimpsed the familiar name of Louis de Pointe du Lac on the back cover’s summary; heart pounding in her ears with a somewhat delicious anticipation of decades-held secrets being blown open, she bought the book without another thought. Along with every other possibility, a teenage hope of seeing her name somewhere in this illegal chronicle thrummed in the back of her mind.

But, Isabelle realized, of course it would make sense that her maker would erase her from any history he told these days. The one that quite literally got away did not fit within the life that Armand was trying to fabricate for himself and his apparently-no-longer lover, and keeping up the lie that he had never thrown the Dark Gift upon anyone probably made him a more alluring character to whomever this Daniel Molloy was.

The author was witty, that was certain. She could practically hear the snark in every narrating line that wasn’t Louis’ pensive recollection, and she’d laughed to think of how those three personalities must have meshed and exploded throughout that interview.

She also knew that she needed to set a few things straight.

I’ve been wanting to go back to New York anyway.

~

Twenty Twenty-Three (One Week Later), New York City, United States of America

“Frankly, given the amount of telepathic ‘fuck-you’s from around the world I’ve had the pleasure of receiving, someone else wanting their story told was the last thing I expected.”

“Well, not all of us revere the Great Laws above all else.”

“Glad to hear it.”

They sat at an outdoor restaurant in Brooklyn, appearing to all the world like a pretentious, nighttime-sunglass-wearing, book-toting father and daughter. In truth, each was sizing up the other; trust was not a thing easily earned to the slightly jaded vampiress nor the world-weary journalist.

The former was beginning to wonder, though, at it seeming more possible with every second that she wasn’t the only supernatural one at the table.

She glanced at his nails, then back up to meet his eyes.

“You too?”

“Yeah.”

A beat.

“Armand?”

“Yeah.”

Another beat. This time, it was Daniel who spoke first.

“...You too?”

She almost laughed.

“Yeah.”

Apparently by habit, he lifted an incredulous hand as if to remove his glasses, then remembered himself and lowered it with a sigh.

“That motherfucker.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So that’s why you wanted to meet.”

“I have a lot to tell,” Isabelle said, “if you haven’t heard enough already about the toxic-theatre-kid subsection of vampirism.”

Daniel considered for a moment, then-

“You’re okay if my main intention with your story is to throw it back in his face?”

Despite herself, she nearly smiled.

“Absolutely.”

[intuitive-revelations]

Semi-live/retrospective analysis of The Interstellar Song Contest!

And here's my usual commentary for episode 6! Featuring a long final discussion by a very split me, who wants to rave about bits they loved in this episode, but needs to confront some very concerning (or at least bungled) messaging.

As I'm not sure what will go on with the airing with Eurovision and the football, I'm just going to go ahead and post this one before the live airing, since I've seen plenty of other people already posting anyway. Spoilers below the read more.

Before we get started, some acknowledgement that I seem to have been partially spoiled regarding some reveals this episode. I'll hold my tongue for now, as I want to see how it comes together, but we'll see...

I love the absurdity of being cryogenically suspended just to keep hosting for centuries.

Ok, 2925 And it's the 803rd song content - assuming this grew out of an Earth thing (and follows Earth years) that would give us a potentially starting date of 2122?

As someone who's never watched Eurovision in my life, despite how much everyone ends up talking about it, I'm not sure what to make of the premise of this episode. Neat idea I think.

Oh yeah! Juno Dawson's writing!

WTF, that's Trenzalore! Literally stock footage from Time of the Doctor. Wasn't expecting to see it here (especially as I didn't think it would have been settled until circa. the 51st century).

A nice couple of easter eggs at the bottom, with the Zygon New Colony and Alpha Centauri. Trion too!

Also look at that resolution: 11920x6705.

Ok, Mrs Flood's here straight away.

Oh, good point regarding Earth from Belinda! This would seemingly imply Earth is fine, though absolutely it may not be a human derived thing. Trenzalore being a human colony (plus potentially the Zygon colony, if they're from Earth's refugee population) could be points towards Earth's state too?

Ah, the Doctor's joy at seeing Belinda enjoying herself.

So the vindicators are important to Flood. We'll see how accurate my prediction is I guess? "Link" seems to imply otherwise.

Does Freddi Fox's audio seem slightly off in this scene? Might just be my bluetooth headphone delay, but the lip sync seems weird. It's like he's barely annunciating?

"Hellians" huh? Could have done a bit more with this design, but whatever.

This is an insane number of people to kill off! wtf?!

"Not again" lol. I also see they're using the same freezing over in the vacuum visuals from Oxygen, which always seemed to be possibly inspired by GOTG.

Never mind, not dead I guess. Also mavity again! Interesting - as if Earth is gone then there's no real need to use that word again, since people presumably aren't actually speaking English here? I guess it can still be translated relative to Belinda I guess.

I wonder if Mrs Flood got sucked out too?

A DELTA WAVE?! (Remember the Doctor's plan in Parting of the Ways?)

Interesting detail on the betting. I guess that's more due to the broadcast than FTL communication specifically, but interesting thought.

Dugga fricking Doo

So much for Belinda enjoying herself...

"And I never got to tell him?" ??? I can't imagine Belinda has anything specific she knows she wants to tell the Doctor, so is this more of a subconscious thing, where she really is hiding another identity chameleon arch style? (Again, may have been partially spoiled here, but let's see.)

SUSAN SUSAN SUSAN, LOML!!!! HOLY SHIT!

I was spoiled on some sort of tease relating to her, but I wasn't expecting to actually see Carole Ann Ford today?!

This could link to the above, but I think it's a red herring. a) that's a sudden 'reveal', b) Bel still referred to the Doctor as her 'friend', and c) it's pretty notable we've got Carole Ann Ford here specifically.

(Also wow, she looks great here!)

Weird that this moment specifically reached the Doctor, is Susan telepathically reaching out to him right this moment, and that's what woke him?

Obviously the Doctor surviving in space is nothing new, but the frost melting is a bit interesting. I guess it was more just water settling on him, but makes me wonder if his body was also going to a sort of 'rest state', and the shock was enough to get his body temperature shooting up to keep him awake? We know Time Lords can survive a wide range of temperatures after all (oddly, despite being not that warm-blooded).

Also curious if there's actually oxygen here? The Doctor making sounds etc. would imply as such, as would everyone not really being dead, so maybe it's just a) low pressure, and b) cold?

Ooh, Gary's another nurse!

Ey, respiratory bypass system mention.

"Camp" lol.

"Mavitic suspension" oh come on... I'm trusting the low pressure idea.

"she/her" Yay, if a surprising courtesy to provide in talking to a terrorist in this situation.

Oh wow, and here we get to see the delta wave in action!

Pretty concerning that so many TVs (or future equivalent) are capable of broadcasting a delta wave?

Ok, so we're clearly getting a prejudice (and maybe Palestine?) thing with the Hellians. Kinda tired of stories where the oppressed go beyond being "well-intentioned extremists".

Also Cora is 100% a Hellian right? Horns hidden in her hair?

Graham Norton!

Oh so the song contest does originate from Earth? Interesting...

Definitely teasing the Susan connection, but I'm still sceptical.

"Revenge against the corporation" Hm?

Damn, and he we get the rageful side of the Doctor. The "ice" line reminds of that one: "there's a sliver of ice in his heart" from Series 7.

"That's not him" And Bel notices.

Oh, so horns are less hidden and instead cut. At least Cora is a lot more sympathetic. Also obvious real world parallels with her hiding this side of her.

And there's the corporation again. So they're responsible for Hellia. Is it a thing where the Hellians went into debt, and had to sell everything off?

"Your planet was invaded for honey?" Damn, I noticed the ad earlier, of course it comes back.

It may not be that absurd, but the sonic being able to be used so broadly and destructively against robots always feels a bit much, since it kinda implies most robots shouldn't be a threat. I get there's probably difficult levels of complexity to this based on the tech, but still.

Also the gun here, that tends to be particularly egregious. Again, I can excuse it for the sake of a story, but tend to prefer being a bit more restrained with these things.

Damn, rare we see the Doctor get to the point of actually trying to hurt someone for glee. Pretty ironic after what he just said about revenge. Also surprisingly fitting this comes with visions of Susan, given One's early attitude.

From reactions I'm seeing, I'm clearly not alone in finding this rough. Especially with no-one, not even Belinda, calling the Doctor out harder. I thought this would be the thing that pushed her back away from starting to enjoy travelling and become determined to leave, so I wasn't expecting her to coddle him so much.

Hard light holograms as a tractor beam is actually pretty clever.

"I'll do anything for you" lol

Did anyone find Mrs Flood among the rescued people, or has she been fine this whole time?

I wonder if they did any conlanging for this song, or if it's just syllables.

The intercuts of visuals of Hellia, a planet we don't even know, are honestly a great addition.

Side note - I think that alien behind the Doctor is an old prosthetic? I think i recognise it from Rings of Akhaten, plus some other Moffat era episodes.

Hmm... so in regard to real world parallels, what's the message here? As I said, it's always a bit uncomfortable when a member of an oppressed group acts as an extreme terrorist in a story, especially villainised as much as Kid here. On the other hand, in every other way, there's clearly a message here simultaneously celebrating the union of Eurovision and the like, while also seemingly condemning its failure on a political / world events front? Still pretty incoherent though. I'll go into a lot more detail later.

"I don't think I've ever told you, you're wonderful." Oh, is that it?

Ah, and of course this comes back to Gallifrey for the Doctor. Was thinking it, especially with his reaction to Cora's song. It's also clearly foreshadowing, given Susan's appearances (and, that thing I've been spoiled on).

Uh oh, Graham Norton here. It's going to be revealed this didn't come "from" Earth, but is more of a tribute to it, isn't it?

"Poor old Earth died many years ago." YEP!

"It is said the planet disintegrated, into rock and dust and ashes. All of the memories here were sieved from the rubble of a civilisation that died in a single second. Cause: Unknown." IT'S GOING TO BE THE VINDICTOR, I'M SO CERTAIN OF THIS. Did I actually get this right as far back as the first episode, that the TARDIS trying to get home is ripping Earth apart?

OMG, is him going there now going to be what causes it?!

CLOISTER BELL CLOISTER BELL

Jesus, that's a hard cut.

Ah, there's Flood. Here we go.

YEP IT'S THE RANI! Also bigeneration, which I also expected.

Hm... I was sceptical of Flood being the Rani, and in a weird way I still kind of am. Her new regeneration definitely has the right vibes at least, which is good! On the other hand, Flood herself doesn't really feel like the same character. Sure Time Lords can be eccentric and vary in personality wildly, but it's weird for an incarnation of the Rani to be so glib. At least the new one feels a lot more in character, which helps sell it.

Also interesting how oddly submissive and apologetic Flood is to her other incarnation, during and after the bigeneration? "Oh I'm ever so sorry ma'am." "Unfortunately, yes." Feels like there might be something else going on here.

Maybe there's something in-particular with the Flood incarnation, to try and induce the bigeneration, like taking cues from the Doctor after his bigeneration? Clearly the new Rani views her with some disdain, like she's a variation from the norm.

I'm sure other people are saying this, but it's so funny that after so many years theorising about Susan and/or the Rani returning, we now get both in one episode!

Overall Thoughts

Oh boy. I'm in two (or more) minds about this episode. To the point I think I need to properly segment this discussion.

Let's Talk Politics...

First off: the messaging of this story is kinda disasterous. I was going to be more forgiving and put it more aside, but seeing some other people's discussions does want me to emphasise the issues here, especially after not talking that much about it above. Plus it is leaving a worse and worse taste in my mouth the more I think about it.

In particular, the Hellians continues a bad trend (see things like The Zygon Inversion) of villainising portrayals of abused peoples while trying to provide real world commentary. While the trope has a long history and can definitely be interesting in cases, it is at it's worst here, putting the "extreme" in "well-intentioned extremist".

The Hellian's exact history is clearly a bit of a mix, between the capitalistic colonisation and enslavement of their world, and the way Cora has to hide her true self. This could be an allegory for a number of things (the latter partially making me compare it to a queer/trans metaphor) but obviously it's impossible to watch without thinking of Palestine. This villainous portrayal seems especially blind, considering the episode directly discusses how they've been targetted by propaganda, regarding ideas of things like cannibalism and witchcraft (they're literally called HELLIANS and are still getting demonised!). Meanwhile the status quo of the Intergalactic Song Contest is largely upheld, with the exception of allowing Cora to sing about her people. There's clearly some element of critique there, which is appreciated, but it is not enough. Note there's never any discussion of the Song Contest itself doing anything wrong, but rather just a general vibe of intolerance which Cora stands up against, and some offscreen "corporation" which doesn't even get its own name (other than the honey ad - which tbf I did appreciate as showing the price of such things and how petty it can be). There's half-hearted attempts of attacking the exploitation of colonised peoples for luxuries and the white/pink-washing of those crimes through media like Eurovision, which would be a good starting point, but the episode never commits.

Similarly, Dark!Doctor moments are hardly new, but this wasn't a good one. It's clearly meant to be a Witch's Familar / Face the Raven kind of thing, with him believing Belinda might be gone, and also being furious at someone's intent to commit genocide many times over. As he acknowledges, it's also his own trauma regarding Gallifrey coming out (he did NOT finish therapy). But it's rare we get to see him actually be physically violent in such a way, which makes it really stand out. It's only worse when you mix in the above politics. I compare it to The Zygon Inversion, but that's honestly doing that episode a disservice, as for all the Doctor's fury he still forgives Bonnie and the Zygons. I think something like this could have been saved if it were for two things (not necessarily both, but at least one of them):

All those people actually do die. While it doesn't change Kid's intentions, nor the plan to kill trillions with the delta wave, it does provide genuine, lethal stakes for the Doctor to become angry about, plus avoids the whiplash with the "happy-go-lucky" ending we get, of everyone in suspension being awoken.

Belinda is furious with the Doctor. Her reaction was not enough, which is kinda shocking, given the series has done so well with her realistic reactions previously. This should have been the breaking point that reminds her that, no, she was right: he is dangerous. I can sort of excuse her being relieved he's alive and understanding his trauma, if we take her to still be angry below the surface, but we needed much more.

One of the few possible saving graces of this, is that Wynn at least, despite being part of the plan is still treated sympathetically by the narrative, which is better than if it was just Cora, since it at least doesn't condemn all outrage and lets us see Kid as a particularly extreme terrorist / "psychopath" (again, not exactly a great trope to use). That is really picking at scraps though, and shows just how much the episode bungled this. There's clearly an intent to look at ideas of demonisation (again, just think about their names!), propaganda, whitewashing etc., which might be why I want to be generous to the writing, but it honestly falls flat because of Kid and his plan.

I'm pretty keen to know at this point how much of this came from Juno Dawson, from RTD, or from executive meddling. That might sound like a weak excuse, but given we are talking about Israel/Palestine and Eurovision, I really wouldn't be surprised if there was some interference from either the BBC or Disney. It would make some sense of some of the mixed messaging - but at the same time, the blame may very well be wholely on RTD and Juno and I don't want defend them if it's the case.

I don't know, I can technically make excuses all day and justify things in my head so I can better enjoy the rest of the episode, but I know that's not helpful. Ultimately I'm just disappointed the episode didn't do better.

As for how I'd haved tried and fixed it? Well, assuming we really do want to do "Die Hard at Space Eurovision", as in the original pitch, and for better-or-worse we really want a well-intentioned villain that has a point that can be applied to real-world issues, this could have been a hostage situation (rather than, you know, attempted mega-genocide). Maybe even have the hostage takers intentionally make sure the audience are alive and suspended, as they didn't want to actually hurt them all, but needed them out of their way so they can make their threat. It's still an antagonistic role, but one which is much more defendable and potentially justified, plus would allow a deep psychological / moral element, without racing to stop a countdown that will literally kill trillions. It also would allow them to actually, y'know, make demands which we can hear about and discuss, plus we could meet their enemy. It could even have had Bel and the Doctor on seperate sides of the hostage situation, which would've been a great way to use them both. Obvious potential risk would be it being considered a bit too close to real life, with regards to the hostages held by Hamas and Israel, but I'm sure you could make it work, framed more as a bank robbery style hostage situation. Even if this was impossible, this is just what I came up with off the top of my head in 10 minutes. I'm sure something better could be developed.

You Spend Decades Waiting for a Time Lady, then Two (Three) Come at Once!

Ok, now I've gotten that off my shoulders, time to go back to my usual optimistic self...

HOLY SHIT SUSAN AND THE RANI. Originally I wanted to make this section purely about them, before I decided I really had to discuss the politics of the episode in depth.

As mentioned, I had heard two spoilers: 1. that Flood would end up being the Rani bigenerated, and 2. that Susan may be back sometime this season, and there may be a hint at her this episode.

I certainly wasn't expecting Carole Ann Ford herself to show up this episode, which I'm so, so, so glad for. Even though it is surprising that Susan wouldn't have regenerated by now, given the Time War and everything, it always would have been disappointing if she came back with another face. So I'm so happy we got to see her. There's obviously meant to be a tease that she's regenerated into Belinda, but I strongly doubt that. Indeed I hope this is a sign she's alive and well telepathically communicating with the Doctor, and we'll see her in person.

I'm so curious where we'll find her though. Obviously she can't be on 22nd/23rd century Earth right now, unless she'll be found there once the timeline is restored. We saw her in the TARDIS, but I assume she isn't literally travelling in one (after all, if she was she'd probably be seen in another console room). It depends where she says the Doctor needs to "go back" too? It could be future Earth, or even modern day Earth (even another trap to get him back to Earth right now?). Honestly, I even think it might be Gallifrey itself? After all, that's where the Doctor always said he and Susan originally wanted to go back to, "some day". This feels particularly logical with the Rani's presence here too.

SPEAKING OF WHICH. OMG we've actually got the Rani on-screen. Even having heard about the leaks I was sceptical until I got spoiled about this episode specifically. Part of me was wondering if it would be a fake leak, akin to the filmed line with Missy where she calls herself the Rani.

I'm actually kind of relieved by the depiction thus far. I was pretty concerned at the idea of Mrs Flood being the Rani, as her personality largely doesn't seem to line up. She seems malicious and entitled, sure, but seemingly lacked any of the seriousness and scientific thinking of the Rani we know. Bigenerating now, however, into an incarnation that immediately takes on those traits makes it a lot more pallatable. Archie Panjabi is an amazing choice, and is immediately recognisable as the character.

Some immediately big questions we need to have answered:

Where has she been this whole time? No seriously, we've got to have some update on what happened to her during the Time War, right? If I had to guess, maybe she survived most of the war and was on Gallifrey on the final day, but immediately went renogade as soon as Gallifrey returned, a la the Master? We also know Flood was "hiding away", but for how long? Was a chameleon arch involved?

Why is Mrs Flood so different? Sure Time Lord regenerations vary greatly, but Mrs Flood is barely recognisable as the Rani, before and after the bigeneration. At most, we could say some of her companion outfit pastiches are references to the Rani dressing as Mel in Time and the Rani, but that's pretty much it. I guess her wanted to 'overthrow God' could be seen as a science / anti-myth motif too?

Building on the above, why the sudden dynamic and shift after the bigeneration? It could again just be Time Lord quirkiness, but it does feel as if something's off about Flood. Like she's an experiment, or an intentional diversion from the norm. Not only does the new Rani immediately dismiss her, barely admitting she's even "a Rani" (even calling her Mrs. Flood as they leave), but she is immediately subserviant herself.

Again possibly linked to the above, why another bigeneration? While it could be something to do with the current state of the universe (remember RTD suggested bigeneration might even have been retroactive for all the Doctor's incarnations?), it seems more likely it would be part of some sort of experiment, maybe based on the Doctor. This could also be linked to Flood's oddness, potentially.

And finally, of course, what is her plan and motive here? (A bit more on this below.)

I kind of love that the person we've seen repeatedly breaking the fourth wall turned out to just be another Time Lord, rather than making it purely a god and Doctor thing. I'm also keen to see how she'll interact with everything/everyone else. Does she know about the Timeless Child (if so, she could potentially be a pretty strong parallel to Tecteun, and may want to experiment on the Doctor)? Does she know what the Master did? What's her reaction to the current state of the universe, with its decaying rationality and growth in magic? As a scientist, is she trying to reverse this?

Hopefully, we might get some more Academy era stuff, when she and the Doctor finally interact, this time not purely about the Master? (Imagine if we got an Ushas or Deca namedrop!)

...or maybe do make it about the Master, and let her be exasperated with them on-screen all over again. Bring him back too, so we can really get the full Mark of the Rani experience!

Everything Else

Anyway, for all the messy analogies, the episode as a whole was fairly fun. I enjoyed the setting and the side characters. Kind of a shame we didn't get more focus on the music? A lot of continuity references this episode too, between the familar planets (seriously, Trenzalore?! I can't believe they just straight up through that archive footage in there) and the delta wave.

Interesting to note, with all the Doctor / Master parallels this season, Kid kind of fits into that too? He literally lacks a real name, and is acting to revenge exploitation and the destruction of his homeworld. Mix in the Doctor's rage for Gallifrey's destruction being triggered, and we can see both of them: the Master, destroying the Time Lords in light of learning about the exploitation of the Timeless Child, and the Doctor showing that same rage for his destroyed world that Kid has himself.

Graham Norton of all people being used to deliver the wham line that Earth really is gone in this time was such a choice, which I can't help but respect. As mentioned above, I remain locked in on my "the TARDIS ripped Earth apart" theory, but this still leaves a number of questions. Why was the TARDIS unable to reach Earth in the first place? How is this part of the Rani's plan? Is it just revenge, or something more?

Logicially, if she's getting involved, it could very much be something "Time Lord-y" which fits well with my theory she's targetting the Web of Time. But why would she want to tear it down? To build something better? Or is she just experimenting with reality in general - possibly via the Doctor, seeing just how much she can use him to reshape history? The latter maybe supported by her biregeneration, if it suggests she's deliberately experimenting with him specifically, probably specifically because of his connection with the Timeless Child.

[aretheybisexual]

Do you know this (implied) bisexual character?

Propaganda:

Junpei is canonically in love with his childhood friend Akane who's female. Their relationship is central to the first game in the series. The grand true ending plot twist is that Akane and Junpei's mental connection is so strong they can communicate telepathically even across different timelines. It turns out everything that happens in 999 was orchestrated by Akane and her brother to make unsuspecting Junpei access this telepathic ability and save little Akane in the past.

In subsequent games Junpei is mostly defined by his unending love for Akane and the trauma that the events of the first game left him with.

In Zero Time Dilemma he (as well as Akane) has strong chemistry with the male character Carlos, even flirtatiously asking if Carlos is interested in him. Junpei, Akane and Carlos are a popular OT3.

Many fans interpret Junpei as bisexual and argue that the only reason we don't get more flirtatious or romantic interactions between him and male characters is because he's "Akane-sexual" and not really interested in anyone else, no matter what's in their pants.

Evan Smith, Junpei's English VA, stated on Twitter: "My beautiful baby boy Junpei is bi, but since the game is set in the future - it's kind of glossed over because nobody gives a shit". Regarding the scene between Junpei and Carlos, he said "I remember asking the localization team if the Carlos moment was intended to be sarcastic given that they're in the middle of a murder puzzle. I was told nope. Will die on this hill if need be."

The fans also like to point out Junpei's stereotypically bisexual traits like his eagerness, constant confusion and his fashion sense (in 999 he wears calf length pants and a shirt-hoodie-vest disaster combo).

[jedidragonwarriorqueen]

the corellian trilogy cracks me up so much for the solo kids. they're all just SO....

I KNOW. Like 9-year olds are already utterly chaotic but imagine they can read your emotional state from the other room, lift things with their mind if they try hard enough, communicate with each other all but telepathically, can argue like politicians from watching their diplomat mother at work, and have incredibly warped senses of danger from getting kidnapped, like, at least once a year.

Add in their autisic and similarly psychic 7-year-old brother who understands machinery on, like, an atomic level, and you get, well......you get Kalenda's speech at the end of the third book. It gets me every time ajdjrhehahshdhfbdbds

Like. They are NINE and SEVEN. They haven't developed abstract thought yet but they've been able to connect with the fabric of the universe since they were in utero. And at the end of the day even if you're relying on your little brother to save trillions of lives, he still pissed you off earlier so you're not gonna be nice to him.

[somewhereincairparavel]

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 part one..

Note: I've never done a pjo hcs post like this with the aesthetic pictures and everything- but I've been Itching to make a daughter of Neptune one, since I consider myself as a Neptune child. So this is sort of a self insert haha, and I thought it'd fun cuz I have so many hcs abt this, I've only over seen ppl do a daughter of Poseidon one.

Also this one has reader x Jason Grace as romantic pairings, but it isn't the main focus. Like I said, this is a self insert, and I love my bb jason ;) + imagine having Percy as a big brother, goals fr

• Okay so you'd come to Camp Jupiter at the age of 8-9, so you definitely have a considerable amount of childhood before you came to camp. Which only made it harder for you to adapt to the barbaric ways the Roman camp worked.

• Also, Since Neptune was not a very respected Roman god, your arrival was considered bad luck. Octavian made you go through an intense trial (that motherfucker was like 10 years old and an augur, and was already such a bitch lol) + forced a newly elected praetor Reyna (who was also just 10 at the time) to hold a senate meeting before you were even offered a position at camp.

• Neptune is very feared by the romans though, since he represented the harsh brutality of the ocean, so you got the Roman Nico di Angelo treatment from camp. Everyone was scared of you, flinched when you walked passed them. this was to your advantage tho, since you never got bullied, mostly out of fear.

• so Neptune temples in Camp Jupiter are only taken care of by you, if you left for a quest or something then the shrines would be in such a horrible state, bc no one cares enough to offer Neptune anything or even clean up his shrine. You'd do the cleaning and offering.

• and the worst part? Your dad wouldn't even notice you even after your efforts.

• okay, your powers are quite similar to Percy's butt I feel like since Roman/Greek siblings always have powers that compliment eachother, you'd have better control over the earthly side of the domain. Like you can cause longer earthquakes, control seismic waves, and make volcanos erupt + cause bigger avalanches, Stuff like that.

• Your water control was actually a little limited, up until Percy arrived and helped you enhance your powers. And you helped enhance his control over earthquakes, since his earthquakes usually only lasted for a few seconds, his dad is more water dominant. So when you met him, you knew he was a missing puzzle piece in your life. You'd even be able to communicate telepathically to Percy underwater, a power you both never knew you needed.

• Seriously tho it would be hilarious to look at, bc to the others, you both sound like squeaky dolphins but in reality you are just telepathically speaking with one another. The others wouldn't understand, and poor Frank would be so confused as to why you both are making strangled fish noises

Leo would troll you guys so bad for this lol

• your eyes would actually be black. Not blue, not sea green, just black. Your eyes would literally glitter like black obsidian rocks. because Poseidon is the calm side of ocean, hence sea green eyes for Percy, Neptune is the dark and scary side of the ocean, so that's black eyes for you. that difference would clearly reflect in your guys's eye colours AND personality (I'll expand on this more in part 2)

• but your scariness comes with a downside, you had no friends. No friends, except Jason and Reyna. it's just your dad's naturally strict aura surrounding you that makes your overall personality a Lil grumpy and moody tbh. You did have such a resting bitch face that wasn't helping either.

• Jason, being the noble boy he was, knew you were going to be his friend the moment you made a dramatic entrance to camp for the first time, getting scouted by the waves to New Rome. He knew what it was like to have a powerful, scary dad, but he acknowledged and empathized that you had it harder than he did. He was considered a golden boy, while you were considered a scary bad luck charm. But regardless of that, Jason was your first best friend. And eventually, your boyfriend.

• Reyna on the other hand, badly wanted to befriend you because she admired your mental strength, you were 9 years old and you were openly scoffed at by the legionnaires simply because your father was a scary man. Yet you handled it all so well. But she befriended you a little later than Jason did. Since she was so busy, she barely had any time to chat with anyone. You, Jason and Reyna bonded as a trio when you guys had your first quest.

• Reyna secretly shipped you and Jason from the very beginning lol, bc a Jupiter x Neptune union? Y'all were powerful and cute af together. The mutual pining drives her crazy though, like kiss already smh.

• Also, Nicknames! Your nickname was ALWAYS "kelp head" because your hair was wavy and shaped like seaweed lol. As much as you hated to admit it, the name fit a little too well.

• okay enough with the friendship stuff, let's talk about how much that bastard Octavian makes it his mission to make your life a hellhole. It isn't even funny anymore, he hated you from the very beginning. Not only because you were considered bad luck, it's because he envied that you were a direct descendant of such a powerful God, he couldn't even handle Jason's arrival, yours was just the last straw for him. He opposes your opinions in front of the whole senate + prevents you from getting elected as Centurion + attempts to prevent you from going on quests, bc he can't handle someone else taking the glory.

• He was also the reason you were put into the unpopular twelfth legion. The underdog legion. But Jason? That sweetheart made it worth being in the twelfth legion so you weren't complaining tbh.

• honestly? Octavian and you are famous in camp for your bickering though lol it's just always a back and forth between you and him, such burning rivalry and enmity. You LOVED roasting him and you were fucking great at it too. He deserved that for making you go though hell. You'd laugh like a maniac when he trips and he smirks when has the upper hand against you in senate discussions.

• Reyna is the only reason you both didn't beat eachother up at this point tbh

• once, Reyna came running up to you all panicky because Octavian went missing from camp. In response, you beamed and told her that you'd get the balloons ready in the dining hall for a grand celebration. Jason would burst out laughing lol.

• you'd steal his teddy bears and give them to younger campers, asking them to hide it from octavian. So the younger campers absolutely adore you, unlike the older ones.

• you are also quite the rebel in camp, JUST like Octavian predicted you would be, when you first came to camp. It was actually written in his auguries that the new child of Neptune arrival would be always shafting the rules, since the sea can't be controlled. It's in a nature for a Neptune child to walk their own pace (lol have you seen Percy??) That gave another reason for him to hate you.

• Even some of the lares in CJ would call you an abnormal roman bc you never acted like one. You were wild and temperamental.

This rule breaking tendency you had did earn you lots of punishments that included scrubbing the whole camp with a toothbrush. But it was worth it for you. Camp Jupiter sucked. And you were already in trouble, so what's a little more, right?

• you'd sneak out at night to explore New Rome, because again, the Romans had this weird bedtime curfew like. they have rules for every. Fucking. Thing. It pissed you off so bad. They wouldn't even let you explore the city at night? They were seriously wasting the beauty of the city, You'd definitely rope Jason in to break the rules with you. Like don't be such a goody two shoes smh. I feel like that's what attracted him to you in the first place. He's a goody goody boy with such a boring life, youd just make it interesting for him.

• besides, sneaking out is SO much easier when you can fly. So Jason is your personal airplane. The Jason Grace airlines.

• okay so after all your hardwork in the legion, you'd finally get elected to Centurion, after you successfully finished a quest to retrieve a lost Roman artifact, which was formerly Jason's position and he would become a co praetor with Reyna. But you were still very much disrespected in camp tbh, it just became an internalised thing for everyone to hate you at this point, Octavian was also great at putting your reputation under dirt, but you didn't really care anymore.

• now here comes the catch, Jason and you were sort of in a half-pining half-relationship situation, Before that jerk goes missing. because neither of you knew how to confess, and camp was SO strict when it came to relationships for some reason?? Like even dating has to be lowkey.

• you and Jason are totally the grumpy x sunshine trope lol except you're the grumpy, snippy and batshit one and jason is calm, levelheaded and optimistic one.

Perfect balance. Gosh your dynamic would be so cute :(

• you'd just be grumpily stomping around while jason stalks behind you, laughing lightly. You're super short compared to him aswell, so yeah it makes it funnier.

• You were in charge of welcoming Hazel to camp, since Jason and Reyna had some serious meeting stuff about the new prophecy Octavian told them about.

• poor hazel would be scared to death while meeting you, not just bc it's you, it's bc she just came back from the dead, so this is all rlly new for her.

• That's where you met him. Nico di Angelo. You'd bond over your shared mistreatment in camp. So you became homies w him fairly quickly. He saw you as this cool big sister he could have happy meals with talking abt life.

• you would be a little curious when he keeps disappearing off to somewhere tho, you knew he was lying about where he came from.

Okay part 1 of this is done, this was so long lol, part 2 would drop later, that's where you and Percy meet and stuff.

Update: part two is out! https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746489087922520064/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part-two?source=share

[inthefightgarden]

reaching the end of my current re-read, and thinking about zorian's sense of identity in relation to his use of simulacrum's. i'm just at the beginning of book 4 chapter 18 / chapter 101, where he's mind fused with his simulacrums, and he says this:

"He was afraid of such magic warping his personality and sense of self, especially if used on a regular basis, but desperate times called for desperate measures."

and it just got me thinking about the fact that his personality and sense of self is probably already pretty warped by the way he uses his simulacrums. i mean, we know that with his fancy golem bodies up to six simulacrums going at a given time, and for years of his life has kept that maximum amount basically at all times. and while he's not usually in quite that kind of hivemind shared conciousness state with them, he's gotten very used to being in constant telepathic communication back and forth with them all. i know that he can still function as an individual in the short term, but i kinda wonder about how he'd do going without that in a longer lasting situation.

like, post story, when he's laying low, and pretending to be normal, is he still gonna be keeping that many simulacrums around? or any at all? i mean he's trying to just take things slow and avoid attracting attention, and it's not like he'll have all the pressure and deadlines that made him use them so heavily in the first place. do you think he'd stop using them because of that? do you think he'd find other jobs and reasons to keep using them, purely thanks to his own drive and having new goals? in a very logical thought out way? do you think he'd have to find reasons to keep them around because he no longer feels comfortable when he's just a singular self? or maybe he'd have that kind of itch to use them, but would go without anyway, because he's a practical guy, but suffer... idk, a withdrawal, almost? from having these mental habits and instincts of bouncing ideas back and forth between his selves? do you think he'd feel lonely, without them? would the fact that he can finally properly create the friendships he wasn't fully able to have in the time loop make up for that? or are they too different? i find the idea of him trading in one loneliness for another quite compelling, but maybe i'm just mean /lh.

anyway idk. i like thinking about it all though.

[mythgirlimagines]

If the ProSeka cast were superheroes, what kind of powers would they have?

i've thought A Lot about assigning superpowers to characters before so i have a p good idea :)

Under the cut bc this got long!

Ichika: Empathy. While her power doesn't seem very related to combat, Ichika can use her empathy to sense the emotional state of whoever they're against- as well as her teammates, to check on them

Saki: Damage Removal. Due to her chronic illness, a lot of the damage she removes from others manifests in her in some way, leading to her not using it as often as she would like to

Honami: Telepathy. She used to hear too many people's thoughts at once, but now she's harnessed it enough that she can more easily communicate telepathically with her teammates

Shiho: Electric Discharge. She can create pulses of electricity, drawing on electric flows around her, though she has to make sure her teammates are out of the blast zone

Minori: Heart Link. Not the most combative power, but she delights that she can connect very easily with her teammates, and keep them safe as best she can

Haruka: Air Manipulation. She'd done her best to master it since she was a child, and was quite good at using the air around villains to help slow them down

Airi: Animal Imitation. Using her powers, Airi can mimic the traits and abilities of various animals- though she tends to give herself allergic reactions when mimicking a feline

Shizuku: Earthquake Generation. One of the strongest powers on her team, she does her best to use it sparingly, knowing the potential downfalls it can cause

Kohane: Poison Manipulation. Definitely comes in handy when villains use some kind of poison against them, but she mostly uses it to protect her teammates from being poisoned

An: Plant Growth. Even if the plants are starting at seeds, she can influence and accelerate their growth enough to become useful in combat

Akito: Fire Immunity. Really only helpful in specific scenarios, but Akito was perfectly fine with being immune to fire and flames. He could deal with it

Toya: Storm Manipulation. His father often looked down on him because his power wasn't related to music, but learning to harness storms against villains was quite helpful

Tsukasa: Voice Casting. While his voice was already loud enough, Tsukasa's power allows him to channel certain temporary effects against villains

Emu: Elasticity. She likes saying that she's just stretchy, but that helps with all of her acrobatics! Those villains never know what she's gonna do next

Nene: Sound Manipulation. There are many ways she can use this power, but she mostly uses it to distort sounds to confuse villains and cause headaches

Rui: Magnet Manipulation. While it didn't usually come in handy on its own against villains, there was always something he could aid with in terms of the other heroes around him

Kanade: Precognition. Often automatic when coming into contact with certain objects, Kanade can see a certain amount of time into the future, which can help her avoid attacks

Mafuyu: Darkness Manipulation. She uses the darkness to confuse villains, but also didn't mind when she used it to darken her own surroundings to calm herself

Ena: Power Erasure. Comes in handy when apprehending villains, but really only then. She can at least take their powers away so they can't hurt anyone else

Mizuki: Invisibility. This helps in their everyday life as well, but they can turn invisible for certain amounts of time, which helps them launch sneak attacks on villains